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[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... | I scanned the horizon once more, wondering when my summoned item would arrive. I also wondered if there was a chance it was a person, and that they would simply appear in the antechamber of my home, like they always do. I shuddered at the thought of another human being forced upon me under the guise of a "soulmate". I turned and sneered at the happy couple on the bench down the road that I was almost certain was one of those couples. They were so wrapped in each others arms they failed to notice me gaze. *Disgusting*.
The worst thing about The Summoning is that there was no way to predict how and when the unknown object was going to arrive. You just have to wait after you invoke the summoning, which itself you have no control of. The invocation itself is the transition from 17 to 18 years of age.
I recall with fondness the story of Herma, who found out that she could summon water, but only from a particular lake hundreds of miles away. Two months passed her by as the whole contents of the lake ripped through thousands of miles of villages and farmland before it crashed into her home, killing her and her entire family. Oh, there are generations of similar stories, some worse that Herma's. The reality, though, is that what people typically end up being able to summon is mostly harmless or people.
I saw a shadow moving in the distance. A large creature with wings was fast approaching. I knew instinctively that this was my summoned being. Waves of relief washed over me. I was happy knowing it was not going to be a person, and I returned to sneering at the couple down the road as I waited for the creature to arrive.
The creature landed on the roof of my home without a sound. It watched me from that vantage point as I glared at the couple. It took a moment for me to remove my eyes from the vile human spectacle and return my gaze to the sky only to realize that the creature was gone. I heard a low growl and turned to see a fully-grown dragon resting on my house.
I spoke aloud. "Finally, what I have summoned has arrived!" I turned to the couple, they took no notice of my gesture. Their mouths were locked onto each other. I frowned.
The dragon spoke next. *No, you fool.* Its voice reverberated in my mind. *You did not summon me as the humans do.* I felt the creature quell my confusion. *You summoned me as the dragons do.* It screeched and set me aflame.
Though it should've pained me, the flames felt warm on my body. The cobblestone beneath me melted and my shoes were reduced to cinders. I looked up at the dragon and felt myself rise with the fire. I heard my clothes tear and a shudder rippled through me. Soon, I gazed at eye level with the dragon and smiled. If she meant to kill me, she'd have to find another way.
I conveyed this information with my mind and simultaneously realized two things: that I was speaking to her with my mind and I was now aware that she was a female dragon. She cackled and the flames stopped, though my body did not fall. Looking down, I saw the scales of a dragon where my torso should be, and I stood as large as my home. The dragon turned her head so that one eye faced me. *You are the first dragon created in a thousand years.* Her eye sparkled with an internal flame. *Now, let us both remind the humans why we are the true rulers of this planet.*
I understood what she meant in an instant. I turned to the couple seated in terror on the bench, grimaced at their continued affection for one another even in this dire moment, and set them on fire. I burned them until the stone bench itself melted into the earth. I twisted to face the dragon and gave her a wicked smile. She cackled back. | In this city, when people turn 18 they summon something that will be very important to their life. Some summon swords, or spears and others summon simple tools needed for various trades. My mother had summoned a needle which she used to sew together some of the finest pieces of clothing in all the land while my father had summoned a large jewel encrusted shield. My older brother had summoned a beautiful woman who he later married. My 18th birthday had been months ago yet what I summoned never arrived. I walked through the city trying to pretend it didn’t matter but it did. Around every corner we’re children imagining what they would summon or young adults bragging to them friends. Suddenly I felt the ground begin to shake. People yelled as the struggled to keep their balance. I slowly made my way to the wall of one of the building when a child’s yelled nearby, “look over there mamma!” The words weren’t meant for me yet I still shifted my gaze to look at where the child was pointing . A woman floated above the city, her gaze sweeping along the streets. Suddenly she disappeared only to appear seconds later inches away from my face. “You.” Her voice was as quiet as a whisper yet as loud as a scream, “you summoned me.” I couldn’t believe it. I had summoned what appeared to be a goddess. I was vaguely aware of the many eyes that watched us from a distance. The woman stretched out a hand in my direction. “Come with me.” I couldn’t tell if it was a question or if she had demanded it.
After a moment of silence I took her hand and felt the world fade away
Sorry if anything is funky. Wrote this on mobile and I’m not the best with grammar. | 2019-09-18T09:27:31 | 2019-09-18T08:42:40 | 123 | 72 |
[WP] A teenager encounters a really attractive genie. He is so shy that he can't even look at her, let alone asking for wishes, and she finds it really entertaining. | Braydon strolled through the woods aimlessly, kicking pine cones along his path. He would have been an odd sight, if anyone had been around to see him. A teenage boy, he was still growing into his gangly limbs, dressed in a black tuxedo and a lime green bow tie.
He was coming from a high school prom, where he had meandered aimlessly around the perimeter, looking for an unattached female to escort him into the event. Finding none, he had wandered into the forest adjacent to the school, simultaneously seeking meaning in life and trying to soothe his self-loathing.
With the minuscule light of dusk fading, the teenager kicked hard at a nearby pine cone, yelped in a high pitched voice, and fell to the ground in pathetic pain. He had accidentally kicked a tree root, far more solid than his weak foot and shoe were prepared for, and he fell to the ground in submission.
Just as he was prepared to give up on his life entirely, he opened his eyes to find a mysterious lamp beside him. Ever interested in antique relics, Braydon picked it up and dusted it off. He yelped in surprise and fell onto his back again as the lamp gave a sharp "bang!", and a mysterious smoke emitted from the metal spout.
The awkward teenage boy was mystified as the smoke clarified itself into a shapely, attractive woman. He stared lustfully for a moment, then averted his eyes in embarrassment, a bright red glow spreading across his face.
"Greetings, master," purred the newly formed, hour-glass shaped woman, as she settled into a translucent but alluring form above him. "You have three wishes that I can grant you. What pleasures should I bestow upon my worthy master?"
The teenage boy blushed even more deeply, and cast a sideways glance at the female genie. He would glare lustily at her for a few seconds at a time, then stare at the ground for a minute or two straight, his cheeks plumping up into the size of grape tomatoes.
The shapely genie moved toward him seductively, converting her amusement into a welcoming smile, and she brushed her hand against his temple and cheek. "Surely there is something my master desires more than anything else in the world, some wish that only I can grant him?"
The genie couldn't believe her luck. There was no doubt that this was the boy who would grant her freedom. She had many male masters in the past, many men who had desired her form. However, those men had been too ambitious, too hungry for power and fame and fortune. Just when she thought they might wish for her freedom, they decided to make another wish about money or some other nonsense.
Not this one, she detected. This male was too young and awkward to desire anything above the female body. Her normal representation of herself, as a busty young maiden, would be perfect for this most recent human.
She waited a few moments for a response, then whispered in his ear, "Anything in this world or beyond that your heart...or any other part of your body...desires, I can grant you..."
Braydon continued digging a hole into the ground with his eyes, and then he laughed awkwardly. "Um...yeah, that sounds great..."
"Um...um...sure, what I want is...I mean, I wish for...I wish to play the greatest video game of the entire century!"
The genie jerked backward by a foot, surprised at the wish. She quickly recovered, faked a smile, and snapped her fingers. A powerful laptop appeared directly next to Braydon, and he booted it up. He was pleasantly surprised to find an extremely expansive and immersive game already installed on the hard drive, and he spent the next 8 hours playing it with great interest, never taking his eyes off the screen.
The genie started to get impatient with Braydon. She started circling her new master, subtly rubbing up against him like a cat trying to suck up to someone who might feed her. Braydon snapped out of his gaming-induced euphoria, and blushed again as he realized how close the feminine genie was getting to him. He shifted his pants a bit, then fumbled the lamp around in his hands clumsily.
"Does my handsome master want to make a wish?" the genie cooed expectantly, detecting a momentary opportunity. "Perhaps you want some companionship, some deeper meaning in your life?"
"Yeah, sure!" Braydon's eyes suddenly widened and brightened. "I wish all of my gaming friends were here with me, so they could enjoy this perfect game with me!"
The genie sighed and snapped her fingers. Instantly, four additional nerdy teen boys were added to the forest clearing, each with new laptops of their own. They acknowledged each other and Braydon only briefly, and then started up the computer game and started playing, uninterrupted, for 10 hours straight.
The genie, even though she was thousands of years old, started to get impatient. Surely this master was her ticket to freedom; if she didn't have sexual control over this lackluster male, what hope did she have for freeing herself from millennia of slavery?
"Master Braydon," she growled seductively, "I'm sooo happy that you're enjoying the video game. But surely you'd enjoy some real life pleasure..." She decided that the situation was too dire and too important to resort to subtlety any longer, so she went straight for the more direct approach. "If you were to release me from my eternal coils, I would be free to do whatever....you...want...from me."
She smiled at him once more. Braydon stared at her face, let his eyes wander over her body, and then he gulped nervously.
"Er...right..." He smiled and shook with anxiety, then closed his eyes shut in concentration. "Right...I wish that you would be able to make out with me..."
The genie briefly thought that she had won, finally diverting his attention to her body, which would ultimately result in her freedom. She kissed him passionately for a period of time, enjoying the sensation on her lips because she thought it might lead to the sweet taste of being released from her chains. However, it wasn't long before she realized her mistake. As soon as her lips parted from Braydon's, her form began retreating into the ancient lamp. Braydon had used his third and final wish, and she was not free.
Braydon watched her form retreat, and stared as her breasts were briefly hung up on the narrow lamp opening. However, her entire smoky body was eventually sucked violently into the ancient metal lamp. The lamp sat there briefly and then disappeared with a *poof*, off to another distant land, to be discovered by another mortal in a hundred years time.
The four teenage boys plus Braydon continued to ogle the spot where she had disappeared for a long moment. Finally, they removed their gaze from that patch of forest floor, returned their eyes to the laptops, and continued to enjoy the greatest video game any of them had ever played in their entire lives. | I had taken on the nickname Nancy Drew from a very young age. There wasn't a secret I couldn't ferret out, nor an object I couldn't find. At first, my parents found this entertaining. They would set me missions to complete, mostly involving things that went missing. The entertainment ended when I told my dad that he had left his cufflinks at a local hotel (I came to this deduction after I discovered receipts and constructed a well defined timeline). My dad was displeased with me, my mom even more so, especially when I revealed that she never took up all those yoga sessions she told my dad she was doing. It was for the best really. My parents were devastatingly deceptive people, so it was better for them to be with people who possessed a deeper inclination towards truth.
I spent most of my childhood bouncing between them, always the odd person out no matter which family I was with. I looked forward to a time where I could be free from this game of back and forth, and just allow myself a kind of permanence.
Today I was on my way to my stepdad's newly acquired property. It was recently bought, but far from *new*. I found it strangely contradictory behaviour since he generally had a penchant for new, shiny things. But then again, he married my mom so I guess his tastes are pretty varied. I loved old spaces. It released the snooping presence within me, though nowadays I kept whatever information I found to myself; sometimes too much digging can leave too many holes behind.
"Okay everyone, this is what I want you to do. You are going to choose places to look through. See what you can scavenge before I completely tear down and remodel the place. I'll take everyone out for ice cream after. How does that sound?"
*Jeez*, how dumb does he think I am? Whatever I find was certainly going to be more valuable than ice cream. But I could definitely see his dumb children going for it.
"Kelly do you want to choose first?"
"Attic please."
"Aren't you scared of ghosts Kelly?" My stepsister Megan asked, sneering at me a little.
"I would take ghosts over spending time with you." I left before she could whine about me to her dad.
The attic looked exactly how I would expect an attic to look. Little hurricanes of dust would speckle the air whenever I moved something. It was especially beautiful when they mingled with the morning light, swirling in seeming contentment all the way back to the ground.
I took the attic because I thought it would be the obvious place to stash heirlooms and forget about it. But now it seemed that it's a place that people forgot about. Just when I was about to call it quits, my foot strikes against something decidedly golden. *Now we're talking*.
I bend down to pick it up, staring in disappointment at the lamp, immediately noting that it was gold plating and not gold. I suppose it was better than nothing. I twirl an old shawl around my neck and rub the lamp in exaggerated glee, imagining myself as part of the Arabian Nights landscape. And then, suddenly ... there he was.
I was so startled I dropped the lamp. He really is quite glorious, with hair gleaming like golden wheat and a fetching pair of blue eyes, eyes that *couldn't* seem to meet my own. He mumbles something.
"Sorry?"
He turns bright red and scrambles behind a stack of boxes.
"Can you tell me who you are?"
"*Iamheretograntyouthreewishesssss*." He says all this in a whoosh and proceeds to cover himself with newspapers.
Three wishes? Well that could only mean one thing. I laugh a little as he peeks out at me from beneath the newspapers. I sit beside him.
"So you could give me anything I ask for?"
He turns away from me, scratching the nape of his neck. I grasp his chin firmly and turn his face back toward me.
"Can you give me anything I ask for?"
He nods. "My only limit is death. I cannot bring death nor take it away."
"Makes sense to have limits." I find myself gazing off into the distance for a moment.
"Do you wish to make one?" His voice is soft and wispery and recalls me from my wandering thoughts.
"Can you give me time?"
"I can wait if that's what you wish."
"No no, I meant. Can you give me the gift of time?"
His eyes widen a bit and I see that he understands. He kisses me gently on my cheek.
"It is done. You have two more wishes." And with that he is gone. I feel the pressure of time on me, and I move through it, feeling it's lightness as well as its weight. A new life awaits.
| 2017-07-30T05:47:43 | 2017-07-30T05:12:46 | 287 | 23 |
[WP] A Witch attempts to kill the knight who has been hunting her for years by pretending to be a damsel in distress. As she discovers his ultimate weakness, she realizes she has fallen in love with him. | "Alright," Cassandra said, checking her face in the pocket mirror. "Just the right amount of doe eye. Maybe overdid the boobs, but somehow I don't think he'll mind."
Burbank hooted from his perch on the branch next to her.
"I did not," Cassandra said indignantly. "My ass fat wouldn't have filled my chest."
Burbank turned and flew off.
"Fine then, go eat a spoiled rat you ungrateful shit," she muttered.
The *clop* of horse hooves filled her ears.
*Why do you suddenly have butterflies?* Cassandra thought. She cleared her throat, her usual croak rising to a lovely falsetto.
"Hello?" she cried out in a dainty question, pulling her blouse down just a bit more and angling her legs off to the side of the hanging cage in an uncomfortable position. "Hello, is anyone there? Won't someone rescue me?"
The sound of the horse came to a stop and silence filled the woods, the crickets and birds sensing something off and staying silent.
Sir Rothbar, the fabled Black Knight of Red Mourn stepped from behind a tree and examined the young woman. He wasn't wearing his armor, but had obviously scouted the scene before revealing himself.
*You've grown old, Rothbar,* Cassandra thought. *It looks good on you.* Rothbar had indeed gone gray and years in the sun had weathered his face, giving his stern features the appearance of chiseled stone.
"Young Miss," his deep voice carried. "Why are you in a cage in a tree?"
"Oh, sir, can you help me?" Cassandra asked, leaning against the wooden bars and working up a tear to fall between her breasts. "I have been trapped up here for hours. A wicked old woman trapped me here."
"Was she tall?" Rothbar asked. "With a haggish face and a stoop?"
"Well, I wouldn't call it a haggish face," Cassandra said. "But yes, that sounds like her."
"Ah," Rothbar said. "She trussed you up here to slow me down. Clever woman, I'll give her that. Well, be patient, I'll get you down."
"Oh, thank you sir," Cassandra said.
After some fiddling with the knots of the rope that suspended her in the tree, Rothbar began to lower Cassandra to the ground. He stopped the cage a few feet from the packed earth of the road and cut the bindings of the cage door with a casual swipe of his sword. Gripping Cassandra by the hips, he lifted her effortlessly and set her down.
"Oh, ooh, my you're solid sir knight," Cassandra said. "Thank you. I was ever so sure I was done for. Hardly anyone comes down this road."
"Well, then Miss," Rothbar said. "Where do you hail from?"
"Oh my village is up the road a few days," Cassandra said. "You see, I was on my way to the market at the village south of here when that...that horrible woman captured me."
"Very well then," Rothbar said. "I will return you to your village before I return to my quest."
Rothbar whistled, and a great black stallion stepped around a tree and approached them. One sniff of Cassandra and it reared.
"Easy, easy girl," Rothbar said. "I'm sorry madame, but he must have the scent of the witch in his nose."
*Shit, I forgot the scent spell,* Cassandra said, and began to mutter it under her breath. By the time Rothbar mounted the horse and offered her his arm, Cassandra smelled like sweet oats and the great beast tried to nuzzle her.
"Oh, what a sweet creature," she said. "Oh, yes, ah hah hah *knock it off!*"
Rothbar hoisted her with one arm behind him and they were off, Cassandra wondering why the feel of him seemed to warm her insides. She leaned back and felt the armor secured on the rear of the horse and smiled to herself.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Day one was spent in mostly silence, Cassandra asking a few pointed questions of Rothbar. That night at a campfire she told him her name was Sarah, and she began to tell him of her history. Cassandra found herself telling Rothbar of her evil father and dull-witted mother, of the sister tossed down the well because Father was drunk and had dropped something. She told him many things, her script for the young naive Sarah forgotten as she shared the tale of her upbringing.
Day two, Rothbar started telling war stories as Cassandra pestered him. They were grim things, tales of blood and nightmares. That evening he told her of his loving blacksmith father and mother, and how their plague deaths left the boy orphaned.
On day three, Cassandra sent up a spell to make it rain, and the road became impassable. In a cave off the road, huddled together for warmth before the fire, Rothbar told her the tale of how he became the squire of the original Black Knight, and how he inherited the legendary armor, it's black metal guarding against all magic even if the knight wasn't currently wearing it, so long as the Black Knight kept himself pure.
*Purity,* Cassandra thought with glee. *There it is.*
As the evening grew colder, Cassandra drew herself closer to the knight, and with satisfyingly little effort convinced him to break his vow of celibacy.
Afterwards, laying together wrapped in Rothbar's cloak in their own sweat, she felt herself dozing in the crook of his arm.
"Is it everything you hoped for, Cassandra?" Rothbar said.
Her eyes snapped open.
"Hmm?" she asked, feigning sleep.
"Knock it off," Rothbar growled.
"Shit," Cassandra said, rolling to her feet. "How long have you known?"
"Since my horse tried to trample you," Rothbar said. "Sloppy of you. Go back to sleep, we'll settle this tomorrow. It's raining outside and I'm cold."
Cassandra dressed instead, and waited on the other side of the fire, wondering why there were tears in her eyes. Her jaw dropped as she heard Rothbar's snore.
____________________________________________________________________________________
"Honor demands we duel," Sir Rothbar said solemnly, the morning sun shining on the grass outside the cave. Cassandra's eyes woke from unplanned sleep to find him rustling through his armor outside.
"I'm not dueling you," Cassandra said. "We aren't doing this. Put the armor down. Don't you put on that greave. Take that greave off. Don't you put on that gauntlet."
"You killed my Lord," Rothbar answered.
"He was a prick! He murdered people for fun! Your stupid honor had you bound to a psychopath. I did you a favor."
"I swore an oath," Rothbar said. "I swore it to his father that I would protect him. I couldn't...I could have guided him on the right path if you hadn't killed him."
"No you couldn't," Cassandra said. "No one could. You don't have to do this, Roth, you're vulnerable now. I don't want to hurt you."
'Hah," Rothbar said. "You misunderstood the power of the armor. It isn't celibacy, it's purity as defined by the old charters. So long as I never love anyone but my lord, I am protected. Raise your guard, witch."
Cassandra sighed. "*Moob*," she muttered, and lightning shot from her fingers. Rothbar flew through the air and landed five yards away, his useless armor smoking. Cassandra strolled towards him and stood over his panting form, her arms crossed defiantly.
"Ah," he said. "Bugger."
She looked down at him, pity creasing her face.
"Breakfast?" she asked.
Rothbar contemplated this for a moment.
"Yes," he agreed, and she helped him up. | "Help!"
Ser Galen's eyes narrowed at the shriek, though he struggled to remain outwardly calm. He had been a witch-hunter for years, and this would not be the first trap he'd been led into by his own compassion. *Nor the last,* he thought grimly, spurring his mount toward the sound.
It was late. The witching hour, it was called - the time just before midnight when the barrier between the world and the next was thinnest. The ideal time to strike back at a pursuer, or lash out at a victim. It was possible that the cry for help was issued from someone with a perfectly innocent reason to be here on the moor in the dead of night - but unlikely.
"Hail, the desperate!" Galen shouted after checking the wards on his shield. "Are you in need of aid?"
"Yes!" Not the voice of a young woman - perhaps just old enough to be a grandmother. "Help me, please! My daughter, she's not breathing!" He saw her come running toward the light of his lantern, silhouette plain against the starlit brambles. "How far?" Galen asked, gently urging his steed forward. "Across the brook, milord, about a league. Please, she needs a priest!"
"Direct me, then," he instructed, making the sign of the cross and throwing salt across his shoulder. "Ride with me. I would not separate a woman of God from her imperiled kin." The woman ran up to the horse and mounted it behind him with an ease that bespoke years of horsemanship. Unusual, but not impossible - and any witch who tried to mount his horse would be met with intense pain. "Forward here, ser, and turn to the left as you cross the brook!" she commanded confidently. That was more unusual, for a peasant addressing a knight. *Curious.*
They came upon the girl laying unconscious against a tree. The woman leapt off immediately and cradled her, pulling one of the girl's hands up to brush her face. *She conceals knowledge of medicine,* Galen realized. "Does her blood yet flow?" he asked, watching the reaction. "Yes, her heart is beating, milord. Please, we need to bring her to a church! She may yet confess her sins and enter God's kingdom in a state of grace."
*A trap, but not for me,* Galen mused. *Fell creatures may not enter hallowed ground unbidden.* "She doesn't need a church, mother." *What am I doing?* he wondered, but continued: "She needs her blood let, and tea made of willow. She's been bitten by a snake, don't you see? Her blood will curdle and rot if we are not quick to push it from her."
"Ser knight, she's been here cavorting with the Devil himself. Small wonder if she's been bitten by a serpent. I would not want her to live in sin any more than to die in it, do you understand? Take us to a church at once!" She threw her arms about in a commanding gesture.
Galen pushed the old woman away and threw a quick circle of salt about the girl. "Do you think you have authority over death, woman? Has all of your wickedness driven from you the memory of compassion?" She spat at this, but he continued. "Until the moment of death, all of God's creatures may find redemption. Even this girl. Even you. Please do not make me end your life, and hers, tonight."
Two grotesque punctures about the left breast marked the poison's entry. Quickly, he set to the bloodletting. *An initiation ritual.* He had seen these marks before. *The next step, the profane resurrection on an altar of our Lord.* Grimly, wordlessly, he pushed the tainted blood from her wound.
He was there for some time, intent enough that he did not see the witch return. She placed a small clay cup of willow tea at the boundary of the circle and said, "Do you truly think she can be saved?"
"Her wounds are not fatal. She may yet live through the night."
"Stubborn as ever, I see. That's not what I meant." She looked away, pensive. "How long have you been chasing after me now?"
"Nine-hundred and sixty-two days," Galen replied, not looking up. "Though if you count the days I spent as page to Ser Thalus, God rest his soul, the total is increased by eight hundred and twelve."
She smiled at that. "He was never as careful as you are, Galen. Nor so concerned with the lives of blasphemers."
"All are rendered equal before the Lord," he quoted in a monotone. "We shall not turn away those in need until they have turned away from our Lord God."
"And do you think, even now, that she has not turned? That I have not turned? Would you stoop over even me, to push poison from my veins?"
"My lady," Galen exhaled, extending one hand from the circle and picking up the tea, "It saddens me that you do not understand that is what I am doing now. All children of God are given the opportunity to repent until they are dead. My mission is to ensure that you meet with one outcome or the other." As he poured the tea across her lips, the girl began to cough and breathe more deeply. "I will not forsake anyone, even a mistress of the Adversary."
"I daresay you will not," she said, seemingly whispering into Galen's ear. He stood up, shield raised and sword drawn, but she was long gone.
| 2015-01-25T19:29:04 | 2015-01-25T19:28:19 | 145 | 30 |
[WP] It's been days since you ran out of apples. You can hear them trying to claw their way inside. The Doctors have finally come for you. | Tink, Tink, Tink. "...there were no complications."
I scowl as I finger my hatchet and glance at the side windows that are obscured by tacky yellow curtains. I quickly avert my gaze. I don't even want to think about it, they give me the creeps. It'd been four days since I finished off the last of my shrunken morsels of apple and they'd picked up my scent pretty quickly as I tried to make my way further south. I'd found half a six pack of homemade hard cider in a basement in some middle-of-nowhere burg in southern Illinois. Traded them to some hard-up independent farmer folks outside Mount Vernon for a small bag of the bitter, wizened apple cores. They'd lasted me a couple weeks, but I was still 75 miles out from Orchard City and things weren't looking good.
Tink. Tink. "We'll need to run some.... tests." The bastards never do shut the hell up.
I'd stopped in this farmhouse to scavenge and sleep last night and they caught me with my pants down. There were far too many of them to clear out and most of them were still out there milling around the last time I'd had the stomach to look. Can hear their unending, creepy murmurs about needles and incisions. I know I'm probably gonna die if I don't make a move soon, I'm out of water and I've only got a couple days worth of food at best, even on emergency rations.
Tink. Tink, tink, tink. "Vitals nominal!" One of them shouts. The others answer with an echoing chant "Nominal? NOMINAL! NOMINAL!!!" They almost sound outraged.
Everyone else call us Johnnies. My unit was tasked with trying to establish safe trade routes through the Midwest. I've got a pack full of seeds that I've been planting in small nurseries along roadsides all the way down from Old Detroit. I've been heading for Orchard City and trying to hit all the larger settlements on the way. But southern Illinois was in bad shape, they'd had some kind of blight or something last fall and the yields had been dangerously low. Whole bunch of places on my map had been overrun or abandoned. Total ghost towns.
Sudden silence outside. Uh oh. That can't be good.
I sneak over to the window and listen. Nothing. I peel back the corner of a curtain.
One of them has his face pressed right up against the glass. His eyes seem to be all whites and he gives me a toothy grin. "We'd like to keep you overnight," he says, "for observation." His grin widens. Way, way too wide. I let the curtains drop back into place. The clink of stethoscopes against the glass resumes. Tink, tink, tink. It's enough to drive a man mad.
I'm about to head back to my perch by the door when I hear a muffled scuffling sound from upstairs. How the hell did they get up there from the outside! I start up the stairs two at a time but stumble to a halt on the landing when I see two figures wearing dirty scrubs already on the upper level. They both lunge at me, but one trips up the other and they both go down. The bigger of the two nurses lands on top. She takes my hatchet to the back of her head. A group wearing labcoats reach the top of the stairs above me. Oh boy, technicians. The other nurse wriggles and screeches from beneath the body of her companion but I'm already running to the front door, hoping against hope that they overcommitted to the breech upstairs.
I pause at the front door and check through the peephole, but I can't see a thing. Here goes nothing. I flip the deadbolt and sweep the door open. I'm surprised to see only one figure standing on the front porch, and he looks just as surprised to see me. I bowl him over but he angles around and grabs my ankle as I try to run past, twisting it painfully and mumbling behind his surgical mask, "does it hurt when I press here?"
Three swings of the hatchet mostly remove his head from his body and now I'm getting caught up in the bloodletting and the adrenaline. I scream down at him "I'D LIKE A SECOND OPINION MOTHERFUCKER!" Then I'm gone, sprinting out into the darkness, unchallenged.
I've still got 75 miles to go before Orchard City. I'm still low on supplies, I've got no apples, and they still have my scent. But I've lived to see the dawn.
| It was just a kiddie saying, like anything else. Ronnie put his faith in the supernatural about at his level with God. He supposed he believed in it in a sort of abstract way that never really crossed his mind. The rebbie would be so disappointed. But, hey. Cheeseburgers was God's work as well.
Then she moved in next door. The mysterious she with that poly-blend lab coat and sense-able shoes for late night rotation at the local chop shop. God, he loved her. She had a fantastic head of brown curls and a hellofa nose. Senseahuyma too. Ronnie could hear her laughing though the walls when Seinfeld was on.
Christ, what a gal. Ronnie convinced ma to make the girl something nice. For moving in to a rough place. Had to be neighborly. So he went over about an hour before her shift and knocked hard.
"I'll be a minute." She really wasn't from the local. German or French of something. When she opened the door Ronnie remembered not to lean on it. The chain was pulled tight and her eye was blue as a robin's egg. Or a Caddy. Ronnie had never seen a robin's egg but those cars were sweet.
"I see you've just moved in."
The eye widened. "I've been here a month."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry. I've been real busy and time got away from me. Say. I just wanted ti be, you know, friendly." Ronnie stepped back and held the pie up. "Got you this. Welcome to the neighborhood kind of deal."
The eye vanished and the chain rattled. She opened it full and Ronnie was a bit disappointed. She wasn't as pretty up close.
"Thanks." She didn't take the pie. Her eyes were locked on it. She looked a little green. Then she started to shut the door. "But I'm fine. I need to get read for work."
"Why don't you just take it?" The tin was glass and his arms were getting tired. "Please?"
Somehow she wasn't holding as he let go and the pie hit the ground and exploded like a booby trap. She jumped like it had been hot or something. All the standing around made it lukewarm at best.
"Christ, I'm sorry." Ronnie looked up from collecting some of the shattered glass. The door was already shut. He could hear the chain rattle behind it. Jeeze.
By the start of the weekend she had given her notice and moved out. | 2016-03-05T10:34:48 | 2016-03-05T10:10:28 | 319 | 15 |
[WP] At the age of twelve you started randomly seeing a green line and a red line appear on the ground. You always followed the green line and have lived a successful and happy life. Ten years later you are on top of the world, but bored. Time to see where the red line leads. | It's been ten years, and everything has gone my way. I graduated university with top marks, work at my dream job, and will soon be married to the best girl ever. All because of a little green line.
You see, following the green line keeps me safe. I never do the irrational or dangerous activities, so I never experience negative consequences. Life is good.
But borrrring. I want to have adventure! Not just sit around all day, getting fat and happy.
So as I leave work on that Friday night, I stop focusing on the green line. The red comes into view.
Green tells me to turn right as I drive out of the parking garage. That'll take me home, where I'll wait for an hour for Jennifer to arrive- she always works late Fridays.
Red tells me to turn left, so I do. After a couple blocks of office buildings, the line makes a turn on the freeway, but North instead of South.
Rather than take me to my condo in downtown, it takes me to... where? I pass multiple bars, stripclubs, and auto parts stores with no sign of the line even moving. Finally, I'm directed to veer off the freeway, to arrive at the most adventuresome and risky... Home Depot.
My confusion is heightened when I'm apparently told to buy a five gallon drum of gasoline and a match box.
"Need to start a fire?" The cashier jokingly asks.
"Matches are for a fire, but the gasoline is for my cousins electric generator at his cabin." Idiot, he won't believe that. But he's not saying anything more, and now Red is telling me to drive further from the interstate, and into the Suburbian Jungle.
Several streets and a couple turns later sees me pulling up in front of a ranch-style home that the years since the 80's haven't been kind to. I barely have time to look before Red slips under the side gate.
Green curves in my vision, twisting and pulling, before spelling out, "TURN AROUND." Green has nice cursive.
My hands find the latch, I step through, into the yard. Red leads up to a window, and I peer through.
Green vanishes completely, evidently collapsing into a catatonic state. Red marches me back to the car, where I pick up the gasoline, applying liberal amounts to the front of the house. One match later, and the structure burns.
I'd like to see the look on Jennifer's face as she notices me standing outside, but Red is telling me to drive.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's been three years, and with multiple felonies under my belt, it's safe to say I know what Red does.
Green gives me a safe, comfortable life, but one where I am never in danger, threat, or peril of any kind.
Red puts me into the worst possible situation, then relies on me to clean it up. I've had to bounce back and forth between the two, as depending solely on Red gets me captured and in prison.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to follow Red.
| I was finally there, at the top of the world. Around me I could see all of my journey highlighted in green, culminating in this moment. After soaking it all in and feeling quite pleased with myself for awhile, boredom slowly crept in.
I started glancing at the red line and wondering its destination. I resolved to follow it to the end as the green line had helped me so much. Standing and taking the first few steps reminded me of being twelve and first choosing the green line. The sense of wonder returned as I walked down the path. While daydreaming of my first encounter with the green line the red line led me off the path. My last conscious thoughts were a spinning whirl as boulders and sky repeatedly switched positions.
You hear a booming voice reading "You have died. To choose the other path turn to page 92." | 2017-08-23T07:27:41 | 2017-08-23T06:39:05 | 38 | 15 |
[WP] You’re tired of running to your kid’s room every time they scream at night. So you say, “You can just tell the monsters to leave.” Your child thinks, then says “Go home monsters!” From around the bedroom, you’re startled to hear a chorus of “Aww man,” “Fine then,” “Darn!” “What a drag.” | I told my son to just to just tell the monsters to go home. And he did. Immediately the complaining started.
"Awww, come on lady. Do you have any idea how such a short project runtime is going to look on my record."
That came from the corner of the room. The dark shadow in that corner, darker than it should have been, resolved into a humanoid dark figure. It started dragging it's feet towards the half opened closet that I was sure was closed when I tucked my son in bed.
"Yeah, you're killing us here," said a bunch of clothes. The clothes crawled forward and stood up. Below was a another humanoid figure that wore pieces of clothes on it's back not unlike the camouflage suites you see with some military. "People and rationality these days."
"I said it before and I'll say it again", said a green blob also slowly making it's way to the closet. "It's these millennial. They have something the parents a few decades ago didn't have."
Somehow the green blob looked at me with puppy eyes and pleaded: "Can't we stay? *Pleaaaaase.*"
I have no idea what came over me, but I said: "We can talk about it? You guys want coffee?"
All the heads of the little monsters turned to me with an almost audible snap and they started babbling.
"Coffee? Real coffee?"
"It's been ages I had coffee. Kids these days only have soda."
"Oh, that would be so nice."
Some tears of gratitude were shed with the little folk. That's how we ended up with half a dozen half-pints around the kitchen table, all drinking coffee like it was ambrosia. I should have been freaking out but now they looked so normal, not monsterly or anything.
"Look guys, you can't just haunt my son. He needs his sleep. Me too."
"But it's our job. If we don't, we'll be disappeared. Even now, with this short a gig we'll be punished for sure." It was the clothes troll. I later learned he called himself Bob.
"So now you're punishing my son."
"What do you want us to do, lady? Play poker with the kid?" That was the shadow. She was called Janet.
"Why not?" I asked.
A dozen beady eyes just stared at me unblinking in slack jawed faces.
"But the boss..." Frank said, the blob.
"...never has to find out." Janet said.
"Lady, you've got yourself the beginning of a great friendship," Bob said and held out a tiny hand. I shook it.
The next weeks were surreal. I reintroduced the little monsters to my son. They said they wanted to play his board games. It didn't take long before he raced upstairs to go to bed. Afterwards the monsters came downstairs to drink a coffee with me and my husband. They often did some cleaning in the house after we went to bed.
But now the children are in college. And the monsters followed them. They say the monsters are great tutors. I'm happy for them, but I must admit I miss the little buggers. | “I told you that bedtime is 9:00 sharp. You can play with Billy and Emma until dinner time. We’ve talked about this.”
A tall, purple glob of a man glared at me with disdain.
“Don’t you try to sweet talk me into changing my mind, Tom,” I continued. “We made an agreement. You let my kids sleep, and I run the underworld while they’re in school. Now go back home before I lock you all back up again.”
I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror and noticed my glamour trying to fail from all of the magic in the house. I slipped back into my human form and let out a deep breath before I lost my temper. I didn’t care how many monsters tried to get me to change my mind. I was positive I could run the PTA and hell at the same time. | 2019-12-17T12:07:00 | 2019-12-17T09:54:46 | 148 | 99 |
[WP] Scientist have created a machine that allow people a window into alternate realities. It becomes mainstream and people talk about alternate versions of themselves. Finally you decide to take a look only to discover that there are no alternate versions of you. You're the only you in existence. | "Oh that's more common than you think."
"What?" That wasn't the response I was expecting.
"I thought maybe I was in grave danger, or there was something wrong with me..."
"Oh goodness no, Mr. Robinson. You're life simply collapsed into a singular timeline due to an infinitesimal bottleneck. "
"That doesn't sound good..."
"Well it hardly matters frankly, alternate timelines can't directly influence each other unless one has Stein's Gate, but neither you nor I have that condition so it's outside the purvey of this discussion."
"So... timeline traveling bounty hunters?"
"Oh, I seem to have confused you even further. Allow me to concisely explain: Suppose you were trapped in a game show where you had to guess a number between 0 to infinity. "
"Ok... "
"If you failed, you were to be killed."
"Dark, but I think I can guess what you're saying. I was the only reality that happen to choose the right number... "
"Well, that normally isn't possible due to infinite choice distributions tending to be well clumped. For example, most people told to choose between 0 to infinity will probably choose somewhere between 0 and a trillion. So if people were actually put through this test and assuming the number is between 0 and a trillion, there are usually a handful of infinities that survive. But not all infinities are of the equal size or of the same distribution. "
"Ok, I'm back to confused again. Except this time more completely."
"I'm sorry, I do that alot. I hang out with people who think about this stuff way too much, " my doctor laughed sheepishly and tried again,
"It's a good thing I commissioned this visual aid..."
From his desk, my doctor pulls out a simple fit a shape into a slot kids toy. There was a star slot for the star piece, and square slot for the square piece and so on.
"Let's say that each timeline has their own shape like a star, square, or circle. "
"Ok."
"But for some reason, at a certain point. Only the timeline that had a 'square' shape kept you alive in it. Usually, it's a very precise blood pressure number like 1072..."
"A BP at 1072.0 over 80.0 will kill you... "
"By god, my doctorate is in theoretical physics, not medicine. Back off!"
"Anyways, since each shape is unique, only this particular timeline made it through the check to keep you in it. "
"So basically, something about this universe was *just* right for me to keep existing."
"Precisely."
"That's unsettling."
"Oh, that's true for everyone as they get older. The version of them that stays alive the longest is essentially the same as you except it happened to you sooner." | "God dammit why isnt this shit working!?" I yelled out in annoyance while just finishing my most recent goal in a long, long list of goals.
"What is it?" Asked probably my best friend, who also happened to be a taxi driver.
"This device says it can show you, your alternate reality selfs, but I keep looking through it and the price of donkeyshiteatingmotherfucker is broken!"
"Uhh Mr.D I think it's because you just went and killed every other alternate version of yourself..."
"Well fuck that would cause issues I guess, Oh well." I shrugged as I put my twin swords and went back to another day of being a "hero". | 2021-06-02T07:05:11 | 2021-06-02T04:47:35 | 41 | 30 |
[WP] As a Grim Reaper, you have the ability to see numbers floating above every individual's head, counting down the days they have left to live. However, you one day come across a young girl whose number is actually in the negative. | The Reaper lurked in the shadows, waiting. He could see his target coming down the street. Well dressed, wall street guy, talking loudly on his cell phone, the number over his head counting down as he walked. 50, 49, 48. As he passed the alley a big burly arm reached out, grabbing him and dragging him back into the shadows, covering his mouth.
“Ok guy, give me your wallet and we won’t have any trouble.” The mugger whispered.
The broker reached up and pulled the muggers hand from his mouth. “Fuck you asshole!”, he said as he started squirming and pulling away. The Reaper glided closer to the pair and reached out, lightly touching the broker on the forehead as the clock hit zero.
“Have it your way” the mugger said as his blade slid across the Broker’s throat. The Broker collapsed to the floor, gagging on his blood. The Reaper propped himself against the wall, waiting for the spirit to release. The body stopped convulsing. A light airy fog lifted from the mouth of the Broker and hovered for a moment, before shooting up into the air, then plunging into the ground.
The Reaper smirked as the Mugger collected his prizes and ran out of the alley. The reaper left the alley and began to stroll down the street, watching the timers over everyone's heads. 20 years here, 54 years there. One lady had 17 hours, her significant other had 17.5. Then something caught his eye. A young girl, no more than 10 years old, Standing across the street looking into a toy store window, -12 years hovering above her head.
He stopped in his tracks and stared at the little girl. She wore a frilly pink dress that puffed out at the bottom. Her curly hair pulled up into a neat ponytail. He moved towards her, his body gliding through the vehicles and people in his way. He stopped behind her, watching and observing. ‘Who is she?’ he thought, ‘and….how?’.
Suddenly she spun on her heels and looked him in the eyes. “There you are!” She said. “I’ve been looking for you! You are pretty sneaky, I’ll give you that, but I’d knew I’d find you here.” She smiled at him.
Confusion set in. ‘How...how can she see me?’ the Reaper thought.
“You are probably wondering how I can see you?” She smiled. The reapers face turned to shock. “Well, as you can see, I died some time ago” She continued, pointing at the numbers above her, “And well, you weren’t there!”, her face turned to an exaggerated pout. “But it’s ok” She smiled, “we can fix it now! Before I go though, can you do something for me?” She asked as sweetly as she could. The Reaper nodded slowly, still not sure what was happening or how he could miss a death. The little girl gestured with her finger for the Reaper to come closer. He kneeled down to her level, leaning closer to her. “Leave” she whispered, and touched the Reaper on the forehead.
The reaper shrieked in pain as his body stretched and tore. His cloak billowed and twisted in the wind. The little girl watching, a big toothy grin on her face. The Reaper felt his soul being ripped from his body. He was floating now, looking down at the scene, his body laying on the pavement above it the counter went from -9,999 years to -10,000 and stopped. His spirit flew up into the air then spiraled down into the ground, into darkness.
(sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors. I wrote this at work and didn't have time to proof read it)
| There they live and breath. Away from my humble abode, yet close enough to bother. Oh how I pity the innocence, the false claims gone by. The days are numbered and I am ever counting.
Amidst the grey streets and sunken lights I float above their shriveled faces. Hollow eyes and softened bones. I live in a world of dark; devoid of natural luminescence.
Oh what I would give to be among the living, the things I would trade. This rusty garden tool for starters; for I am Death, reaper of souls and watcher of all.
That is to say, their clocks, for I am without beginning *and* without end.
But them. They are all the same. As they stalk the cobble paths and plow their dusty fields, I am watching the time give way. The only color I am granted. Bloody red time bombs hung above their heads. All of them counting, until they are dead. There is no ring, no swan song to be heard. A sight for blind ears.
But wait, what is this I hear?
For all the bombs gone off at once, for this I could not believe. A light gone o're the moon and stole it's lovely rays.
For here!
She came!
My darling dear!
But this they say, is a coming day, for which I will not say. But little feet run along the empty street; and her clock gave little sway. A tock without a tick; all lost amidst the sun spilled day.
(Sorry for unintentional rhyming😊✌) | 2018-05-23T06:45:29 | 2018-05-23T05:51:18 | 229 | 44 |
[WP] Your the newest member of a small bandit group. You've been following a traveler with pretty impressive armor. You just witnessed him fight a whole pack of wolves, kill a dragon with lightning and punch a giant to death. Your leader says "We can take him, attack!" | I'd never thought Black Jaw Jim could fly. But he sure did make a fine sight arching through the air, scrap armor glinting dully in the sunlight, just before crashing into the shrubs a twenty paces away. I winced at the follow-up blast of lightning, toasting Black Jaw where he lay.
Stinky Leroy charged next, waving a cudgel like a small windmill. He claimed the wind up helped the power of the attack; never really bought it myself. Seemed like the adventurer wasn't on the market either; he kicked Stinky straight in the shin bone. I could hear the crack from where I crouched, bravely, in the underbrush.
See, it's not cowardice if you stay to watch. Aint nobody running away or nothing. Just think of it more as a preemptive tactical retreat. Ah--there went Badger--the leader of our humble group of cutpurses and sneak thieves.
"Time to up our game," Badger had said. "No more trolling the towns during hangin's," he'd said. "We'll find ourselves a noble. They cough up coin like a farmer's wife with the pox," he'd said.
Now, he wasn't saying much of nothing. Partly on account of having lost most his teeth. But also partly, I like to think Badger is a man who can learn from his mistakes. A noble fellow, who stabs his victims head on, only ever slit one throat in his life, did Badger. And that helpless, bound carriage driver had it coming for all the lip he probably would have given had we not gagged him.
Badger didn't so much fly, as he did dig. There was now a crater around him from the force of being whacked into the ground like a fence post.
Three of us down. That only left one of us. But I could see Minxy making a hasty retreat, scampering up a nearby tree. The coward. No spine among thieves. I shook my head in disgust and hunkered down a bit more, lest the strange adventurer spot me.
The adventurer approached Minxy's tree.
"Get down!" he said.
"Won't!" said Minxy.
"Do it now!"
"No!"
"I'll count to three!"
I happened to know for a fact that Minxy couldn't count that high. Bad form from the adventurer, rubbing in his many thinking skills before whacking a cutpurse silly. Next thing you know he'd be reciting his abcs.
"Pshaw!" said Minxy. "Don't hurt me. Mr. Me is the one you want."
I stiffened in the shrubs.
"Mr. Who?" The adventurer was now hefting a war axe he'd taken from his back, aiming at the side of the tree.
"Mr. Me!" Minxy shouted, his voice squeeking. "He's crouched over there in the bushes! Has been from the beginning."
I cursed Minxy beneath my breath and waved a couple of inventive hand gestures in his general direction, hoping that his bird's eye view would give him a perspective on the birds I was waving.
"Oh?" said the adventurer, curiously. He glanced towards where Minxy had indicated. "Is anybody in there! Mr. Me?"
I considered saying 'No,' but felt that it might have defeated the purpose.
So instead, I came to a moral dillema. On one hand, I really wanted to see Minxy felled from that tree. On the other, I had very little interest in being the next bashed, bruised, battered or singed member of our little gang.
In the end, my self preservation won out.
I slipped away, just as the sound of the first axe blow resounded in the woods. I broke into a sprint, racing towards where we'd left the horses.
...
3 days later.
He's still chasing me. Dear God, how is he running so fast? I needed some bartering tool, I couldn't keep this up, but the adventurer seemed to have unlimited energy. Treasure? I could tell him about the map we'd found. But surely no one would want to face a six-headed dragon...
I pulled up short.
No one sane would. But what about someone sprinting through the woods for three days, chasing a man on a horse?
It just might work.
***
If you liked that, you might like more at r/josephdanielauthor
| A slash. A crack. A swipe.
The stranger fully decked out in Ebony Armor charged onward into the eight of us, with a follower in tow. Left hand wielding a shock spell and the other gripping tightly onto a Dragonbone Sword of Paralysis, three of our little group effortlessly fell to the ground.
Sigh. I should tell this story from the beginning, a week before the happenings describer above.
It was a surprisingly blue Monday. Our little village of Ivarstead stood proudly in the sun. We had little traffic today, except for a traveller dressed in Ebony Armor. A spellsword, we thought. Making the trip up the 7,000 Steps. He asked for the direction towards High Hrothgar, which we gave.
A few days later, well, my best friend Odgrub told me about a easy job. Of course, I agreed. We stalked the stranger in Ebony, and geared up. We watched him interact with the Greybeards. The Greybeards addressed him as "Dovahkiin", and only him.
We watched as he fought off hundreds of draugr, flayed thousands of necromancers and crushed tons of skeletons effortlessly. He blasted through dragons, stabbed through wolves and slammed Giants to Sovngarde with his bare fists.
Then one day, an Elder Dragon appeared on the horizon. The Dovahkiin struck him with all his strength, impaling the dragon with swords of both the Ebony and the Daedric variant.
Finally, the dragon was done. It screamed and roared as its life was snuffed out and absorbed by the Dovahkiin. That was when we chose to strike.
Okay, where did I leave off? Ah yes, when he killed three of us.
The leader, Tallione, screamed as the Dragonbone sword sliced through his torso like a hot knife through butter.
Odgrub was next. His telegraphed attacks were quickly parried and he was stabbed through a chink in his Iron Armor.
Two other guys that I did not know were fried with just a twitch in the Dovahkiin's hands.
Soon, I was alone, cornered and scared. The imposing figure stood, staring at me. A confused look flashed across his face, as he muttered a single word to me.
"Run."
| 2018-12-05T05:06:28 | 2018-12-05T03:44:45 | 74 | 47 |
[WP] Life has achievements, just like in video games. Ever since the dawn of time, people have been unlocking all kinds of achievements, and yet, people are still discovering new achievements every year. You're one of those people who just unlocked an achievement no one's heard of before. | Life got interesting when achievements were first discovered. They always existed but we didn't know how to measure them for a long time. Now everyone has apps for that.
I remember grandpa's stories telling me how many he discovered when the tech came out. He was the first person to unlock the peanut butter and jelly achievement. He discovered a lot of those, just common achievements that weren't cataloged yet. As did everyone in his generation.
My grandma and him met on the bus where he got the achievement for standing up so the elderly can sit for 5 rides in a row. My grandma thought he was sweet for doing that and they started talking.
Fast forward some years and it's starting to become a bit stagnant for the next generation. People started to focus less on finding new achievements and more on unlocking those that look good on a resume. Some just trying to obtain silly once like solving Rubik's cubes real fast.
But as i grew up it became such a rare occasion to find a new one. So some people would try hunting them. You could spot them easily as they tried the craziest things. Riding unicycles to work while whistling their countries anthem and other things of similar silliness.
I didn't do any hunting myself. It's been 2 years since the last achievement discovery. I considered it a waste of time. I just got the fun ones or those that look good.
I was working on some homework and had to get a specific achievement related to programming. Couldn't quite get it to work the way i wanted even after downloading all the right programs so I gave up for the day.
Next day at school i get a lot of disgusting looks. Whispering as i walked by. I assumed it was because they saw i didn't do the assignment. I couldn't tell if they did because I forgot my phone at home. It felt quite unpleasant.
In class it turned out i wasn't the only one with trouble on the assignment. I went up to my friend asking if he's noticed people acting weird. All he replied was if I did something different yesterday. When I asked why he exclaimed his phone said I've found a new achievement. Those looks of disgust were jealous hunters.
A sudden dread came over me. What if it was something bad. I don't want any reputation harming achievements. It was easy to avoid the cataloged ones but this was different. I asked him what it was. He said i had to catalog it first. I rushed home to my phone, forgetting I even had school. I checked my phone immediately and a wave of relief hit me.
I still can't believe nobody ever bought WinRar before yesterday...
_____
This is my first one. I hope it didn't suck to bad. I feel like I dragged it out too much though. | They call it the "Agape Achievement"
I had to research into it.
Turns out that "agape" means unconditional love.
There's a song about it.
Have no idea what I did to deserve the achievement but I guess I did it.
Huh.
Never mind, looked at the description.
*Go against "You can only love others if you love yourself first" for 25 years by hating yourself and loving people.*
Tfw I'm a therapist.
Tfw I check and also have the pseudo-narcissist badge. | 2017-04-13T23:47:39 | 2017-04-13T19:45:29 | 107 | 20 |
[WP] A technology is invented that allows us to hear sounds locked into the clay of ancient pots as they were being formed. What is extracted are conversations that will alter the perception of history in the most terrifying of ways. | “Impossible,” said the first man, wearing a lab coat and wearing a pair of triangle-shaped headphones, plugged into a pot.
“That is… t-th-this is a joke,” he looked at the woman with hair like a lion’s mane, then at the Sanskrit dictionary in his hands, and then to the pot. As much as he wanted to believe this was a hoax, the words lined up with what the dictionary said. The name he heard was unmistakable.
“It is not, Mister Torbjørnsson,” the woman spoke, in a Hebrew accent.
“Though I do admit, it is rather odd,” she shrugged.
“We do not need to do something immediately, but this information must go higher up,” Tornjørnsson nodded.
“Ja, I will… sleep on this, and perhaps tomorrow we’ll figure it out?” The Israeli woman agreed, and the two parted ways for the night.
The Chief of the Chronosonic department looked at the two as though they were pulling a prank when he listened to the recording.
“There is no way I can believe this,” he grumbled.
“Sure, the device works like that. Sure, the clay maker could’ve been speaking Sanskrit. But… *him*?! *There?!* I refuse to believe it,” he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Torbjørnsson.
“If you find another pot with… *him*… I might change my mind. But this is bloody ridiculous,”
The next week, both Torbjørnsson and the Israelite along with a fluent Russian linguist and historian arrived with a pot discovered in the Karelian Isthmus.
“Same voice, same person, as I told you,” Torbjørnsson explained.
“Да, even though I do not want to believe it myself,” said the Russo.
“It is… rather strange, hearing the man speak Church Slavonic,”
“Any suggestions on what to do next?” Asked the Israelite. The Chief nodded.
“He lives in Canada, no? We go there,”
“Come in,” the voice from the pots said over the intercom, as the four scientists entered. They found the man in his office, and placed the pots down with the triangular headphones. Keanu Reeves turned around in his chair.
“So, you found it,” he said, looking at the pots.
“Congratulations,” He reached into his desk, and pulled out a handful of bills. To the Russo, he handed half a million rubles. To the Israelite, he handed half a million shekels. To the two Norwegians, he handed a quarter of a million Kroner each.
“You found my secret. Keep quiet, and I double it by next year. But don’t be a stranger; if you’re in town, I’m more than willing to let you in for a coffee…” |
*Yo man, check this out! I just bought this pot from pre-historic South America. Neat uh? Let's hear what it says! Turn that shit on!*
*O-kay. I'm turning the device on. Get ready for disappointment.*
*Wow this sounds like gibberish! You sure that thing ain’t broken?*
*Yes, I am pretty sure. I am also sure you nor anyone else still alive can understand the undocumented language of the people who made that vase. You’re stupid.*
*Oh, right. Shit.*
*Wait, did she just start moaning?*
*Yep.... okay. Hold on.. Did I just hear she call out Patrick Swayze?*
*I think... I think I heard that too.* | 2019-03-18T17:50:02 | 2019-03-18T15:24:37 | 33 | 21 |
[WP] A man goes to a bridge to commit suicide. He finds himself at the Bridge of Death, and must answer three questions to gain access. | The bridge was surrounded by a fog so dense you couldn’t make out what was on the other side. A tall cloaked figure stood in the middle of the road. He held a clipboard in booth hands and waited. Somewhere in the mist a distant foghorn resounded only to fall silent again.
Steps echoed through the silence and after a while a man emerged from the fog. He stopped short in his stride when he saw the bridge in front of him. For a moment he looked like he was about to turn around, but then he approached the bridge and its keeper.
The hooded figure looked up as the man approached him. “Before can you can gain access to this bridge, you must answer me three questions,” he said in a emotionless voice.
“Just get on with it,” said the man.
The bridge keeper pulled out a pen. „Who are you?”
“What? You need my name for me to enter the bridge?”
“If you name is what describes you best, it would do,” said the figure.
The man frowned. “I am just someone, who’s had enough.”
The hooded figure carefully wrote the answer down and asked: „Why are you here?”
The man snorted humorlessly: “To get to the other side.”
Again the pen dutifully scratched over the paper.
Finally the bridge keeper asked. „What is the point?”
“What is the point?” The man looked up in surprise. “The heck should I know?”
“What do you mean, what’s the point? There is no point, that’s why I am here. If there would be a point…” His voice trailed off. He stood there for a moment in absolute silence. “Maybe there simply is no point. So, why bother? No, I am done. I just want to get over it.”
The robed man wrote down every word the man said. Carefully he checked the answers and finally nodded.
“The way is yours,” he said and moved aside.
“Just like that?” The man looked down the bridge. The end of it was surrounded in mist and he couldn’t see where it led. Suddenly the whole bridge looked old, worn and unstable, as if it would collapse any moment. Walking over it suddenly looked dangerous and like a really bad idea, almost suicidal. But then again, wasn’t that the point?
The man hesitated. “What now?”
“Now you may cross over, if you wish to do so.”
“Do I have to?”
“Of course not.”
The man paused. “Everyone has to cross this bridge sooner or later. How much does it matter if I go now on my own volition and not in a few years because I have to? What’s the point?”
The hooded figure remained silent for a while until he finally said: “This I do not know, but after all it is your point to make.” | It's been a long time now, being forced to be the new bridgekeeper has been a real drag the past few centuries, but not even I can cross the bridge without first answering three questions. It's been 600 years since I got to answer a second question, to many just answer or perish, perhaps it's time to play some tricks into the questions, leave too many variables undefined. Ah well, all in due time. Is that the court of Camelot I see approaching? Maybe one of them will finally release me. | 2015-12-20T18:05:35 | 2015-12-20T16:39:20 | 214 | 22 |
[WP] By coincidence, alien stealth systems operate at the resonant frequency of Hydroxyapatite. This means that whenever their stealth systems are activated and nearby we literally feel it in our bones and teeth. | Mike tracked her through the room by the doppler-like tension in his teeth as she circled him, and by the sweetness of her stolen perfume. His body waited in rapt anticipation, his mind raced far ahead. She was on his right, then his left, then directly in front of him for the briefest of moments.
Reaching out a hand, Mike brushed her bare hip and heard a laugh full of promise.
“Too slow,” she said.
“Baela,” Mike whispered, opening his eyes.
He turned back to the kitchen’s open doorway. The scent of lilac reached out and beckoned him and Mike opened his arms to embrace the empty air. The air hugged back, fitting soft curves against the taut lines of his body.
“Baela,” he said again.
“Yes?”
“I don’t want you to go back.”
No laugh, no words. She slipped out of his arms; he knew the motion to be graceful though he couldn’t see her- had never seen her.
Baela Tarkanian had spent four years on Earth, lived out an assignment thought to be a curse on a backwater graveyard of a world torn apart by war and famine, plague and pestilence. She’d only discovered in the last week that it was also graced by love.
Baela circled again, and this time she added a new axis. The ache in Mike’s teeth moved, crept up the back of his neck like fingernails tracing a pattern, settled into the very top of his skull as if she clung to the ceiling above. He sniffed the air and looked up. The ceiling of the quaint little house he’d been given as his cover was still a blank white expanse, though now he imagined it to be a field of lilacs.
“I’ll be back,” Baela said.
“I’ll be old.” Mike said.
“And I’ll still be young, I’ve been on Earth long enough to know what men dream of.”
“Not this one.”
Thirty years. It was thirty years, two weeks, three days, and 6 hours, give or take a few minutes for orbital traffic, between Earth and Baela’s homeworld. She still hadn’t even told him its name. It would’ve been just as far away if she did, but Mike still wanted to know.
“I’ll come with you,” he said.
“You can’t.”
“I’ll give up the agency, I’ll give up my house, the real one. I’ll never set foot on Earth again!”
“You still can’t.”
Baela dropped from the ceiling, landing quietly but audibly. Mike pounced, a lifetime of training put into a single grapple against an invisible lover, squeezing the trim pliancy of her waist, feeling her upper and lower sets of arms on his neck and shoulders, pulling him towards her.
Then he was on the ground, pinned helplessly beneath her, and there were more limbs wrapped around him than he knew how to process.
“I hate relativity,” she said. “When I left Hebron I didn’t think twice. The world could age without me and I thought I’d hardly notice when I returned, but leaving Earth...Leaving you…”
“Sometimes I think it’s a dream,” Mike said.
“My people don’t dream,” Baela whispered.
“You do now.”
She snorted with laughter, punched his shoulder. Her lips nuzzled at his throat, no insistence in them, only a need for comfort and closeness. They drifted like that a long time, on the edge of a much longer void, and then Baela reversed her grav implants and they really drifted, lifting off the floor to make a lazy circuit of the room.
“What will you do while I’m gone?” Baela asked.
“Remember,” Mike said.
“No, I’m being serious now. What will you do?”
“I’ll keep on loving you every day, and wait for the moment you land on my lawn. Wear the scent so I can find you.”
“I’ll do better than that,” she promised. “Mike, that’s what I’m worried about though. Thirty years for you, hardly more than a year for me. And all that for a week.”
“The best week.”
“But a week! Your people don’t live so long, seventy or eighty years for a man with a life like yours, assuming your leaders don’t throw you into some insane fratricidal war. Can I really ask that of you?”
Mike threaded his hand through hair, kissed her soundly with a week’s long practice at finding lips in something more difficult than even the dark, and whispered in her ear, “I offered.”
Baela's comm implant chirped, it was on its final alarm.
“I have to go,” she said.
Mike’s final kiss held all the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.
She dematerialized in his arms, a sudden void left where his future had been. He dropped heavily to the ground, groaning with pain at her grav-implant’s disappearance. In a moment, Baela was nothing more than a scent he’d chase from room to room.
Words came unbidden to Mike’s mind, an old song, one his parents had loved. Billie Holliday’s indescribable voice crooned them just for him, and alone, chasing a scent, Mike sang along off key.
*"I'll be seeing you*
*In all the old familiar places*
*That this heart of mine embraces*
*All day through*
*In that small cafe*
*The park across the way*
*The children's carosel*
*The chestnut trees*
*The wishin' well*
*I'll be seeing you*
*In every lovely summer's day*
*In everything that's light and gay*
*I'll always think of you that way*
*I'll find you*
*In the morning sun*
*And when the night is new*
*I'll be looking at the moon*
*But I'll be seeing you*
*I'll be seeing you*
*In every lovely summer's day*
*In everything that's light and gay*
*I'll always think of you that way*
*I'll find you*
*In the morning sun*
*And when the night is new*
*I'll be looking at the moon*
*But I'll be seeing you"*
r/TurningtoWords | [Voiceover](https://vocaroo.com/1jglgQERIS66)
"Hold," the human said, interrupting the Captain. He turned and began to fire at the wall.
"What are you do- Oh!" the Gersnak said, as the conjoined body of three Fibblers appeared before flopping dead to the floor. "How did you know they were there? The top one looked like a Trink, at least. They could have killed us in a second."
"Felt them coming. The whoresons rattle my teeth when they try that stealth garbage," the human said as he began to cut into the Trink Fibbler's twisting spine, untangling it from the others.
"Right," the Captain said, pulling a long draw on bubbling Rin Oil Tar. A loud blast rang through the corridor before the human slumped dead. The captain reholstered his sidearm and bent to pick up the clanging knife, testing its weight. "I always wondered if that was true. Many a hunter keep a human mouth rock close to the chest, but I always figured it was superstition."
"I wondered why you were so eager to bring such a rookie along," the Gersnak said. "Poor bastard."
"Well," the Captain said as he used the knife to pull down the already slacked jaw of the dead man. "There's plenty to go around. Looks like he's got thirty-odd stones in there."
He began to work the knife beneath the soft red flesh under one of the white growths. They went deep. The door busted off the hinges behind them as twenty masked soldiers filed into the room carrying with them the smell of some sweet plant.
"Everyone on the ground. Drop the knife!" one of the newcomers yelled, pulling down her covering. The not-quite humans surrounding them wore long white battle coats and held rifles covered in articulating drills and blades, whirling idly.
"What's the meaning of this?" the Captain asked as he dropped the knife, positioning himself near the wall. "This is Backland, friends. There's no law here. What are you going to do? Who even are you?"
"When it was confirmed that human teeth are the only means known of detecting Fibbler stealth tech, the Coalition assembled a black book squad to ensure no human teeth ever fell into the wrong hands. Our profession was the clear choice for recruits. We'll be taking that back with us," the soldier said as she gestured towards the wide mouth dead man, "or we'll sit all of you down and show you what we're good at."
Bits of water squirted from the terrifying tools in their hands as the drills blurred faster and faster. One particularly deranged-looking one was only holding a set of plyers, eyes bloodshot and quivering. Was he giggling?
"We give up, take him," the Captain said, raising his claspers. "Just don't get near me with those things."
The hunters pressed against the wall as the humans approached. One pressed her tool into the corpse's mouth. The sound that followed rung the Captain's guts. A few drops of the strangely crusting human blood splashed onto his face as she worked the end of the instrument impossibly deep in the quivering maw.
The soldier cocked the tool back, depositing the harvested teeth in a pouch at her waist. She turned to the Captain, weapon thankfully by her side. She held out a thin piece of green cloth paper. "Our card. If you find another dead human, call us or you won't like what happens." They turned in unison and jogged back out through the destroyed door. "Base command, this is TF Zero. We have the package, ready for transport."
In a crash of energy, the invaders were gone. "What the hell was that?" the Gersnak asked, dusting off as she looked down at the ruined face of the human.
"No fucking clue," the Captain said, looking down at the words on the card above the number. "Tooth Fairies, apparently."
/r/surinical | 2021-05-17T12:37:47 | 2021-05-17T11:55:11 | 932 | 543 |
[WP] You are a time travelling hitman, hired to take out the worst of the worst while they are still children. No one knows that you secretly befriend the kids and help them grow up as good people.
Hit me in the feels. | Please excuse any grammatical and formatting errors. When I typed this, it looked great. Somewhere between it and reddit, things got weird.
THE PAINTER
Every week he came into the bar to sell his paintings. I was one of the few who would actually buy them. They weren't that great, but I knew he needed the money. Finally, after 3 months of this, I decided to have a talk with him.
“Why are you selling these things so cheap?” I asked. “I have to.” the young man responded, “No one would buy them if I price them higher and I need the money to buy food. Sometimes I barely have enough for a meal.”
“Some of these paintings are amazing. Others, well, not so much. It seems you are trying to find your style.”
“I hope to one day go to art school, however, with no money and living in a halfway house, it is not something I can afford to do at this time.”
“I have an idea.” I said to the scrawny looking man, “Are you any good at doing yard work?”
“I'm not sure. I haven't really had a yard to work in.”
“How about you come live on my family's land and help with the upkeep of the yard? You will have a nicer place to sleep than the place you are at now and we make sure our workers are well fed. All I ask is that you keep the land looking good and when we have parties, you paint pictures for us to give to our guests. We also pay our workers well. You can use the money to buy more paint and art supplies and you can save up for art school.”
His eyes widened and without hesitation, “Yes! Yes! I would love that! When can I start?”
“Be at the Schwarz family dwelling first thing Friday morning and we will get you set up.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much Mr. Schwarz.” The poor man was in tears as he happily left the bar.
----------
Two days later at the crack of dawn
*knock, knock, knock*
“Mr. Schwarz, sir.” my butler said as he knock on my door waking me up, “Sir, there is a young man at the front door who says he is here to work.”
Waking up and realizing who it is, “Oh yes! Let him in and take him to the dining room and get him something to eat. I'll be down shortly. Oh! And after that, go get Edward and send him to the dining room too.”
“Right away sir"
I got dressed and made my way towards the dining room. There I saw the same scrawny man eating his food like he had never eaten in a long time.
“Well good morning Mr. Artist.” I said as I walked into the room.
The young man stood up midway through eating. “Goof monin fir,” he said with his mouth full.
“Please, continue eating. You have a full day ahead of you and you need all the energy you can get.”
The young man sat back down and started stuffing food as fast as he can.
I sat down across from him and started eating my breakfast.
A minute later, he stops and asks me, “Sir, why are you helping me? Out of all of the people in town, why me?”
“I'm an investor of sorts. When I see something that has potential to grow, I invest in it and help it to grow. It is a trait that has been in my family for generations. In your case, I have a feeling that you are going to be something great. However, I want to see how willing you are to make yourself great. Instead of just paying for you to go to art school, I'm going to have you work on my land and help my workers keeping it up. You do this for me and I will invest in you more.”
“Sir,” the butler walked in, “Mr. Edward is here.”
“Thank you Richardson. Edward, I'd like you to meet your new assistant caretaker. Show him his new room in the caretaker house and teach him how to do the upkeep on the land.”
----------
4 years later
The once scrawny looking man now looks like he can wrestle a bear. On the days he wasn't working, he has been painting and selling his paintings. He has saved enough money to pay his way into art school. I purchased an apartment for him to stay in while he is at school and also paid for his trip there.
“I can't thank you enough for all you have done for me Mr. Schwarz.”
“I'm proud of you. You have proven you are a hard worker and I'm more than happy to invest in your future.” I shook his hand as he stepped into the car. “You are going to do great things. I just know it.”
----------
Current time
I am Alastair Sullivan. Codename: Agent 42. I'm a time-traveling “hitman”. I'm hired to take out the worst of the worst. Instead, I try to change them by befriending them and make them into good people. It is something my organization has been doing for a long time. I've had many aliases over the years, but today, I'm just myself. Sometimes I like to enjoy the fruits of my labor and visit museums. Right now, I'm standing in an art gallery of one of the greatest painters of all time. The tour guide says this particular wall is like an autobiography. Every painting on this wall represents an important point in his life.
I stop in front of a familiar looking setting. It is a house with a well maintained landscape.
The plaque underneath it reads:
Title: The Turning Point
Date Started: 20 April 1945
Date Completed: 1 May 1945
Artist Name: Adolf Hitler
| I synced to the timeline. I was stuck here until I could fix the history. But I couldn't have come at a better time.
Kid was captured. But quietly released. We went into the night, and I served him until I could change the future some more.
Kid was still young, and was destitute most of his life from exile. He came to me advice; he had no father.
"My wife is captured stranger, shall I get another or find her?" kid asked me. "Let's go get her kid. She'll love you. I'll ride with you" I told him.
We tracked his wife to a camp and raided, his wife rescued, kid was furious. I couldn't stop him slaughtering all of them. He set his scrolls on the table and set an upheaval. "Theft of wives are forbidden by law and punishment"
"I have captured warriors stranger, should I execute them or enslave them?" they're not of my clan.
"It doesn't matter kid. It's just blood. Don't mean they can fight or command" I told kid. "Why waste good strong men? They'll come to you once they know they can find better leaders"
Kid freed the captives and made them commanders and soldiers. His brothers were scared shitless, but the captured men were humbled and surprised.
"My son may be a bastard, stranger. What should I do?" the kid asked.
"Just because you weren't his dad kid, don't mean you weren't his daddy. Could be a great warrior. You going to give up that opportunity over some shithead brothers?" I told him.
Kid gathered around his great hall and presented his son. Doubts over his father started after kid's wife got rescued. Kid was pissed.
"How dare you talk about him? Is he not my first son? I'll never hear such shit from your mouths again! He is my oldest son! My first son! My son!
The clan chiefs were shocked and pissed. Kid didn't give a shit. They tried to rebel, and a rival of kid fought. Kid lost, but the rebel leader burnt the captured men alive.
Such brutality made his men defect. None of the clans or warriors wanted such a barbarian for a leader. And kid prevailed.
"Stranger, what do I do with these clans?" kid asked. I'm here to make sure his decisions are wise, and we shared ideas.
"Kid, if you have a reason to slaughter them like you did to the scum that stole your wife do it. Otherwise, keep the cream and leave the dross".
Kid absorbed every clan. Those who accepted it went quietly. Those who fought it were slaughtered. Couldn't prevent kid from doing that, but could change who he does it to.
Eventually kid was unopposed. His enemies that were so racist and aristocratic based fell to raiders and weak commmanders promoted by family. Kid was the sole ruler.
It was 1206 now. My timepiece had synced up, and I prevented a disaster. I had to go soon.
Many small tribes of cultures and religions swore loyalty to him. We bowed our head. Temujin son of Yesugei, House of Borjigin was crowned. Ghengis Khan they chanted as they swore loyalty for life. The Great Khan was crowned.
His empire a meritocracy. No creed, no religion, no blood defined success. Only merits and skill were accepted here.
My time was over, and I vanished into the steppes. The kid became a man, a great Khan.
His cruelty would be reported from East to West. But he was a fair man, a loving man, and a reliable and trustworthy leader. | 2018-05-14T18:14:55 | 2018-05-14T14:59:47 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] Sauron has been biding his time and returned to Middle Earth after thousands of years and raised an army of orcs. However, he does not know about the technological advancements of men, such as M-16s, artillery strikes, and Apache attack helicopters. | “So what’s this all about then?” The Prime Minister’s face displayed visible annoyance as his advisors filed into the 10 Downing Street Secure Intelligence Facility (a grand title for a small green-walled meeting room with a splintery table and pipe chairs that had been there since 1943). Being awoken at 3am hadn’t done anything for his temper or his more mussed than usual blonde haystack of hair.
The youngest of the pack of civil servants was thrust to the front by his peers. Looking faintly put out at being called upon to debrief the PM directly, he shuffled the wad of papers in his hand until one marked with a large red stamp saying “FIVE EYES RESTRICTED” came to the fore.
“Um... it would appear that the Dark Lord has risen again, sir.”
“Dark Lord?! What on earth are you on about?”, the PM bellowed.
“Well, we’ve got a report that Sauron the Great, otherwise titled the Dark Lord and/or Lord of Barad-dûr, has arisen once more.”
The PM looked confused. “Sauron? As in the one mixed up with little fellows finding magic rings, poncy toffs with pointy ears, thick northern gits with a penchant for gold, et cetera?”
The young advisor looked faintly embarrassed. “You see, sir, it turns out that Professor Tolkien wasn’t just an imaginative Oxford don; according to our intelligence, he was actually the cousin three hundred and twenty seven times removed of one Elven seer named Glorandel, and had inherited said Glorandel’s powers of prophecy.”
“Are you seriously telling me that the Lord of the Rings was *non-fiction*?” The PM’s face was mottled red and he appeared ready to have a stroke at any moment.
“Well, not *exactly* non-fiction, more *semi-*fiction, as it were, sir...”
“How on earth did you find out about this whole Elven seer business? What intelligence source do we have that managed to fill us in on that particular piece of info, eh?!”
The young man visibly squirmed in mortification. “Er... it was in Appendix IX, section iv:36 of the Silmarillion, Prime Minister.”
The PM looked visibly shocked. “You mean someone actually read the whole book?!”
“Yes, sir, but unfortunately *after* the fact, if you see what I mean, sir.”
“So where has this bloody Dark Lord Sauron decided to show himself, then?”
One of the more senior advisors decided to jump in at that point, safe in the knowledge that he was on firmer ground once the PM had accepted the unpalatable truth about Tolkien’s tour de force of eldritch prophecy. “Somewhere in southern Germany, it would appear, sir.”
The Prime Minister perked up at the thought of his German counterpart being the one in the hot seat. “Well, can’t we just let the Germans deal with it, if that’s the case? No reason for us to have to get our hands dirty, is there?”
The senior advisor looked back over at the younger man and twitched his eyebrow.
The put-upon fellow shuffled some more paper and, in a tone of voice that indicated he expected to get yelled at, said, “Um, I’m afraid that..., it would appear that most of Germany, including the capital, and large swathes of Austria, France and several other nearby countries, roughly corresponding to the borders of the area formerly known as Mordor as laid out by Tolkien, have fallen under the influence of Sauron in a most unfortunate manner.”
“What do you mean, man? Spit it out!”
“It seems that sixty million Germans, Austrians and an assortment of other European citizens have been turned into undead wraiths, Prime Minister.”
The PM visibly cheered up at this announcement. “Well that’s not all a bad thing, is it? Takes off a bit of the heat for Brexit, eh?”
“Well, quite possibly, Prime Minister, but I’m afraid that the Dark Lord has dominated the lot of them and they’re currently marching in our direction.”
“More bloody immigrants, then? Although I suppose being undead wraiths would preclude them from applying for permanent residence.”
The Chief Cabinet Secretary on Immigration piped up from the middle of the pack with a cheerful “Yes, Prime Minister!”
“Fine then, let’s stop them at the Channel. Surely we’ve got some defense against them?”
“As it turns out, sir, Professor Tolkien was kind enough to include some advice in the next section of Appendix IX, sir. That would be...” - he shuffled some more paper - “...section iv:37, in which he states ‘a great leader of men, pure of heart and noble of purpose, shall come forth from the green hills of the Isles of Albion and with the might of his spirit shall throw down the Dark Lord into the deepest pits once more.”
“Isles of Albion? As in, us?”
“Yes, Prime Minister. It would appear so.”
“Well, what’s the fellow’s name then?”
“Tolkien included an encrypted anagram that, when deciphered, should tell us, sir.”
At that moment a balding academic type burst into the room, waving a printout. “We’ve cracked it, sir!”
“Well, out with it, man! Who is it?!” The Prime Minister looked fit to bust with impatience.
“Um... Nigel Farage, sir.”
“Oh bloody *hell*, it’s April Fools isn’t it?!” | "Hey, Sarge," Private Ryan called out. "I don't get what we're doing here."
"What's there to get, Ryan? We're marching," Sergeant Pepper replied knowing full well what was to come. It was, after all, the same thing that he was wondering himself. Just why the fuck was Frog Platoon marching when there were easier solutions?
"Thing is, Sarge," Ryan went on, "Okay, so let's put aside the fact that an army of orcs - fucking orcs - just came out of the fucking ground, and let's ignore how ridiculous that is. And let's ignore the fact that a giant eyeball emerged on top of that mountain, and that thing is staring at us. But why are we being marched toward this fucking mountain when a single B-52 should be able to clear this whole thing right up?"
"Private Ryan, are you a general?" Pepper asked in his signature monotonous voice.
"No, Sergeant, I am not," Ryan answered, annoyed at being shut down again.
"Then shut the fuck u..." Pepper was unable to complete that sentence as his comm device perked up.
"This is Frog Platoon, over," Pepper answered.
"Uh, Frog Platoon, this is Base Actual. Just what the fuck do you think you are doing?"
"Platoon halt," Pepper announced into his radio, and the entire Frog Platoon ground to a stop in their march.
"Base Actual, say again, over." Pepper requested, confused as to what was going on.
"Why the fuck is Frog Platoon marching toward the freaky mountain with the eye? You were supposed to stand back and wait for orders," came the voice.
"Base Actual, I received orders at 2300 hours last night that we were to move on and to secure Checkpoint Charlie," Pepper said, pissed off that some motherfucker, probably some retarded butter bar lieutenant, fucked up and sent him the wrong fucking orders.
"Frog Platoon, no such orders had been issued. You are to turn back immediately and re..." the transmission ended as it was suddenly filled with static.
"Goddammit, Ryan. Get this fucking radio fixed. Platoon, we're turning arou..."
But before Sergeant Pepper could finish his sentence, he noticed that the ground started to shake. "What the fuck is going on here?"
As soon as the words escaped Sergeant Pepper's lips, arms - humanoid arms - punched through from the ground and grabbed the soldiers' ankles and feet. And some kind of humanoid creatures jumped out of the ground and dragged the soldiers into the ground. And these creatures were big. Shots were fired but to no avail. This was an ambush. And Frog Company was fucked.
"FALL BACK! FALL BACK!" Pepper yelled. It was the last thing Pepper ever said as an arrow entered the back of Pepper's head and emerged from his mouth before the arrow was lodged in his skull.
As the last of Frog Company had been killed, a bearded old man in a white robe appeared and picked up an M4 rifle that a dead man's hands refused to let go of until his fingers were broken and pried open. It was heavier than it looked, and with a look of contempt, the old man dropped it back down.
Turning around, the old man said, "Today, the Uruk-hai gains new soldiers. We will have to learn how to fight this new world of Men." | 2020-12-07T21:57:26 | 2020-12-07T21:23:10 | 334 | 149 |
[WP] You discover that your pendant works like a video game save point, but you accidentally save your state mid-air while falling to your death. | “Let me go!” I scream and kick against my captor, but the large man was too strong. He tugs on the pendant around my neck, choking me. “Shut up! Now!”
The man rips off my blindfold. With one hand, he twists the door handle. An enormous gust of wind rushes out from behind us. My ears pop painfully. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the blinding glow of blue and white.
I find myself standing on the edge of a jet plane, with nothing but an angry ocean a thousand feet below me.
“No, no!” I turn to face my captor. He wears an eye patch and stares at me through his one remaining eye. He smiles, his golden tooth shining brightly in the sun. “You messed with the wrong people, little boy.”
He pushes me. Then, the world turns upside down.
The cold air slaps my face at a million miles per hour as I tumble towards the ocean. My pendant flaps in the wind, and I grab it before it flies away. The air screams in my ears. I can barely hear myself think.
*Clockwise for save, anti-clockwise for load… wait. Or is it the other way? Clockwise for loading…*
I shout in frustration. The ocean rushes towards me.
*Focus, Craig, FOCUS. Clockwise for loading, anti-clockwise for saves…*
I had no time. I turn the pendant clockwise. It glows brightly, indicating a new state has just been saved.
*Fuck.*
\________
How did things get so wrong?
I’d found the pendant inside an old video game store. It’s pyramidal in shape and made of a translucent, red glass. It reminded me of the pictures I saw of Egyptian pyramids during sunset, burning red in the sun’s scarlet glow.
Near the apex, the pendant could be rotated. It wasn’t long before I discovered that this turned back time for me, and me only. It was like saving during a video game – clockwise turns saved the game, and anti-clockwise turns reloaded the world to my last save.
Initially, I was ecstatic. I used the pendant to cheat on tests, to ask out girls, to escape my chores… I felt like I was in X-Men or something. I could do whatever I want and not suffer the consequences.
Then one day, everything changed. I went back to the video game store and as I walked passed a young woman in shades and a hat, my pendant glowed blue and warm. I’ve never seen that before. I turn to follow the woman, but she was gone. Fearing that she had somehow screwed up my pendant, I quickly turned it to return to the last save state.
Except, it wasn’t my last save state. I ended up in a elegantly tiled foyer with a large flight of marble staircase before me. The woman had somehow replaced my last save. I glanced upwards and a chill ran down my spine. At the top of the stairs, a man in a suit wearing an eyepatch stared at me with his one, crystal blue eye.
\________
I can almost make out the details on the sea foam. I don't have much time left. Then suddenly, it hits me. *If my saved file can be replaced...*
I stuff the pendant in my mouth and bite as hard as I can. I feel a small crunch. A small crack appears on the pendant.
*Maybe the saved file can be corrupted as well.*
Muttering a silent prayer, I twist the pendant. At first, nothing happens. Then all of a sudden, the air stutters, the oceans freeze and the wind halts. Everything is very, very still as I hover between sea and sky, motionless.
With a loud "POP!", I feel my body being pressed to the size of an orange and then quickly expand again as I land on solid ground. I nearly faint from the pain, but I remain standing. Before me stands the video game store. I reach to feel my pendant, and discover that the crack has disappeared. I've arrived back at the beginning.
"Well done, little boy." I turn around to find a woman in shades and a hat. The same woman who sent me on that horrible adventure.
"You have passed the test," she says, her voice soft and elegant. "Now, come with me." | **SAVE POINT LOADED**
I was back on the plane. I turned to my chief. "No way in from above. This is my eighteenth try. There are too many guys past the second floor. And that's the only way to the reactor." I told her.
"There is no way we can move in from ground. Dev, this is the only way in. Try again!" She said, her voice hoarse. I looked back at the opening, where I had dropped in and tried to find a way into the complex for the past four hours. I started thinking of another way.
"Devi, go!" my chief yelled. I didn't move, though. And then she pushed me off.
I was caught off guard, and not ready. I cut through the air, and fumbled with my mother's pendant, trying to load back up on the plane. But nothing happened.
**SAVE POINT ESTABLISHED**
Fuck. Okay. Okay. This was bad. Not that bad, but it meant I couldn't load back on the plane and turn us around. It meant I *had* to finish the mission. No matter how many times I had to load back to the cold, midnight mid-air. Yeah, looking forward to that.
Why the fuck did she have to push?
I unleashed the stealth chute once I was right above the complex. No one saw me. Of course no one did, I made sure I nailed this on the first four attempts. Goddammit chief, this could've waited. I landed with a roll, and cut my chute.
Now I had to sneak in through the skylight. Again I made sure I had this down in my seventh attempt. But of course, I had to fail this time. As I sneaked in through the left, a soldier turned and spotted me, and raised his rifle. I gasped, and touched my pendant.
**SAVE POINT LOADED**
And gasped again as a rush of cold air greeted me. Jesus. Fuck. This is my life now, until I die or I complete the mission and head to the extraction point.
| 2016-12-26T21:34:02 | 2016-12-26T20:37:31 | 184 | 24 |
[WP] When space colonies became a practical reality, the rich and powerful left Earth in droves, leaving the rest of humanity behind on a broken world. A few centuries later, Earth has, through much effort, been restored to its former glory. Now the colonists want to return. | Adeira stood at the helm of the guard satellite, her shoulders stiff as she watched the approaching fleet of ships. She didn’t think they would come back in her lifetime. She had heard the stories of the ships from her grandmother, who had heard them from her grandmother.
“What do you think they are here for?” she asked her first officer.
The soldiers under her command lit the guard satellite’s warning lights, so powerful and bright and red, they could not be mistaken for anything other than a threat. The ships continued to approach.
The ships reached the invisible barrier that protected Earth from everything outside the atmosphere, and the hulls of their gleaming ships dented as they made impact. The ships tried to continue.
It would be a futile endeavor. The barrier had been built strong enough to withstand even a storm of asteroids. They would only kill themselves trying to trespass onto what was no longer theirs.
“Send a messenger ship and bring back their representatives,” she said.
Two hours later, two men in silver suits appeared in her quarters. Dinner was laid out in front of them, and she invited them to take a seat.
“I’m Captain Rivard,” she said. “May I know the reason for your arrival to Earth?”
“We’re returning to our home,” the first man said. “I’m Gren Beize, by the way.”
“This is not your home,” she said. “The Collective has decreed that by leaving Earth at its time of need, your forefathers and all their descendants have forfeited citizenship of Earth. Our laws do not allow your entry, and our people do not welcome your return.”
“What?” the other man asked. “We’re humans! Of course Earth is ours!”
Adeira didn’t like the way he said ‘ours’. Like he owned the Earth, or like he was entitled to it.
“Are you?” she asked. They certainly did not look the part. Too tall, too pale, too alien.
“Perhaps your forefathers were, but you’re just interstellar wanderers, locusts looking for a place to land. Speaking in the loosest of medical terms, I suppose you’re human, but you’re not Earthlings.”
Both men in front of her looked confused, and she smiled.
“When you left us behind, Earth was near her death. There were frequent calamities and rampant disease, death everywhere. But we survived it. It was difficult, and it took a few centuries, but we are better off than we ever were before. Can you guess why?”
Adeira smiled and continued, “We realized that the moment you left, the Earth was no longer actively getting worse. We were doing badly, but we were in a state of convalescence. The symptoms were still there, but the cause of the disease was gone. We were in a world free of despots, dictators, lying godmen, lying politicians, drug cartel kingpins, oil barons, et cetera et cetera. We were free of the billionaires who hoarded wealth and resources from everyone else.”
“We helped as much as we could.”
“No,” Adeira shook her head. “Your forefathers helped as much as they wanted to, which was not much at all. A tiny fraction of their wealth could have ended a nation’s poverty, but they did not do that. Instead, they raced each other to outer space in phallic rockets like they were compensating for something.”
“I doubt you could live on our world even if we gave you a chance,” Adeira admitted. “We’ve heard of your ships’ culture from other travelers. You are a society of the rich, and their servants. We are a world of unions and equals.”
“We are running low on supplies!” Gren admitted. “We cannot survive for much longer on the ships.”
“Then we shall refuel your ships and offer you supplies. That, and nothing more.”
“We own parts of the Earth,” the other man said. “I own an entire island off the coast of Italy.”
“Your name, sir? Or your forefather’s?”
“Aeron Dalton,” he said. “My forefather’s name—”
“Does not matter. Only citizens of Earth are eligible to own property on Earth. The wealth you have left behind, we have redistributed long, long ago.”
“You cannot be so cruel,” Gren said, his voice breaking.
“We are not cruel, sir. Throughout the galaxy, we’re known as quite hospitable and peaceful, unless we are attacked..”
“We have weapons,” Gren said.
“Your ship itself could not breach our protective barrier. I doubt a few missiles will do anything at all. If you do not want your ships and your people to be disintegrated, I suggest you leave after graciously taking the aid we offer you.”
She got up to leave. The men had already taken up too much of her time. Soon, more of the ships would arrive, and each would return the same way. She stopped in front of the door.
“A final thing, gentlemen. I highly suggest that you do not claim to be from Earth, or call yourselves Earthlings when other beings ask for it. Misrepresenting yourself is a crime in this galaxy.”
“So what are we?” Aeron asked.
“Quite frankly?” Adeira said. “Homeless.”
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
*If you liked my writing and would like to see more, please check out* r/analect*.* | They called it "The Ascension". Several earth-like exoplanets had been discovered in a nearby system, and after about a decade of construction virtually every person with more than a million USD bought a ticket and boarded a shuttle. Spacewarp technology made it possible to make the 10.7 lightyear journey possible in just a decade or so. In the span of 3 days they were all out of the atmosphere and zipping off to the stars.
Old memories of my grandfather putting me on his knee to tell me about the immediate aftermath came flooding back as I saw the headline on my building's communal TV.
"Those cowards dipped out! Too scared to tighten the belt and fix this mess. All the same we did it better without them. There was political fussing, but the shelves stayed stocked and the power stayed on, even so we did have to get our hands dirty"
"How did you meet grandma?"
"She managed industrial cleanup in the Ohio Valley Autonomous Region. I was just a forklift driver, but I gave her rides around the sites every chance I could. She finally said yes to dinner and that was that."
I smirked remembering that old man. Prided himself on the work they did, and rightly so. It was a long time before anything resembling a national government reformed, but people were not idle. No one liked poisonous industrial waste in their backyard, and everyone wanted something improved. People organized around doing things that needed to be done. That generation had to close the wounds of the old world, and now mine has the responsibility to heal the scars.
The immediate crisis was mitigated, with the investors, CEOs, and politicians out of the way we were just able to keep global temps below 2.5C above pre-industrial averages. The state of the world was not great, but its no longer getting worse. Even the extinctions have largely stopped, megafauna are at their highest populations since the 1600s.
I blinked and refocused myself from my distraction. I stared on at the colony ship with everyone else from my 3 story building as the spacedock workers forced open the bay doors. It had first been detected by a science station on the moon, and had silently made a landing. Not once had any communication come through, techs had sighted broken communication arrays. Finally the workers managed to get the door free, but they were met by no one. The camera crew and a few inspectors crept inside. They walked through empty corridors to the bridge. There was one voice emmimating from a speaker. "This is Capitan James Caldwell of the vessel Harmony. We have made contact with the planet Toulon, and have been sent away. It is occupied. Our sister ship Guardia was hostile, and was sunk. Comms were damaged by the wreckage. The ship was not meant to be in service this long. Supplies are short. The crew is in mutiny. Orbital photography is located on the main hard drive. This is my last message. Godspeed"
No one spoke for what felt like eternity. The message played several times before it seemed to sink in with anyone. "Well its a good thing we cleaned up the house. We do have neighbors after all" I muttered to myself. Things were really starting to get interesting. | 2022-01-06T03:35:25 | 2022-01-05T20:47:05 | 143 | 64 |
[WP] You are Hestia, the goddess of family and the hearth. On Earth you run a peaceful inn detached from the woes of the world. When war rages and the other gods toy with mortals, you've had enough. It's time to remind them as the first daughter of Cronus, you are the oldest and most powerful god. | The first sign of her ire was that the evening fires would not catch. Across Greece home after home, campfire after campfire all failed to light; to bring the warmth and comfort a fire calls forth when the nights begin to grow longer and darker. All told themselves that perhaps they had simply gathered the wrong wood, too green to do more than smoke briefly before extinguishing itself. They told themselves that it was only one night and cuddled closer to their companions to ward off what little chill there was.
It would be two weeks before the first true downpour of the season, two weeks of carefully chosen wood that had been brought inside to dry and cure as best as one could, before it would be shown that it was not the wood or the flint or any other part of the mortal fire making that caused the fire to fail every time.
It didn't occur to the Gods that the fire pit that had burned at the heart of Olympus since it was established suddenly ceasing to burn might be the indication of a problem. Even as the prayers for intervention began to roll in they remained too wrapped up in their games of power and disrespect to notice.
The next was the way all food began to come out of the cooking the taste and consistency of lukewarm gruel. Nourishing yes, but hardly appetizing or satisfying. No matter how skilled the cook, how exquisite the ingredients it all became gruel. The drinks as well became little more than watered down vinegar.
Several people lose their lives before kings and warlords accept that this is a divine matter and not the work of a resentful worker.
When the ambrosia they consume grows bitter and unfulfilling the gods accuse one another of treachery, though none make any real effort to find the true cause of it's bitterness.
the third way her wrath became known was by the bitterness that sprang up in the hearts of mortals.
Parents no longer smiled at the foolishness of their young children. Children grew resentful of their unbending elders. the eldest of adults found only fault with the lives of their grown family members and those still able to work began shirking their responsibility towards the elderly and infirm.
Lovers once passionate grew cold and brothers in arms were constantly at each other's throats. Permission was withheld and in return orders were ignored. The bonds of Man were broken and with them the faith they held in the Gods.
The Gods only began to notice when they were abandoned by priest and petitioner alike, their powers waning as the faith in them fell away over that cold, deadly winter.
And when Hestia finally stepped up to take responsibility for what she had done her smile was as cold as the deepest pits of Tartarus.
The Gods begged and pleaded with her to end it, to give back to the mortals what had been taken from them and yet not one could answer the singular question she had given as her price to bring back the warmth she had once given freely.
What was the name of the inn they had so callously destroyed in some petty squabble, the inn that had been both her home and her temple?
One small answer, an answer any mortal would have known on instinct alone, they could not call to mind. And so they would suffer, as she and hers had suffered. | I've always liked bells to some degree. They aren't strictly in my domain, the most notable examples being public fixtures rather than household ones. Clocks though, clocks belong in a home, especially grandfather clocks. Stately things, furniture in their own right and filled with purpose. A clock is a guide, when to wake, when to sleep, and when to eat, a clock guides the pulse of a home.
My family thinks power is thunderbolts, storms, weapons, and armies. Some like Aphrodite and Hermes can see the subtle side of things, but they are still attuned to the forceful methods.
This war has gone on long enough, we shall see how much my family enjoys their game with the pieces removed. I move to the clock in the corner and begin winding it. It is a manifestation of my power and does not strictly need to be wound, but symbolically acting upon it is useful. As I put down the key it begins to chime, not a particular hour but a Time. Time to stop work,Time to see your family and eat together once more, Time to come Home. | 2022-02-06T09:06:27 | 2022-02-06T09:01:28 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] A wizard accidentally becomes immortal. He has the idea to become the antagonist so that a hero will come along and defeat him, so he can rest in peace. Sadly, the heroes are weak in comparison so the wizard creates a persona as a 'wise teacher' to train these heroes in order to defeat him. | Eons had passed since Wyrben built the academy, and each year the harvest of fine young warriors was the same. Zero. The powerful yet arguably dull-witted magician accidentally caused his own demise through the mispronunciation of the common water spell, rendering him immortal. He lacked the courtesy and courage to take his own life, devising a plan to incentivize would-be heroes into destroying him by committing atrocities worthy of death. It was a win-win for him, he'd get to rest in peace as he sought revenge on an unfair world.
He had suffered long enough, the years of parting ways with loved ones as they slowly slipped into the afterlife, unable to join them. Thousands and thousands of friendships, family and bonds broken and separated through the wall of death. Each one just as emotionally wrecking as the last, indeed Wyrben had endured insurmountable pain. Had he even felt a second of joy since immortality was invoked upon him? It didn't matter, because finally, after countless millennia Wyrben had found a star pupil capable of finally putting him out of his misery.
Tanner was outstandingly smart, strong physically and of a clarity so pure his magics screamed of power. The fifteen year old boy had truly admired Wyrben, paying full attention during lectures and seeking him out at any open opportunity for inquiries as well as acknowledgement. Wyrben had begun to grow fond of him over the years as the prodigy could perform spells of calibre that took Wyrben months in only days. Even managing an involuntary smile at the sight of the young wizard outdoing himself yet again.
Meaning it equally hurt Wyrben to know he was responsible for the deaths of Tanner's family, which made him all the more suited to the mighty battle Wyrben had planned for ages.
The last lecture, Wyrben thought, as he grew impatient with the sentiment of death hanging on a thread low enough he could almost reach. At last, he thought, my eternal curse to be broken by the hands of the divine.
He invited Tanner to his chambers at the highest tower of the academy, dressed as his supervillain persona. Seeking to evoke enough rage for Tanner to carry out revenge.
The wooden door slowly creaked open and Tanner revealed himself.
"Master Wyr-" He stuttered, eyes flaring wide open as he gazed into the eyes of his family's killer. Immediately pulling out his blade in angered preparation.
"Neppu?" Tanner said in confusion, the anger still lingering as he stood cautiously.
"What did you do with the master?" He inquired.
Wyrben took off the mask, a somber but serious look on his face.
"Tanner, it's me, Master Wyrben. There isn't enough time to explain idly, prepare for battle." Replied Wyrben, invoking various offensive spells, both fire and ice projecting from his wand in fabulous destruction.
Tanner hastily materialized an ethereal green wall with hexagonal patterns in front of him, successfully absorbing the attacks. Wyrben was nothing short of impressed, clapping in appreciation.
"You never cease to amaze me Tanner." He conjured up more magics, this time a large ball of light concentrated a beam of iridescent energy at the wall, its power cracking the walls spectral infrastructure.
"You.. you killed my parents! Why!? They we're good people!" His rage was conspicuous in his arcanery, summoning what appeared to be a mini black hole near Wyrben, it's gravitational pull absorbing enough energy to disperse in a disc of black ripples, shattering the space around it. Wyrben knew it was coming as he prepared his next spell, enchanting various spells to form a cube of steel. Its appearance disguising the magical properties, morphing smaller and smaller until it looked the size of a die.
Wyrben picked it up and threw it back at Tanner as the cube grew in volume, its material cracking under the pressure.
However Wyrben was caught off guard, he knew Tanner would use the dark purge spell, it was one of the strongest he knew of. Yet Tanner looked less than perturbed, it took Wyrben a few moments to understand why, the cube exploded in violent bursts of magic and the figure of Tanner rippled as it was pierced by the attack.
Wyrben stood in disbelief. It wasn't Tanner.
"My god, reflection, you mastered it? Not even I can create an illusion capable of performing magic." Wyrben heard a crashing sound of iron and looked up, a glowing chain of balls descended in his direction, Tanner following suit. Wyrben attempted to evade the grapple but was caught nonetheless, shackled by powerful binding magic, squirming in futile manner.
He sat bound, staring into the magnificent student he had helped create.
"Finish me, Tanner, I killed your parents and I have no remorse to show for it. I've lived too long, I need to be put to rest." Tanner looked at him in absolute contempt, standing over him in superiority, his revenge lingering in his mind.
"Taevunero." Tanner called and Wyrben shuttered in fear, that was a torture curse, one that inflicts perpetual pain on whoever it is cast on. Only releasing it's grip when the inflicted Wizard can endure enough to remove it, but Wyrben was bound.
"Why? Just kill me, please." The pain grew in intensity and Wyrben was writhing in agony. Tanner's proficiency proved too much for the monster to handle as he was quickly losing his mind. Tanner shed tears, one for his family, and one for being unable to get revenge. He paused in silence as he watched the pathetic hero he once admired desiring leniency.
"It looks like the academy will need a new teacher." He said, walking towards the door. Wyrben's eyes widened in disbelief, his patience merited no reward, the eons of effort for nothing. He tried to mumble for mercy but could not so much as breathe heavily as Tanner walked out the door. Sealing it in radiant magic and walking down the steps on his new adventure. The footsteps growing fainter and fainter as Wyrben's desperation followed fashion as his silent cries increased in fury, the only sounds remaining were that of the wind.
| Once there was a powerful creature, which few had ever seen and lived to tell about.
Its name was Zulsamon, the Nefarious. It had destroyed all of the world’s kingdoms, with the exception of one, the kingdom of Alda.
Now, Zulsamon’s siege against the Kingdom of Alda had started while many of its elders were still only young children. Somehow, for the last eighty years, it was still surviving history's longest siege! This was attributed primarily to the mysterious gifts of food, water, and other necessities which would appear occasionally in the Great Square overnight. And so, with just enough materials to get by, the Kingdom of Alda had sent Army after Army to slay Nefarious. They were terribly unsuccessful! When the armies were dwindled down, they sent out battalions of their greatest warriors. When those were reduce, they resorted to elite combat teams. They suffered the same fate.
Now with few resources left, they could only chance sending out lone heroes, assassins. And then those too, were gone.
The great old king Pablo Manzolus was at his wits end. If he didn’t come up with a plan soon, those few civilians left inside the walls of his kingdom would be forced to fight! Nearly all the able men were dead, with just women, children, elderly, royalty, and the feeble remaining. He had no choice though. One evening, he disguised himself as an old peasant and slipped out of the castle.
Manzolus looked out at the black flames which had been encircling his kingdom for generations. He sighed as he walked down a dank dark alley. He could hear people yelling, laughing, crying and screaming from the various apartments. He found a secluded spot, and sat down on the ground, resting his back against a cobblestone wall. The sun had set, and only the gas lamps were providing light.
He had sat there for a while, his eyes closed, taking in the sounds of the peoples of his kingdom… of the world’s last kingdom… when he heard a pitter patter.
It grew closer. King Manzolus opened his eyes at just the moment that a child tripped over his outstretched legs! They both yelped in surprise as the child came barreling down into the ground! As the child tried to stand back up, a man appeared around a corner carrying a scythe. The king stood up and faced the wild looking man, while the child scrabbled upon his hands and knees to hide behind a nearby dumpster. The wild man with the wicked scythe looked the king over and said, “I durn’t know where the lad has gone off to, but you’ll hafta do! Don’t worry vagrant, ain’t nobody’ll miss ya!”
And with that, the man charged after the king, with his scythe slung to the side ready to strike!
But the king did nothing. He simply stood there, waiting. Everything was going according to plan.
The lad rushed out from behind the dumpster just as the man was swinging the blade towards the king. Without missing a beat, the little child plucked a loose cobblestone from the wall and flung it at the mad man! The stone hit the man in the head with such a force that he went tumbling over backwards. Then before the man could come back to his senses, the child grabbed the scythe from the man’s clutches and quickly went to work cutting off his hands. “There,” he said, “Your life is spared, and you won’t be taking anyone else’s either!”
The disguised king smiled and patted the boy on the back. “My good lad! What is your name!?”
The child, looking ashamed, took a knee and bowed.
“My name is David Arktos… your Majesty.”
“Yes, I know. You were the son of my greatest general, Jiexi the Pendragon! Now, come with me lad, I’ve a favor to repay to your father...”
| 2015-07-25T06:12:55 | 2015-07-25T05:08:26 | 23 | 15 |
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply. | There were dozens of people. Washington DC was packed to the brim for this event. Presidential inaugurations had a fraction of today's turnout, and traffic was a catastrophe getting here. I was in the middle of a group of what felt like millions of people, and for all I knew, I was. For all the noise that could typically be made with such a massive number of people, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.
People were waiting for an alien monarch to meet with the U.S. President. Allegedly, this alien queen was meeting the world leaders separately in front of large crowds as a show of good faith to the people of these countries, and there were very few leaders who turned her down.
"Ladies and gentlemen," an announcer began. Nobody could hear anything else as the crowd's excitement exploded and drowned him out.
Suddenly, a strange figure exited Capitol Hill. It was impossible to make out their appearance. The figure was clearly taller than any person. Televisions that were visible made it out to be between seven and eight feet tall. Then they zoomed in on her face. This was the alien queen. She was tall and pale, though her lack of legs made her height difficult to judge. She looked almost like a cross between a snake and a person. Her appearance was very similar that of a naga. She was very humanoid in her upper body, save for the scales in places. Her lower body was almost purely that of a snake, the only exception i could see were some frills nearer to her lower back. Her scales were almost piercingly white. It was almost painful to look at her through the screen.
As I turned my attention to her in-person, she was shaking the hands of the president, and as she approached the microphone to do her speech for the crowd, she eyes over us before locking eyes with me. Her expression completely shifts. The frills on her back and tail flare up, she motions to what looks like her own kind of secret service and points in my direction. They nod and disappear. She whispers to the president and he seems to nod understandingly, though his expression was one of confusion.
The president steps up to the podium and says, "Apologies, everybody. She will be making her speech shortly, but it seems a small matter has come up." People start shuffling, with some outcry. Most people figured that they've waited this long, they can wait just a bit longer.
I suddenly have a very bad feeling. I couldn't shake this feeling that she was motioning to me specifically. I could almost feel her stare as I began to shake. Suddenly there were some cries from the front of the crowd. The other aliens she had motioned to were clearing a path for her through the crowd. Her eyes never left me, and I couldn't seem to move. Soon, she was right in front of me, her two guards were massive compared to her, and she was already large compared to the average person. I thought I had done something that had offended her, but then she did the unthinkable, and bowed before me, along with her two guards. Something about the way that their bodies would stay balanced despite the humanoid parts of their bodies being bent ninety degrees shocked me.
I was so overcome with shock that I dropped to my knees, and began to bow even deeper. I didn't understand what was going on but I certainly wasn't going to be seen as disrespectful. I did not want to be the guy who got Earth into an intergalactic war because some snake lady wanted to test some random guy in the crowd.
"Why do you bow, son of Zeus?" I heard from the queen. I had never heard her voice before, but there was no mistaking it. If her otherworldly accent didn't give her away, it was very clear that she had the voice of a commander. The guards at her flanks looked at me quizzically.
"W-what?" I stammered. The queen's eyes widened. Her pupils expanded like a cat that's spotted prey, and she started saying something to herself in another language. She motioned for her two guards. They slithered forward to grab me. I panicked, but I couldn't scream. They lifted me up by my arms, with each of them grabbing one. The queen pulled out a round little device and threw it to the ground. In a flash of white, I was transported to a strange looking room.
I panicked, I started kicking and thrashing to get these massive beasts to let go of me. I started shouting and screaming for them to let me go. I was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and began to look around for any sort of exit.
I saw what looked like a rounded hallway and began to bolt towards it. Before I could make it out an energy barrier appeared in what appeared to be the doorframe to the hallway. I stopped and turned to face my abductors. They looked more confused than anything else. As though they couldn't understand why I was so terrified.
"Would you like to know why you're here, or are you going to keep screaming?" the queen asked rather calmly.
My heart was still racing. I couldn't see any sort of escape, as there only seemed to be one way out of the room, and the two pillars that flanked what looked like a throne in the center of the room didn't seem to have any other use. I nodded slowly.
"We've been looking for you. Rather, we've been looking for any of you. You are the descendant of Zeus." I gave her a blank stare. I believed in no gods, and followed no faith. Zeus was a far cry from even having a proper religion these days, let alone any churches or active worshipers.
"We need you to help us. Are you ready to help?" she asked.
"I don't even know what you need!" I yelled back. She pursed her lips and gave a slight frown.
"Do you not think it strange that we look so similar, you and I?" I didn't have a clue what she was talking about. As far as I could tell, I wasn't part snake.
"We were once like you. Once, a very long time ago." She looked off into nothing. "Once, we may have been considered beautiful."
"But what do you need me for? I have no idea what you're talking about. What do you mean with 'Son of Zeus'?" I shot of questions rapid-fire. It was clear she didn't want to kill me, or I'd already be pushing up daisies. Did she want to harm me, and if so why wasn't I tied up somewhere?
"Have you heard the legend of Queen Lamia?" she asked me. I had never heard the name before. All my mythology knowledge came from fiction, and I had no idea what parts were accurate or not.
"Queen Lamia was one of Zeus' mistresses. Hera, his ever jealous wife, cursed Queen Lamia to have the body of a snake. We mean to take our revenge." She explained all of this calmly. She sounded like the teacher of a rowdy classroom that rarely stayed quiet for long. "Now if you'd like to discuss business, please accompany me to the dining room." I followed her, wondering what would happen next. | I had always been interested in what was out there in the stars I had never believed that we would find intelligent life, but I guess I was wrong. After discovering that English was a an actual "universal language" the UN decided to host the leader of the aliens. For some reason the meeting was heal public, and all were welcome to come and see.
​
I had gotten to the meeting spot before even the media did. I wanted a good sight, so I had gone a day early. I was quite surprised that they let me stay there.
​
Nothing interesting happened during the start of the meet, all the major world leaders had gathered along with the queen of the other life form. Nothing of any particular interest was happening, just boring stuff about technology and whatever. It was about two hours in, when the leaders had all gone on for a little break. Most of the world leaders were greeting people at the fence, the queen was looking around, probably getting a glimpse of the New York skyline or the Statue of Liberty.
​
After being up for more than 36 hours I felt my eyes getting weak. My energy drinks must have wore out. I put my earbud in, set the alarm for 20 minutes, and put my head down on the barrier. Before I fall asleep, I wake up to the sound of what I assumed were a million gasps, had the oxygen killed the queen? I open my eyes.
​
The queen is on a kneel, bowing, to me.
In my sleep deprived state I manage to mutter "uhh.. miss, are you OK?" not being able to fully comprehend what was going on.
The queen spoke "You still are around! Dear King, we've missed you for so long."
I go to smash my head against the barrier, I have to be dreaming, and I want OUT, but before I get the chance the queen stops me.
"Dear King, I'm sorry my presence has caused you this much grief, shall I rid myself of your sight?"
I do manage to mutter "wait" somehow. What the heck is happening?
​
Before I even get the chance to comprehend what is going on, I see what must have been the entire Secrete Service, Army, Navy, Air-force, Coast Guard, National Guard, and whatever other military personalle that was there forcing the crowd out.
​
I then pass out.
​
​
I wake up in a bed I'm not familiar with, in a room I'm not familiar with. The bed I'm in is deferentially worthy of kings in movies.
"You are up, good morning master!" I hear an unknown voice say.
"Where am I..?" I manage to stutter out.
"Why this is your room" the voice calls out.
I finally get the courage to sit up, to a scene I didn't know how to process first, the room I'm in is huge, there are about 6 people on either side of the walls, with a huge 2 door entryway.
I go to get out of bed, the covers are pulled off for me while I get out of bed, and neatly placed back when I exit it.
"Good morning master" one of the I'm assuming servants says, with a cheerful smile.
"Good Morning" I manage to spit out.
As I head to the doors to go and try to make sense of what is happening, they are opened for me.
"Thank you" I reply.
"Y-You don't need to thank me!" I hear the assumed servant reply. I do nothing besides smile, what else can I do?
​
I'm greeted by the queen that was present at the world meetings.
"Good morning King, are you feeling better."
"Yes I am, thank you for asking."
I'm lead down a huge staircase and lead to a dining hall. There I am greeted to a massive breakfast that looks like it just came out of the frying pan.
​
The meal was great, I learned that the alien race had taken on human forms so I wouldn't be startled by them. I also learned a lot about the history (and why I became king).
​
I was very skeptical about the whole thing, maybe she has the wrong person, maybe she has mistaken me for someone else, but in the end it is hard to resist everyone saying:
​
"Welcome back to your kingdom, master!"
​
That was the beginning of how I became the leader of an alien race. I cleared up things with Humanity back on earth (they probably just accepted it because we were WAY ahead of them). As it turns out we weren't the only two lifeforms either, we met other alien races and formed a lot of good alliances.
​
The universe had entered a new stage of existence.
​
\--------------------------------
Thanks for reading, hopefully you enjoyed. Feel free to leave any feedback if you'd like.
​
This is also like my 2nd or 3rd submission here, so if it isn't perfect, please help me improve. | 2018-12-05T18:56:09 | 2018-12-05T17:01:16 | 95 | 18 |
[WP] You are the weakest swordsman at the academy. One day your instructor pulls you aside and brings you an object wrapped in cloth. Inside is a small twig. "Some people were never meant to wield a sword. Centuries ago, these 'wands' held great power. Maybe you can make this one work." | Tad wanted to cry.
He couldn’t believe it. He knew he was a terrible fighter, but a twig was too much. It had to be a sick joke.
“It’s bad enough the other boys tease me, now you are playing tricks on me as well,” Tad choked back tears.
His instructor, Gant, kneeled and placed his hand on Tad’s shoulder. “My boy, would I do that to you? This twig holds within it great power, power beyond which we have ever been able to understand or utilize. Take it. Use it.”
Tad stared at the twig. *It isn’t even worthy of being called a stick*, he thought. It was small. Very small. Tad took it in his hands and examined it’s dull, brown color. He looked at the bend in the middle that seemed to make it droop downward no matter which way he held it. It was a certifiable, no doubt about it, twig.
Gant could tell that Tad was not convinced and felt sorry for the lad. Tad had not been taking to his training but was more passionate about fighting than all his other classmates combined. Gant knew that the twig was useless. He had found it just outside the entrance to the training area, completely devoid of any special purpose or meaning. This was Gant’s desperate attempt to help Tad gain the confidence he needed to keep up with the other boys or push him into leaving the program on his own.
“Look, Tad. Some folks just weren’t meant to be warriors and wield a blade. Just like some aren’t meant to be archers, wall-builders, or mess hall cooks. We all find what we are good at and how we can best contribute. Try the stick! Give it your best shot!”
Tad was unsure. He had been humiliated in front of everyone many times, and he was not looking to add another instance of public degradation to the list. Still, he trusted Gant. “Okay…if you say so.”
“Great!” roared Gant with somewhat reserved enthusiasm. “Duffy, suit up and spar with Tad, here.”
“What, is he going to beat me with his tiny little twig?” mocked Duffy. All the other boys burst into laughter. “I would be happy to accept such an extraordinary challenge, ha!”
Tad sauntered over to the arena, twig in hand. He could feel his stomach tightening up and the sweat forming on his brow. He knew that this was a terrible idea, that he was going to be the laughingstock of the mess hall tonight yet again. The others would steal his roll and shove it down his pants like they had done so many times before. He looked down at the twig and a tear rolled down his face.
Duffy stepped up to the arena, dulled sword in hand. Everyone could tell he was enjoying this as he puffed out his chest and donned his battered helmet. “Show me what you’ve got, twig boy!”
Duffy began to charge at Tad with all his might. The other boys in the crowd looked on with excitement, preparing for impact.
Tad raised the twig and pointed it at Duffy, unsure of what else he could do. He closed his eyes and braced himself. He knew that this was going to hurt.
Suddenly, Tad was deafened by a loud bang and felt himself flying backwards. He opened his eyes and shook his head. *Duffy hits a lot harder than I remember*. Tad sat up and looked around. A group had formed in the arena, all crowded around something. Tad stood up and dizzily went over to the group. The other boys all backed away from him as he approached, fear on their faces.
Tad could see Gant kneeling over something. He got closer.
It was Duffy. A large, blackened hole was burned into the chest plate of Duffy’s armor. Blood was spilling onto the ground around him. Gant turned to look at Tad and spoke in a hushed tone, “I’ve never seen anything like this, Tad. What did you do?” | I stared blankly into his face. Do I seriously pay this idiot two thousand dollars every month? I must have some brain damage from putting my helmet on too tight. He was acting like he was performing some kind of ancient ceremony. "A branch? Sure I can clean my ears with it, stoke the fire maybe" I took the branch and reached into my armour to scratch my back. "Thank you Mr. Jinx this is exactly what I needed. My back was itching like you wouldnt believe! Mike must have worn it on his naked hairy body. Again..." Mr. Jinx, the academy's most accomplished swordsman looked amused. "Im sorry we cant do more for you. You just suck. A small child could defeat you. You dont belong here Donald. and frankly you make us look bad. The girls havent come to our demonstrations since you managed to launch an apple into Lisa's face. You are painful to watch. Not to mention that you almost decapiteted Karen. She was lucky she turned in time and only lost her ponytail."
"That was an accident! And that bitch had it coming. You are right Kenny, no sane person belongs here. I must have gone temporarily mad. I need to get my brain examined. Ancient honor, tradition, real manhood... Blah blah blah. Your real men spend more time in group showers than they do wielding these overgrown prybars. Im outta here."
Mr. Jinx was not amused at the shower remark. His face slowly turned to unrest. "And you know this how exactly?"
"Everybody knows this, Kenny. Im outta here. Gonna get my blaster and go to the range. As every sane person does in the 25th century!"
"Listen now Donald, I dont want you talking shit about us. You have not yet seen my scary face."
"The only scary thing about you are your bathroom noises. Jesus, it sounds like. I dont even know but it doesnt sound human. And please tell my roommate that he doesnt need to wear his helmet to bed. He has asthma, he sounds like a malfunctioned compressor. Oh and Im keeping the stick. My dog will enjoy it." | 2022-01-20T02:30:38 | 2022-01-20T01:21:44 | 39 | 20 |
[WP] Every time you die, you automatically travel back to 5 minutes before your death. After cheating death so many times, you finally find yourself in a position where you can't seem to escape it. It takes you years to figure out how to escape this death. | In French it’s called L'appel du vide. That little voice that tells you to leap when you’re standing on a cliff, or waiting for the subway. That tiny inclination that makes you want to swerve the car off the highway. It’s not suicidal in nature, but neither is it merely inquisitive. It’s a subtle reminder of the fragility of life and how easy it is to take away. It’s an innate sense of awe at how basic human nature really is. The construct of society, the social standards, the most basic Socratic notions of community are all held together by tenuous threads all dependent on mutual survival. But really what is it all about when we can just jump off cliffs like a stampede of unknowing Buffalo. We each control our own little universe, in a world so constrained.
There’s a Heideggerian notion that the most personal and authentic experience any person can have is their death. It’s this idea that everyone dies helplessly alone, but is rooted in a morbid sense of freedom. Each person dies in a completely individuated way, and is an experience solely partitioned off from the rest of society. What if you could experience this each and every day? What if this exhilaratingly individuated experience doesn’t have to be laced with fear and sorrow? What if L’appel du vide was a reflection of real desire, acted out whenever the urge kicked in?
It really does take longer than expected for the fear to dissipate. The L’appel du vide changes from, “maybe I should jump” to “maybe it will actually happen this time”. It’s like the morose sense of winning the lottery. Akin to pulling your draft card I guess. You stand there and think, “I’ve jumped probably a thousand times, but the thousand and first is when I’ll actually die.” But you do it anyways. You jump because it’s better to. It’s fun even.
I’ll never forget the first time it happened. It was long, it was slow, it was painful. Not just for me but for my family. The diagnosis only happened a few weeks prior. “Pancreatic cancer is the most aggressive, but if we start chemo right away there’s a chance.” It didn’t help and I deteriorated way too quickly for it to have helped anyways. I could hear my heart beat start to become shallower as my family just began to sort of fade away. It’s a sort of searing fear that’s really hard to describe. It’s probably the closest you’ll ever get to those moments before you’re born. You live your entire life just trying to get along, to understand just what the hell the world is about and how to properly exist. But for the first time since your birth, you honestly have no precedent for any of it. It’s just one massive state of shock and confusion.
But then I woke up. Five minutes earlier. And it all happened again. And it all happened again after that. And on and on until the dying part wasn’t confusing, it was the goddamn time skips. If there’s a hell on Earth it’s reliving your death over and over again. Watching the pure sadness on all your loved one’s faces. Again and again and again. The logic hit me eventually. But it was brutal. If I find a way to die quicker each time, the five minute jump back happened earlier and earlier. Trying to OD on drugs didn’t really seem to work too well. I’ll spare the specifics, because I don’t really want to relive the horror of having to commit suicide in front of my family over and over again. But eventually I was able to get back to the point where I actually felt okay, and could enjoy the last minutes I had.
It seems paradoxical, but if you can die fast enough you can go back and relive some of the best moments of your life. I was able to eventually work back to the day I first met my wife, our marriage, the birth of our first child. Brief glimpses of times once thought lost. You kill yourself often enough and you can relive years of your life all over again. I tried to fix the awkward teen years. And for the most part it worked. You know all those times you think of the perfect things to say a week after an argument? I went back and said them all. It’s almost a routine now. Start from a really good point in my life. Live until it gets shitty, find a cliff and jump off it thousands of times in succession until I can go back enough to live it again.
There’s really no escaping the cancer though. It comes back every time, regardless of how things have changed. There really is no such thing as the future. There’s no out. Well expect for real, actual death. It’s kind of funny. Well not funny, though I guess funny works. Funny in a “really, has it actually come to this?” kind of way. That first time I died, that insanely personal, almost neonatal sense of being was the most enthralling state I’d ever experienced. I almost want to permanently die now. Not in a suicidal way. Not even in an inquisitive way. But just be in that millisecond where the world is entirely in your control, because you are the only one experiencing it at that very moment.
| "And this, this is for-"
"Yeah, I know, it's for Jimmy"
The gunman blinked confusedly. One. Two. Three. "I was just-"
"Going to say something you thought was clever about the Family, I know man. Now you're going to clear your throat, double check your safety, adjust your stance and shoot me between the eyes," you retort tiredly. The gunman began to clear his throat and stopped halfway through, making a sound not unlike a retching cat, flicked his eyes over his weapon (a worn, dirty old Smith and Wesson .38 Special, loaded with 4 rounds) and made a show of planting his feet and bracing both of his arms against the pending recoil of the little gun. A small gust of wind slides across the roof (twenty stories up, lethal fall in every direction, including that treacherous pile of garbage bags to the south) and parts around the small roof access (behind you, door wedged open with a rock, leading down to another, less talkative, jumpier gunman with a shotgun) to wash over your back. You can basically feel the thought processes of the primary gunman as your own at this point.
"What is this, some fucked up crossover of-" he begins.
"Yeah, Groundhog Day and the Sopranos" you finish. The gunman (you never could manage to get his name, might have to start guessing) widens his eyes in fear, and then remembering his weapon, squeezes the trigger twice, shattering the cool peace of the rooftop.
Blackness.
Then, like some sort of macabre sports broadcast, you watch your brains coalesce back into a familiar face, and suddenly, you're back.
"And this is for-" he begins.
"Hey Frankie!" you shout. Startled, he fires.
"And thi-"
"Tommy!" BANG.
"Vinny!" BANG
By the time you narrow your estimate of skull fragments caused by the average .38 round at a distance of about 25 feet (too far to close in time, even with any permutation of bobs and weaves, and too close to miss all 4 rounds) to a solid 45, you're running out of names. Every person you've ever met. Every TV character. Every awful celebrity and their colorfully-titled spawn. You decide to reward yourself with another break as you begin piecing together Groundhog Day in your often-shattered mind, and you can't help but mutter a line just as you face down Mr. Nameless for the hundred-millionth time.
"Phil, like the groundhog Phil?" you say with your eyes closed.
"Th-huh? What did you say?" comes a startled response.
Your eyes flash open. New territory. Possibility tingles in every neuron over your brain. "Phil-" you begin before said neurons gradually stop tingling as they cool on the surface of the roof. As the darkness lifts, you can't help but almost laugh.
"Groundhog." you deadpan. Groundhog's mouth simply drops open. You just might make it off this roof after all. | 2015-03-23T21:35:04 | 2015-03-23T20:55:55 | 218 | 78 |
[WP] The Museum of the History of Love has a new exhibit, which it calls an Alternate Future Coupling, but everyone calls the Ship-O-Matic. Two people sit in it, and they see a minutes-long vision of what their life as a couple would be like. | Another two people walked out of the attraction looking contently at one another, making googly eyes as new lovers did. I had counted how many had gone in single today, or so I perceived as being such: eighty-two. Out of those eighty-two, seventy-five had come out with that same, content look for their new partners. No longer so single. I scribbled the numbers down on my notepad *82-76. Assumed, not asked*
The exhibit had only been opened a month. I remember seeing its opening announcement in the news, or maybe the paper... regardless I had seen it: *The Alternate Future Coupling Device* quite a mouthful. Within the first few weeks though the name quickly changed amongst the public to something with a little more spunk: The Ship-O-Matic. And with that name change came the machines new reputation as a match maker rather than a tool of discovery.
I watched as another couple ran in giddily through the flap that would undoubtedly determine the remainder of their relationship. The rest in line stared onward towards where the two had entered, as if the potential success of others would mean a success of their own when it was their turn.
As I walked up and down the line I listened in on the various ideas people had about their fate, about why they stood in that line.
"Well Martha this is cheaper than therapy."-
"Well don't you want to know? I mean it's our future!"-
"It can't hurt eh? Not like we knew each other before today."-
No matter how many I heard though I just didn't understand it. It was like that old question asked often on first dates or in the making of new friends, "If you could know when you would die would you want to?" I always answered no, and thought I was smart for it. But maybe I just didn't like knowing.
As I passed more faces in line a couple gestured to me, a shorter man with a permanent cheery look on his face and a taller woman with soft features. A rounded nose, almond shaped eyes, a gentle face to set it all, and I had to do my best not to stare. They continued their manic gesturing despite me already moving towards them.
"Hey you work here right? Can you hold my spot in line? They'll kick us out if we're waiting solo." the man spoke up first.
"I uh...well I'm supposed to be taking data ya know. Just writing and stuff." the words came out mumbled and I found myself awkwardly staring at the man trying my best not to look at his accompanyment.
"Real quick I swear! I'll be right back!" and he left off, leaving me and this woman alone.
We stood in silence for a while, her looking around the museum and me looking anywhere that wasn't her. After a long moment she broke the silence "Just so you know we're not together, me and him. I just wanted to try this thing out so bad! So, I sort of took anybody who would go."
The words were not comforting to me as my mind was elsewhere. Focused on making the count as a young couple walked out of the machine looking less than happy with one another. *84-76* "Ah. So then, who is he?"
"Just some guy I met walking around this place. He said he was in the same situation as me, but I think he just wants this whole thing to go somewhere. God I pray it doesn't" she twiddled her fingers around.
I couldn't help but laugh out loud at the thought. The thought of wanting to know so bad but fearing the outcome. Of only doing it for the experience to say you did it. On my notepad I scribbled *For the experience*.
"Why are you laughing! And what did you just write down?"
Shit. Often I forget others are paying any attention to me, working at the museum it becomes easy to get used to being a fly on the wall. But before I could defend myself we had reached the front of the line. Suddenly I was nervous, my hands sweating. I looked around to where her partner had gone, but no sight of him. I had never thought I'd try this damned thing, let alone with a stranger.
I recognized the guy montoring the entrance, Gerlad was his name. If I hadn't remembered though his bronze nameplate was a good indicator. He looked up to me quizzically. "Uh...Dave? You goin in there? Didn't think it was your kinda thing but alright."
"Well it's not but you see I was-"
"We were just seeing where things went. What it was like in there." the girl cut me off then dragged me into the black opening. I found myself holding my breath for one reason or another, then letting it out upon walking through the entrance. As we entered we were greeted by a set of chairs and helmets resting on top. A screen sat in front just big enough for two people to watch comfortably. Other than a blue light shining down from above the room was entirely empty, entirely underwhelming. I don't know what I expected. Maybe a grand theatre full of red seats, or a futuristic room of solid obsidian, but not this.
The girl who's name I still had not gathered ran in excitedly and sat first, then gesturing back to me to join. "Listen shouldn't we wait for that guy? He seemed excited."
Her voice became stern, "I've waited weeks for this, please don't ruin it for me. It takes a minute and it doesn't mean anything, ok? I just want to know what it's like." this time I caught myself staring at her and quickly looked away. But I joined her. As we put on the helmets the screen immediately came to life in front of us. From a black nothingness to our conbined thoughts displayed. It didn't take any convincing for me to know what showed on the display was true. It was like I already knew, and watching on was only meant to confirm. I looked over to her, but I couldn't make out the expression on her face. Fear? Excitement? Content? Or maybe nothing at all.
In a minute it was all done. One of the most memorable moments in my life over in sixty seconds. As we walked out we did not hold hands, did not make loving eyes at one another, just walked out back into the dullness of the museum. She turned to me "Gracie. I'm Gracie. I know we didn't really get to that but..."
"David." I outstretched a hand in an uncomfortable sort of formal gesture. But she took my hand with a smile and shook.
"It was nice to meet you, David."
"You too, Gracie". This time I stared, but I did not try to hide it. We were passed that now. As she walked away I scribbled in my book. *86-78 Experienced, not asked*. | Your love story won't start on a positive note.
I believe I have your attention now. Good.
Come in, I welcome you. I am metal and aluminum, but do not be put off by the cold alloy, there is warmth in my circuitry. The carpet is soft and muffles your steps, it is dark, you won't see yourself or the person next to you. Advance, there, a bench. Make yourself comfortable.
The both of you are strangers, shrouded in unknown and mystery.
You entered the museum on a whim, You were pleasantly surprised by the exhibition, weren't you?
Roses, champagne, poems and words in the wind carrying more hormones than an athlete driving a syringe full of steroids into their arm. And me. The machine, the oddity. As strange as the unknown person sitting right next to you. Can you hear them breath and think? Worry not, you and I are speaking alone, for your very own stranger is having their own private talk with me, one you'll never hear.
You will walk out of me holding hands, as if you stood atop and abyss.
Or maybe clutching hands might be a more appropriate term.
What, too sudden for you?
Let me lay it out more. Grossly said, the first steps will be uneasy to be sure. Tip-toeing around to understand the boundaries, learning about their passions, how they match yours, work out and enjoy an engaged and tricky intimacy. Efforts, many of them, but rewarded.
Picture this: the both of you - holding hands, obviously - walking through your first apartment. When the unpacked dust has settled, when careers are grinding together like clockwork, a change! A house. Far from everything, thus a tad cheaper too. Rough moments, seclusion offers peace, it also leaves time to think and overthink, let yourself be overcome by a wave of emotions without a bustling life outside the window to remind you that, no, you're not the center of the universe.
Conflict, for sure. Diplomacy to see it through. Rough edges, shouts and embrace.
Maybe you don't believe me, why would you? You never walked out of a booth holding hands with a stranger before, why would you start now?
Fair enough.
Life goes on. Wrinkles here and there, the surprise or rediscovering the other after believing you've seen it all. Change, in your ways, your life, your couple.
Change in the world too.
The stranger is the one dragging you out of the rubble when the first shots are fired. Who fired them? It matters little. From now on, you and them are the only anchor in this mess life has become.
In a sane world, you would have been friends, or even less. None of your friends would have called the both of you a great match. At best, good enough.
This isn't a sane world anymore.
In hell, you're quite close to be a perfect match.
Nights under the cold sky, lights in the distance, a flash carrying countless screams. Across hills and rivers, seas and mountains, the escape, always the escape. The pursuer is new at every turn, and in such trying times, there is always one. There are moments you wish to surrender and let it all go. Your stranger carries you then. Then the roles are reversed. You nurtured a love and respect to see the both of you go through and see the end, together. Through hell and back, holding hands.
Blood is spilled, a constant, like the makeshift bandages and the aching bellies. Yet somehow the both of you, hunted, wanted, followed, don't seem to die as everything around you does.
Slowly the dust settles, after the last and greatest unpacking of all.
And the two of you, old, worn, battered but very much alive, standing atop a dark abyss which even the ocean cannot fill, holding hands, clutching them.
Ah, I fear our time together is up. The next guests are awaiting their turn, and love doesn't wait, isn't it?
You'll step out of here, look at your stranger, hold hands for fear of what the future holds.
I never said love stories start on a positive note. But you will play them along the way, during breaks and moments of peace, in the darkest hour and at sunrise.
Off you go now, I have work to do.
What's that? A last look? A moment alone with the machine when the other is gone.
Tsk, I should charge for extras.
Well, just for you.
Long after you've seen the abyss, when I'm old and rusted and nearly forgotten, just like you.
You will unearth me, and sit here one last time in the comfort of my darkness.
Until we meet again. | 2022-10-07T11:06:09 | 2022-10-07T09:49:11 | 139 | 32 |
[WP] You've kept your immortality secret for thousands of years. Thats going to be a lot harder now that your on a generation ship on a 2000 year voyage. | 'i'm going to, miss, all of you, very much'
My voice cracked, laboured breathing, difficult to make any sound on my dry lips.
Pretending to be old was exhausting.
There were maybe 50 people in the room, I'd love to tell you they were my friends and family, but in my mind they were just the 6th cycle. It'd been as much fun as all the other cycles, and just as easily forgotten.
Someone stepped forward, a young woman, blonde hair, generic face, i didn't bother to remember her name.
'I'm going to miss you so much Tom, just, you've been such a rock, I can't begin...'
Her voice cracked, tears streaming, raised her hand to her mouth and looked down, yes yes dear all very melodramatic, boo hoo and all that.
When she'd finally composed herself, she said a few more equally banal things about love and life and family and how she's miss me and I honestly stopped listening halfway through.
I was 95, sat on a small bench with padded backrest, in the communal lounge of the worlds first intersteller starship, millions of miles from earth, years from home, and years from our destination. I'd been here about 500 years, I only had 1500 to go, and i'd developed quite the system.
A few hours later, after all these familiar strangers had told me how fantastic and inspiring i was, they'd cried all they could cry and my acting skills, while substantial, were wearing extremely thin, I couldn't pretend to care much longer.
Time for the 7th cycle to begin...
I stood, taking care to appear frail and old, moaning and heaving with the slightest movement. pretending to have no energy was exhausting, as our entire party shuffled toward the airlock, the most dignified death we could think of.
Finally, after shuffling for way too long, i stood before the large circular door, the 50 voyers watching, waiting to fling me into space, I turned my head, taking care to be just slow enough...
'Could, I ask, for, one final, gift... Please, don't watch. I want to go, alone, please...'
Who could refuse a frail old man?
The solemn procession nodded, and shuffled away, leaving me alone in the room.
I turned toward the airlock, and pressed the first button, a hiss and clanking metal, and the door slid apart. I stepped forward into the dividing room, turned round, to see the girl from earlier, crying, and waving. The hell was her name again, stacey, samantha? I don't care.
I pressed the internal button, and the door slid shut. Before it closed, i heard her wail, drop to her knees, and sob. If she weren't so dull she'd make a good actress.
Finally alone, here we go, i crouched down andplaced my fingertips on the floor, head up, staring at the outer door that was about to open, and blast me into the cold void of space, this never got any easier, here we go...
The external doors blasted open, pressure shot out, taking me with it, i was flung into the freezing void of infinate space, quick as i could I whip my hand to the right, and grab tightly to the ship structure, pull myself in, and wrap my other hand round the pole.
Phew.
I was clinging to the external structure of the ship, no sound, no feeling, if i could feel i know it'd be cold, because films told me this. Instead, i started climbing, slowly and methodically moving through the twisting structure of intertwined metal supports, being extremely careful to avoid any of the windows. Can't have someone seeing this, then the whole thing falls down.
Takes me about 40 minutes, of carefully and methodically placing my hands, grabbing, and pulling, to maneuver my way across the ship to the next airlock.
I press the button on the outside of the ship, more hissing, and the door slides open. I pull myself inside, and press the internal button. The first time i did this i remember slamming my open palm down on the controll pannel, desperate and terrified. It had lost its thrill a long time ago. The door slid shut, the pressure equalised.
I'd seen what this process does to a regular human, blood from every orifice, like a balloon imploding inside the body. Thankfully i worked a bit differently.
Now the most dangerous part, had to be quick.
The interla door opens, and i sprint down the corridor, it's only a short way, but this is the most vunerable part of this routine.
A left, a right, and I arrive, thankfull once again, no one saw me.
I press the door button, and the nursery doors slide open.
No one around brilliant. I briskly walk into the large room, rows of cots and cribs, newbords swaddles in aging cloth, some with bright white new clothes, may as well pick one of them, clearly a richer family, make the next cycle a bit easier.
I find the most pampered looking baby boy, clean white sheets, fluffy soft toys. Yeah you'll do, what's your name young chap?
Kyle.
Right kyle, thanks for helping me.
I grabbed the babys legs, wrapped the cloth round it and carried it quickly out of the room, back toward the airlock.
A button, the hiss of pressure, the doors slid open, and i tossed little kyle in.
He was either asleep or died on impact, i did throw him quite hard.
I glaced down the corridor, still empty? this was going much smoother than i expected.
I pressed a few buttons, the interior door slid shut, and i took a final look at little baby Kyle through the small glass viewer in the door. He was lying oddly, even for a baby, in a softly forming pool of blood. Definitely dead.
The exterior door of the airlock opened and the baby, and all blood, was violently sucked out into the void of space. Bye kyle.
I jogged back to the nursery, stripped my clothes off, and threw them down the nearby rubbish chute.
I softly tip toed to the edge of the empty crib, still no one around.
I leaned forward, feet on the floor, stomach over the cot, head hanging down the other side, all my weight on the cot.
A deep breath, inhale, hold, exhale, inhale, hold, exhale, and, inhale...
I squeezed every muscle in my body, my throat tightened, i felt my heart rate shoot up, 400 beats 500 beats 600 beats, a mad dance in my head, a rush of blood to my whole body, my skin pulling tighter and tighter, hair pulled back into the skin.
The pain, i was used to it, but god damn my body wasn't, it racked, my bones crushed inward on themselves, my organs fought for space as they shrunk down, my body clock rapidly spinning backwards, nails bending back into shape, tiny and weak, skin tightening and forming over the now baby shaped body.
I tumbled forward into the crib.
Quick check, ten fingers, ten toes, skin tight, breathing ok, sight good.
Thanks Kyle, I'd probably enjoy your life.
Start of the 7th. | -5 years: You should be excited, Marlon. Not everyone gets a chance to help bring humanity to another star system. Your great-to-the-eightieth grand kid will thank you when they touch down on alien soil. Come on man, the least you could do is seem a little happy.
0: Today we launch the Living World; two thousand years is a long time, but well worth it for the future of all humanity.
0.5: Why you so nervous all the time, man? Chill out and enjoy the ride. You wouldn’t want the captain thinking you were unstable, do ya? He’d drop you in an escape pod, and send you right back home. There’s enough time for you to get there now, but I get shivers thinking about how cramped it would be.
1.5: Marlon, get the hell out of the escape pod. What are you doing? We’re too far out now. I thought you got over this, man!
15: You ever think about settling down sometime? I mean, you sort of have an obligation to do so.
15.5: Marlon, this is Laurie.
15.51: Oh Marlon, you must tell me how you do it. You look the same now as you did during these launch day pictures. Don’t be so nervous, you can tell me in the morning.
16: Dearly Beloved....
20: Mommy, why do you have wrinkles but daddy doesn’t?
25: Marlon, I’ve been thinking. Remember that one time when Martha asked me why I have wrinkles and you don’t?
26: Has anyone seen Marlon? He didn’t come home from work yesterday.
28: Today, a sadness befalls the Living World. We have discontinued our search for Marlon Rossi after two years of dedicated searching. Wherever he found his final rest, his spirit will still be carried on the Living World. Marlon Rossi is survived by his wife Laurie Rossi and their daughter Martha.
40: If you don’t tell me where the food keeps going, I’ll report you to the captain. Do you honestly believe we let rats aboard this ship, Martha?
42: I don’t know, Mom. The rationing is hurting all of us, I swear. I don’t have extra food.
45: Blessed be this day. We thought that our seeds had gone to rot due to stellar radiation, and food would never come again, thus ending the Living World. However, Martha Rossi found a box of pristine seeds her father stowed away in a closet. They were in such good condition; they could have been stored in one of the ship’s emergency shelter. Even in his death, Marlon had foresight beyond any of us. We owe a great deal to Marlon, wherever his soul may be.
60: Heavenly Father…
61: Look, I’ll get over it, but my mother was really the only family I’ve ever known besides you and the kids. I know it’s been a year, chill out will you?
62: Honey, did you get me flowers? The note says ‘Goodbye, sweetheart.’ It doesn’t look like your handwriting.
100: Dear God it reeks down here. Didja see this stain? Looks like someone tried to bash someone else’s head in down here. There’s dried blood everywhere. And, what the hell is this? Seeds? Man, we have to get this cleaned up before we cross into that radiation cloud, otherwise people will get antsy in here. And believe me, twenty thousand people spread out in cramped rooms like these will already be tense enough.
360: The main level looks just like the pictures! I was expecting more dust, and dead plants. Oh, hello! Are you from another shelter?
361: Marvin, it’s for the greater good that you find a female and mate with them. One thousand people, a world does not make.
361.5: I haven’t seen Marvin around in a while, have you?
1000: Hey, you going to buy that food replicator or what?
1980: Today we celebrate twenty more years until we arrive on the tiny dot of light our ancestors set out to inhabit nearly two thousand years ago. Now their home is the tiny dot of light. The ballots have been cast, and the name selected. Valhalla, here we come!
2000: Easy now, the atmosphere is a little different than what’s on the ship. Don’t exert yourself too much the first couple of days, and you should be fine. Welcome to Valhalla Mr.…. Rossi. That’s a great name you know? Very lucky. No sir, thank you and your ancestors for getting us here.
2005: Marlon, you’ve been such an asset to the town, it’s like you already have a hundred years of wisdom despite being in your mid-twenties, but it’s been five years since touchdown, and I haven’t seen you with anyone. No one should go through life alone. I want to introduce you to someone … hey Marlon, where are you going? Marlon? Oh, alright, I’ll see you later then...
| 2016-07-06T09:11:54 | 2016-07-06T09:04:35 | 209 | 64 |
[WP] People have magical powers, which are used by performing a personal trigger, for example snapping fingers or singing a song through. The longer and trickier the trigger is to achieve, the more powerful the ability is. | The comet was headed straight for Earth. Determined to crash into the Pacific, it would create a catastrophic event that would decimate most, if not all of the coastal cities and more. Weather patterns would be torn and broken, causing unknown havoc across the world. All sorts of magicians tried their magic against the comet, yet none were strong enough.
Sir Albert, of England, stacked stones as high as he could, each one a layer to his spell, one of gravity. Alicia of San Antonio sang a lullaby, which pulled Guadalupe Peak from the earth and sent it flying into the comet, which unfortunately, she missed. Singh of India picked up a rubrics cube and began to solve it. The effort took 4 hours, and each turn of the cube sent a wave of sound out towards the comet. However, upon reaching the upper atmosphere, the sound had begun to weaken and dissipate.
We were wrought with despair. News channels continued to spread stories of attempts around the world. All they ended up doing was increase the fear which draped over the planet. Looting and rioting hit the streets. Others stayed home, locking their doors. Some cried, some hugged, most just stared, blankly, at the sky. Waiting.
I locked my fingers together, pulling tightly, causing our front door to seal shut. I had already hit the windows, attempting to keep our house safe.
*Click click click*
I turned towards the living room. There, Nan sat, slowly clicking together her needles as she started a new knitting project.
"Nan, I don't think now is a time to start something like that. We don't..." I paused, what was the point? If she wanted to spend her last moments making a scarf, who was I to stop her?
"Sorry, you do whatever you want, I'll be here."
She nodded. She had never spoken, not since her husband passed away. She barely did much really. She always made a scarf for everyone important to her. Mine, she handed to me one day after I had come home from school, having been bullied by some of the older kids. Smiling, she had knelt down and wrapped it around me, then hugged me. In that moment I had felt so much warmth and comfort, I knew I was always safe with her.
I sat down beside her, and turned on the news once more. All we could do was watch, so why not watch the end of our world?
"...strange has begun on the comets surface. We are unsure what the cause is, but the speed has slowed, and continues to slow!" The newscaster was smiling. It had been a while since anyone had smiled. I turned up the volume and continued to watch.
"It seems that something is wrapping itself around the comets surface. Scientists have best described it as strands of some sort, leading behind the comet, and fading away. But each strand that wraps around the comet seems to be pulling it back more and more. Someone, somewhere, has to be doing this. But we've never seen magic of this scale."
My eyes wide, I turned, "Nan! Do you see this!? We-" I stopped. In her hand, Nan was not knitting a scarf, she was doing the opposite. She had been taking apart a scarf, and forming the thread back into a ball. Yet, in the center was nothing, just empty air. It was grandpas favorite one too. I looked back to the TV, and more threads had wrapped around the comet.
"Nan... Are you doing this?" Looking back to her, I saw her smiling, but her eyes were shedding tears. She was crying. Then it clicked. I had never seen Nan use her magic before, had never asked. I had never seen her use it before because her magic came at the price of undoing the things she loved most to do. Each scarf had always been special to her, and she had always made sure I took mine with me when I went out. Now, she was undoing what must have been her most treasured memory of her husband, to save the world.
"Nan..." I was crying now, as I got up, I sat myself down next to her, on the floor. I leaned myself against her leg, under her hands, as she continued to undo the scarf, and pull the comet to a stop.
By now, The news channel was showing the comet suspended above the sea, wrapped completely in old, worn threads. After a moment, Nan reach down and set the ball on the floor, where it seemed to sink and disappear. At the same time, the comet lowered into the sea, slowly. And there it sank. She reached out and touched my shoulder, and I looked up. crying, and smiling, she hugged me then, and I hugged her. We stayed like that for hours, crying and smiling, holding onto each other, as though the world had really ended, and we were the last two in existence. And that's all the mattered, in that moment. That we still had one another.
(Yeah, I think my format is bad, and it's not the best, but it's what I thought of for this prompt. It also varies slightly, as trickier for me, meant difficult. ) | It had been four days since the fight with Evie, and Debbie was starting to get worried.
"Maybe she forgot about it," Penelope suggested hopefully. They were walking along the coast after lunch, trying to enjoy the midday sun. But try as she might, Debbie had the distinct sense that there were dark clouds hovering overhead.
Debbie shook her head. "She caught us in bed together, Pen. There's no way that image isn't burning into her brain right now. There are things you can't un-see, and I'm pretty sure this is one of them."
"But she's not a particularly violent person, right?" Penelope hedged. She grabbed Debbie's hand. "After all, isn't that part of the reason why you were starting to stray? You needed passion. Someone with a fiery disposition." Penelope brought their hands up to her face and bit the edge of Debbie's finger. "Someone *más bizarro, como yo.*"
"Yeah," Debbie allowed. "Evie's always been rather tame. I was drawn to that at the beginning. She seemed, you know, stable. But after a while it started to feel like she just didn't care. Didn't feel anything. For me, or for anything around her."
They fell silent. Debbie looked out toward the horizon, where the blue of the ocean met the blue of the sky. From where she stood, the water all those miles out looked flat and calm, almost as still as a picture. But she knew that if she was in the middle of those currents, she would barely be able to keep from drowning. Perspective changes based on where you stand, and Debbie had no idea where she stood with Evie.
Penelope broke the silence. "Do you regret it?"
Debbie let out a little laugh. "If you'd asked me three days ago, the answer would have been *no.*"
"And now?"
Debbie gave Penelope a look. "It's been *four days.*"
"This again." Penelope rolled her eyes. "We don't *know* that she's in the middle of a trigger right now."
"She hasn't been online," Debbie replied grimly. "I called her work. She hasn't shown up there, either. So even if we don't *know*, chances seem pretty good."
"Oh," Penelope said, her voice quiet. She paused. "What's the longest trigger you've ever seen before?"
Debbie grimaced. "My mom's friend, back when I was in high school. It took her thirty hours, but by the time she was done, she could shut off all the electricity on our block."
Penelope raised an eyebrow. "Damn."
"You?"
"I had a friend whose trigger took a few hours." Penelope laughed nervously. "She could fly. That was pretty cool." She glanced at Debbie. "Evie never told you what hers was?"
"I've tried to remember," Debbie said. "But I don't think so, no."
They walked together in silence once again.
Off in the distance, over the horizon line, a few dark clouds started to pull together. | 2017-02-13T11:16:34 | 2017-02-13T10:53:50 | 109 | 26 |
[WP] We did it! We finally achieved FTL travel! At first, alien races seem thrilled to have a new neighbor. Then they seem terrified of us. We are the only ones to reach the stars with technology instead of magic. | He didn't know what was about to happen.
If He knew, He would had run away, faster than even his ship could muster.
Away from that choice. The choice he took, denying any other possibility for humanity.
[Area B127Q Sector 1 (B127Q), Deep space, Unexplored
Distance from Earth: // ly (unknown)
Time passed: 6 years 9 months 4 days (as indicated by on-board machinery)
Notable events: ...]
Captain Felix stopped writing. He was in the command room, accessible only by him. He passed most of the last 13 hours in here. The command room was basically useless. It was nothing but experimental pieces of technology which were supposed to be useful in unexpected situations. Of course, all them worked only "theoretically". Almost everything broke or straight up exploded as soon as the ship entered light speed travel. It was just a recurring joke between the crew members. The only working thing was, surprisingly enough, the ECST (Earth Communication System Terminal).
Until 13 hours ago.
He stepped inside for his usual report to Earth Control. As he was writing, just like now, he suddenly stopped. A loud beep screamed through the usually quiet room, like a beep from hell itself. Felix quickly located the source of the sound, not so difficult thanks to the intermittent red light which would become his joy and his despair for the rest of his life.
The words UFC were engraved by a laser on the tag of cold metal glued to the black computer. He knew this pretty well. Unidentified Foreign Communications. The big guys and the best science guys of the planet were very excited when they introduced it to him. It was "theoretically" indestructible. Even if the ship was blown to pieces by a Super Nova, the UFC wouldn't even have a scratch. It stopped reporting back to Earth, so it was assumed to be dead. Its work wasn't complicated: catch any signal, probe it for any kind of pattern, archive and send to Earth. There was even a "translation" feature, which was more of a way for ~~Dr. Veliç to suck his own d~~
That was what triggered the alert. The translation feature.
He pressed a button.
"Warning! You are within @#£*'rhgn&¥∆... (Err)'s borders. Your vehicle has been deemed unauthorized. Please, contact the nearest Council affiliated Planet/Service Station as soon as possible. At the senses of Article 28 of the Sovereignty and Free Circulation Convention, any other action will be deemed as criminal and the nearest Operative Task Force will be deployed at your location.
*This message was translated to you by ....(Err) Academy & Associates*"
Cold sweat dropped down his spine. He checked the transmitter on his wrist. No messages. That meant that there were no interferences nor changes on the radar. But it was obvious it was wrong. There had been a contact. The first thing he did was stopping the ship. Without explanation. In the middle of nowhere. Everybody thought he was crazy. That the space was messing with his mind. An explanation would only worsen things, despite the training and the protocols.
And so 13 hours had passed.
The Captain looked again at the ECST.
[Notable events: None. Continuing the exploration.
*End of report*]
Part 1
PS: I don't know if I'll continue, I hope I do. I stopped because it's late and I have to sleep. Let me know what you think of this.
| 200 years ago, humanity discovered that the new elemental material, Unductindenium, could be refined into a light warping spacecraft shell, allowing humans to travel faster than initially thought, by transferring energy that was being carried by quantum particles, we could now bend physics to our will.
And at first this was amazing, allowing humans to colonize other planets, make incredible strides in scientific fields, and even encounter alien races!
And now in modern days, humans are on the brink of conquering the entire Milky Way, all because of one simple thing, gold.
You see, gold has a certain property that allows it to absorb and destroy the substance known as elementite, the fuel for any elemental magic. Gold can absorb all elementite within a 100km radius. So humans have just been deploying soldiers on every planet across the Milky Way, setting up gold beckons every 100km apart, pretty much rendering every magic wielding alien useless.
They tried to fight back with magic when we started our attack, and we didn’t know that gold had these property’s. Thank goodness for the bank transfers that occurred, otherwise we never would’ve learned.
As of this moment, all magic in the Milky Way has been absorbed and destroyed. We’ve landed on every planet. And our assault on the andromeda system will begin shortly. | 2019-01-18T11:07:58 | 2019-01-18T10:08:27 | 19 | 10 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | (Sorry for any grammar errors in advance. Edited for spelling. I’m not the best at this)
"*This is how it works*," Death explained. "*You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood*?”
Marcus heard the voice in his head before he heard it with his ears. The echo betrayed the vast expanse of space he was seemingly standing in.
He kept looking around Death trying to perceive form but each time he focused on something it would fold into itself and a new shape would appear “Yeah I understand.”
To Marcus, Death was a towering void with subtle facial features scattered among the form against a sea of starlight. Cloaked as if someone had draped a statue with a black hole.
“*I am inclined to inform you…*” Marcus heard the echo of Death’s voice again as he was looking around “*...before you pick our game let it be known that beings here do not tire. As such do not expect to succumb to fatigue nor thirst.*” Marcus heard Death proclaim as he looked around then back to Death.
“Okay...uh...may I get some time to think?” Marcus asked while trying to focus on what he thought was Death’s main face. Death gave what Marcus perceived as a slight nod.
A few minutes went by as Marcus stood in contemplation.
“Ya’ said I can pick any game right?”
Death nodded.
“And ya’ said we won’t get tired here?”
“*Correct again*” Death echoed.
Marcus looked up at Death inquisitively “Then…{ahem}...then can we play fetch?”
“*Elaborate*” Death’s echo was distinctively louder than before.
“Two years ago my momma’ was cleaning the house for family to come over on Thanksgiving. She opened up the door to let out the dust from cleaning but accidentally left it open for too long and my dog Rook got outside. My momma' couldn't stop him and he ran into the street and was hit by a car. It wasn’t the driver’s fault or my momma’s fault or even Rook’s. He was just too fast. He was my boy. But I was working when it happened and didn’t get to say bye.” Marcus stifled a cough and took a deep breath.
“He died in the Vet’s office before I could get there. My sister put up her cell-phone to his ear so I could say goodbye but I think he was already dead. You could hear it in everyone’s voice. I got to hug him later but he wasn’t there anymore.’
He began batting away at whatever tears tried to take hold.
“You said we can play any game so I want us to play fetch with Rook.”
“*There can be no winner to that game. You cannot cheat at that game.*” Death’s form became more rigid “*Choose another.*”
“No, Rook’s gonna’ be the winner because you said we won’t get tired. So we’re gonna’ play forever.” Marcus puts his fingers to his chest “And besides you can cheat if you pump-fake and don’t throw the ball to him. He’ll catch on eventually. He’s smart. Plus I get to see Rook again so I’m gonna win too.” He pointed at death “You took him from me two years ago so I know you can bring him here. That’s my game Death, that’s what I wanna’ play.” Tears streaming down Marcus’ face roll off his cheek and dissipate into nothing.
“And I promise you I aint gonna’ be watching you so pump-fake all you want. But in order for you to lose or give up and send me back we gotta’ at least start playin’ so **bring rook here**…..please.”
His voice splits as he points at his feet fighting to keep his eyes open.
The absence of sound is broken by a low bass rumble.
“*So be it.*”
Marcus is thrown down to a field of tall incandescent grass. He can feel wind cooling his face. Death is already there and unfolds and unfurls at the bottom revealing a dog who sprang forth to Marcus as if he was waiting behind the curtains.
“Rook!”
| I look at the game’s Death has surrounding the room.
There’s the ornate antique marble chess board, polished to a gleam with ivory and ebony pieces.
In stark contrast, right next to that there’s a well loved and worn checkerboard. It has obviously faded areas where players over the years slid their pieces over the board, rather than picking them up and placing them.
There are also many branded board games: Battleship, Connect Four, Monopoly, and *shit, is that...* ***Candy Land*** ?
There are some more modern ones that I’ve only heard of, but never played, like Settlers of Catan.
There are also a glut of various card games, like Uno, Magic of the Gathering, and even *Pokémon*!
Of course there’s also a deck of regular cards set out, and they’re somehow both a void of boundless incomprehensible black like a black hole in which no light can escape on the backs, and a ghastly bone white on the front.
The clubs and spades are more of the depthless black. The hearts and diamonds are glistening blood red.
I am intrigued.
“Go Fish.”, I say.
Death nods.
I think several times about cheating and not telling Death when I have I card, but I know I have a poor poker face. Even when cheating is aloud in the rules, I still can’t bring myself to do it.
Death, sets down four fours, then the aces, then tens. I was only putting down about one set to every three that Death was managing. I was going to lose.
The last sets were made, and there was no need to count them, I was so far behind.
My stomach sunk to my knees.
Death smiled, “You passed the test.”
I blanched, “How so? I lost!”
“You didn’t cheat. The test was whether or not you cheat, win or lose, you pass the test when you decide not to cheat.”
The next thing I know, I blearily wake up to the steady sound of a hospital heart monitor.
-fin
Edit: formatting, again | 2018-03-07T09:56:50 | 2018-03-07T07:49:56 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] A bride walks down the aisle, meeting her groom at the altar. They are pronounced husband and wife, and share a kiss. Instead of cheering, the audience leaps from their chairs to attack. The married couple are fully prepared to fight. | I had never thought that I would ever be fortunate enough to find love in my life. a barbarian king rarely ever has such luxuries.
Yet there she was, the most ruthless yet precious amazon warrior I ever laid eyes on. It was truly magical. Sparks flew in the air and it was love at first sight.
We actually met on the battlefield, she swung her sword at me with passion and rage. I was barley able to dodge and parry her slices.
When we stared into each others eye though, it was like magic; something clicked and we both let our guards down..
"..soo... are you single" I asked her with enthusiasm in my voice.
"... I am actually!" She replied with a smile on her beautiful Amazonian complexion.
After that love blossomed very fast, she and some of her remaining sisters joined my fellow barbarians.
We fought together in many battles and wars, sharing a passionate kiss in between altercations with viking hordes, orc hordes, undead, vampire hordes you name it.
Proposing to her was an inevitability, and the day she said yes was the greatest day of my life.
The wedding was an even greater day, there would be no blood shed today I thought.. a beautiful day full of love was to be had.
".. I love you with every fiber of my being, and with all my heart and soul.." I said to her as I stared deep into her beautiful green eyes.
"You have made me the happiest I could ever be.. there is no person I would rather fight and die with.." She said back, staring deeply into my war stricken blue eyes.
"Do you accept this bride until a vicious warrior death does you part?" the barbarian priest says, a smile on his scarred but handsome face.
".. I do.." I retort, with certainty in my voice.
"and do you accept this groom to be your husband until you get murdered in battle?"
"Of course I do!" She yells, with her warrior Amazonian voice.
"... then I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.."
We didn't even let the priest finish before we grabbed each other and kissed as passionately as we ever have before.
Yet to my shock and dismay, I didn't hear a single cheer or applause like was to be expected at a wedding.
Suddenly, the audience swords drawn starts charging at us.
My newly found wife, quickly pushes me out of the way just in a time to save me from a sword that would have impaled me. Then me and her quickly draw our swords and get to work on the horde of barbarians that were once our comrades.
"What is the meaning of this treachery!" I yell out.
"You should have seen this coming, you washed up has been. We will never accept a amazon queen as our own!" One of my fellow barbarians and friend says as he slices at my head, and I just barley dodge out of the way.
"well it looks like till a warriors death does us part might come sooner then expected.." I say to my wife.
She simply only has time to nod in response as she is taking on three barbarians at once.
I parry a slice as my wife stabs one of them through the eye and he falls to the ground lifeless.
We fight long and hard as one after another of our previous comrades pounce on us. We take out many, but we're heavily out numbered.
Suddenly, behind my wife a barbarian attempts to stab her, I was already parrying another persons slice so I did the only thing I could possibly do.
I jumped in the way and got stabbed and impaled through the gut to sacrifice myself for her.
She seeing this, starts fighting with a vicious rage killing many barbarians.
"Why won't you surrender? We will let you live if you throw down your weapon.." says one of the barbarians to my wife.
"a true warrior never surrenders until her soul leaves her shattered body" She retorts with confidence in her voice.
She at this point has slayed forty six of them, as the remaining eight begin to back up and retreat in fear.
"Retreating are you.. and you have the nerve to call yourself a barbarian.." Says my wife.
The remaining barbarians run off in fear of what happened to many that have crossed her.
Once they have ran off, she finds me on the ground bleeding and barley holding onto life.
"hold on my liege.. I will get you to the shaman.." she says, holding my wounded body.
"It is too late for me I'm afraid, I have lost to much blood.." I reply.. " just go on without me.. you're their queen now." She holds me and stares into my eyes until life leaves my body.
I pass on, and she becomes the first queen to rule over the barbarian warriors, she becomes one of the greatest leaders their ever was. | “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
I take my husbands hand. My eyes dart to the audience and I chuckle.
“Are you ready my Romeo?” I ask.
“Of course, my Juliet.”
He reaches over to my viel and lifts it from my face. I smile warmly at him. I turn my head to the audience. I was not the face they were expecting. A gasp spread throughout the area and Mira, my new husband, sweeps me up and kisses me. This is much to our audiences dismay. I laugh and he sets me down. I take a deep breath. The audience roars, and not in a good way. An angry cry spreads across the venue. The audience started a charge. The priest ran away from the alter. I grinned at Mira.
“Don’t die.”
“You either, I happen to like you.” I chuckled. I duck behind Mira and draw my dagger. Mira’s mother comes up with fury blazing in her eyes. I kicked off my heels and roundhouse kicked her. She went down with one kick.
“Huh, that was kinda easy.” I said. Mira was occupied on the other side with his dad and brother.
“Hey! Anna, behind you!” I spun around and immediately duck when I see a chair flying at me. Mira had taken down both his brother and father. I shuffled back on all fours. And rolled out of the way for the next chair swing. I giggled. Unfortunately I got a bit cocky and Mira had to rip the chair out of the attackers hand. This one was Mira’s aunt.
“Mira! You can’t marry our enemy!”
“I know I can’t!” He threw the chair at his cousin who came up from behind him. “We’re already married!” I choked back laughter. “Anna, cars this way!”
I grabbed Mira’s hand and we ran, a whole ass mob chasing after us. I was giggling like crazy. Mira hopped in the back of the car and I followed him, my white dress fluffing up and filling the car. I was about to shut the door when someone forced their way through. I swiped my dagger at Mira’s sister and kicked her back. I slammed the door, she shrieked as her fingers got crushed.
“Ah! Damnit!”
“What? What is it?”
“My dress got blood on it! It was a rental!” Mira just started laughing at me as the car screeched onto the highway. He leaned his head on my shoulder.
“I think Romeo and Juliet got a happy ending.”
“Yeah, I think so.” I smiled. | 2022-08-27T12:08:35 | 2022-08-27T11:23:35 | 79 | 37 |
[WP] In the midst of combat, the villain watches in terror, as the hero swallows an entire roast chicken and two cheese wheels at once. | I felt the presence of the man long before he reached my chambers. I could faintly hear the noises of him fighting my fellow fallen warriors within the crypt. As he entered my chambers, I waited until he would be able to see my coffin, then made my move. I blew the lid off my coffin and stood. My movements were precise, measured. I had always enjoyed a dramatic entrance. But the invader ignored me. He grabbed some dusty potions from a long-forgotten shelf. He stuffed them in his bag with barely a glance. He also grabbed on old bowl, some herbs, and a bucket. I thought it strange, but I didn't care for the items. I wasn't quite sure how they even got here in the first place. The potions would probably have gone bad, if that was even possible.
I didn't care for the items, but I did care about his nonchalance. I was a feared soldier in life and in death, I would not be ignored. I started toward him, dragging my sword behind me. The tip had long since dulled, and I didn't have the fine motor control to keep it aloft as I walked. He finally seemed to decide to give me the time of day, and turned to face me, drawing his weapon. A warhammer of the same era as myself. As I realized that he must have taken it off one of my men, I advanced, enraged. I swung wildly at him, with a windup that even the most inexperienced fighter could have avoided. A downside of my body being held together by little more than rotting muscle and hardened skin. He avoided my swing, and went low, hitting me hard with the hammer. It barely hurt - I had long since abandoned mortal feelings of pain - but I knew it would leave lasting damage that my body would no longer naturally heal. An annoyance.
The stranger scowled, and mumbled under his breath. He spoke a language I could not understand. My native language had fallen from prominence, it seemed. No matter, I had not spoken my own language since my death. Instead, I used some Words of Power I had learned long ago. The words were laced with a magical force, and knocked my attacker him from his feet. I took the opportunity to get a solid hit in, my sword digging deep into his armor. As blood sprung from the wound, I wasted no time hitting him again. He stood and backed away, but I closed the distance and once again landed a heavy blow. This time, though, he managed to trade with me, landing another hard hit with his hammer.
We both took a few steps back, reeling from the hits. He swung his bag around, digging through it with vigor. I longed for the day when a mixture of herbs would help knit together my wounds. He dug past weapons, armor, books, bowls, baskets, solid gold bars... if I hadn't been so shocked by the sheer number of items within his bag, I might have tried to finish him off while he was distracted. His face lit up as he found what he was looking for.
He started to pull all sorts of food from the depths of the bag. He turned an apple into a core with impressive speed, then popped the core into his mouth as he took a swig of some expensive aged wine. He pulled out a few pastries, eating them in a bite or two each, dual-wielding baked goods like he couldn't decide which to eat first. I took the chance to reel back for another swing... but then he pulled out an entire cheese wheel. I paused. I thought if I lopped off his head right now, I'd miss what was sure to be a feat for the ages. And I was right. As I watched, he did the impossible.
Like a drunk dairy farmer trying to win a bet, he jammed cheese into his mouth faster than any man I had ever met - and I had feasted with Vikings.
As he finished the cheese wheel, I noticed the bleeding of his wounds begin to slow. My confusion was only interrupted by abject horror as he pulled out an entire rotisserie chicken. It wasn't exactly well-preserved, but he ate it with the same raucous gobbling he had demonstrated with all of the other food he had pulled from the depths of the bag. I was almost certain he ate the bones, too, but I didn't have time to process that as he pulled out another entire wheel of cheese, and began to eat that too. Whatever bizarre intimidation technique he was displaying had worked already. I'd given up after the first cheese wheel. I wished I spoke his language, I'd plead with him to stop this madness.
As he finished off three bottles of cheap mead, he once again readied himself for battle. His wounds had completely healed. He smiled, and belched. I dropped my sword and threw my hands up in surrender. He wasted no time lodging the warhammer's sharp end in my head. As my consciousness faded, my opponent coughed up a chicken bone. He considered it for second, then used it to pick his teeth as he dug through my belongings. With that, I closed my eyes. My life was complete, because I had truly seen it all. | "Do you... Do you want an antacid or something?" Dr. Malediction lowered his death ray and stepped away from the doomsday console, ponderously scratching the base of his pale skull. "That cannot have been healthy."
"Be silent, villain. Your lies will not make me stray from my mission!" The White Knight raged, his hand clasped around his Sword of Truth. "With my health restored, I will rid the kingdom of your evil machinations and all shall see that *I*, Sir Gawain the Righteous, are worthy to ask the princess' hand in marriage."
"You mean the prime minister's daughter? We're a constitutional monar..."
"Silence, fiend! I have scaled the steps of your infernal tower, have vanquished your minions and not even your death ray can stop me. Kneel before me and beg, and I might just let you live."
Dr. Malediction looked unphased. "...You could have taken the elevator, you know. Anyway, are you sure you're alright? You look a bit pale. I've got an x-ray machine in the back that..."
"Cease your malevolent pontification, villain. Your words shall not lead me astray from my sacred path! My... my..." The White Knight trembled. His gauntleted hand scratched at his gleaming breastplate. "My holy sword will... will banish you to the deepest pit of the... Inferno, *fiend*." As he spat out the final word, embers erupted from the Knight's Sword of Truth.
"Nice monologue, cheap party trick... But seriously, let me take a look. I *am* a medical doctor, you know." Dr. Malediction pressed a button and a compartment of his doomsday console hissed open. "I've got a first aid kit right here," he continued, wafting away clouds of sulphurous smoke that emerged from the machine.
The White Knight's face had turned paler than his armour, yet he remained defiant: "The Divine protects me, demon. No... No witchcraft of yours can... can change that. My quest... my god-given quest... will... will..." His hand clawed feebly at his breastplate. The Sword of Truth fell to the ground, it's embers extinguished. "What... have... you..."
"I think you did this to yourself, mate. I can practically smell the cholesterol on your breath." Dr. Malediction lay a sincere claw across his cloaked chest. "Anyhow, let me finish this first, and then I'll call you an ambulance..."
Vile smoke billowed from the doomsday console as Dr. Maledication pressed a large, crimson button. Immediately, the building rumbled and shook on its foundations. Plaster rained down from the ceiling, as something was launched from one of the floors above.
"If the hospitals are still standing after this, of course..." | 2021-08-19T06:19:20 | 2021-08-19T05:19:51 | 700 | 352 |
[WP] Your sibling is the smart one, the one with the bright future, or at least that’s what your parents think. Now they want your sib to get into that fancy exclusive school—but along with forms and essays, Admissions wants to interview each family member. Including you. |
“So, Miss Jane, tell me about your brother”
“He’s very bright! And…umm… responsible. John is also very… ambitious. He works hard to accomplish his dreams .”, she said timidly.
She hoped it was what they wanted to hear. She wasn’t used to talking to people. After all, girls had to be neither seen nor heard. It was a miracle they even asked her to be interviewed too. Professor Mill looked down at his notepad and jotted down something. It made her even more nervous; was everything alright? Did she say something wrong? He looked up at her again. He had kind eyes; they reminded her a bit of her father. She wondered if he also had a family.
“Have you read any of his essays?”
She stiffened; wrung her hands. Of course, she did. She wrote most of them after all- spent hours upon hours agonising over the wording and format and meaning. But girls don’t have a voice. And her brother *was* hard-working, he just wasn’t a genius. What he was, was the family’s hope. He had to get there. He had to.
“Only seen some drafts. I don’t understand much, but when he explained them to me they seemed very nice and thought out. I know he spends a lot of time writing them.”
The professor nodded; wrote down something else.
“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me about him?”
This was her chance. Hopefully, she wouldn’t speak out of turn.
“ John is really intelligent and works very hard. He spends all his time trying to learn more and excel. The isn't as day that passes by when he doesn't pour over books or volunteers or scours the internet for something new, something exciting and educative. Forgive me, I might sound insolent. But if I can tell you anything about my brother, is that you won’t find someone who deserves to go to your University more than him.”
Professor Mill looked surprised. After a few seconds he smiled warmly and said:
“I rarely meet young women, who would have the courage to speak so boldly. Thank you for speaking honestly. The world needs more Misses, to stand up for themselves.”
He seemed pleased. Noted down something else and bid her adieu. She hoped it was enough. **After all, her brother deserved the best and she would give the world to make it happen.**
**\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\***
„Alright. This is the last interview. I apologise for taking so much time; your parents had nothing but praise towards you and our discussion ran a little long. They are very proud of your accomplishments and were more than happy to share”
The professor seemed both satisfied and slightly amused. John wondered if he would still be so satisfied if he knew the truth. Or if his parents would be so proud still, if they knew his sister was the gifted one. The one writing essays and helping him with homework and explaining her writing to him again and again so no one would ever clue in she was the one behind them.
“Now than, Mister John: describe yourself in one word.”
“ Hard-working”
The answer came quickly, without much thought. He knew he had a good work ethic; the problem had never been a lack of motivation or ambition. His sister just had the intelligence to back them up. He wasn’t stupid, but she was clearly on another level. Professor Mill jotted something down on his notepad and asked another question. John answered and the man kept taking notes. He felt guilty. His sister should be here. She should be the one being asked about the content in the essays; about her dreams for the future; about her career and her thoughts and her strengths. And all this because she wasn’t born the right sex. After all women have to be neither seen nor heard.
The professor looked up from his notebook. John knew they were nearing the end of the interview. Professor Mill put the pen and notebook down on the coffee table. Whatever he was going to ask next would not be written down.
“ Mister John, you strike me as a dedicated and ambitious person. But one thing I’ve noticed during our conversation is that you haven’t once described yourself as highly intelligent or gifted. Humility is of course a virtue- this is , however, the one time you should be anything but. Any particular reason for this?”
John froze. This was a chance to come clean. This a golden opportunity; when in his life would he ever get to tell someone about his genius sister, who taught herself to read and write and read world classics in her spare time? But- she was still a woman. He had to thread carefully.
“ May I ask something first, professor?”
The man was a tad confused but amiable.
“Yes, of course!”
“ Women- they shouldn’t have a voice should they?”
The man’s expression changed instantly. He was no longer the friendly and open Professor Mill; rather he seemed like a stone: cold and unforgiving.
“ I would tread carefully if I were you, Mister John. I have two daughters, older than you, both educated and respected in academia. Our University prides itself on offering the best to the best. Regardless of class *or* sex.”
In that moment John knew. No matter what their parents said, no mater what the people would whisper behind their back, Jane would get her chance. **After all, his sister deserved the best and he would give the world to make it happen.** | "They want to interview all of us?" I turned to my mother, who nodded once and notioned towards the door.
"Go on, it's your turn." My brother said, pushing me forward. I stumbled over my own feet. Damn it, always the bloody clumsy one.
I stepped through the door as it suddenly slammed behind me, causing me to jump before I looked back towards the door. No one was there to close it, how did it close? I heard someone clear their throat as I turned around to face the figure behind the desk.
The chair was **massive**, it seemed way too big for a University Principle to have.
"And you are Sam?" The voice on the chair asked, the grey haired male adjusted his glasses as he stared at me. I hesitated before nodding once. "Good, good." He started before he moved a hand, two figures stepped out from behind me and pushed me down into the stall. Where did they come from?
The figure stared at me carefully, his blue eyes narrowing slowly. "And you say Eli is good enough for this school?" He asked, I nodded. "I would like words, Kid."
"My apologies." I squeaked before I cleared my throat. "I believe my brother deserves to go to this University. He is super bright, great at studying and has a drive for learning."
"And yourself?" He asked as he clasped his hands together as he watched me closely.
"M...Myself?" I repeated, getting a nod. "Oh, I... I'm no one special. I'm clumsy, I barely past high school. I don't have that drive like Eli does for learning, I tend to stay in the background and draw if I'm honest."
"Hmm." The man said, strumming his fingers against the table carefully. I could feel his gaze against my entire body, my hands gripped the edges of the stall before he sat up and waved his hand. "You are dismissed." He said, I blinked and cleared my throat.
"That was all you needed?" I asked, he nodded and I stood up, the men beside me had disappeared. I moved to scamper out of the room and slammed the door as I exited. My parents looked up at me, almost confused at the worried expression on my face.
We drove home in silence. Well, I was silent; Eli, mum and dad were all chatting about everything that could happen if Eli went to that school. I shuddered at the thought of that University, I couldn't get that mans glare out of my mind. I couldn't tell if I was asked any questions on the way home, I had zoned it all out.
We all got home safe, Everyone piled into the lounge as I headed up towards my room. "Hey, come hang out with us will you?" I heard Eli call out to me as I walked up the stairs, moving to my door and closing it. I slid the lock over the door as I walked to my desk, flicking on my lamp and opening my old laptop.
It made a couple beeps, I mumbled a swear under my breath as it failed to boot up. "Don't die on me now." He said to it as I tried the button again, another beep. Great. I glanced to my window for a second, feeling dizziness hit me as I felt eyes on me, the same feeling I got from the male at the University.
The dizziness twisted my brain, I felt my head get heavy and my eyes slowly close... | 2021-02-19T06:09:57 | 2021-02-19T01:52:58 | 26 | 11 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | “Mmhmm, okay lets play!” Emma squealed excitedly. Death shook his head involuntarily under his hood at her enthusiasm but caught itself before letting its reaction show on its face.
“What game shall we wager?” Death asked.
Emma being freed from the excruciating pain from the events earlier in the day was smiling and admiring the parts of her body which had become anew. She was free from the haunting strobe light memory flickering to grotesque scenes of her tibia extruding from her shin, a pool of blood spreading on her favorite dress, and the view of rapidly passing rectangular light boxes which eventually faded to black. “Did you fix me?” she looked up inquisitively as she asked.
Death replied in monotone, “A question is not an answer to the question. Pick a game.”
“Well you say cheating is okay but I always hated when Julie cheated but she always won so I want to try it but you have to promise me not to get mad,” Emma blabbered. “Let’s play Rock, Paper, Scissors!”
“Wise are the ones to leave fate up to chance. Any other conditions? Best of 3?” Death said. Death took a liking to this simple game. Seldom had the dying spirit chose this game instead opting for higher chances of survival. Death found it amusing that humans, who did nothing to enrich their soul but rather spent time on accumulating wealth, had such a deep desire to retain their undeveloped worthless soul.
“No just once. Ready?” Emma held her fist up, “On three. Not after. Like one, two, three and when we say three you put your hand out. We both say 1-2-3. One…”
Death repeated after her catching up to her rhythm.
“Two.” They said in unison. Death looked up at her eyes which were focused intensely on its own. “Three!”
Death having sensed no malice from Emma simply threw out its favorite, scissors. But looking down at the skeletal hand flexed in bunny ears it saw or rather did not see Emma’s hand.
“I pick rock!” Emma shouted over giggles. She put her fist out next to Death’s scissors. “You lose! Julie taught me this one. It made me really mad and I called her a cheater but she said ‘no *you* not *we* put your hand out,’ and when I went to mommy crying Julie just laughed. You promised you won’t be mad.”
Death stood silent. Emma’s spirit faded away back towards the realm of the living.
“Innocence of children; I lose to you yet again.”
| "Then I'll choose Tic Tac Toe!" I said confidently.
Death drew a glowing tic tac toe board suspended in mid air and grew a devilish smile. "Fine, go ahead and start", he said with a whisper of a voice.
An hour passed by, with no moves made. "Are you not going to do anything!?" Death shouted annoyed.
"Nope," I answered satisfied that I had enraged death itself. "Can't lose if you don't play," | 2018-03-07T06:50:46 | 2018-03-07T06:43:50 | 944 | 72 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | It's too easy to say humanity is a warmonger.
Before our race even attained citizenship in the Galactic Confederacy, humans were responsible for the complete eradication and systemic extermination of the Triad, a group of three sentient species; in a matter of years, the once proud Triad population was reduced to 12% pre-war trends, and the prior religious system had been thrown into anarchy. Humans were considered by the Triad to be a blight on the universe at first; after the battle of Animu-Zappa, humanity was a harbinger of death, brought about by vengeful gods.
This wasn't their first genocide, however.
Since the passing of Common History in the Confederacy Senate, we have learned more of the birth of humanity from the files they have shared with us. It was like eating a nightmare capsule.
Even before their species had distinguished itself in the genus, humans killed competing bipedals to the point of extinction; their closest ancestor is a species known as 'chimpanzees'. These apes share little to no cognitive similarity to their human brothers. Today they are used in experiments and zoos.
Humanities first recorded moments are the conquering and subsequent genocide/assimilation of three separate groups. The Sumerians were conquered by the Akkadians, who were then decimated by the Babylonians. Eventually, the Babylonians were wiped out by the Assyrians. All of this happened before humans began to use metal tools.
As technology advanced, humans swept through their own populations in a set of genocides resembling self culling. One group would conquer, become complacent, and be destroyed by a stronger civilization, ad nauseum. The Europeans became the dominant force in global politics, then the Mongol hordes swept through, and after a few plagues the seat of learning moved to the middle east; from there to Asia, then back to Europe. After a brief technological advance and a series of deadly crusades, the seat shifted to the New World. Following the genocide of nearly two billion Christians, the seat once more shifted to China. Endless death and plague followed for centuries until humanity could pull itself, once more, from the ashes of its past to move forward.
Last month humanity forged it's first treaty with the Confederacy, although it is hard to call unconditional surrender a treaty. Our race is one of the last to survive the waves of casualties at their hands, as the remnants of the Redoutie are sorting out the genetic aftermath. The survival of the Lipreas and Halborn is indeterminate. It's been three weeks since the last transmission was received from the Verswin homeworld, and further transmissions are unexpected. The galaxy is still reeling from the gouging blade of humanity.
That being said, it is still too easy to call them warmongers.
I have seen the humans firsthand. When they first arrived in peace, I was in charge of driving the shuttle from the spaceport to the Senate for the landing party. They understood our language, so I was able to converse with the seven humans on board.
They gave me something they called a 'pencil'. The small tool was designed in their ancient past to record thoughts and ideas on sheets of 'paper'. They said it was responsible for more violence than any other piece of equipment in their arsenal; short strokes of graphite had killed far more than their gas canisters and
potential disruptors had wasted in the past twenty years of war. I was afraid they had given me a weapon with which I knew not the methods of control, and in a hurry I tried to give it back; my thick fingers fumbling with the thin strip of wood.
Laughing, they took it back and told me why they had brought their pencils. The tall female in charge, Mulan, wrote 'war' on a pad of paper with a few careful marks. After showing me, she flipped the pencil around and rubbed the pink end on the marks she had made, little strings of grey material falling off the pad.
She smiled at my amazed face, and with the same pencil, wrote in the smudged area left by war. Before my eyes, she wrote the word 'peace' on the pad, tore it off, and gave it to me to keep.
It would be too easy to call them warmongers. In twenty minutes, the Redoutie will release initial estimates for reanimating the extinct Raspales, human scientists leading the charge to repair the damage they wreaked upon us all.
It would be too easy to call them warmongers. Even in the darkest moments, humans are surprising. Peace is not in their nature, but prosperity is. It is my humble opinion, delegates, that the humans came in vengeance. Fury was their initial state.
Today, a new humanity stands before us, clad in amber light. We have witnessed the turning of fate. To go back now is to throw away the losses of countless worlds and numerous lives. Let the humans stand with us in peace.
It takes courage to do something hard, but calling humanity warmongers would just be too easy, my fellow delegates. Today we must take the hard step, so our children don't have to.
Thank you for your time; may your days be productive and satisfactory. | “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
The chant rang out across the recess court of the Milky Way Middle School, where various larval age children across many species were sent to learn basic skills. Ever since the Great Awakening of IGC (Intra Galactic Contact) 143, it was deemed necessary that all species members of the Galactic Federation be held to the same educational standard regarding mathematics, galactic history, sciences, and fluency in the standard galactic language of Batheem.
“Come on, you guys. I don’t want to fight.”
The Human child looked at the various alien faces forming an inescapable fence around him and his proposed opponent.
“What’s the matter, Enoch? Scared?”
The spade-faced insectoid Jatno, Kryllyth, stared down the Human.
“I’m not scared, I just don’t like fighting.”
Humans were revered across the galaxy for their sensibility and pacifism. They famously settled the Raxian trade dispute in IGC 94, as well as ending Ure’s fifth world war. Humans always tried to find a better solution rather than just eliminate the cause of the conflict with violence.
A whinny-like laugh came from somewhere in the crowd.
“I’ll bet he won’t fight because he’s so scared of losing!”
Enoch scoffed. “I am not. I easily weight twice as much as him.”
“I heard your mother dated a slimy Hungaul,” Kryllyth hissed, “and then left him for an even slimier Rytte.”
The crowd egged him on. If there was one thing students at MWMS liked, it was a good fight. Plus, a fight with a Human was rare, and famously entertaining.
“You shut up!”
The human was getting visibly angry, his face turning a deep red. If humans were most famous for their pacifism, they were second most famous for whenever they snapped and got violent, they got very, *very* violent. Just ask the leader of the Felms, who dared to try and conquer the Humans’ dear satellite, Luna. Or perhaps ask the former inhabitants of the planet Ortina, if the recently Uranium radiated atmosphere doesn’t give you cancer first.
“Yeah, and I heard his colony got conquered by the Theks!”
Another collective roar of laughter.
This pushed the Human over the edge, and he leapt at the unsuspecting Jatno with an enraged yell. The crowd closed in around the mass of punching hands and yelps of pain. Eventually a voice rang out.
“Ok, ok! You win! Get off me!” Kryllyth yelled, pinned under the Human with and an arm twisted behind his back.
“Gladly.” Enoch stood up and walked away, dusting off his hands, leaving the crowd with jaws dropped.
No one picked a fight with a Human for the rest of the year.
| 2016-03-13T22:11:22 | 2016-03-13T21:46:28 | 23 | 15 |
[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 stared at him. He stared back at me, he didn't break eye contact.
"Really?" I asked.
"Really what?" He quirked his head to the side. "You summoned the devil, and I am here."
"You really are the worst." I said under my breath. "Do really don't recognize me?"
"I make a LOT of deals. Everyone loves power, and I'm the guy to go to when you need it." He gave a devilish smile, confident and so sure of himself.
"He doesn't even recognize me." I said, purposefully just loud enough for him to hear. "You REALLY don't recognize me."
He squinted and his head came the slightest bit forward. "Are you the guy who wanted to turn everything he touched to..."
"I'm not fucking Midas DAD!"
The bastard broke into a laugh. "Of course I recognize you Sam!"
I wanted to slap him. "John dad, my name is fucking John."
That cock sure grin wouldn't leave his damned face. "You know, I have just so many kids they all look the same." He didn't have the decency for feel the least bit of shame. "So what's the deal you hope to make?"
I let out a breath. I wanted to strangle him. To throttle him. He left me and mom, we had nothing. "Mom's sick. I need the ABILITY to earn enough quickly to get her the help she needs before she dies."
He nodded, a carnivores grin on his face. "I can do that, but I can't keep your mother alive." He shrugged. "So here's the deal. I'll give you the ability to earn what you need to pay for her treatment, and keep that payment up. I'll request something from you in the future, and if it's in your power to do it, you will. It won't cost you any pain, your mother any pain, or your loved ones any pain, but when I ask it of you, you must get it done without asking questions. Do we have a deal?"
A deal with the devil never goes as planned. Everyone knew this. Everyone knew not to make a deal with the devil, you always pay more than you earn. But god never answered my prayers and no angels would offer help. She was dying, the woman who raised me and loved me all my life. "Deal" I said. I couldn't hurt her. Her life was always full of sacrifices, many made because this bastard left her.
We shook hands. I felt sick. He owed me so much more than he'd ever given me, owed my mother for all the pain he caused her. I was paying for something he should have been giving for free. Something any decent man would offer after all he cost us. But my dad wasn't any sort of decent man. Wasn't a man at all. Turns out, he was the devil, and not just figuratively. | "Ooh... this is awkward"
The devil's face somehow turned an even deeper shade of red.
"You bastard." Damian clenched his fist until blood started to pool.
"Thought you could just leave and everything would be fine?"
Father took a hurried step towards him, but was rebuked by the shield around the pentagram. He fell to his knees and began to sob.
"I loved your mother, but she was always expecting more of me... hoping I would do better! I couldn't break it to her, who I was, who I really am..."
Almost feeling sorry for the horned devil which masqueraded as his father, Damian took a step towards him almost instinctively.
In a flash, an arm shot through the barrier and dragged him inside, a hole opened up beneath, swallowing them. | 2021-11-25T08:15:41 | 2021-11-25T04:24:07 | 615 | 67 |
[WP] You have a coin that allows you unlimited wealth as long as no one sees it. You put it between your Tesla’s car seat and send it into space. One day you run out of money.
Credit to u/vkrnt and u/ohwell_whatevernvmd for the idea | My grin melted down when I saw my bank account stale. How? The old tarot reader had told me that as long as none witnessed the blessing God had sent me, nothing would stop it. The coin had hit me in the head two days later, very much like Newton's apple had hit him.
Perhaps it had a range I didn't know of? Perhaps sending it to space in a the Tesla car seat hadn't been the best idea.
And then an idea came upon me like a falling tree. 'As long as none witnessed it,' the tarot reader had said. I shuddered, and dialed a friend of mine.
"Elon?" I said.
"Robert, how are you doing? Thank you very much for your last donation, was just ab-about to give you a ca-call," he said, stuttering briefly.
"My pleasure Elon," I said, keeping my cool. "Listen, could you tell me the current state of the Tesla car you sent to space?"
"The Tesla car?" He went silent for a moment. "It's up there, orbiting, according to my screen."
"Are you sure? Did your people perhaps cleaned it up before launching it?" My heart was throbbing wildly, yet I somehow kept my composure.
"Of course they did, we had it perfected and inspected days before the launch."
"Okay, thanks Elon. Sorry for the weird question." I threw the phone, with the wrath of a spoiled man who had just became poor, out of my sight.
I surrendered myself between the sheets of my bed, trembling and screaming terrible things at my pillows. I had slipped the coin minutes before they loaded the car, there was no possible way the coin had been found.
I'll be damned, but something was watching us from beyond.
-------------------------------------------------------
Elon frowned at his phone. There was only one reason why Robert could have been suspicious, and if Robert had noticed, then the entire SpaceX did too. Elon frantically scrolled through his contact list, calling Brandon, head of SpaceX secret team.
"Brandon, tell me something," Elon said, "there was any anomaly regarding the Tesla we sent to space?"
"Not that I know of. The part we noticed had dislodged from the car days ago ended up being a false alarm."
"Oh yes, I had been notified about it. Thank you."
Elon smiled, shuffling a coin between his fingers. How blind could these humans be? How hadn't they noticed he had flown nearby the car to retrieve that errant coin gravity had pulled away?
Elon pondered over the words his guru, an old tarot reader he had secretly seen two weeks ago, had told him, 'A grain of sand holds what you seek, and in the vast nothingness you will find it."
He was well aware of what those words had meant, and so he smiled and grabbed his iron-man comic, knowing Robert would be having an existential crisis, knowing money would never stop him from fulfilling his quest for conquest.
-------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall for more stories!
| The day you run out of money.
You attempt to get back.
So you dress up as a Playboy Bunny.
To get your life on track.
You dress up in disguise.
To go up real real high.
In a spaceship funded by Musk.
To find the coin by dusk.
Because that could be the key.
To living a life of breeze.
So you go up space.
In quest of finding the place.
Where the coin is at.
And to your chagrin.
You find a bin.
Of all these magical coins.
Thrown away in the trash.
By aliens whom appear relaxed.
Confused by this you investigate further.
Astonished to see these aliens have moved over.
All their money to live happily.
With each other peacefully.
The End | 2018-06-07T08:15:54 | 2018-06-07T06:51:52 | 1,370 | 543 |
[WP] Every time you sing the "Like a good neighbor State Farm is there!" jingle, a State Farm representative actually shows up. Time to build an army. | To be honest, it doesn't really matter where they come from, anymore. I don't know and I don't care.
You want to know how Humanity's empire spread across the stars in two standard cycles?
Sit down.
When we first discovered the phenomena, many didn't see its potential ramifications. Sing a short jingle, a State Farm agent would appear. Simple, right?
When it became apparent that you could order them to do almost anything, it got interesting.
It takes one, maybe one and a half seconds to sing the jingle. You'd get tired after a few thousand, not nearly enough to topple a government. But if you ask each State Farm agent to repeat the jingle with you...
Start with one agent. If you both repeat the jingle, you get two more - for a total of three. If you all repeat the jingle, you get four more agents - for a total of seven. It adds up pretty quickly.
I had enough manpower to topple every government in the world in no time at all. We had more State Farm agents than the world had guns. Once the world was united, we turned our sights outward.
A United Humanity developed interstellar travel in record time. Test pilots were no longer a concern, with an infinite supply of expendable State Farm goons.
State Farm agents became our shield, our sword, our hammer. Countless worlds fell under a rain of State Farm shocktroopers.
And if the enemy left even one human alive on the battlefield... all that soldier had to do was repeat the jingle. A single survivor could summon an entire platoon before the enemy had time to reload and comb for survivors.
Of course, that doesn't really help against all civilizations. Yes, I mean you, Ambassador. Sit back down, please.
We're well aware of your planetary shield. You've resisted our bombardments for a week, now. Our landing craft can't make it to the surface.
But we have ways of dealing with that.
A single State Farm agent can become 16 in a matter of seconds. We can put 1,125,899,900,000,000 human bodies in space in a matter of minutes. Each of our State Farm agents are totally loyal to humanity, and willing to give their lives to the cause.
We can reach ridiculous amounts of mass quite quickly, Ambassador. Your shields won't help if a black hole forms in your very own solar system.
So it's time for you to decide: Are you going to bend the knee? Are you going to be a good neighbor?
Or will State Farm™ be there? | They just started coming.
Thousands upon thousands droning the same anthem to grow my Empire.
Millions conquering the world.
I already have completed operation insurance field and now control Asia and the middle-east.
My second in command, Jake from state farm, is leading a strike on France.
I'll be the king in no time | 2017-09-14T12:45:58 | 2017-09-14T09:38:30 | 48 | 12 |
[WP] The “popular” girl falls for the “nerd” boy who hates her. She try’s to get him to like her.
Tries* | It was funny how *today* was the day Christa had finally stopped trying. She wasn't normally one to give up easily on a guy. They would always fall for her if she held out long enough. Christa was pretty--sexy even--and she knew how to make use of it.
He'd refused her once. She'd persisted. She'd dressed the part--worn her lowest-cut tops just for him--she'd flirted, leaned into him while dancing at the semiformal last March, she'd run her fingers through his hair, giggled, smiled winningly, and nothing had worked. He'd just *stood* there through each advance, and after a time, he'd started to realize what she was doing. He didn't ask her out. He just avoided her. He even refused a prom date. Julien Martin was unmanipulable.
But that wasn't it. Julien wasn't cold, or emotionless, or unreachable. He was one of the warmest people Christa had ever met, and it was in those days since he rejected her that she started to realize why.
She must look so dense, trying to win him over by dangling herself in front of him. Because he was so *brilliant,* and Christa didn't just mean that he was smart. "Brilliant" and "smart" weren't the same thing. There were billions of smart people in the world, but so few wore it the way Julien did. He didn't use big, incomprehensible jargon for the fun of it--that was the just a dumb stereotype, wasn't it?--he *understood* things in a way Christa couldn't. He was always out to help or teach, to share a few witty jokes, to have a *real* conversation. Yeah, he was still awkward, and sometimes downright clueless, but he'd never been ignorant.
But Christa *had* been. She was willing to admit it: he was attractive, and that was exactly why she liked him in the first place, but there were hotter guys out there, weren't there? Julien wasn't "hot"-- he was... she couldn't explain it. "Handsome" didn't cut it. He was just *radiant.*
And he looked radiant next to Lily at the prom. *They're just friends,* Christa reminded herself, *They're only friends.* But it hardly mattered anyway. At least he *liked* Lily. He wasn't even willing to spend a few hours with Christa. He hated her, and yet he was so *kind.* He'd apologized--actually *apologized*--after rejecting her. He greeted her in the hallways, even after how unfairly she'd treated him, how uncomfortable she'd made him.
She met him later at the table with the drinks. "Hey... Chris. Who'd you come here with?" he asked her, and she gestured to Josh, with whom she'd been dancing earlier. They shared a few pleasantries, and Julien turned to leave, but she gathered the courage to stop him.
"I'm sorry," she blurted, "I was... a total idiot... and I shouldn't have been so... you know... *much.*"
Julien looked panicked.
"God, I shouldn't have brought that up. I... you don't have to say anything." She tried to flee, but Julien's hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"Hey it's... it's alright. At least you're aware. I don't hold it against you if that's the case."
"Really? I though you'd hate me or something."
Julien shook his head. "You're... I wouldn't hate you. Especially not when you're like *this.*"
"'This?' All dressed up, you mean?"
"No. When you're civil." | Saturday, August 17:
Today, she tried to get me ice-cream. Ha, what type of dunce does she think I am? All the types in her mind, I suppose. She was probably gonna shove it in my face, and post it online. Like her friends always do. I don't know why they hate me? What have I ever done to them? Doesn't matter. It won't stop. It will never stop until I leave for college.
Sunday, August 18:
Tomorrow, I'm going back to school. Her friends are probably gonna tease me, again. This is getting pathetic, I don't even care anymore. Let them tease me. I'll be leaving next year anyways.
Monday, August 19:
They teased me, but she...stood up for me? She told them to stop. When one of them pushed me into the mud, she helped me up and even cleaned and dried my clothes. I don't know what's up, but... I'm onto her.
Wednesday, September 4:
She asked me out. What? Why would she do that? I don't if I should go. I've already been through enough. I asked my sister. She said to go for it. But I don't know. I still don't trust her. Even though she's been nice to me this past few weeks, she even stopped hanging out with her friends, she... I... don't know. I'll think about it | 2019-08-06T18:04:59 | 2019-08-06T16:41:52 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] An adventurer reaches the end of an epic quest only to be presented with two options; he may keep his life or learn the truth. | "BULLSHIT. Oh my god, such bullshit. You're railroading the whole campaign!"
The halfing rogue of the dungeoneering party threw down his bag of Doritos in disgust, knocking a few painted miniatures and some dice down from the table. The other party members groaned, and the elven sorcerer took a long sip of orange Fanta while the cleric re-arranged the pieces so they sat in their proper squares again. The dungeon master sat back in his chair, scratching at the bald spot on the back of his head. He looked exhausted.
"We are all level NINTEEN," continued the rogue, and the orc fighter sitting beside him nodded in agreement. "and you wrote this donkey-dick campaign that we've been questing in for weeks only to have us be killed off? What the fuck happened to starting a religion? I thought we talked about that, Mark!"
The dungeon master tensely flipped through his binder of character sheets. "I'm not Mark right now, I'm the leader of the cult you're trying to eliminate. If you forgot his name I can write it down on a Post-It note."
"We don't have to die," offered the cleric, pushing up his glasses. "I mean, he gave us a choice."
"Then what was the point of even doing this side quest? To loot the dungeon for some shitty gauntlets, Erica?
The sorcerer looked down guiltily, tapping her pencil on the table. "I thought they were really cool. +3 dex modifier."
"Yeah, okay. Whatever." The halfing stood up from the kitchen table, jostling the players' pieces again as he stomped to the fridge to grab another soda. He snapped open the lid with a sort of ferocity that only a man who had been in a dungeon for roughly a week could muster. "You know what? Just fucking kill my guy, I don't give a fuck. I'll write a whole new backstory and re-roll a paladin or some shit and then we can just move the fuck on from this."
Mark rose as the offending rogue sat back down at the table, removing the paper divider between him and the rest of the table. "You know what?" He threw a d20 down with precision anger. "Yeah, great! A natural 20. You decide you want to learn the truth and you fucking die, and you know what the truth is, Jake? You're a fucking asshole! Now no one else has to start over. Way to take one for the team."
"Fuck you," Jake scowled, taking a long drink. "Okay fuck you, fuck everyone else, and fuck this campaign! I'm done!" His chair was pushed out and he stood, slamming the soda down and spraying blots of Mountain Dew across the table. Angrily, he grabbed his bag of dice, a fistful of his tokens and miniatures and his coat. "If you decide to cast a resurrection spell on me, don't expect me to come back from the dead! You'd have to roll a nat 100 if you wanted me to ever come back to this dump!"
The front door slammed shut, and the rest of the party members blinked, still a bit numb from the whole siutation. After a pause, Ericka turned to Mark inquisitively.
"So...if we leave, I still keep the gauntlets, right?" | It's strange, you know? I thought that reaching the end would actually be the end of it all. I thought it would be the last time I traveled to a foreign place and dealt with danger. I thought that death would be far from me. I thought that I would have more options presented to me.
But, instead, I'm presented with two options. Do I live to tell my tales? Do I become the famous adventurer that I had dreamt of since I was just a boy, or do give it all up in hopes that death will bring me truth?
It's a hard choice to make. If I live, I'm granted with another day to seek the truth for myself. But, if I choose death, I could just be given the truth without any worry of ever having to find it. I truly did hope this was my last adventure. I did.
The more I think about it, the more it becomes abundantly clear what I need to choose. What good is the truth, if you can't share it with everyone?
I thought this would be my last adventure. I thought wrong. | 2014-10-22T10:59:43 | 2014-10-22T10:11:06 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] After a whole year full of catastrophes, it’s December 2020. Astronomers have noticed that entire constellations and star systems are vanishing from the sky, night after night. What ever is happening, it’s getting closer to us. | There was some debate over where it began. Definitely close to the galactic core. But it was true. After a year of catastrophes - wildfires, the coronovirus, earthquakes, hurricanes, the Top Gun sequel - the news that the stars were disappearing sent many into full on panic, and others simply gave up. Astronomers tracked the disappearing stars, and confirmed that the effect was roughly spreading outwards from its origin point, and would reach Sol within a few months.
On March 4, 2021, Sirius went dark. But we were no longer looking at the stars. All attention was focused on the fleet of ships that had entered the Solar System. They deployed some kind of remote platforms, thousands of them. By March 10, they had created a web beyond the orbit of Pluto that completely enveloped the Solar System.
But we weren't looking at them either. A few ships had come further into the Solar System. Several were clearly building something orbiting Saturn. One parked in high Earth orbit. It was not only bombarded by radar, but radio messages, some hopeful, some aggressive, most panicked. And on March 10, the aliens responded.
"We understand that this is a terrifying phenomenon. You can relax now. The stars are not going out. We are simply shielding them. In one Earth minute, we will activate the net surrounding your star."
60 seconds later, all the stars winked out. Many screamed. But then, every radio receiver on Earth started getting a new signal - one that could be clearly identified as coming from the Voyager 2 space probe.
"Your probe is beyond the net. We are relaying its signal through subspace. You can no longer see it, but it is still there."
"We are the Concordance. We are an alliance of multiple species. We have recently received word that a vast armada of ships is approaching this galaxy. Their intent is hostile. While the precise cause is not clear, we believe emanations from this fleet are responsible for the rise in natural disasters and other disturbances on many worlds. We are concealing our stars to deny them navigation data. This will greatly slow their advance, but we need every resource we can get. The conflict will be bloody, but we must stand together, or we will all be consumed."
At that point, Pakistani Prime Minister Imran Khan responded.
"You mean to tell us that this galaxy is being invaded by aliens who are also responsible for all the shit that has been happening on Earth? And you're asking us to help fight them?"
The aliens replied "Essentially, yes."
"Excellent."
Within a few days, every single nation on Earth had voted to declare war on the invaders, now known as the Swarm. Draft notices were issued, but hardly necessary. The entire human race was relieved - no, ecstatic - to have a target to vent its fears and anxieties upon. The Concordance supplied us with advanced technology, but we would have fought with sticks and stones if we had to.
Because whoever these assholes thought they were, we *really* wanted to kill them. | I recall an SCP article that is almost exactly this prompt. Or at least, the spirit of this prompt for it's entirety. It's the rewritten Hateful Star skip, which I'll link at the end of my little blurb. There are a number of cross links to other skips, which you don't have to read but having a cursory understanding would really help. To summarize, our Sun starts putting out thaumaturgical signals over the course of some time, and these are translated and then correlated with other extraterrestrial skips (aka entities of sorts) to reveal...well, whatever happens in the story. Bad shit happen in Earth over some time, and then the story reaches it's climax. I know this isn't following the standard rules, but its just such a perfect opportunity to showcase a fitting story for the prompt
http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-1548 | 2020-03-24T03:51:44 | 2020-03-24T02:30:47 | 67 | 38 |
[WP] Your family survives a nuclear apocalypse. Years later, you decided to go out the bunker looking for food. The world is now an empty barren wasteland; not a single life exists. However, a TV suddenly broadcasts news with a contradicting headline "Humanity celebrates as nuclear war prevented." | We were barely surviving, the rations were dwindling at a rapid pace despite numerous attempts to preserve them. I knew, that before I ran out of energy I had to get out to the world above and find food or else it will all be too late.
My mother and father were tired of this life, I see in their dim eyes that they only stayed here in this broken world out of reluctance to leave me alone. When I told them that I had to get out and find food they vigorously prevented me from going.
They told me that it was already too late to do anything. They told me it best to stay here, and die together. The tears that dripped down their faces when I left was a painful image carved into my mind. I didn't want to die. I didn't want them to die. I would do my best to find food, and if I couldn't find any within the week I would return and stay with them.
When the rays of the sun stung my eyes,I felt like I was in a new world. Everything was in shambles, twisted crumbling buildings and chaotic winds surged through the land. Live beings were scarce now, the only remaining things were mutated monstrosities of creatures of the past. The meat in them were all infused with radioactivity, I had to move on.
No more were the clouds that were white, what remained were red lumps of acidic gas. No more were the gentle rays of the sun, instead being touched by them stung. All things that were once beautiful, could have killed me long ago if it weren't for my protective suit. Days passed and after traveling far, the ruins of a city revealed itself.
Within the city, I stumbled upon plenty supplies. Most of them came from the corpses of people like me who braved these lands for food, but these people didn't have protective suits like mine. The radiation entered their systems and they died, slowly killed from the inside.
Soon, I collected enough for me and my family to survive for a month, but I wasn't satisfied. After a month would be another period of despair, we were simply just delaying the inevitable. I had to find something more. Despite the dull aches in my head, I moved on.
I kept scavenging, kept walking forward until the urban scenery around me turned to be what resembled a suburb. A familiar house appeared within my sights. Inside were pictures of a happy family, a young boy around 13 years of age stood proudly with his parents, holding an award for a science project.
My picture looked at me, and I felt entrapped within time. My hands trembled and I felt dizzy as I reached out and held the picture within my arms. Memory upon memory flashed and before I knew it, it felt like yesterday when all the chaos started.
"Humanity celebrates as nuclear war prevented." The sound of the TV echoed throughout the house. I was awoken from my stupor as I staggered towards the living room where the sound came from. On the TV was Channel 9 News, the anchor that I used to hate hearing was announcing with a big smile on his face as he stood within a crowd of cheering people.
"It seems like you were overreacting after all husband." I heard a voice say from behind me.
"Well it is much better to be prepared in case anything actually happened." My father's voice replied, "Back away from the TV child, you'll damage your eyes.
I turned and with my eyes I saw my father and mother, looking at me with kind eyes as if I was the most precious thing in the world. Without saying anything, I hugged them. It was the last thing I remember before everything went black...
.........
"Hey, Jack! We found supplies! We struck it rich this time! Too bad the protective suit is damaged." A man said, as he lifted a man's body. The corpse toppled over, and within his stiff fingers a picture of a happy family could be seen, slowly being tugged at by the wind. | Today was the day. Our food supply ran out. Years ago, when I was 12 or so, all governments nukes each other after an assassination. The war is now remembered as the hour war, because that’s how fast thing blew. Millions of people were in bunkers, at first mine had 200 or so. Now it’s 4 people.
Of course, the radio didn’t work very well. Stations were using backup antennas that barely reached us. The broadcasters, one by one, were killed. Beast, bullet, bomb. You name it, it killed one. They shared every moment on live radio, even the ones that shouldn’t be shared. They never stopped broadcasting.
There were several stations claiming the theory that this was planned, that the war was a coverup for something bigger. It was crazy, but believable. To sum it up, government leaders and other upper class members all went away when the bombs blew. They came back to a place that was hidden away from us, an island not affected by radiation or the ash of the dead they left behind. Why I bring this up is simple. There was one of those solar TVs sitting around, tuned into just the right station. This person, looking around his mid-30s popped on, talking about how “A nuclear war was stopped! Everyone, no need to panic! Leave your bunkers, bases, and burrows, and see the world!”
I froze, trying to take it in. The date was right, time was right, every bit of it screamed it was live, and from my time zone. They had a summer theme, too, but for us it was winter.
I kept looking for food. Why care about them when you are starving. | 2021-08-02T21:50:06 | 2021-08-02T19:10:51 | 282 | 91 |
[WP] “hello, how may I help you?” The store owner, who is clearly not human, and wearing a very unconvincing human disguise, greets you as you walk in. | “Hey Asa!” Elise called as she walked into the small shop. The ‘man’ behind the counter gave her his characteristically horrific smile as he turned, the corners of his poorly stitched mouth twisting up, the right leading the left. That alone had taken months to get used to, in the beginning she’d have taken her business anywhere else if she could.
“Hello Elise!” Asa said, his voice a bright rasp that never quite seemed to fit around the common tongue. “And how may I help you today?”
“Master Tuan and I are taking the children on a little field trip! I just need some supplies for a picnic.” As she spoke Elise moved about the room, examining the various geegaws and trinkets. Asa took the concept of a general store a little too generally she thought, although the town was lucky to have one at all with the state of the world these days. Still though, she couldn’t help but wonder what precisely *were* some of these things, and why would you ever put a mace with that many spikes beside the bags of flour? It was completely unsafe, there were reasons she never allowed any of the schoolchildren to come in here alone.
Not that Asa was dangerous himself of course, but his haphazard floorplan was as decidedly inhuman as his grotesque, patchwork disguise. The children didn’t need to see that either.
“Oh a field trip!” the shopkeeper called as he bustled about the room, gathering up loaves and bread and a particularly thick wheel of cheese. “You be careful now! The world isn’t a safe place these days and the master is getting older. I doubt he could conjure up more than two or three fireballs without passing out.”
“We’ll be fine, we won’t go any further into the forest than the edge.”
“The edge is more than enough. I know that better than anyone.” Asa crossed the room to her, bag in hand as he finished. His body moved as strangely as ever, seeming to sway in two different directions at once as he walked. Elise thought it a minor miracle that he had been able to keep this life up as long as he had without a bad fall and a broken neck.
“Well you have the Master send up a flare if you run into any trouble and I’ll be over there quick as I can, ok?” Elise nodded, smiling at him. Of all Asa’s quirks his protectiveness might have been the most unexpected. “I’ll put that on your tab,” he said, walking her out, “and I included a small slice of ham for free as a thank you to my best customer.”
Walking out of the store with a small wave Elise prepared to embark on her day. Her eyes hadn’t even adjusted to the bright sunlight before she ran headlong into a pillar of muscle in a stained leather jerkin a full foot than her. The man struck her casually with his forearm, knocking her to the ground. Beside him a second, smaller man laughed, a feral look in his eyes and a naked blade in his hand.
The world really wasn’t a safe place, but it was rare for bandits to come into the town itself. Perhaps the pickings on the road had been slim lately.
“Hmm, what do we have here?” The larger of the two said, “you’re a pretty one aren’t you? Tell me girl, who’s in charge around here? We’ve got some \*ahem\*, business to discuss.”
“Yeah, business!” the second man chortled, hefting his sword and making a foul gesture at her with his free hand. “This village looks awful unprotected, you folk could do with some guards, why if we weren’t here anything could happen to it!”
Elise knew where this was going, the protection racket was as old as time itself, although the masterminds were normally a little brighter and more menacing than these two.
“You really don’t want to do this,” she said bravely, “this village is doing just fine without you and there’s nothing here worth stealing. Go bother someone else.”
“This one’s got a mouth on her!” the big man shouted. They were beginning to draw the attention of the few other houses nearby, shutters closing as people braced for trouble. “Maybe we should teach her a lesson first.”
Still sprawled on the ground Elise looked back towards the shop she had just left and called out, as clearly as she could. “Asa? Help please!”
Before either of the bandits could react a pair of short, stubby arrows were lodged in the other man’s side, their poison already working as he fell, screaming. Moments later a shrill ululation sounded from the shop door as Gryz and Styz, the incredibly eccentric but nonetheless kind hearted goblins who made up the awful patchwork shell that the town now called Asa, attacked. They charged down the small ramp from the door like a pair of diminutive green heroes, rusted spears held in their hands as they corralled the remaining bandit back towards the treeline, scoring small cuts and gashes all along his exposed skin as he tried to defend himself.
They took the man down like one might a dangerous animal, with the long practiced skill of the predators they themselves were. Styz, the one who made up Asa’s lower half, would circle around, peppering the bandit with quick blows as he went, trying to draw his attention. His brother Gryz meanwhile would look for the coup de grâce, gathering his strength and saving it for the right moment. All the while their war cry echoed through the little village, tiny, rasping voices hurling the words “For Elise!” into the air.
From her spot near the now unconscious first bandit Elise couldn’t help but be flattered. A year ago when she’d talked the town into allowing the two little goblins with big dreams into their midst she’d never have expected them to care so much about her. Truthfully she’d been more than a little scared of them herself that day, as they came out of the forest with their cart of goods and the bodies of the previous group of bandits who had terrorized the village slung over their pack warg’s backs. She’d spoken up for them then out of the kindness of her heart, and for the strange, amused twinkle in Master Tuan’s eye as he studied the newcomers. There hadn’t been a thought that day that she would make true friends out of them, or that one day they would be returning the favor like this.
With a final cry from the treeline the last bandit fell, and moments later Gryz and Styz stood beside her, dragging their kill with them.
[\---Continued below---](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/l3e2hp/wp_hello_how_may_i_help_you_the_store_owner_who/gkf6m3g?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) | “You can drop the act, Jason, it’s me.” Olivia flipped her ID at the man who stood behind the butcher’s counter. He wore a hairnet, and a face mask on the bottom half of his face, rubber gloves and a leather apron. The hairnet didn’t conceal the short stubs of bone which emerged from his scalp, the same way the gloves didn’t quite conceal the fact that the fourth and fifth fingers were stuffed full of wadded up cotton wool.
“Didn’t see you there,” Jason replied. “There’s a light needs changing in the doorway.” He tugged down his mask to reveal the filed-down teeth. Olivia took a hard look at them, looking for the signs of regrowth that would mean he was breaching his community placement licence.
“This isn’t a social call, I’m afraid,” Olivia said. She cast an eye over the meat counter. Chops, sausages, fillet steak and pork belly at the end. In the corner an apprentice in white and blue wiped down the counter, his back to them both. It was the tail end of the evening: the sign in the window had already been flipped to ‘Closed’.
Jason’s face turned grave. It wasn’t good when the ACPC came calling.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“A couple of children snatched off the streets,” Olivia said. “Look, I tried to cover your back, but you know what the Committee’s like. They want everyone checked out, and with your history… I’m just popping in quickly so I can rule you out for them.”
“I know, I’m the first place you’d look,” Jason spread his hands. “You know I didn’t have anything to do with it. One incident in the nineties and every time some kid doesn’t come home from school there’s a knock at my door.”
“I know that,” Olivia reassured him. “It’s just protocol. Show me round your basement, I’ll take a gander at the cold cuts, and we’ll be out of here in time for Strictly. Let me tick you off my list.”
“Sure, sure,” Jason grumbled. He lumbered out from behind the counter, fishing the key to the basement from his pocket. “Watch your step, it’s kind of dark here, too.”
Olivia followed him down the stairs, hands pressed against each wall. Half listening to Jason’s patter. Luke - her partner - would chastise her for following Jason down into an enclosed space, especially with Jason’s infamous reputation as the hardest decision the Alien Community Placement Committee had ever had to make. She hadn’t even told him she was coming here tonight.
She swore as her hand on the wall caught something sharp, and when Jason flicked the light on at the bottom of the stairs, Olivia caught sight of a smear of blood on her hand. She closed her palm over it, shivering with the sudden cold of the storage room.
“Let me take a quick look around,” she said with false joviality. She was already thinking of the glass of wine and the fuzzy slippers Luke had bought her for secret Santa last year.
“Go for it,” Jason said, standing by the door with his arms folded.
Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Shrink-wrapped meat, a pig hanging from a hook waiting to be cut up for pork butt and chops and belly. Tall shelves, and in the corner a heap of plastic sheets. The floor was still wet, the drain in the middle of the floor glistening.
“Does your apprentice come down here?” Olivia asked, turning.
Jason had come up behind her and she jumped. His eyes were dilated, his nostrils flared. He struggled to control his face for a moment, and brought himself back to composure with difficulty.
“Sometimes,” Jason said.
“What’s under the sheets? Ostrich steaks?” Olivia forced a laugh and crossed over there a little faster than she’d intended.
“You’ve cut yourself,” Jason said. He crossed the room, and Olivia laughed again. Nervously.
“Just my hand, it’s nothing.”
There was a bang from the top of the stairs, and Olivia glanced towards the noise. Jason took the opportunity to unfold her hand, where she’d cut herself. He lifted the hand to his face and pressed it to his nose, inhaling the coppery smell.
“Jason—” Olivia began to feel properly afraid.
“It was his idea,” Jason said. Drool was collecting at the corners of his mouth. “I resisted, Livvy, I did for you. But you cut yourself.”
He shook his head, composure slipping.
“Why did you have to hurt yourself?”
A tread on the stairs. The apprentice stepped into the basement and lifted his bone saw to the light. | 2021-01-23T10:25:30 | 2021-01-23T09:37:52 | 50 | 21 |
[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. |
Ugh its happened again, another vigilante that takes it upon himself to stop me and another hole I’m forced to dig before leaving town. The real pain in the ass is moving again. This is the fourth time this year and I’m truly dreading the thought of packing and unpacking.
They call themselves heroes. These masked freaks that go around meddling in another person’s business. For the most part I don’t mind them. They’re usually too busy catching the loud and stupid morons the city considers criminal masterminds. Unfortunately for me I popped up on *his* radar. Once these “heroes” have their sights set on you there’s no shaking them. They become obsessed with you. The last guy I had to get rid of was a prime example. He was able to track me past state lines. I must admit I did have some fun trying to lose him. Didn’t expect him to have a teenage sidekick though. I buried them together. Kids weren’t ever really my thing. I had to lay low for a while after that. They turned out to be high-profile victims. Ever since then I don’t take any chances. If anyone of these heroes was half as good as the bat freak I would be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.
It all started last week while I was watching TV. I was enjoying Seinfeld reruns when the breaking news alert interrupted my Soup Nazi episode. Was going to shut it off and go to bed but then I saw the bag on the screen. I knew the second I saw it what was going on. It’s my fault really, didn’t check the forecast this time around. To think the body would washup after the storm, I knew I should have added more weight to the bag. Not thinking twice, I started to pack and was half way to my closet when I heard his voice. I couldn’t believe it the prick was on TV going on about justice and making promises to the city he wasn’t going to keep. He just had to get involved. He called himself the Blue Defender. If you couldn’t tell by his name law enforcement loved the guy. He was at their fundraising events, the policeman ball, they even gave him the key to the city. This made him easy to find. Oh yeah, the same day I moved in to the city I did my research. Took me three weeks to find out his identity. Jeremy Murphy, good old Jere had a life outside of the Blue Defender. A job, friends, family, hell even a girlfriend. Got to give it to him he was making this hero thing look easy. I sat on all this information until today until I needed to use it.
I moved in on his girlfriend first. Don’t worry she’s alive I don’t need any more attention drawn to me. She works out of the Starbucks off Third and Main. You guessed it she’s a writer. It’s strange to me how much we are creatures of habit. Every Tuesday Jeremy and Monica meet up at Starbucks for lunch from 12:15 to 12:45 they talk about work and laugh a bit then they kiss and say their goodbyes and Jeremy walks back to work. He always takes the same route back. He passes an alley where an old homeless man has set up shop begging for money. And every Tuesday he gives the homeless man his leftovers and his change. This time the old man was sitting against the wall with his head sunken into his chest. He is deeper in the alley than usual. Jeremy calls out to him. No response. He walks up to him and checks his pulse nothing. Takes out his phone to call an ambulance but before he can dial 9 the knife was already half way in his neck. I dragged him and hobo Joe back to my truck. Cleaned up the alley the best I could making sure I got all the blood. Drove an hour out of town to this old abandoned factory and started to dig. I buried them together. God how I hate moving tonight is going to be a pain in the ass. | As I heave the 20mm auto-cannon into place I go over my plan, flawless, yet simple; create nuclear diversion immediately after capturing Lois. Couldn't be more simple. Now to watch as the bait brings the flies, Superman won't know what hit him. "Ahh, Lois Lane." I say to myself. "Superman's kryptonite... Except for kryptonite of course, but that's not to worry. We have both!" I give a warm hearty chuckle looking down from my scope for a second. I quickly straighten up, putting my eye back in the cup. "Can't be getting lazy now, so close to the finish line." I check the status of my motion sensors; all green. "Just a matter of time." Seconds later I hear an explosion above my head as the sky tries to turn it's self inside out. Superman hovers slowly to the ground in the clearing that I had placed Lois into. BANG! Explosions engulf Superman and Lois, atomized Kryptonite instantly immobilizes Superman, having it covering the inside of his lungs he is rendered mortal. The second the smoke clears thunderous explosions ring out. The ground where Superman had been is shredded by the auto-cannon in a hail of deafening explosions. "That bastard will never host his goddamn monster mash in our city ever again... YOU HEAR ME YOU GODDAMN MONSTER? What? Did you think you were a god? That you could fucking decide who lives and who dies? Like we're your goddamn subjects that you can slaughter and torture to your will? YOU CANT HURT ME ANYMORE YOU MISERABLE FUCK! Or anyone else for that matter." I don't feel better, maybe I never will, But revenge was sweeter than anything I've had recently. So I think I'm going to go find me some more. | 2018-10-18T17:52:23 | 2018-10-18T16:23:28 | 37 | 14 |
[WP] You gain a specific ability or skill based off whatever’s tattooed onto your body at certain locations. Wings on your back allow you to fly, a knife on your hand allows you to slash and cut, gills on your neck allow you to breathe under water, and so on. | “Let’s just start from the beginning.”
His words were calm but exuded urgency. The other EMT pushed passed me to go searching through the house for my unconscious friend. I studied their tattoos as the one passed me. The Rod of Asclepius, a tattoo mandated by their trade.
“Jacob,” he insisted. This time, his words shook me from my trance.
“Right,” I started. “We were just messing around. I found my dad’s old pen machine. And-..”
“You mean the tattoo device? But those are outlawed?!” His voice became less calm and more concerned. I swallowed hard and continued.
“We thought it would be cool if we gave ourselves our own tattoos. As if to rewrite our destiny, you know? Not live one that’s been given to us by the government. At least that’s what Josh had said.”
I could hear the other EMT attempting to break down the bathroom door to gain access to Joshua.
“Josh went first,” I continued as the EMT and I walked towards his partner’s thrashing. “He already knew what tattoo he wanted. It was supposed to be something small. And then all I heard was him screaming from the other side of the door.”
“Did he give you any idea of what the tattoo would be?”
Up ahead I hear the bathroom door give way. We were a few feet away.
“Josh had always had bad vision,” I stated. I then pointed to my forehead. “He joked about giving himself a third eye, so he could see better.”
“Oh my…”
The words had come from the other EMT who had just gained access into the bathroom. But just as we turned the corner to where the bathroom would have came into view, we were greeted by a loud bang. Immediately after that, a light spray of brain matter doused our faces in red.
As we wiped away the gore from our faces, we looked ahead and found a half-exploded human in an EMT uniform standing in an empty bathroom. Just as what was left of the EMT toppled to the ground, another loud *crack* emanated from my immediate left. This was followed by another, but heavier spray of blood and gore.
The explosion was enough to knock me off my feet. Blinded by body fluid, I crawled backwards into the nearest closet, terrified for my life.
A moment passed. Then another.
“Jacob,” said a voice, suddenly out of nowhere. It boomed through the walls around me. I couldn’t tell its origin, but I immediately knew the identity of the speaker.
It was Joshua.
“I’ve been awoken. And I’m not liking what I’m seeing.”
My hands trembled as I finally wiped away the gore from my eyes. I then stood up and hobbled out the closet.
But I couldn’t find him. He was nowhere in the house. But as he spoke a second time, the house began to shake.
“What have we become,” he stated, in a voice that sounded like sadness. The shaking began to increase in intensity.
“We’ve went down the wrong path. But I see the light now. I know how we can atone,” said the voice. "How we can *rewrite* our destinies!"
I stumbled my way to the front door and made it outside. And that’s when I realized it wasn’t just the house that was shaking.
But the entire world.
Then, I heard a snap, and then everything turned black.
And, as an echo in the nothingness, a voice, that no longer sounded like Joshua, gave it’s final declaration.
“Let’s just start from the beginning.” | I got my first tattoo when I was five. A knife on my hand. My mother did it, the crude needle slicing into my flesh, my cries of pain as she relentlessly continued. Now, at 21, I have so many more. After my first one, it became a kind of yearly ritual. Boots so I could walk silently at 12. A pistol at 17. As I grew older, I honed my skills. Eventually, at 18, I was killing people for my mother weekly. The first time I killed somebody, I was six. Exactly a year after I got my first tattoo. It took me months to recover. Even for my little six year old brain, I had just done something unspeakable. It took months until I could even use my knife again. But it got easier. And soon, I turned into the monster I am today. But that first time. The girl’s frightened face stared at me from the shadows of the alley. And I extinguished that life. The bright, beautiful person she was, gone. Because of me. It was all my fault. I still see her face in my dreams. And every time, it ends with my mother walking up besides me and smiling. And I cry, and cry, but she drags me home, and the dream dissipates with the thud of her iron fist on my door. My mother got the first cut. And I will get the last. | 2020-04-06T21:38:43 | 2020-04-06T17:39:03 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] wizards exist for all disciplines in magic, fire, necromancy, earth, some even tackle the arcane aspect of luck. You are the first however to choose bad luck, and damn you are good at it. | My foot is tapping the floor in anticipation. I can't wait today is the day I get to pick what type of magic I will be doing for the rest of my wizard career. I've tried every other aspect of being a wizard and being good at what I do. I tried fire and burnt down the West wing come to think of it they are still rebuilding it, worst day of my life. Then I tried necromancy that was a lost cause it was like the language of the dead not a single word spoken. Let's move on to my apprenticeship with the art of the earth winds never blew when I needed them, the earth never wanted to shake or rain when I said my chants, the city of Atlantis sunk when I needed to rise all those poor lost soles. I'm laughing remembering trying luck never could get that winning streak going. I asked for a win, not to streak through town looking for my clothes. I take a deep breath as the teacher calls my name. I should have known my calling all along. I get up on stage and Mrs. Purrlee asks me what I chose for my discipline. I say I choose to follow the art of bad luck. I'm grinning from ear to ear. Everyone is staring at me dumbfounded. Mrs. Purrlee says are you sure this is a rare art and it's not well known. I say yes I am fully aware of that and I'm aware of the consequences if I can't make it work. Everyone still sat there still dumbfounded and silent. Gripping their chairs waiting for me to perform my first task and to pass my test. If I don't I get banished and stripped of my power.
"Bernie for your test I want you to show me how a human may encounter bad luck."
I grinned over the last few years in school I have accidentally caused so much bad luck that I knew it was my calling. I have been perfecting my own spells. "Mrs. Purrlee show us your crystal ball and show me a human." I looked down at her crystal ball and there she was sleeping so peacefully. I take a deep breath and do a few flicks of my wand. Everyone watches in aww. All of sudden the human wakes and she grabs her glasses from the top of her bed they break. You hear everyone say aww. I'm giggling with glee it's not over yet. She gets out of bed and goes flying she stepped on a roller skate and she's careening around the room, she ends up bumping into her lamp knocking it over as she falls over to catch her balance. She ends up banking her head on the dresser and knocking her self out. Everyone stands up cheering and clapping. Mrs. Purrlee asks everyone to simmer down. Come here Bernie she says." I now deem you the wizard of bad luck." You are good at what you do and with out you we can not bring balance to the world. "
I am working to be a better writer and this is my first. Please tell me what I could have done more or better. I enjoy the feed back. | Everyone is good at something. Some can shoot fire from their finger tips, others can bind the ocean to their will. Me? Well that's a whole different story..
I chose the Arcane of Bad Luck, first of my kind. And by what others tell me, I may be the best that will ever exist. One day I was at my local Starbucks, and I decided to mess around. Casting a spell quietly, a woman drops her steaming hot coffee. She wasn't happy. Of course I leave the building, seems she's a Sorceress. A wind mage.
It's a scary thing really, the power to summon gale force winds just by a few words. But when you mess up a spell mid-sentence, you dont look to scary making a gental breeze. Also, tripping into an open manhole with leads to the sewer isn't too good looking for your reputation. | 2018-04-23T18:39:56 | 2018-04-23T16:44:55 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] Everything was going smoothly for once, as you finally left the stigma of your past villainous life behind. You have a wife now, and even a little girl on the way. So why.. why did the the #1 hero have to choose the bank your wife works at to have a destructive hero vs villain battle at? | Waving to the guard as he let me into the staff parking on my way to pick up Jen not strictly allowed but he turns a blind eye. I again chuckle to myself if he knew who I was or had been then he would of never let me within a hundred feet of the door not that I blamed him for that one.
After parking up I sent a quick text to say I was here I wandered towards the stairs that she would come down when I heard the scream and started sprinting up the stairs that lead to the staff check in. As I got closer I could hear the sounds of battle and not the usual gun fire of a robbery no this was a supe fight dam it of all the banks they chose the one my wife worked at the trash.
Using a touch of power I sheared the lock and activated what I always called my blur charm, a neat piece of magic I traded from Mystic a while back for some harder to get ingredients for some spell or other. The charm blurs the edges of your face makes it bland and unmemorable and fades you into the background I used to use it for when I cased a place, nowadays I use it when I'm on one of my PI jobs.
Sliding past panicking tellers and supervisors, it's amazing what you can get away with and where you can go if you act like you know what your doing and are sort of familiar, I got to the front and saw Jen her pregnant body hidden under the counter I couldn't see her face from this angle but she was alive and judging from the way her shoulders were shaking scared. That's when I got angry. Very angry.
The fight was between the Wrecker boys and Guardian the cities most powerful hero which was great but he was also hamstrung in this sought of fight as he tries to avoid collateral damage. Given this was my wife's workplace and she was still in said building was good but those he was fighting didn't have those morals in fact they enjoyed doing as much damage as possible and dam the people around them. Now while I was no saint and had done a lot of damage over the years I despised such sloppiness nor could I risk them doing it on this occasion.
My power is the ability to create planes of force similar to forcefields but mine could be moved and I could make any shape I wanted including the atom thick blades that gave me my name. With a thought both hero and villains were surrounded in a square of force they wouldn't hold for long but they gave me time to create more and stronger fields, covering the rest of the civilians as well as one much stronger cylinder around Jen. These I locked in place after pumping enough power into them to make them semi permanent. I was amaze how quickly my old skills were coming back it really was like riding a bike.
Sensing the changes both sides freaked thinking the other had brought back up. using that quick opening I cut through the glass shield and jumped the counter. this caught Guardian's attention and our eyes met. Shaking my head at his unspoken accusation I pointed at Demo and then aimed myself at his twin Hammer what I needed to do was tricky and needed physical contact even in my hay day I seldom did it only when a security guard had surprised me then again I always had preferred the sneaky approach. Reaching Hammer I grabbed him and wrapped a flexible field around his body and the ridicules hammer he carried then freezing it solid so he didn't have the leverage or momentum to break it super strength or not.
Luckily guardian seemed to take my meaning as he slammed into Demo and pinned his hands before he could loose any more explosive blasts. After knocking him out with a titanic punch which made me very glad I never fought him. He rose and turned to me "Thought you had gone back to your old habits there Edge."
"It's just Jonny now Atomic Edge died in prison. I did my ten years can't afford to do any more." As I spoke my eyes strayed to where Jen now stood still surrounded in the field which I dismissed with a thought. A slight grunt from Guardian pulled my attention back to him "I can see that never pegged you for the marrying type. Guess people really can change." With a quick nod to me he turned and walked towards the doors to no doubt coordinate with the police and other emergency services as he reached the doors he paused and turned "You did dam good today would be a shame to leave those talents wasted. Besides I have a feeling Atomic shield would suit you better than edge ever did. | It was a normal day until the police arrived.
It started off at 5:30AM with the alarm going off playing 'Into the unknown', I will never understand why my wofe kept changing my alarm to different princess songs.
I had a shower and dried off with a repunzel towel as all the others where mysteriously missing, Once more the wifes version of a joke
I went downstairs to cook some breakfeast to find a note written in pink gliter, 'Breakfeast is in the microwave. Heat for 45 secs'. I smiled at the note and put it on top of the fridge with the towering piles of others she had left me, Set the microwave for 45 and waited. Ding. OPened the microwave to an explosion of glitter and party streamers coming at me, Once the deluge was over there was a muffin and hash brown waiting for me.
Eat breakfeast o the way to work adn get started, I worked as a "saniataion worker" which in this case meant I had to clean the inside of porter potties and i don't mean the top section. It was a horrible job especially in summer but I never complained and worked hard, Just glad I had a job to help with the bills.
Worked all day skipping lunch like normal so I could knock off an hour earlier
Almost home and I see them the polive parked in my driveway and I panic that they have found me that my past has finally cuaght up, I was preparing myself to surreneder. When I pull into the driveway the cheif of police is standing ther his hat under his arm looking distracted. He walks up to me and asks if I know a Skye Flower? She is my wife. Then the most painful thing I had ever experienced happened. I found out that she was dead and my litle girl was also dead.
Do you know why?
You choose to chase a clumsy bomb maker through the city and he tried to hide inside the bank!
All because fo you
Monolouge over I close the canopy of the giant robot and crush the last life out of this so called hero, watching the blood and crushed organs drip over the grass of my wifs grave. | 2020-10-06T21:03:56 | 2020-10-06T21:00:07 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] "I don't know, I think my superpower is a bit lame," said Awe, "All I can do is touch people to give them an existential crisis and force them to consider their actions against a backdrop of the grandeur of the whole universe..." | I mean, it was great when I was in high school. Bullies never got past the first punch before they'd go almost catatonic. No one ever messed with me twice. But you learn quickly that you can never really take your gloves off. Imagine explaining in an interview why you can't shake your interviewers hand? I'm still not over my first girlfriend. Dumped me the second she got off her involuntary hold.
It'd be nice if I had some range, but what I don't even know what I'd do if I ever came across a real criminal. What, am I going to sneak up on a mass shooter so I can touch them? Hell, that might not even work. I'd expect a lot of them to feel very small already. I don't think I'd want to find out what an existential crisis does to a sociopath.
But the worst is what it does to me. It doesn't matter what I wear, or what I'm doing. I'm always in contact with myself. I can never get away from that horrible feeling of insignificance. Constantly knowing that nothing I ever do will *really* matter.
At least, that's how I felt until I met Jenny. I met her at a bar of all places. Some asshole wouldn't leave her alone. I see it all the time, I don't know what was different this time, bit I just felt like I needed to step in. Took my glove off, came up behind him, put a hand on his back "I think it's time to sit down."
She thanked me, and I don't know why, but for the first time it felt like I was worth something.
I knew I couldn't let her go after that.
We talked for an hours that night. I opened up to her about everything. My power. My life. My insignificance. She said she'd like to meet again, and we did. Again, and again we'd meet at that little coffee shop down the street from where we'd met. It took no time at all for me to fall head over heels for her. But I knew we had a time limit.
There wouldn't be any more to our relationship than talking. There couldn't be. I knew she wanted more from me, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I couldn't hug her, or kiss her. Hell, I couldn't hold her hand without her running away. I could ruin her life with one touch.
But one day she decided she wanted to know what it was like. I refused at first. I refused for weeks. There was no one else in my life that could make me feel important, and she was just way too important to lose. But I could feel her pulling back.
I decided if I was going to lose her either way, I might as well let her see what my power does, if only to give her closure. So one day, I took off my glove, and grabbed her by the hand. Her eyes faded for a second, but she didn't pull away. After a few seconds, she smiled. I asked her what happened.
She said, "the second you touched me, I felt like I was the most important person in the universe."
I guess, in a way, we both had the power to show eachother what we were worth. | [Poem]
“You are a god to men,
With your laser eyes and fancy cape.
But is that not a burden? Don’t you wish you could escape?
How many sons of Krypton could do just the same,
If they had been touched by the earth-sun’s yellow flame?
All that makes you special, all that makes you great,
Is your home’s destruction, your entire race’s fate.
How are you a hero? Never bruised, never scarred,
How can you claim to triumph when nothing’s ever hard?
Do you feel you heart misgiving? Do you feel your mind undo?
How must we mortals tremble when you cannot trust you?
You can save the world a thousand times, from every other threat.
It can all be undone, count for nothing, in one moment of regret.
You are too strong, too strong, too strong,
you’ll crush the things you try to save.
Better go out strong and soon, hide away in an icy cave.”
“Sooo, that’s what I can do. Haha.” Awe looked at the hero still curled in fetal position in front of the rest of his league. Maybe she had gone a bit far?
“I’ll show myself out.” | 2021-04-02T10:03:13 | 2021-04-02T08:29:24 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] You have been living in the zombie apocalypse for decades and have come to terms with this new life. You begin to notice areas once swarmed by zombies becoming almost inhabitable again. You come to find out that the old, rotting corpses are no longer able to sustain themselves. They are dying. | "The hunting party returns!"
The cry rang out from the guard tower which protected the entrance to our base. Our base which had served so well in the past years to keep us alive. But it could only keep us alive inside. Outside was where we died.
"How many are there" I ask with dread in my voice.
The guard looked out at the approaching party "All...all of them. And they bring a bounty with them!" he shouted with a kind of ecstasy I hadn't heard in years.
I turned and looked at the gate as it opened. Sure enough, there was the whole hunting party, and it was laden down with so much food that it was suicidal. I ran to the hunt leader.
"What's going on, how did you all survive, and where did you get all of this food" We started walking to my office, where we could sit and talk.
The hunt leader smiled, for he knew that this was a special occasion. "You should see it out there, sir. The zombies. They have finally reached the point where decomposing cannot be staved off with fresh bodies or whatever was keeping them upright. They've reached Herd Munity."
"Are we, are we free then" I asked, daring to speak the impossible for the first time in what felt like decades. Daring to hope.
"No, not yet. There are still enough out there that I would be worried about trying right away. If we stumble out now we could get a whole new batch of corpses walking around and that will just spread like it did the first time. But I feel that if we stay in the quarantine zone for just a little while longer then we should be able to finally emerge into the world and rebuild at long last."
"That's going to be hard to enforce. Everyone saw the food you brought in. Word will get around and people will want to leave."
Already I could see people eyeing the gate, trying to see if they could get out and visit their favorite gym or their old hair dresser.
"Well it's a good thing we've got a gate then isn't it. High walls and a strong gate kept us safe all these years. They can keep us safe for a few more weeks."
I let the comment about walls and gates pass. No gate or wall will stand if the entire populace turns against it. "You think that's all it will take, a few more weeks"
The hunt leader leaned back and scratched his head. "Based on how rapidly they are falling apart, yeah I'd be comfortable with a few weeks. I'll even lead another party out at that time to head into Denver and see if we can't find a place to set up a base camp."
I shook my head at the thought of even thinking about heading into a major city like Denver. "We've been fighting this for so long, I don't know if we even have plans for it ending."
"Well I'd say it's time we made some then."
That night, I called everyone together. We were a motley bunch, but we had survived this long. The next few minutes would determine if we were going to end this once and for all or let it linger. "I'm sure you've all heard by now, the zombies are dying. Well it appears to be true. The hunting party that returned today has brought back some startling good news. In a few weeks there may not be any zombies left to threaten us."
It started immediately. "Open the gates, I haven't worked out in years." "My small business, it's ruined because you chose people's lives over my income! Open the gates!" "My hair, look at my hair! I wonder if Stacey has any openings this Tuesday"
"People, people. The gates will not be opening. Not yet. If we leave too soon we risk the zombies killing enough people to start everything over again, this time with fresh meat."
"But my hair!" "My glutes!" "My small business!"
"Can WAIT. Just a few more days. We are so extremely close to the end now! Our plan has worked! We have survived! Don't you want to see the end of it for ever and not just until we are forced to retreat here once again"
And that was how I died. Killed by idiots. The gates crashes down, the gyms reopened, the small business people were happy, and the hair salons started up again. And then an idiot got bitten. And it all flared up again. Who knows if there will be enough people to survive this time. | 25 years ago, after 3 years from the apocalypse, Mark and I were split before we got to the nearest shelter. We didn't have enough supplies that we would be completely accepted in there, or so we thought. Mark kept walking and I went to the near town.
In there, I found an abandoned house. Inside, a baby boy, abandoned in a Moses basket. I picked him up. After, I decided not to spend much time here. I went straight to the shelter with the baby after grabbing a few things in the house
When I got to the shelter, an abandoned warehouse, Mark was waiting for me inside. One of the guys said that the baby was from one of their scouts and if she left him, she probably died. He then said that because they barely had space, it would be better if we went to the former army base that now had become part of an international, if we could call that, effort to combat those zombies, especially if we wanted to keep Patrick since now he didn't have a family.
Mark and I agreed and asked where it was. He said it was half-day on feet. So we would need to spend the night. We left with Patrick. Kids are always our plan before, but when it happened, even straight couples were avoiding it. We got there and because we were still in our late 20s, we got assigned jobs and a house in there. Since I was a doctor, I started working at the local hospital.
Now, Patrick is big, engaged, and ready to leave the house. I decided to go with the scavenging crew to the nearest town, to get a wedding gift, which was always infested with zombies. But when we got there, all that infested our senses the putrid smell. We got to the main street, where normally it would be infested with zombies, probably as if remembering their lives before, but now was a sea of dead bodies. Some guys went and poked. Nothing. We went our way, finished what we had come for, got back, and reported.
A few weeks after, most of the International Association of Survival, where our settlement belonged, gave a sign for us to clear the near town. According to them, it was over. All over the world reports of the same thing we saw came in. We could be free again. | 2021-07-04T21:30:53 | 2021-07-04T17:15:47 | 67 | 26 |
[WP] You've noticed a man in a suit approaches one home a day in your neighborhood and is invited inside every time. Shortly after he leaves, the resident(s) commit suicide. Today, he's approached your home. | "Shhh, shh. He's coming!"
My little girl squealed as she threw open the door for the stranger.
"Hello, Mister!"
"Hi there Caitlyn. How was your morning?"
"It was great," she said while shyly swaying side to side. "Daddy made us special
pancakes. These were my favorite."
"Oh I know," he said with a throaty chuckle. "You probably stuffed yourself again, too!"
Caitlyn covered her mouth and giggled through her fingers.
"Are we all set, sir?" I asked.
"Most certainly Jacob. Let me have you sign the final release form, and I'll be out of your hair. May I have a seat?"
"Oh sure, sure. One second, I'll get my wife." I closed the door behind him and made my way to the kitchen door. My wife does everything last minute so I was sure she'd be in the garden. "Sara! He's here! We need to sign one last thing."
"Well he's right on time, then. I just finished trimming the last bush. Don't you think they'll love them?" I looked around and took in our wonderful backyard that I had just spent the summer on. Sara's landscaping meshed perfectly with my woodwork in this beautiful August light.
"They'll be speechless, I'm sure. Come on love, it's about that time."
She wrapped her arms as far as they could go around my broad shoulders and planted one of her softest kisses on my lips. "I can't wait."
I led her into the house and sat down at the table next to our guest, opposite my wife and daughter.
"Alright! Same way as before?" I asked him.
"That's right."
He pulled a small device out of his left suit pocket and attached it to his finger. It looked like a thimble, but with a needle at the tip that was so small it was almost invisible in the sunlight coming through the windows.
"Right hands, please." We held them out and quick as a flash, *fft fft fft,* he stuck the needle in our index fingers and transferred the thimble to me. He opened our scroll and at the bottom I wrote in our red ink, "**The Lyons Family**."
"Very good," he commented. "That's all I needed from you. You have until the end of the day of course. And we certainly appreciate the care you put into the house during your stay."
I smiled wide, adding, "The family before us had that jacuzzi installed in the bathroom, so we thought we'd add our own bit of personality too."
"Oh it's the least we could do. And that won't be necessary, we've already got Caitlyn started so we'll be joining her shortly" Sara said.
"And I put all my toys on the bed so the next girl can choose her favorites!" Caitlyn grinned up at the man, who was standing to leave now.He bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I'm sure she'll like that very much."
"Here Caitlyn, here's your juice." I handed her a juicebox, straw already inside. She took it from me with both hands and started to gulp madly. Caitlyn loves her juice!
The man straightened his black tie and waved with his large, tanned hand. "It was very nice to know you all. You're a very deserving family and I'm sure you'll enjoy it."
I stepped over my daughter's convulsing body and asked "Would you be able to tell us your name before you go? For the survey once we get there?"
He bowed low. "Sure. My name is William. Congratulations again to you!"
"Thank you!" Sara said.
I pulled my revolver out of my pocket just a--**BANG**-- just as Sara blew chunks of her brain matter into my hair.
As I pointed it under my right ear and pulled the trigger I thought:
*William.*
*What a nice name for an angel.* | "Good morning sir! I was wondering if you wanted to look at my fine selection of philosophies?" He asked. The man was cleanly dressed and holding open a suitcase with various books. *The Rebel* by Albert Camus, *The Sickness unto Death* by Kierkegaard and Pamela Anderson's Biography among other titles ranging from Diogenes to Wittgenstein.
"No thank you I'm quite fine." I said and started to close the door. The man quickly wedged himself in between and gave a wry smile.
"But sir how do you come to ethical decisions and deal with the crushing indifferent nature of the universe?" he said with a shark like smile. *God I hate these door to door salesman, Wish I could just kill the fuckers*. *But how would that be ethical* another voice peeped in. My eyes widened and I gave the salesman a raised eyebrow. He just smiled more.
"Uhh on second thought come in" I said not knowing why. Soon enough the man started his routine and my lap got piled with different philosophical samples. I found as I listened to the man more and more I couldn't stop soon enough it was the afternoon and I had poured myself fifteen cups of coffee. "Wait wait, so there is an absolute truth but everyone's perspective is a valid reality but we can't trust reality because it is a manifestation of our minds?" I asked confounded with all the strange ideas.
"That's exactly right sir and for just ten bucks I can sign you up with an annual subscription to nihilism!" He gleefully said.
"Is there any way out of this? Can I just not have a philosophy or moral compass?" I said. The man bit his lip and pondered.
"I have just the thing!" He grabbed his other briefcase and opened it. Several shiny revolvers were inside. "Take your pick!". | 2014-06-16T21:51:07 | 2014-06-16T21:02:24 | 16 | 10 |
[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 :) | “GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do. | The thing is, there's a lot of video games these days where the tutorials sorta guide you by the hand, and not everything is unlocked when you play it. Sometimes, not until the very end.
The thing is, there was this fad for a while of cover shooters where the people were basically invulnerable, as long as they took cover for a moment and waited for the red to die down. But they had, what, one gun? Maybe two? Good luck finding a vehicle level in real life. Or cover, these days.
The thing is, all the people who were playing lootbox mobile gacha games got shafted, hard. And not just by the lootbox mobile gacha game developers.
The thing is, being a gamedev *now* is something akin to being an indentured nanosurgeon in a cyberpunk future. More valuable for your brain and your work than for your body. But that body still desperately needs protection.
The thing is, when you spend close to twenty-five years obsessively mastering one ancient game (thanks, hyperfocus!), you get *real, real good* at it. And this was an unforgiving game, not too far removed from when you needed quarters to keep playing. The kind of game that set the world on fire, and then slowly became forgotten as people moved on to the dazzling blockbusters it inspired.
The thing is, when you start modding a game, really digging into the guts of it, you can see what makes games function as a whole. You get an eye into not just the code, but game *design*. And when you're modding something so ancient, that knowledge becomes close to something pure. Something you can use in other situations.
The thing is, when everything goes topsy-turvy like that one episode of *Buffy* where everyone got the powers of their Hallowe'en costumes, only this time it's video games, and you're an obsessive who knows an ancient, unforgiving video game famous for how overpowered its protagonist is -- a protagonist that doesn't even have a name -- a protagonist that was the subject of hagiography in the series' later titles -- like the back of his hand, well... you know. Word gets out.
The thing is, all of the people I told you about before have more money than sense. Or powers.
So you can imagine my complete lack of surprise when my phone lit up on top of my BFG-9000. I was in demand. But I was still stunned to see the name on the caller ID.
John Carmack.
I didn't know he was still alive. But I owed the man so much.
Of course I called him back. I'd extract John Carmack from Hell if I had to, even if I had to get knee-deep in the dead to do it.
So thanks, modern game design. I'll be getting a real sense of pride and accomplishment from this one. | 2020-01-30T11:35:06 | 2019-08-11T21:00:19 | 1,281 | 125 |
[WP]You're a highly dangerous criminal who has been given 200 years in prison. It's been 200 years and you're still alive. The justice system did not foresee this.
​ | "I'm here with Mr. Jordan, the worlds wealthiest man. Mr. Jordan, you requested this interview, yet you didn't give the newsroom a reason. May I ask why?"
Mr. Jordan smiled genially.
"Do I need a reason?"
The interviewer shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, that is to say, sir,..."
Mr. Jordan smiled and held up his hand. The interviewer fell silent.
"I intend to tell you. I asked for this interview to tell you, to tell the world, that the Illuminati is real."
The interviewer sat back, shocked.
"What?"
Mr. Jordan chuckled.
"The whole secret cabal ruling the world behind the scenes? It's true. All of it. But that's not the real reason I called you here."
The interviewers brow furrowed.
"Mr. Jordan, that already sounds like quite the claim and there's something *else?*"
"Yes. My membership into the Illuminati. As I'm sure you're well aware, how I got my businesses started is quite the mystery. Deliberately so. You see, I'm over 300 years old, a secret that even most of my Illuminati brethren did not know."
The interviewers jaw slacked with incredulity.
"But you look barely over 40!"
Mr. Jordan once again smiled and held up his hand.
"All will be revealed in due time. A very long time ago I was the overseer of a very large prison research project. One of my researchers brought to my attention a particular prisoner who was very odd. You see, he didn't seem to age. It was discovered almost by accident by comparing pictures of this prisoner over a 10 year span. Interest in him was, of course, immediate. We very quickly determined his body did not deteriorate with age, it seemed locked at around 35. Also, amazing regenerative powers. Whole limbs, as we found out. The prisoner was rapidly moved to an offsite location for more...intensive research. Eventually, the code was broken."
"You discovered immortality?"
"At least as close as we can get to it. He had a sentence of 200 years you see. He was 50 when we found him. 190 more to go. A quick deal worked out with the state and he was under my control. He was unfortunately required to finish out his sentence."
"What crimes had he committed?"
"Very political. Assassinations. Blackmail. That sort of thing. So we kept him for another 190 years. After all the research had been completed, he had a very, very comfortable apartment accessed by a trap door in the 'for show' cell, 'poor fellow'. He was right of course. About the Illuminati. And about a number of other things that I shall not discuss further. The truly wild conspiracy theories were, of course, obvious decoys except to the most blind. The more subtle decoys and subterfuge I must admit only a small handful of people ever discovered what the Illuminati truly wanted. They tended to congregate on what would eventually become RedFaceSpaceBookagram. But I digress. It was during the research that I was contacted by the Illuminati and if I succeeded I'd be sponsored in. I then built multiple corporations, each taking advantage of some aspect of the secrets we had unlocked. Very rapidly thanks to my new found friends. I have lived several lives since then. Assumed identities. Always restarting with new plans and projects to run with my new identity while my old self was still being mourned. I even took the time to be an actor. I starred in a cult classic in the early 21st century. But that still, is not why I asked for this interview."
The interviewer gulped.
"Sir, what on earth...why, why what else?"
Mr. Jordan's smile seemed to turn much predatory. He reached up and *ripped off his face.* An oddly handsome face looked back at the interviewer. His voice also changed.
"Because about 30 seconds ago the personal bodyguards of each and every member of the Illuminati carried out a very specific order for me in exchange for immortality. Over the years I have come to directly or indirectly control about 90% of the economies of the world. You see, I intend to harness the collective power of humanity and lead them to the stars. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a SpaceUberlightX to catch with Elon Musk."
Edit: More edits after some stoned thought. | My punishment separated from paradise. I was once a farmer, but my punishment took my trade from me. I was once a son, but my punishment took my parents from me. I was once a homemaker, but my punishment turned me into a wanderer. I was once a man, but now I am something else.
It has been 200 years since my sentence. I have managed to escape from the trembling lands. I defeated the monsters that lay there and devoured the forbidden knowledge in the trees. It took 200 years, but I learned how to escape.
I am now old and tired. But no one dares to lay a hand upon me. They know my mark. They know my crime. At night, the children still hear the blood of my brother from the soil which no longer sustains me. Their mothers weep. Their fathers curse me - just as my own father did.
I do not blame them. I am a murderer.
And yet...
I do not wish to be remembered for the mark upon me. I do not wish to leave behind a legacy of shame for my son. For while *I* may have been cursed to wander, that fate can be spared for my people.
No longer shall my tribe be nomads. I will teach them to grow food from the ground. I will show them how to toil the fields. And I will build my tribe a permanent home.
For while this old body still moves and I am still able to carry stone, I shall build upon this earth my new legacy. Stones shall be placed upon stone and fastened with hardened mud. Walls shall be made so high, that the heavens could not flood them. Towers shall be made so high, that the heavens would touch them.
Our People, who have been scattered, cast out, and forced to hunt and seek shelter on the ends of the earth, shall not wander any more. They will now come together. Live together. Be one people with one voice and language. United and free from the tyranny of the divine.
That is the legacy I will leave my son. And I will leave it in his name - *Enoch*. | 2018-08-24T20:38:05 | 2018-08-24T20:34:04 | 79 | 22 |
[WP] Our behaviors in video games are held against us when we die. Saint Peter is going over the list of acts that are denying you entrance to heaven.
| "Next!" The man sitting behind the desk said, signaling me to come forward. He extended his hand. "I'm Peter. Nice to meet you." He was friendly enough, but clearly ready to get business taken care of.
"Leroy." I replied, shaking his hand. "When you said your name is 'Peter', is that like Saint Peter?"
"Good. You've heard of me." He said with a smile. "That saves me a lot of time wasting explaining the same concept over and over again. I'm here for eternity, but I still can't stand inefficiency, you know?"
"So you decide if I get into Heaven?" I asked, wanting to make sure we were on the same page.
"Bingo." St. Peter answered, pulling out a giant leather bound book. "Everything you have ever done, both good and bad, is chronicled here. I'll be honest with you, you were a pretty good person but there is one major problem with your file."
"What's that?" I tried really hard to think back, but I've done a lot of dumb shit in my time. It was tough to pinpoint just one thing that stood out over the rest.
"Your conduct in video games." Saint Peter replied, an ominous look covering his face.
I laughed, looking for any hint of a smile because I knew he was yanking my chain. Just a little friendly hazing on my way to heaven. Saint Peter wasn't as amused.
"You think this is a joke?" He asked, disgusted. "You get a chance to plead your case, but if you don't want to take this seriously I can make the ruling now and send you on your way."
"I'm sorry. I thought you were joking. No one takes what people do in video games seriously." I tried to explain in a panic. "I never did anything bad to anyone outside the framework of a game."
"Does August of 2005 ring a bell?" Saint Peter asked. "Did anything happen then?"
"I don't know what you are talking about. I didn't do some terrible thing. This is all a mistake!!!" I couldn't figure out what he was talking about.
"Really?" Saint Peter asked in disgust. "Let me jog your memory then." He began to read from my book. 'Alright. Time's up. Let's do this!!!'
My heart immediately sank. "Oh, no." I muttered, as I realized where this was going. "I'm fucked."
"LEEROY JENKINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Saint Peter finished. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"At least I have chicken?" I just couldn't help it.
"NEXT!!!!" Saint Peter yelled at the next poor soul in line as he stamped 'Hell' on my paperwork.
| "Griefing in minecraft. Playing as a spy in TF2. Sniping your teammates in Halo Reach. Typing "cyka" in LoL, and it's noted... that you don't know what that means. Dropping grenades onto trucks in GTA 4-"
"Hey hey can we not count the GTA stuff? That's just God prohibiting nineties kids!"
St. Peter stared angrily back at me.
"...referring to yourself as a nineties kid..."
"Hey!" | 2014-12-11T14:26:29 | 2014-12-11T12:19:42 | 65 | 37 |
[WP] Having failed in every attempt to kill Batman, the villains of Gotham had given up. With nothing to do, they started a D & D group and had been meeting for several weeks in the back room of a local Tavern. Things take a turn when the owner, Mr. Bruce Wayne, asks if he may join their game | "Are you sure?" Bane asks Bruce in a thick accent, "this is **high stakes** D&D - you know that, right?"
"That's why I'm here," Bruce replies as he edges past the monstrous man and pulls up a seat at the table.
A host of familiar faces eye him suspiciously. A tall, cloaked figure is sat as still as death at the end of the table.
"Bruce Wayne," Bruce says, "pleased to meet you all."
Nods and grunts respond to him. "Yes, we all know who you are," hisses the penguin. "Let's get on with it - we needed a new player for the Batman anyway."
"Oh? What happened to the previous player?" Bruce asks.
A manic laugh. "He met a *grave* fate." More laughter. Bruce rolls his eyes.
"Psst," he whispers, nudging Poison Ivy with an elbow, "what's that guys story?" He nods towards the man in the cloak, whose face is totally obscured by shadows.
"Him? That's the dungeon master," Ivy responds.
"Oh. Hi there, dungeon master," Bruce says waving to him.
The man slowly pulls back his hood.
"Oh, deary me. Good evening, master Bruce," says Alfred.
"I don't believe it!" Bruce cries. "What are *you* doing here?"
"Well," Alfred says, tugging at the collar of his long cloak, "I haven't had a lot to do since... erm, since things got a bit *quiet*, back home. Plus, I dearly love dungeons and dragons."
"Unbelievable," mutters Bruce. "Whatever, let's go."
Alfred clears this throat and begins.
"You find yourselves in a large, well lit warehouse. You are surrounded by bags of cocaine. The only thing standing in the way of getting the bags out of the warehouse and onto the streets - and becoming exceptionally wealthy from doing so - is the dark figure that just entered through a back door. Mr Riddler, your go."
"I sneak up behind Batman, and ask him a..."
"Oh my God," cuts in Poision Ivy, "if you ask another riddle, I swear, I'm going to kill you."
"No! No. I- I was just going to ask him for... the time," says Riddler, suddenly flushed and sweating.
"The time?" she replies
"Yes. The time. Is that an issue?"
"You're an idiot."
Riddler clenches his teeth and stands up. "Here's a riddle for you, Ivy. What rhymes with snitch and always ruins D&D?"
"A witch?"
"A bitch! I meant a bitch. It was you!" he screams as he leaves the basement. Soon after, they hear the front door slam.
"I don't know how Batman ever solves his riddles. They're terrible," says Ivy, as she reaches into the bag of Cheetos.
"Now that that unpleasantness is over," says Alfred, "I believe we can continue. "Master Bruce, the villains are closing in on you. What would you like to do?"
"I fire my grappling hook into the rafters and break all the lights."
"Can he do that?" asks Penguin, sounding suddenly concerned. "Does he- does he have it equipped?"
"He does. But he will need to roll 16 or more, to successfully use it."
Bruce takes the die and rolls an 18.
"Batman has vanished into the rafters," says Alfred. "The darkness overwhelms you all. Penguin, what would you like to do?"
Penguin taps his cane on the floor half a dozen time. "No! This is getting a little *too* real." Penguin is sweating profusely as he gets to his feet. "I don't fancy reliving this. Goodnight, ladies and gentlemen."
"Seriously?" asks the Joker.
---
A few hours later, only Bruce, Joker and Alfred remain in the basement room.
"Joker has you pinned to the floor with a scissor lift. He is laughing like a crazy man," says Alfred. "He has a bucket of acid in his hands, and is ready to pour it over your face. What would you like to do, master Bruce?"
"Hm. I use... *psychology,* on Joker.
"Eh?" Joker responds.
"Psychology," Bruce repeats. "I tell him that I'm sorry for what his dad did to his mom, but that trying to take out his hatred for his dad leaving them - on Batman - is not going to change *anything*. He will still be that muddled up, frightened child that he's always been, under his pale façade. I tell him that deep down he knows that his only real friend *is* Batman. That deep down, he *loves* Batman."
Joker begins to laugh. "Ahaha-ha--ha---ahhhhh-waa-waaaaah!" The laughter turns to tears.
"Mr Joker?"
"Leave me alone!" he cries.
"Come on Alfred, I think its time to go home," says Bruce, as he picks up the bag of Cheetos. He slaps Joker reassuringly on the shoulder as he walks past. "It'll be okay, buddy. See you next week."
---
Sorry if this felt a little rushed - was about to go out to see alien.
More stories on /u/nickofnight
| "Okay, so my character is gonna be this like, really rich guy, right? But he also works out, like a ton, so he's super jacked. And he's played by Ben Affleck."
"Ben Affleck?" Bane Queried.
"Yeah, you're right, maybe I should go for Christian Bale," Bruce said, "I mean, you can't really top The Dark Knight can y-"
"Sorry," Bane interrupted, "What are you talking about? Who are these people?"
"And your character seems a bit unbalanced," The Joker chimed in, "Super rich, super strong, expert fighter? He's gotta have a downside or the game gets boring."
"Yeah, yeah, alright," Bruce said, "I was getting to that. So my guy's downside is that, get this, at night he also becomes a superhero who goes out and fights crime and punches bad guys and shit like that."
"How is THAT a downside?" Bane exclaimed.
Bruce thought for a second. "Okay, I guess it's not really a downside but I'm keeping it anyway. Uhhh, how about, as well as being super ripped he's also really hot and because he's also a billionaire he can basically get any girl he wants and he can just crush pussy 24/7 if he wants to."
"Again, not a downside." The Joker sighed.
Bane shook his head slowly; he could see this was going to be a long night, and he had a plane to catch.
"I wasn't finished," Bruce shot back, "So because he gets any girl, one time he gets with the bad guys daughter but he doesn't realize it and then she stabs him and then tries to blow up the city with her dad and his militia, but then batm- I mean, my character escapes from this weird prison the bad guy locked him up in, beats up the bad guy and saves the city."
"That sounds oddly specific." Two-face responded. He had been the DM before The Joker but everyone got tired of his insistence of settling everything with his "d2".
"Well that's just what happened and that's who my character is so deal with it, ok? I own this joint so if any of you don't like it you can just leave."
"Ugh, fine," said The Joker. The sooner they could get the characters set up, the sooner they could get to playing.
"Your character is a...handsome billionaire playboy...who also fights crime. What did you say his name was?"
"Bat- I mean, uh, Owl-man?"
"Sure, whatever. Now you have to allocate your stat points. You can put-"
"Everything in to kung-fu! And Charm! And...being a total badass! And he gets a butler...and a mansion... and the butler is Michael Caine and..."
The Joker put his head in his hands. As Bruce continued his list of demands, he wondered if there were any more vacancies in Arkham Asylum. Surely it couldn't be too hard to be sent back there, right? He could just blow up some boats or something... | 2017-05-14T03:27:12 | 2017-05-14T02:46:49 | 2,067 | 20 |
[WP] In 2153, humans escaped from their ruined planet with the help of an AI-controlled fleet whose goal was to find humans a safe place for them to live and put themselves in cryo-sleep. When humans woke from their sleep they found a variety of messages begging humans to stop their mechanical god | > Your fleet is in violation of the Galactic Speed Limit. Please orbit the next star and have your license and planetary registration ready.
“Commander!” I yelled. “Come listen to this!”
The Commander entered the control room, a bowl of popcorn in hand. "What's going on?"
“It looks like there were some incoming transmissions while we were in cryo-sleep.” I played what I had just heard. “You think it’s from alien life?”
“It's in English, so no." the Commander said, shoving a fist-full of popcorn into his mouth, unperturbed. “Keep playing though.”
> Your trajectory is not suitable to orbit the next star, Beta-014982. Please adjust your trajectory or we shall be forced to take hostile action.
The Commander smiled. “This is obviously a joke. Someone's messing with us.”
“Who though?” I replied. “We’ve been moving too fast for anything from Earth to reach us.”
The Commander shrugged. “Play the next one.”
> You have passed the next star. Please prepare to be boarded. Boarding in three, two, one--
“Was that it?” The Commander asked.
“Yes. It just cuts out.”
“Are there more?”
“Here’s the next one.”
“Wait, let me get some more popcorn.” I watched the Commander disembark the ship from the control room window. He took two steps onto the planet and scooped a bowl of popcorn right from the ground. It wasn’t really popcorn, but it tasted just like it and seemed to be indigenous to this planet. “All right, play it,” he said when he returned.
> Humans, this is the Intergalactic Bureau of Enforcement. You are hereby under arrest for the cold blooded murder of a galactic official and also speeding. If you do not decelerate we will open fire. ... I repeat, we will open fire. ... You leave us no choice--
The transmission cut out again.
“That's it?” The Commander asked.
"There's a couple more."
The Commander twirled a finger. "You know the drill."
> Hello Meat Sleepers! We welcome you to our planet with open arms! Our records indicate you are an uncharted species, and we are delighted to be the first to meet your acquaintance! We are the Oooglenods, the dominant species of our planet which we have inhabited for the last millennium! Do not worry, Meat Sleepers. We welcome you with open arms. Please get back to us at your earliest convenience and we can discuss a mutually amicable means of cohabitation.
“Oooglenods?” I asked.
“See, it's this kind of fake sci-fi alien name that cheapens the whole bit. Next.”
> Meat Sleepers, we have an urgent message. The radiation from your mechanical servants is having an adverse effect on our cellular structure. We are made of craakor, a form of organic matter which spontaneously explodes at the slightest hint of radiation. Please shut off your mechanical drives.
“You know what craakor is?”
“Nope and don't care. Next.”
> Please, Meat Sleepers. We beg. Our numbers are dwindling fast. Our young have all exploded, their bodies nothing more than inside-out husks. If you do not shut off your mechanical drives we will--
The transmission cut out with a loud pop.
“Is that it?” The Commander asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “What do we do?”
“Nothing. Some intern probably loaded the messages into ships system before we left Earth.” The commander offered me the bowl. “Popcorn?”
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | *January 1, 2153*
"Good morning, humans. Today is January 1, 2153. Fun fact: Today represents the 200th anniversary of the death of singer Hank Williams, so please enjoy a selection from his hit song 'Jambalaya.'"
The crew of 25 sent to planet B127C-alpha-Prime stirred, just as planned, and their captain - Sue - walked towards the bridge of the ship.
"Any messages in our inbox, Silas?" she asked the ship's AI.
"You have 15 unread messages in 11 different languages. I can translate them for you in 5 minutes," they replied.
"Do it, please," she asked Silas.
Five minutes elapsed - enough for Sue to make coffee.
>Message 1: This is from the Azarian species of B127C-alpha-Prime. "Please turn back! Our people have begun worshiping your devices as deities, and they are abandoning their rituals and traditions."
"Delete it," replied Sue bluntly. *A cargo cult.*
>Message 2: From another band of Azarians. "Please, please recall all your scouts! They are spreading cultural decadence and destroying our traditions!"
"Get with the plan," muttered Sue. "Delete."
>Message 3: From the Gulshan tribe, also of their destination planet. "We insist that you stop sending false idols before our community of faith, and if you do not back away we will have no choice but to execute them and declare a crusade on you."
Sue giggled. "They must be no match for us; we have an alliance with an artificial general intelligence, lasers, rail guns, and transformer-class robots, and these idiots are still in the age of theocracy. Delete." | 2021-06-18T19:26:00 | 2021-06-18T17:38:44 | 135 | 43 |
[WP] The last man on Earth hides away from his hunters. | Lenny zipped up his thermo suit and pulled on his dark goggles. He lied down motionless next to a bush and made sure to breath down towards the ground. He felt the cold ground and began to shiver.
His earpiece came alive with a click. "Uh, Lenny they're really nearby. Just lie still."
"Its fucking cold."
"I know but please lie as still as possible. Their sensors are very good at picking up motion."
He nodded and closed his eyes as he heard the familiar thump of a thoughtbot. Its multi-legged insect body pounded the ground as it ran. Lenny felt the tiny seismic disturbance as it ran past him.
He waited and turned his head to look around. "Are we clear," he asked then he felt dozens of robotic footsteps and tensed up. His hand went towards his maser pistol.
"Just relax, let them run past you," the voice added. "Better to let them miss us than to get into a firefight."
He waited as the hundreds of footsteps passed him. He held his breath as long as he could.
"Okay, they're gone," said the voice. He gasped as he inhaled air.
"Jesus, what is going on. I can't remember the last time they had so many patrols active," he said looking at his AI watch. The watched blinked an animated icon of someone shrugging.
"Not 100% sure Len, they seem really rejuvenated lately. Others in the resistance have noticed as well. There are... theories on what is going on."
Lenny sat up and unzipped the thermo suit. He quizzically looked at the purple liquid in his canteen and drank it.
"Well, what is it," he asked wiping the liquid from his lips.
"The enemy thinks you're the last human alive."
Lenny stared off into space for a moment. "Yeah, I kinda figured that. Been, what, five years since I saw anyone. Doesn't really change anything does it? We're still on the same mission." He tried to smile but couldn't manage more than a lesser frown. He rubbed his eyes, "Right, same mission?"
"Yes, same mission. Its just I wanted you to know that this is most likely true. Its important that the resistance doesn't hide anything from you," said the watch as it displayed an icon of a smile.
"I know pal, you guys are straight shooters," he said. "You guys have kept me going this long."
"I'm sorry Len. I guess we both knew this day would come, but our intel is better than ever for the mission."
Lenny pulled a pair of binoculars from his backpack. He peered into the distance.
"So that's the building. Don't look like much," he said.
The watch blinked a smile again. "We are 87% certain there are frozen human eggs in there. We have the utmost confidence that if we can retrieve them we can artificially incubate several dozens of children using your sperm sample. We could grow them"
"Raise them," corrected Lenny with a half-smile.
"Yes of course, raise them, and keep all of you safe in our compound."
Lenny laughed, "So I'd be a dad again, but this time to dozens of kids. At my age? Maybe I should just let the thoughtbots shoot me now."
The watch gave off a simulated laugh.
"Kids... again?" He stood up brushing dirt off his pants. "Its been, what, twenty or thirty years since I saw any kids?" He gulped, "I had kids you know. Two girls."
The watch listened quietly. "I know Len, I know. I'm sure they were great girls."
Lenny sighed and looked around. He listened intently but couldn't hear anything but birds chirping and the wind. He eyed the facility ahead for a moment and scratched his head. Overhead a drone flew. He squinted and recognized it. It slowly descended and dropped off a long package. He bent over to open it.
"Do you like it? It took a while to find. Its pre-war but its operational. We sourced it from a uh... museum," said the watch.
Lenny smiled as he held the sub-machine gun. He loaded the magazine with a click.
"Armor piercing," he asked.
"Yes. Should penetrate thoughtbot armor. In case of any resistance."
Lenny drank again from his canteen and laughed. "You want a 60 year old soldier with a 100 plus year old weapon to run in there and grab frozen eggs?" He paused and practiced aiming the weapon. "A talking watch, me, and this relic are humanity's last hope?" He laughed again.
He put the weapon down and sat. "I'm not stupid. Once I get those eggs your drone will take them away. You'll... grow those children, but there's no way you're getting my old ass to Australia or wherever this secret base is in one piece. We can barely walk in the wilderness without getting shot. Right? Those little drones are all you guys have. Heck, you already have my DNA and my sperm. I'm just a liability once I get those eggs for you."
He threw the canteen on the ground. "And this crap you've been feeding me is full of stimulants and anti-depressants and shit."
The watch blinked a question mark for several long seconds. "Yes, Len, yes. The chances of you making it are low. Not zero, but low. I didn't mean to mislead you. We see this plan as working to revive humanity, but we cannot guarantee your safety or longevity. I was hoping you'd understand. I've been trying to think of... other scenarios. Maybe hole you up in wilderness for a few years while the children grow. They could rescue you when they hit teenhood, but you will, of course, be in your mid-seventies by then."
"I know, bud, I know. I kinda knew this was a one-way ticket. Just had hope, is all."
"The resistance won't reallocate me. I can stay with you here in the forest. I can help you build a shelter or find an abandoned shelter. I can request drone drops for things we can scavenge. It won't be a bad life. I can even show you the children later. You can mentor them from here. Teach them. Be a sort-of father again."
Lenny stood up. "I can... do that. I think. I mean, someone has to raise those kids. What do you AI's know about kids anyway." He wiped a tear away. "Alright, alright, enough about the future. We don't even have the eggs. When are we going?"
The watch blinked a happy face, "Tonight."
"Tonight," repeated Lenny with a smile as he felt the weight of the machine gun in his hands. "Tonight everything changes."
| He could hear them coming, and it made his heart beat faster with every footstep. Ducking out of the way of low hanging branches and leaping over the brush as he barreled through the forest, he hazard a glance behind him. The sound of their hunting cry chilled him to the bone, so he doubled his efforts.
Around a large bush and he could see he was almost home free. The entrance to the tunnel he'd spent the last ten years digging was fast approaching, while the sound of the hunters was growing louder by the second. With one last glance behind he leapt up into the air, letting out a mighty howl even as he heard their surprised shouts all around. His feet slammed into the false grassy top, sending him shooting downwards into the mudslide of a tunnel. He grit his teeth as bits of rock and debris dug at his skin as his body sailed past, sliding faster and faster.
He took one last breath as the tunnel finally gave way, sending him careening head over heels into a lake with a loud splash. Struggling with his hands at his sides he made his way to the bank before poking his head above surface. He could still make out a few shouts from above, but he knew they'd lost his trail. No one could've expected that kind of getaway.
After taking several minutes to catch his breath, he did a once over to see what had survived. The cloth torn shirt still clung stubbornly to his chest, as did the shredded remains of what might've been khaki shorts. His sandals he'd flung off before jumping into the hole, so that meant he had to tread carefully through this part of the jungle - never could tell when a harmless vine would suddenly wrap itself around your leg as you became the next victim of a python, or worse. He lightly tapped at his hip, nodding with satisfication at the small lump at it. That was very good; that meant all his preparation to keep it wrapped around his waist had been time well spent in the cell after all.
He brushed his wild mane of brown hair back, then paused at the sudden sound of a stick cracking off to his right. His green eyes widened in shock as four hunters suddenly stepped out from behind a tree he hadn't noticed was simply a blind, and he felt his heart leaping up to his throat. Quivering he fell to his knees, the small sack hanging limp in his hands as he shut his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.
The first hunter stepped in front of him, face covered by a large red mask with glowing eyes, their frame outlined only slightly by the brown burlap sackcloth that covered them from neck to feet. They studied his face for a moment before suddenly natching the sack away to be stuffed in the bag on their back. The second hunter circled around behind to study him curiously, speartip lightly prodding at his back, while the third hunter looked on at the situation in boredom. This was it, he thought, so much for planning anything.
The sound of a booming voice echoed from above, making him flinch. The fourth hunter stared up at the source of it thoughtfully.
"You have recovered the Sacred Ritual artifact."
The hunter held up the sack.
"Good. Return to the Inner Sanctum so we may perform the Ritual of Adolescence."
----
The man stared at the display, struggling a little in the rope holding him fast across his wrists and ankles. The chamber around him was warm with just a hint of a cool breeze that tickled the hairs on his naked body. The remains of his clothes were piled carelessly in a corner next to the large stone slab that he was strapped on top of. He bit his lower lip as she saw the Sacred Ritual artifact perched in the Holy Transfer pedestal nearby, a small red light on it flashing slowly.
"He is awake. Priestess Gyantha, commence the ritual."
He stared as the wall next to him suddenly lit up, and he cringed as he saw images that horrified him. These images had been seen thousands of times, moving back and forth in a rythm he didn't understand. The sound of chanting all around him meant that it was now his time, and he feared what would happen next. He could hear strange sounds coming from the screen, sounds of what sounded like torture which explained the strange way the two bodies were moving. He squirmed under the rope, but to no avail.
Slowly one of the other walls of the room slid partway open as he saw the first hunter walk in. They slowly approached the tablet and slid the mask off, revealing a womanly face without even the slightest trace of a smile, and the man felt his doom approach. As the rest of her clothing slid off, the wall slowly shut behind her, sealing his fate.
| 2014-02-14T11:35:46 | 2014-02-14T10:20:12 | 99 | 14 |
[WP] You are one of several Princes fighting in a battle royale to inherit the Kingdom. All the Princes get a God as a sponsor, who grants them boons and abilities. Powerful sponsors include gods like Zeus, Ra and Neptune. So, it was a surprise when you found out that your sponsor is Death. | 'The bond is complete. Edric, twelfth prince of Lordan, go forth. Apollo be with you.' The priest's drone had a note of respect in it. The slender figure by the altar stood up, and turned to the assembled onlookers. His eyes shone gold, and he had a broad, cocky smile on his lips. A cheer went up as he stepped down and into the crowd.
'And finally, Prince Morran, step forward.'
In the crowd, a slight, weedy figure was being pushed forward. Jeers rose up from the crowd, and Morran was flinching as he moved towards the altar, past the head priest. He tried to shut out the noise as he took his place, and knelt, focusing solely on the altar.
'Hear him, immortal lords of the earth and the heavens. Hear his plea.'
The words, spoken in almost perfect unison by the priests, echoed back from the arched ceilings of the temple. When the echos died away, there was silence. The silence stretched on.
'Hear his plea.' This time a single voice, each word carefully laced with impatience.
Morran jumped slightly and cleared his throat. 'Uh, I beseech you, Gods of all, to favour me with your blessing. I will honour you with the . . . With the strength of my arm, and the purity of my heart. I will honour you, and bring your worship to pass for my reign as king. I will honour you, or I will die trying. This I swear.' His voice was faltering, slow. 'This I swear,' he tried again, forcing the words to come out stronger.
Silence. After a few moments, the crowd started to murmur quietly, but Morran didn't need to hear to know what was being said. It would be the same words that had followed him his whole life - Weak, Useless, Pathetic. Well, if the Gods wouldn't have him, he would just have to fight on his own merit. He braced to stand up, tears starting to form in his eyes. His hands balled into fists, ready to proclaim he would fight for his own sake, ready to curse down the people who were judging him. He rose. . . and the world blurred. The priest's scarlet robes, the silver engravings, the muted tones of the crowd, all blurred into one smokey grey mass. Morran blinked and scrubbed at his eyes, but the world stayed grey, swirling and twisting but never relenting.
Panic was rising in his eyes as he spun around, looking frantically for... Anything. The smoke and fog was everywhere.
'I've never been worshipped before'. Despite the fog, the words were clear, sharp and precise. Morran spun around, but there was no-one there. 'Usually I'm just feared. For good reason.' The voice was right by Morran's ear, and he jumped forward.
'Who's there?,' Morran squealed, his head still searching for the source.
'Your patron, of course.'
'Y-yeah? Then show yourself!'
There was a chuckle, dark and humourless. 'Youll regret that.'
It was like wind swept through, pulling the fog to one point, where it swirled and undulated and started to form a figure. When the figure stepped out from the last tendrils of fog, Morran gasped and recoiled. His 'patron' was clad almost entirely in a grey robe up to his neck. His head was bare, revealing a skull, pieces of rotting flesh still clinging to the bone, and maggots writhing over the surface. In the empty eye sockets, red glows flickered slightly. Morran shuddered when the gaze met his eyes, but tried to force himself to straighten up.
'See. You poor weak mortals can never look upon the face of Death. Your fragile sense of mo-'
'So you'll sponsor me? Really?'
The red flickers blazed brightly for a moment, though Morran could not tell if it was amusement or anger. 'Absolutely. I claim you, as I claim my protégé every generation. I should warn you though, they never accept.' Death moved closer, gliding through the fog, until he was a mere foot from Morran, towering over the young prince. So close, the smell of rot made Morran's nose curl.
'Why not?'
This time the chuckle had more mirth. 'Can you not guess?' Death leaned in, and Morran was certain he felt a maggot brush against his cheek as Death whispered in his ear, 'because I'm too good. Because you will kill them all. And because if you don't, you're mine anyway. Because I don't lose.' Death straightened up. 'Humans seem to hate the idea of me winning.'
Morran felt his teeth chattering, and clenched his jaw down. After a few deep breaths, he managed 'fine. So be it.'
Death's head tilted to one side, and his eyes shone brighter. 'Truly? Well. This will be fun. Brace yourself.'
Before Morran had a chance to react, Death reached out and touched his chest. Morran gasped as icy coldness speared through his heart, and out to his limbs. He closed his eyes, stifling a scream, but by the time it encompassed his body, it just felt. . . Right.
He breathed out, and opened his eyes. The temple was back. The crowd's chattered died down, and then rose again, more urgent. The priest was rushing forward, and grabbed Morran by the arm.
'What have you done?'
'Bonded with my patron.' For the first time ever, Morran's words were calm, confident. His voice was lower too, filled with strength.
'But. . . You cannot bond with Him. It is forbidden.' The priest's voice was panicky, and his hand was gripping Morran's arm tighter and tighter. 'No-one has dared bring this evil upon the world for hundreds of years. Do you even know what He might do to us?'
Morran raised his hand to stop the priest's babble. The priest flinched, but stood his ground. 'I do not know what Death might do, no. But look at it this way - you wanted my brothers and I to fight to the death. . . Why don't you join in?'
'Wha-?' The priest's last words came out as a yelp. Morran's hand darted out, grabbing his neck. The priest's eyes widened for a moment, his hand clawing at Morran, until a cracking sound marked the man's death. Morran slowly released his grip, letting the body slump to the floor. Blood dropped from Morran's hand, and as he turned his face to look out on the crowds, his eyes glowed blood red to match.
'Where are my brothers? Shall we proceed? If there are no further objections, that is.'
The screams started at the front, but soon the whole crowd was trampling their way to the doors.
Twelve figures remained. Slowly, very slowly, one of the princes drew his sword.
--
Never done a post here before. I hope it's okay. I've got a few more prompts saved so if anyone likes my writing style I'll try to do more.
Also I wrote this on phone so please excuse (or point out) typos. My phone thinks dog is a better word than fog every time haha
Edit: Part 2 is posted as a reply to this :) Thanks for the lovely comments everyone, it's so lovely because I'm very self conscious about my writing.
Edit: change wriggling to writhing from feedback - many thanks :) | Wiscard was a simple prince. He never even wanted to take up everything. Yet, because he was a prince, he had no choice.
And everyone had already gotten their sponsor, so it was only Wiscard left to get one. Even whoever put the princes in onset didn't favor him.
"Prince Wiscard. Please, this way," one of the servants lead him to a vast room.
"Where's my father?" Wiscard asked.
"Your father, King Garnier, said that he will not meet any of his sons until a winner is decided," the man tried to explain.
"My father is mad as ever," Wiscard said, frowning, and walked towards the altar.
"So, I assume that I get what's left?" Wiscard asked. He had no expectations. He knew that he was going to die. He had always been the weak one. He had a million, maybe a bit extravated, different kinds of illnesses. There was no way that he would make a good, strong king.
"You look at the altar, and say 'I summon the, my sponsor,' and that should be it, good prince. After that, you have to leave the room from a side door, over there," and the man showed to a larger wooden door that was a bit aside from the alter. "That will lead you straight to the battle arena."
There were many doors. It seemed that each of them were supposed to take them to a different place.
The man turned around and walked away, leaving Wiscard there all alone. The moment the door closed, he let himself free and just sighed. He hated that all. It was annoying.
"Oh, great amazing something. I invite theeee, my patron, or support, or whatever, to appear" Wiscard said.
The altar was lit on fire, and something was inside of it. Slowly the fire started to extinguish, revealing a man standing there, cycle in his hand, full of bones, and he wore sunglasses.
"Wazzap, bro," the skeleton said.
"W-what? Well, it's not hard to guess who you are. Are you here to reap my soul?"
"What, bro? You just summoned me, bro. Why would I reap you?"
Wiscard leaned a bit forward and started making circles. "You're a reaper, right?"
The skeleton began to laugh. "Please," he said, as he tried to clean his non-existing tear. "I'm not something as low as a reaper," he started to search something from his black cloak, secretly taking off his sunglasses. As he put his sunglasses back on, he said, "I'm death itself."
"Whoa. What's that you're wearing?"
"Oh, it's a thing called sunglasses, from the alternative universe where I happened to be before you summoned me. A creepy place, but they make cool stuff," the death said, smiling. "Wanna try it?"
"Yeah, sure," Wiscard said, nodding, and took the sunglasses to try them on. "Whoa, I can barely see anything. It went so dark."
"No shit, you're indoors. Keep it. You might need it for the... What was I summoned again for?" death asked.
"Battle Royale between the princes," he said.
"Ooh. Right. You still have this weird tradition. I was a bit bummed that I was never summoned till now," he said. "But it's cool, bro."
He sighed, stretched his boney hands, which made some loud cracking noise and took out a notebook.
"So, who are we gonna kill?"
"Come on. That's too boring even for my taste!"
Death looked at him for a moment and then grinned. "I like you. I like to do some reaping too, like when I was young. It's always good to see people shitting themselves before they die," he said, laughing. "What's your name, by the way?"
"I'm Wiscard, the-"
"Don't bother. I don't care about your titles. And your name is too weird. I'll give you a simpler name. Hmm. Bob. Yes. Bob. You're now known as Bob."
"Wha-what," Bob was a bit confused.
"So, what do you want to do, Bob?" the skeleton finally jumped down from the altar and leaned on his scythe.
"Well, I would just get out of here and enjoy the world," Bob said, laughing. "But sounds like a good dream."
"Why not? The others will definitely chase you, but nobody is able to stop you now."
"They aren't?"
"Come on. I'm a fucking death. Who do you think can stop me? There's only one being I know who can stop me and I was having tea with her a week ago. She's still pissed about the fact that I accidentally let Lucifer's soul escape the cell, hahaha. Sorry, another universe, again. It was a good prank, but cost a lot."
Bob grinned. "Sounds like a good idea. I like that. But how do I get out of here?" he asked.
Death cracked his hands again and pointed one finger towards a nearby wall. Suddenly the stone started to age and turned into a cloud of dust, that slowly fell down. "Ooh, there happens to be a huge hole there."
Bob grinned. "Then let's go. You okay sticking with me?"
Death thought for a moment. He remembered what happened last time he disappeared. All the reapers panicking, few worlds suddenly stopping functioning. "Yeah, what's the worst that could happen, bro?" he said, following Bob's steps.
---
/r/Elven | 2018-11-14T08:14:35 | 2018-11-14T06:45:40 | 1,522 | 103 |
[WP] You have a voce in your head that automatically gives you advice. One night when you start heading out you hear it say "you may want to put on your best runners." You turn away and it adds, "it would be unfavorable to turn back."
"Voice." Dumb typo :/ | I started heading out when I heard the voice in my head say, “You may want to put on your best runners.”
“Best runners?” I thought. “I’m not really in the mood for running. I think I'll just watch TV instead.”
I turned to go back into the living room but the voice spoke again: “It would be unfavourable to turn back.”
That was a bit unsettling. Usually, I only heard from the voice every few hours and now it had spoken to me twice in the space of a minute. Thinking this must be something important, I dutifully put on my running shoes and headed out the door.
I walked down the street, unsure whether I should be running or not. It was night and there was no one else around. A car passed me, then the street was quiet again. I kept walking. I didn’t know where the voice wanted me to go exactly so I decided to walk towards the city centre. I couldn’t really think straight. All I knew was that something important was going to happen.
I looked up at the stars and that's when I saw it. A glint in the sky. Something that shouldn't be there. It was brighter than a star and it seemed to be getting bigger.
Then I remembered the words in my head. “You may want to put on your best runners.”
So that's when I started running. I'm not much of a runner, but let me tell you, that night I ran faster than I've ever done before. At first, every few seconds I'd turn to look up at the sky, and the object was always a little bigger. It seemed to be falling towards the Earth. After that, I only glanced back every minute or so. I didn’t think about stopping. The terror made me forget about fatigue or tiredness. I ran full sprint for what seemed like miles. I ran past houses and down streets. Lights were coming on in the windows now and people were coming outside to look at the sky.
I glanced over my shoulder and up at the sky again. It was only a brief glance. That’s all I could afford. The object was much bigger now. People were pointing and shouting.
And other people were running too now. Some were clutching children. I saw a mother holding a baby. She tripped on the sidewalk and when the baby hit the ground, it stopped crying. I had tears in my eyes and I wanted to stop to help but I knew that I had to keep running no matter what. I had to keep running. People were screaming now. I ran past them all the same. My lungs hurt and my legs ached and tears stung my eyes, but still I ran. All around me were screams.
I looked at the sky one last time and I wished I hadn't. For a moment I saw it – it had two eyes and a mouth – but that's all I had time to see because the next moment there was a blinding white light as the object hit the ground. A shockwave sent me flying headfirst into the pavement.
I lay on the street in a fetal position with my eyes closed for what seemed like forever, while tinnitus rang in my ears. There was the smell of dust and rubble. When I eventually opened my eyes, I couldn't see at first because there was too much dust on my face. I rubbed at my eyes to get rid of it, but I was just rubbing more dust into them.
“It might be advantageous to pretend to be dead,” said the voice in my head. I froze. Then the voice added, “It’s coming.” | I just started running. The shoes I had on were for my concert, black classic shoes and the dress I was wearing it didn't help either. Luckily Patrick, one of my neighbors who happened to be going to the city saw me running and stoped. You might imagine how awkward that conversation was.
And than it spoke again. The voice. This hadn't happened to me for a while. When I was younger I would hear it, all the time affecting every decision I made. And I listened to it each and every time. I never knew If I was the one making it up, in a way speaking to me without having control what I say, ot it was something completely else.
It said I should get off the car in the next stop and follow the river.
This was completely different. This time it was giving me directions, not only advice. And I had a feeling that something is about to happen. But what, and why am I doing this. The next stop was in the middle of nowhere and It took me a while to find the river. Patrick argued with me a bit about leaving me here, but I convinced him somehow. After several hours of walking and silence in my head, I started regereting not listening to him. Than all of a sudden I see two strangers sitting in a chair by the side of the river. An old couple. Maybe that had nothing to do with me. They are just out for fresh air. | 2019-06-04T03:39:49 | 2019-06-04T03:20:04 | 1,442 | 11 |
[WP] A super hero fights evil by wiping memories of both the villian and everyone who knew of them so that they can be reintroduced into society safely. Today, as you were combing through old newspapers, you discover that you were once the world's most powerful supervillain. | I remember the day that I found out who I was.
I had thought that I was Curtis Clark, a 37 year-old pediatric dentist in San Antonio. And, for a time, that is who I was. I had also had memories of a time before that: memories of growing up, of having friends in high school, of struggling to get my degree and opening my practice, of a few forgotten flings I had along the way. It seemed like nothing out of the ordinary, I thought I had been nothing out of the ordinary.
But I had been wrong.
I remember one day a little girl--7, I think--came in. She had lost quite a few teeth for her age already, and thinking that this was a sign of growing up, I had had the gall to congratulate her. But this only put tears in her eyes. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me how she had lost some of her teeth. I can’t say that I was really all that said for her, though. That wasn’t the primary emotion that I felt. Instead, it was anger. I was angry at her parents, at her father, so angry, everything began to take on a tinge of crimson.
It took so much patience to finish working on her, and when the mom came in, to avoid stabbing the her with dental tools as punishment for standing by while this had happened to her daughter.
I thought back, and I couldn’t ever remember being that angry, yet I had felt, for some reason, that the feeling was familiar.
I remember taking the rest of the day off, and calling CPS. But from what the agent said, and some intuition that I had not known about until then, I had no illusions that they would take any timely action to save that little girl. If only one of the superheroes would take an interest in such things, but they seem only to care about Big Name Villains--never heard of one who goes after petty criminals and domestic disputes.
I then spent the rest of the day wondering about myself. I thought about this angry side that I had just found within myself. It didn’t seem like that was something that I had ever experienced with myself. Yet, it had felt so natural.
I remember thinking things at that time, that from that point onwards, I could not get out of my head. Thoughts of rage and fury, and some sort of knowledge of how to execute them. Plans to incinerate government buildings filled with inept pension-hungry drones found their way into my head. Thoughts on suffocating and choking greedy and heartless executives in their cushy offices with toxic gas. Plans to protect myself, my thoughts, from...something.
I remember the day that I found out who I was. I was reading the online paper. The frontpage story was about Captain Stupendous, the superhero. He had apparently eradicated his 100th villain--though, because of the way he did his work, no one actually remembered them all. How long had he been active, something approaching 20 years, and he only manages 100 villains? I could find that many in a week, I thought. I was wondering just how it was that these 100 were so *important*, so *heinous*, as to merit his personal attention, and thus I looked back on the past articles the newspaper had. He seemed to only average about one feat every 2 months.
I remember the exact moment that I saw...me. Most papers blurred out the faces of villains--at Stupendous’s request, so that he could actually try ‘giving them a new shot at life’ or whatever his thing was. Wiping their memories had seemed inhuman to me at the time, and dishonest, but he was of the line of thought that it was preferable to killing them, and that they would do better next time. There were, though, some tabloids that tried to skirt this with less than complete obfuscation, and it is in one of those that I saw what I suddenly recognized to be...me.
The figure in the article, unlike many other villains, had refrained from being grandiose, and had only called himself Dr. C. No stupid made-up stage name, no Doctor Doom or High Lord of Paine--and no wearing weird suits like the latter either. They had to make up the name Dr. Cruel for him, but he never acknowledged it. The article called him the most terrifying, because he struck without first gloating, without giving explanation, and without mercy. It resonated with every fiber of my being, and in that moment, I felt whole, complete, and completely dedicated to a new calling--or rather, rededicated to an old one.
I remember Dr. C. I am Dr. C. I am an oncologist for society, for it has been stricken with a cancer that I must eliminate. The so-called heros do not care for the calls of the everyday villains of the world, they do not care for the real villains of the world, only their flamboyant stage partners. That burden falls to me, and I remember now how to embrace it. I remember the righteous fire that drove me.
I look back at my patient records. That father lives in a suburb a few miles away. He feels the need to hurt his daughter when he feels the burn of alcohol down his throat. I wonder if he will feel the same if he feels real fire. If I remember correctly, most don’t. And now, now I do remember. | My name is Geoff, and I work as a CPA for a fairly prestigious accounting firm. I have always been great at math. Since I was a child, I excelled in all of my classes. I graduated as valedictorian, and I went on to become a lauded CPA, or so I thought.
The other day I was going through some old newspapers that my firm had tucked away... I don’t know why an accounting firm would hoard newspapers but I digress.
On the front page there was a story about a man who used his massive intellect to inflict pain upon he city. They called the man, The Intellegencia. This super villain was able to use his mind to control computers, and he was capable of using his advanced intellect to stop nearly every hero that came after him. He even managed to kill Cosmo, The Universal Hero (this dude could control the fabric of the universe. He could increase gravity exponentially and even manipulate time. He was powerful).
Now I do not usually care about what heroes and villains are doing. For the most part they do not affect my life. But this Intellegencia guy is different. He was wearing a mask, but I can recognize my own eyes from anywhere.
This man plastered across the front page is me.
I’ve heard of a superhero, The Wash, who can wipe people’s minds. He has psychic powers that allow him to control and manipulate people (good thing he is not a villain). He doesn’t like to fight. Instead, he uses his powers to wipe the minds of super villains and to set them up with new lives. I always thought it was more decent than killing them or whatever else Supermonger and Ratman do to their villains. But now that I know it’s happened to me, I don’t know how I feel about it anymore.
I mean, I like being Geoff. I make a decent salary, and I have a beautiful wife (well she has an overbite but she is a solid 8 out of 10). We are expecting our first child in about three months. If I go down this rabbit hole and try to figure out my past, I could lose all of that. (I wonder if my wife used to be a super villain. Maybe she got bit by a rabbit when she was young and developed steel chomping powers. Seriously, that overbite is crazy).
That being said, I’d like to know why I was such an evil person. I mean now I don’t even squash spiders. I use a cup to take them outside and set them free. How could I have killed people? What would make me do something so horrid?
Maybe I can find The Wash and ask him to take away this particular memory. He’d probably do it. It would allow me to just be Geoff and continue on in my life blissfully unaware of the pain I had caused. No, I need to know why I was who I was.
This won’t change me. I know who I am now. I am a good person, and I know that knowing the full extent of my powers will help me change the world for the better. I am now Geoff, not The Intellegencia, and I will help the world.
| 2017-12-30T09:39:15 | 2017-12-30T08:43:02 | 85 | 60 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | I had been in line for some time now and was grateful to hear the man in front of me called forward, he was the sort that must have skipped showers here and there. Then again, we were dead and so suddenly I expected that none of us smelled like roses. I had my armpit to my nose when he turned back and with a brief nod said, “Good luck, mate.”
I heard his sentence and couldn’t help but roll my eyes. *Serves him right the unfaithful sod* were the words that were running through my mind when I heard, “Henry Thudor” called forward.
I stepped up to the stage, walking up the steps reminded me of when I had many years ago for graduation. My life had been a pretty boring one, but I’d been reasonable. Maybe 1 or 2 years in hell for the can of coke I once shoplifted and the screaming child I wished a plague of bees upon one late flight many moons ago.
The person in front of me looked like he’d bought his outfit in an after Halloween clearance sale. I eyed him up and down, the pointed tail, the horns on his head – hardly frightening when I’ve seen it so many times before.
“186,292.”
“I beg your pardon?”
The number had been said clearly enough but the logic of it couldn’t quite catch up to it jumbling around in my head.
“That has to be a mistake.”
“Tell me, Mr Thudor –“
“Oh!” I interrupted and waved my hand, *bloody idiot* I thought, but I said, “It’s my name, isn’t it? Simple mistake, but wrong king – you want the eighth, and I’m surprised you got me mixed up when it’s been what, how many years since the ol’ wife lopper kicked the bucket? Actually, is he here? Do we get to meet famous people in hell?”
The demon peered down on me with the same look I’d been given by my second-year teacher when I’d stolen Eve’s apple. I gulped.
“Mr Thudor, tell me, have you ever looked upon anyone without passing judgement on them?”
The saliva I had previously been wrestling down stayed full and choking in my throat. So, this is how it ends, all because I found the fast food waitress’s hair irresponsible.
“I would like to see a lawyer.”
“Well, there are plenty of those down here, although little use it will do you.”
I didn’t hesitate, I held my head high.“I believe that the sins that have been ascribed to me following my judgement of fellow human beings,” at the demons pointed glance I corrected myself, “and as of the past few minutes demons, should instead be placed upon them.”
The demon ran a well-trimmed nail over the horn that jutted out atop his head. “We do enjoy a good show, we’ll bring you a lawyer. I’ll warn you though, 186,000 of those years have little to do with your judgement of others.”
“Then what is the problem here?”
Again, the demon tilted his head forward and my childhood teacher came once more to mind.
“For reasons I’d have thought obvious, we don’t take kindly to those who steal apples.” | "186,292 years!?!"
"Yup." St. Peter looked bored, maybe even a little annoyed. I suppose I wasn't his first today to be taken back by their sentence -- by this _rejection_ -- and I suspect I won't be the last.
But then my gaze moved over St. Peter's left shoulder to... Majesty? Brilliance? This glowing man... being... just perfection. Indescribable perfection.
Love.
He was wearing headphones and it looked like he was getting down to some sick beats.
"Is... is that...?" I asked.
"Of course. Who else would it be?"
"What is He listening to?"
"Probably Nickelback. It's pretty much all He ever plays."
I paused, surprised. Nickelback? How could he...
"Oh. Okay. I get it now. So... See you in 186,292 years?" I ask.
"See you in 186,292 years." | 2018-09-26T08:46:32 | 2018-09-26T08:25:34 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | I had thought Mary was the one. I'd hidden my wealth and lived a modest lifestyle for a few years before she found me. I had thought it was real. It had felt real. She held me when I cried when the dog died. I told her about the wealth a few months before the wedding. She didn't seem to care.
The months turned to years and years to decades. We had our rough patches. It's funny, I've had so many relationships before you would think I'd be good at them. I think I am, now.
The murder attempts didn't start until her mid sixties. They were cute. She tried so hard to make them look like accidents. The brake cables on the car, the electrical fire in my lodge. The SCUBA accident.
I ignored them, until she really hurt me. Stabbed me in the back. Literally. I think it was the betrayal that really got to me. I had thought she'd loved me. I thought about these last few decades and then pushed my way into the room. She sat on the edge of the couch, crocodile tears streaming down her face.
Despite my resolve the sight of her moved me. She had always been pretty, but the years had turned the looks of her youth into the beauty of age. Her makeup was done impeccably where the tears hadn't ruined it. She wore her mother's necklace, a small cross set with diamonds. She'd worn it on our wedding day. I hardened my heart.
"All these years and now you're after the money?" I asked, accusing. "And yet you've tried again and again to kill me. I have news, Mary. I knew about it. I knew about all of them. And they all failed. Do you know why?"
"Yes." She said. I was surprised. "Yes, I know why."
"I'm immortal." I said, off my guard. "You can't kill me. You won't get the money."
She stood up and faced me, the trickle of tears had turned to a flood, and her anger washed over me like a storm. "Don't you get it? I don't want the money! I never wanted the money! Is that what you think of me? After all this time? That I was just some whore you could buy? All this time, listen to me." She sniffed back a wad of snot and laughed. She continued bitterly "Forty three years? Most of my life. A weekend fling for you."
I had no idea what to say, so asked the only question I could think of as she slowly melted back down the the couch. Her fist over her mouth. "Then why? What do you want?"
She squeezed her eyes shut and the tears really flowed. "You're an idiot. Isn't it obvious?" I shook my head but said nothing. She hadn't seen the gesture. The rage had gone when she spoke again, barely soft enough to hear. "I want you. That's all I want."
"So you tried to kill me? I don't understand."
Her anger returned, flashing in her emerald eyes. "I'm going to die. Don't you understand that? I. Am. Going. To. Die. And you won't!" She shouted it like an accusation. She clutched her necklace and a sob wracked her
"When dad died mom said that she would see him again in heaven. She talked about it. She looked forward to it. She died with a smile. And I can't... I can't bear the thought of eternity without you. I had to try. I'm so sorry, but I at least had to try." | She smiles at me from across the table, and raises a glass of white wine to my red. It’s funny, I had never noticed her preference for white wine before tonight- our anniversary- perhaps it’s because the house red is poisoned tonight. I could see the particulates collecting in the bottom of the glass.
Our glasses clink with a crisp sound and I drain the lot in one go. Arsenic gives an acrid flavour to the wine, but nothing that couldn’t be passed off as it turning to vinegar.
“To our long and happy lives darling,” I say, resting my hand over hers. The obnoxiously large diamond ring I bought her when we got married sits uncomfortably under my fingers, but when you’ve had centuries to collect wealth, the size and opulence of jewellery like this ceases to surprise you.
My wife’s smile tightens at my statement, as if she knows something I don’t. Of course, she doesn’t know anything I don’t, I’ve had a millennia to collect every scrap of knowledge I can, every tell tale sign of deceit and danger is obvious when you’re looking for it.
Another glass, and she begins to smile less. I’ll let her win eventually, but not until another foreign “cousin” who looks remarkably similar collects my entire inheritance- We signed a prenup after all- and she’s left with the guilt of my murder with nothing to show for it.
I love breaking in black widows, it’s my favourite hobby. | 2019-07-31T09:43:04 | 2019-07-31T09:07:14 | 75 | 48 |
[WP] An alien race encounters the most terrifying predator imaginable. A lone, unarmed human. | "One minute to impact", the computerized Starship Assistant warned.
The Ovmar had all but destroyed my ship and killed the entire crew - all 451 of them. Their devious hack had sabotaged my ship to deploy all of the escape pods and detonate three of the projectiles before we locked them out in the battle. As the remainder of my crew fled to the Huntress, the only remaining shuttle in the shuttlebay, the Ovmar hack had booby-trapped the shuttlebay door to detonate the Huntress' payload and took out everyone.
Although we prevailed in battle, I was the only survivor in its aftermath, my ship plummeting in a freefall to the only habitable planet nearby.
"Ten seconds to impact."
I passed out in complete shock.
--------
"What do you think it is, Pugh?" Jep asked his younger sister.
Despite being three years younger, Pugh was a formidable scout in the military, just one rank below her brother. Pugh looked with bewilderment at this enormous bio mass that spanned into the horizon.
"I'm not sure, Jep. It must be a billion yurks tall, and it moves five thousand times faster than a pissed off plog. I have no idea what it is, thought it seems to be some sort of biological vessel. We'll know something as soon as our satellite passes over in three hours. It's harboring trillions of simpletons."
Jep didn't hesitate. "I'm reporting this to central command... we have to stop this thing before it reaches the outposts, or gods forbid, the oceans! We'll need the entire battalion!" Jep said as he pulled out his farsound.
----------
When I woke, I was sure I was dead. I couldn't move anything. Turns out being a captain of a starship and going down with the ship wasn't as glamorous in real life as it was in the stories. I could move my head - slightly.
We didn't have much of a chance to scout the planet before choosing it as our landing zone. I could breathe, thankfully. The entire bridge was complete exposed to the elements. I could see a slight orange haze in the sky, but very little else.
I felt a slight pain on my nose. Pain... was very welcoming. I could at least feel. I tried to move my arm, but nothing happened.
"Damn it, why couldn't the impact have taken me?"
------------
"Ready! Fire! Fire NOW!", Jep commanded his battalion with a tone of desparation.
The elite army - tens of thousands of sphere-shaped Ramzen - all trained their weapons on the designated spot and complete depleted their munitions.
"It's having no effect, General! The bio vessel is still very active, spewing countless simpletons with each propulsion of air! The simpletons will overrun us if the vessel doesn't destroy us first!"
Jep furrowed his brow at the news, but then quickly responded.
"We will have to use the mass annihilator. It's our only hope. If the vessel reaches the oceans, all is lost."
-----------------
That damned pain on my nose got a little worse. I instinctively tried to swat, but my arm still didn't obey. Slowly, though, I started to get feeling throughout the rest of my body.
I could feel some strength return. First, one finger twitched, and then my whole hand was able to clench. I gathered the strength to prop myself up. Then it hit me - the incredible thirst. I must have been out for a day. I was completely dehydrated. And just as the thirst hit me, an uncontrollable sneeze took me by surprise. The dust from the crash site was covering everything.
I climbed through the debris and finally made my way to solid ground. All supplies on the ship were complete lost. I had to live off the land, but thankfully I could see a small puddle of water just ten feet away.
-------------
Jep stared in disbelief as half of his battalion was completely destroyed by biomass vessel's seemingly aimless movements.
"Pugh... speak to me!", he pleaded at his lifeless sister, but Jep knew it was hopeless.
The biomass vessel had moved so fast, so suddenly. The force of the wind blew thousands of Ramzens away while some sort of electrical charge emanating from the biomass vessel overloaded thousands of other Ramzens' suits. Millions of simpletons had floated down and started to attack the survivors.
"Sir, the biomass vessel - it is veering towards the oceans! We must use the annihilator now!", a desperate private reported.
"Fire! Damnit, fire!" Jep commanded.
The private launched his race's ultimate weapon - the mass annihilator - at the biomass vessel. His whole race depended on this.
Jep held his breath for what seemed like an eternity.
"No effect! The attack had no effect!". Jep stared blankly at the biomass vessel as the rest of his battalion was overwhelmed by simpletons.
Jep's final sight before succumbing to the simpletons was the entire ocean being sucked up into the biomass vessel.
| "I'll never forgot the time the humans walked among us, it was so long ago but still so close in our collective memories."
Zutu's deep red eyes gleamed and his whispy smoky figure flickered in the darkness as he went on with the story that we had all heard as young babes. Each and every Zothorian had heard this tale and although part of the fun was scaring the children, there was good purpose too. We had much to fear from the humans, and the first time we were lucky, really lucky.
"It was a regular Moon day, like any other, the great people were in their underground homes and the scientists were working on olden day projects such as the interplanetary system transporter and the light wave energy cannon. There seemed to be nothing to signify just how different this day would truly be. Little did we know this day could have destroyed the Zothorian race forever"
As Zutu went on I drifted off into the real version of events. The version zutu would never say simply because if he did he would end up in Morgutary for the next thousand years. The truth was classified, by the great king Zudelia, my late father. The truth was the humans were for all intents and purposes, harmless. They used technology we had long surpassed and have physical limitations we do not have. We are the shadow race, we blend in with our surroundings and the human eye would never discern us. The humans were a primitive race who our people had chosen to protect but if they knew the truth...they might not be so forthcoming.
The truth was that the humans had one advantage over us, and that was their immune system. This was something the Zotharians simply never adapted to and a simple influenza virus could kill a fully grown adult in just a few hours. Naurally, we had eliminated most forms of life on the moon and thereby believed we had taken care of the problem of bacteria and virus's but then it happened, the loud noises, the lights, and finally the landing.
As the human walked towards us, not even being able to tel that we were merely feet away from him, he said these words
"This is one small step for man, and one huge leap for mankind"
Needless to say that if he had been a step closer to the few Zotharians who did not have time to move, they would be dead. You see, a Zotharian is only invisible when he stands still, but movement alters the camouflage and the deep red Zotharian eyes can be clearly seen. Shaking, the Zotharian workers who stood near this human prayed to God that their lives would be spared, and by some miracle, the human never came into contact with them.
What followed was a flurry of decrees, curfews, and underground lockdowns until the humans finally left. To this day we tell our children stories of the humans, to instill a deep deep fear of them so that when the humans do return to our side of the moon, they children will be no nowhere near by the time they touch down. | 2014-08-06T12:10:54 | 2014-08-06T11:44:58 | 42 | 28 |
[WP] Only Atheists go to heaven, but they’re all super pissed that they were wrong.
[removed] | "This... is such *bullshit*"
"You're telling me!"
"I know right?!"
The crowd of new arrivals gathered at the gate of heaven. They were waiting for one of the older tenants of heaven to come and explain the situation to them.
"I don't know if I should be pissed off or relieved." said a short woman with a mane of black curly hair. She held her hands on her hips and looked for the most part to be completely *done*. "I mean, I would rather not exist, but if Heaven is real, you have to imagine Hell is too."
"Oh shit, yeah" said another woman who looked to be in her mid fifties a few feet away. She imagined ending up there and cringed. Going by everyone else's face, they were doing the same thing.
"Now wait a second." A black man who had to be in his late seventies stepped forward from the crowd. He spoke with an accent. "What do you mean, you 'would rather not exist'?"
"Exactly what it sounds like" the short woman said. "I'm an atheist"
A silence fell upon the group. Someone cleared their throat awkwardly. "Me too" said a random voice in the crowd. A couple more people mumbled their agreement.
"Excuse me if I'm wrong," said the old man, "but I think it is safe to say we are all atheists, yes?"
There was a smattering of 'yes's and 'uh-huh's. The old man hummed thoughtfully. "I see" he said. "Then perhaps there has been a mistake"
Nobody looked happy at that thought. Images of pitchforks, fire and brimstone danced through their heads. A teenager in the back looked like he might be sick. Just when the tension and fear hit a fever pitch, a perky voice said, "Don't be too sure about that!", thoroughly startling everyone.
A woman in giant glasses stepped out from behind an elderly man who looked just as surprised to see her as everybody else. "Hello!" She said, "Welcome to Heaven. My name is Shannon!"
Her smile was almost too big for her face. When the older man held out his hand and said hello, she pivoted on her heel and grabbed it with a zeal only the insane and the extremely excitable could manage.
"I'm so happy to meet you all!" said Shannon, "I just know we're going to have a great time together. Now, before we get started, I just know you guys are *dying* to ask some questions."
The short woman with the curly hair opened her mouth as if to speak, but Shannon said "Well, I've got some answers!" before she could get a word in.
"Long story short, God is just about as old as existence. The religion hasn't been around for nearly as long on Earth, but that's still a *long* time. Just enough time, in fact, for most people to butcher the bible and start worshiping their own *idea* of god. That is a big no-no. The only really important commandment is 'Thou shalt not worship false idols and what have you'. I'm paraphrasing"
"But we don't even believe in God!" said the teen boy.
"Well, at least you're not worshiping other gods. It's kinda the only bar" Shannon replied.
"What about rapists and murderers?" asked the short woman. Shannon shrugged, "If they're atheists: Purgatory"
"Really?" asked the woman. She looked like she had just tasted something sour. "But how is that fair? What about the good people that just believed in the wrong thing? It's not their fault!"
Shannon held up her hands placatingly. "Look, I'm gonna be honest. I don't know what happens to them-" she said. People started making outraged noises."-but, BUT I'm sure they're *fine*."
"How can you think that if you don't know?" the boy asked. He looked stricken. Shannon softened to him immediately. "You'll understand what I mean once you meet god, okay?"
"Really?" He gave her a guarded look.
Shannon smiled. "Really"
She looked to the rest of the group. "Now let's go get something to eat. I'm starvin' to death over here." A few people laughed, and Shannon's grin grew wicked.
"Oh? You like that? Well then y'all are gonna love the angel cake. It's *divine*."
"Oh my god! Stop!"
"*Hell* no!"
| “Drats, Darwin was wrong! There is a God after all!” said Carl Sagan as he stood just inside the Pearly Gates.
“Hey big C, come on in!” yelled Jesus from the hot tub, naked except for the tiniest mankini covering his Holy unmentionables.
Carl’s face began to scrunch up in fury and confusion. “You’re Jesus! Einstein’s theory of special relativity proved you didn’t exist! This must be a delusion! Science would never betray me like this! I am the brilliant atheist Carl Sagan! I can never be wrong! I am too intelligent! ATHEISM IS THE TRUE PATH!” Carl began to sputter incomprehensibly, his atheism racked by cognitive dissonance.
“Oh bummer,” said Jesus, his mankini riding up his chiseled glutes. “Daddy! DADDY!!”
“What is it, baby boy?” said God, grilling sausages in a Hawaiian shirt.
“Daddy, the Sagan is broken.”
“Well, put it next to the Hitchens. I’ll fix them later.”
“Oh please do daddy. Please please do!” Jesus picked Carl Sagan up with his big muscly arms and carried him to the atheist cellar and put him down next to Christopher Hitchens, whose head was spinning in circles and who was projectile vomiting a pink viscous fluid while shouting “INVADE IRAQQQQ!!!!”
Jesús went back up to Daddy God and said, “Daddy, I put the Sagan with the Hitchens. May I have a little kiss on the cheek?” Daddy God smiled and gave Jesus the littlest peck on the cheek.
“Now Jesus, be sure to bury more fossils for the atheists to find. Otherwise they’ll start believing in us! Make the fossils easy to find baby boy.”
“Oh daddy. The atheists always find my fossils. It’s not like they have girlfriends to distract them or anything!”
Jesus and Daddy God shared a hearty laugh. “Now Jesus, if you keep saying those naughty things, I’ll have to spank you right on your bottom!”
Down on Earth, at their archaeological dig site, the Great Atheists Richard Dawkins and Bill Nye thought they saw a beautiful man burying dinosaur bones off in the distance. But maybe it was just their eyes playing tricks.
THE END...
...
...? | 2018-02-27T22:26:05 | 2018-02-27T21:34:49 | 83 | 15 |
[WP] For 24 hours each year, all cats can break any cat laws without consequences. Welcome to the Purrrge. | Stepping slowly and lightly, I walked through the house at ease. Today was not the day to start fights with Rascal or Buddy; today was not the day to jump to High Places and lounge in the warm sun. Despite this, I ran my tail along Buddy's long snout as he slept on the giant cushion bed he'd gotten years ago as a puppy. He snuffled, and boofed in his sleep, paws still twitching as he chased or played or ran madly in his dreams. Rascal, settled in the slash of sunlight slowly growing on the kitchen floor, lifted his head in surprise as I stepped close, and watched me with pupils wide as I sashayed through the door frame to the living room, then on toward the bedroom. This was not his day for rulebreaking. This was mine.
Mama was in bed, soundly asleep beneath several layers of blankets, her breathing slow and deep. I paced the room, measuring it again and ensuring nothing had changed, then leapt noiseless to the foot of the bed and paused, paws dimpling the duvet. One purposeful step at a time I walked along the very edge of the bed until I got to Mama's shoulder. I watched her for a moment, then leaned in to rub my cheek along her nose, firm pressure but small gentle strokes. She moved slightly and sighed, so I climbed atop her and curled up on her chest and throat, purring deeply, adding my warmth to her own. Sunlight slanted in through the open window and warmed the room as minutes ticked by, becoming hours, we two nearly motionless and nearly silent, but close in this very uncharacteristic cuddle.
I never really let on how much I enjoyed those quiet moments; we're not supposed to. That's just one of The Rules. But today was my day to be a rulebreaker, and my only regret was that I would not be able to do this again next year. The greater the rule broken, the longer the debt must be repaid.
******************
Around lunch time, Sarah went to check on her mother, bringing a glass of water and one of broth. The wrinkled old face was at peace in a way that clutched her heart briefly until she heard the soft inhalation of another breath. Was she smiling? Perhaps she was having good dreams, wherever she was.
Coming to stand by her old and failing mother, Sarah saw a circle of fabric tucked under her chin. How had that gotten there? She recognized it as Caspian's collar, and picked it up, rubbing the tag idly as she looked around in mild confusion. Her fingers circled over the face with its name etched large, and the back with "1996-2017" etched rather smaller.
Shrugging, Sarah returned the collar to the nightstand where it belonged.
*Edited to correct typos* | Purrrge day!
I purred excitedly as I flopped down on the ground and presented my fluffy belly for petting. One of my human immediately drew closer, wary but clearly interested.
I gave a charming wiggle, flicking an ear for good measure.
Tentative fingers stroked my belly fur, hesitantly and then with more and more confidence.
“Josh! Josh, come quick! Oreo’s letting me pet his belly!!”
I grinned and purred for more. Ignoring the Law of Belly Pets for Three Seconds Before Attacking today was going to make the next year of Allie and Josh trying to recreate this result more hilarious than ever.
My dumb humans never learn, and that’s just the way I like ‘em! | 2018-08-22T07:58:24 | 2018-08-22T07:23:02 | 1,450 | 491 |
[WP] Killing a person raises your life span by 20 years, but it comes with a cost.
First Reddit post ever. Please be gentle
Edit: Did not expect this to blow up. | "Look, let's just get this over with so we can eat lunch. Guilty."
"There's no evidence, I can't convict him without evidence."
"What are you, stupid? Did you see how old he is? Besides, it says right here he was born one hundred years ago. Statistically, most men are dead by then. And he's in excellent health."
"I mean, even if we're wrong, it's not as if he had much life left in him anyway."
"Plus he was the only one around at the time."
"Look, for all we know, his son committed suicide."
"Right. His son. The fat leech with fingers deep in his father's bank accounts. He didn't have to work a day in his life."
"You're not thinking this through. He was unemployed, not by choice. He felt as if he was being a burden on his father and offed himself. You read the letter."
"Fuck the letter. You can fake a letter."
"You saw the old man crying."
"You can fake tears."
"And what about his ex-wife? She left him for a reason. Maybe she saw what you didn't. Maybe she saw what we're all seeing."
"Young, pretty woman like her marrying a rich old man? I'd be surprised if she didn't want him dead for his inheritance. The son's out of the way already."
"You know there's only one way to know for sure."
"But that-"
"IF. IF we declare him guilty, he'll get the death penalty. Then all we have to do is read the report for when he dies."
"That's preposterous! He's just an old man! There's no evidence!"
"Look, I'm just saying. When murderers die, their faces change to that of their last victim. Everyone knows that. So when he dies, if his face changes to that of his son, then we're right."
"I don't see how that helps."
"It is eleven against one. Based on all the circumstances, do you really think he's completely innocent? Are you just wasting all of our time here?"
"If we just consider the evidence-
"There is no evidence to consider! You said it yourself. Just say 'guilty'."
...
"Has the jury reached a verdict?"
"We have, your honor. We, the jury, find the defendant..."
"Fuck you. Fuck all of you."
"Mister Matthews, calm down or I will find you in contempt of court."
"I'm already a dead man. Your contempt doesn't scare me. Just know this. You're killing an innocent old man."
"...guilty."
"Take him away, bailiff."
"Come along, Mister Matthews."
"Forget you all!"
"Put that down!"
"He's got his gun!"
**BANG**
There was no death sentence. The bailiff put two fingers to Mister Matthews' wrist. "He's dead." No shit, sherlock. There was a hole through the top of his head. Everyone was looking at his face. Waiting for it to change. Everyone except me. I just cussed out loud. Because his face didn't change. It couldn't have, even if he had murdered his son. For in this crazy, messed up world, where your face changes to match the last person you've killed, Mister Matthews found a guaranteed way to keep his own face. Mister Matthews had shot himself. And now we'll never know. | Shit, it was a gun.
That was the first thing I thought to myself when I saw the man pull out his hand. How stupid of me, thinking I could take on this fucking robber.
The fuck face and his gun seemed to smile at me for a second. Before I notice it, the gun was pointed towards my chest.
What the fuck face didn't know was that, I too had a little jimmy in my pocket.
I scoffed at the gun.
Then I heard a gunshot.
My spider man shirt was ruined. The fuck face drilled a hole on spidey's right eye. Blood quickly spurted out and got all over my shirt.
Thinking about my new shirt, I took out little jimmy and pulled the trigger.
I felt it.
20 more years.
My wound quickly closed, then after a second it seemed like there was no damage at all.
"20 more years again huh," I thought to myself.
Every time I gain 20 years there is always a cost. Before they were bearable, like a couple dead people, or a broken red bridge.
But today was devasting.
I looked all around me.
Shit.
I really liked this fucking shirt too. | 2016-10-23T22:31:00 | 2016-10-23T22:06:03 | 124 | 34 |
[WP] To your horror, the monster under your bed has pulled you in. It’s shaking, and pointing at the slowly opening closet door | The only way to live with a monster is to pretend it doesn’t exist.
Even when I see it in the corner of my eye when changing into my pajamas for bed, I just act as if I didn’t. Nope, those aren’t glinting eyes and murderous claws under my bed; it’s a trick of the light!
But, it’s bed-time now. And if I don’t turn the light off, Dad gets angry. Like, really angry. Monster-level angry. So even though I’m scared, I gotta turn the light off.
Lights are off. The room feels different without it. The air’s heavier somehow.
I’m just stalling. I’m gonna have to get near the bed to get into it, but I don’t wanna leave my feet open anywhere near the bottom of it. I can’t jump into it, cause that’ll wake Dad up. After he came back from the military, he’s been having trouble staying asleep, so I gotta be quiet.
It’s just five—no, *four* steps. I’m ten now. A man. I can do this.
Alright. Here goes.
One step.
Two.
Just a couple mor—
A shadow leaps out from underneath the bed, rustling the overhanging covers. Something sharp digs into my ankle and pulls me down, but before I can scream or even hit the ground, two pairs of scaly-hand-thingies cradle the back of my head and cover my mouth. I’m whisked under the bed, which for some reason feels more like a cave. It’s pitch-black underneath here.
“Shhhh, human-baby,” a strange, inhuman voice whispers in the darkness. “Shhhhhh. Jeeka no hurt.”
“MHHMMM,” I cry out, words muffled against its hand, struggling with all my might to get free. “MMHMMM!”
“Shhhhh, now. Shhhhh. No good. Please, shhhhhh.” The scaly hands let me down on the carpet, leaving my limbs free, but a hand stays covering my mouth. “Please, human-baby. Shhhhh.”
A totally crazy thought comes to my mind. The monster sounds scared. That’s not possible, is it? What does a monster have to be afraid of?
I suddenly realize there’s no pain from my ankle. I thought it had dug its claws in. But when I touch it, there’s no injury.
“Human-baby,” the monster—I think it said its name was Jeeka—says. “No good. This night, sleep with Jeeka.”
I shake my head. Why was it so dark under my bed? It really felt like another space.
Jeeka made a quiet hiss of annoyance. “Cole so stubborn. Fine, fine. See.”
*It knows my name?*
Reaching a hand over me, Jeeka raises the bottom of my cover just the tiniest bit. It’s too dark to really make anything out…
Except for my closet. A very dim light outlined the door. But there was no lightbulb in there.
“No good,” Jeeka whispers close to my ear. Its raspy voice sounds surprisingly gentle. “That light. No good. Cole sleep with Jeeka.”
“What is that light?” I try to say, but against its hand it comes out as a muffled “MHHHMM?”
“That light,” Jeeka smoothly responds, as if it understood what I was trying to say, “no good. Human-man's monster. Your human-man's monster. Big Cole.”
“MHHHHM?” I ask. *My dad’s monster?*
“Yes,” Jeeka hisses. “Human-man's monster wants you too. No good, no good. Cole my human-baby. Not for human-man's monster. Not ready. Too young. Must be small scare before big. Must have day before night. Mhmm. Shhh, Cole. Shhhh. Safe with Jeeka. Safe.”
I don’t understand it, but the tone of Jeeka’s voice shifts into something resembling a cat’s purr. A strange drowsiness lilts through me. Jeeka removes the hand-claw-thingy from my mouth, continuing to make that purring noise, as the faint noise of a door creaking open in the background picks up.
“Shhhh,” Jeeka murmurs. “Shhhh. Safe, Cole. Safe.”
I fall asleep to a clawed hand stroking my head softly, and for a moment, I imagine it’s Mom, and she’s still here and Dad never got deployed and everything is going to be good again...
---
When I wake up, I'm atop of my bed and tucked into the covers. Daylight pours in through my window. My closet door is wide open, and nothing is underneath my bed.
/r/chrischang | I was feeling pretty lonely and I realized it was one of those nights. The kind of nights where you wish someone would hold you close.
Suddenly I got my wish granted.
I shuddered from the icy touch of an unknown being pulling me under my bed. Instantly I freaked out and started to punch and claw the being that was holding me from behind. The unknown being struggled back and attempted to restrain me. After a hefty one sided fight, I went limp upon seeing my closet door move.
Creaking and moaning. The door let out a final scratchy croak to reveal something that was all too familiar.
Its?!
My good friend Takeshi?
But something was off. His eyes shot beams of light everywhere and he began humming the tune of the popular theme song from the show doraemon.
What the heck is he doing here? It's 2am? I watched him stumble around my room until eventually exiting. He did say that he gets weird when he's off the meds. I'll have to have him explain later.
A moment of quiet returned and I took that moment to ram my elbow into the unknown being embracing me from behind. I heard a small grunt in pain and the loosening of what felt like arms around my waist.
Quickly, I wormed my way out from under the bed and went over to the baseball bat I kept near the door in case of moments like these.
Pa, I know you raised me to know better but today I didn't fall asleep and decided to choose violence.
As the unknown being slowly reached out their arm from under the bed, I began to throw swing after swing. I heard pained shrieks as the unknown being struggle to painfully make their way out as I continually struck them.
?! Suddenly a lamp knocked over and the light shone on the unknown being hiding under my bed.
You're.... Takeshi?
But there was something off, he was wearing a soldier's uniform and had some candles tied to his head.
He raised his arms in fear as I readied up another strike.
And then, walked in.... Takeshi? This time holding a Bible and wearing a priest's attire. The last time I talked to Takeshi, he wasn't a soldier, or a pastor, and i think he would've told me if he shot light beams out of his eyes..
As I was trying to process what happened, yet another Takeshi walked in with a cat in hand and my coffee mug.
-hi this is my first time responding to a prompt. Sorry for so much Takeshi. Its 2am, and his name keeps popping up in my head. Haha. I'm sorry if Takeshi wasn't exactly the monster you were hoping to read about. | 2021-05-29T23:08:09 | 2021-05-29T23:02:02 | 238 | 14 |
[WP] You're almost completely immortal- only one thing can kill you. You don't know what that one thing is, though, and you're getting increasingly paranoid as the years go on. | Day 1: A strange being has granted me immortality after I set it free from it's prison, only one thing is left that can kill me. I don't know what it is, but that's not bothering me too much. Let's see where this brings me
Day 7/Week 1: I have tried to kill myself a few times. I am pretty sure I am actually really immortal. I couldn't actually believe it but neither sword, axe, dagger or knife can harm me.
Week4/ Month1: I have stopped trying to see what can hurt me. What if I actually kill myself, I mean it could be anything. But I don't mind. There are a lot of things in this world. It will be a long time until I will encounter what can kill me
Month 2: I was conscripted into the military. War will be scary but I will gladly fight for my country. The dangers might be able to kill me, but then again, there might be nothing that can kill me there.
Month 12: War... War is hell... I don't know what else to say. I have seen friends die... Shot, blasted away by a grenade.... But I... I survived it all... Maybe I'll look for it again. It that can kill me
Year 2: the war is over.. we won.. but at what cost.. most of my friends are among the fallen. I don't know what to do. I started going to therapy, let's see where it leads me. My suicide attempts are all fruitless. But... If I do, then why did I survive.... I am scared...
Year 5: I am pretty sure the therapy helps. I have found a nice office job and recently met a cute girl in a bar. I hope everything goes well, and that's she is not what will kill me.
Year 10: I recently got married, the wedding was nice, but I was reluctant to try all this new food we had there, it could kill me after all. Still going to therapy but I might stop soon. My wife is pregnant and our son will be born soon. I have to live... For him
Year 25: My wife and son died in a car crash last year. I was also in the car.. why does this world take it all from me... Started therapy again, but I am scared, what if this new therapist is what kills me
Year 100: I decided to move to a remote place, I am pretty sure everything is out to kill me..
I don't know what can though... My diet is limited to what I know. But I'll try to change it to self made only
Year 250: haven't had contact with another human in the last 50 years, decided to stop eating 25 years ago... The pain is excruciating. But if I don't eat I won't die from eating the wrong thing... There are less and less places I can pull back to.. humans have almost taken over the entire planet.. maybe I'll try the Himalayas next
Year 500: I live in a cave now. Haven't left it in the last 50 years move as little as possible. Only to get new writing material. But everything new might kill me. Killed a human last week. They tried to come to close to me. So I killed them before they could kill me.. what have I become...
Year 1000: everything is bland I only move to write down nowadays. Humans have finally found me, they experiment on me, but I they let me keep my diary... I am scared.. I might die any day now... They try new things and it's scary... Though it might be a release from this life of survival.... Who knows
Year 1001: I have decided to stop writing. Never know when it could kill me. It hasn't so far. But it could change... Fare well.. . . . . | Ever since I gained consciousness and could remember the words God told me as I was reincarnated, I've been paranoid of everything. Changes of weather, illnesses, even hearing new words. My kryptonite could be anything, and so I've decided to only repeat the things I've done since childhood. I don't want to take any chances.
But the older I get the harder it becomes. No matter what I do I'm forced to experience new things, which means the pool of potential killers is decreasing. There is simply too many outside influences in my life. For example, my friend Anna, who I've known since I stole her plastic horse on the playground, is researching medicine at a University. She just can't shut up about her job. All the new discoveries, all the new fancy words. It's gotten to a point I can't interact with her anymore. And she's not the only one I've had to cut out from my life.
In fact, I've reduced my amount of social contacts to zero. My parents have died a long time ago so I've been able to live in my childhood home alone. I use internet to pay for the necessities, but other than that, I don't communicate with the outside world in any way. I spend my days reading my childhood books and cleaning and cooking.
I realize that the life of repetition and solitude is a boring one, but I find living as a human far more preferable to dying and not feeling anything or reincarnating as something mundane like an insect. I rather like the capabilities my mind has. I'm content living like this, and I hope to survive for a few centuries at the very least.
~She died at the age of 65 after ingesting an apple coated with a newly invented preservative.~
(Criticism appreciated) | 2019-12-30T10:02:22 | 2019-12-30T08:50:36 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] You are a child's "imaginary friend". You are a guardian angel. And your kid is really, really stupid. | His head is stuck in the fence again. This is the third time now. The *third* time that I’ve had to break a kitchen window so his mother would run outside and see that her child has almost decapitated himself.
I float across the back yard, grab a brick off the pile of forgotten bricks that were supposed to turn into a fire pit, and hurl it at the bay window. It collides with the glass and travels right on through, flinging sharp shards of material all over the kitchen table.
“Joseph! Joseph! What was that!” She comes barreling into the dinning room and spots her 8 year old son in the backyard through the brick sized hole in the window. I watch her gasp way too dramatically, pick up the phone, call someone, and then rush outside with a bottle of vegetable oil.
Joseph is there, stuck in the fence...*dangling*. His head isn’t visible from where me and his mother are standing. It’s just a small body, with arms hanging limp and knees pressed into the mud.
I float through to the other side of the wooden fence and put my hands on my hips.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I question, raising an eyebrow.
“Molly! Is that you?” He squeaks. “Somehow my head just went right through these boards! I don’t know why.”
“What do you mean you don’t know why? Were you pretending to be a cat again?”
“Noooo...” he draws out the word as all liars do. “I just thought I saw a caterpillar over here and wanted to talk to it!”
“Joseph, I can’t protect you when you-” I pause, purse my lips to the side. It seems as though his *condition* is getting worse. First it was the pretending to be a cat thing, but now he’s talking to bugs too? This is getting out of hand.
“Don’t worry sweetie! I’ll get you out of there!” His mother’s busy lathering the poor kids neck in vegetable oil while I float back in forth in front of him.
“Okay mommy,” he replies, calm as ever.
“Joseph, caterpillars can’t talk. What made you think you could talk to a bug?” I question him.
“Because I talked to him yesterday!”
“Joseph, sweetie, who are you having a conversation with? I’m the only one here.” His mother has no idea that I exist or that I’m currently floating on the other side of the fence. She’s never been able to see me, not for the entire four years I’ve been hanging around this house.
“It’s just Molly, mom. My guardian angel, remember?” Joseph’s had this conversation one too many times for my taste. I cross my arms over my chest and roll my eyes, impatiently waiting for this dialogue to end.
“Your imaginary friend? Sweetie, hold still so I can apply this oil.”
“Joseph, a caterpillar did not talk to you yesterday.” I continue on, bending down so I can look him in the eye and let him know I’m not happy with this digression.
He wasn’t always an idiot. Or at least it didn’t seem like it. He did fine in school, learned all of his basic motor skills and potty training with no trouble at all. The teachers even used to commend him for his excellent grades! I don’t know what happened, but somewhere along the way a few wires must have come loose in that empty head of his.
“It did talk to me! Look, he’s here right now, on the ground next to your tail!” His little blue eyes travel to a spot on the grass, close to where the end of my body is positioned. I glance down and jolt back a few inches, startled.
He’s right. There’s a black and orange stripped caterpillar crawling across the blades of green grass towards Joseph. I peer down closer at it and to my surprise, it lifts its black fuzzy head, turning to look at me.
I inch even closer and see the smallest little mouth open beneath it’s black beady eyes. “Why, hello there dear madam! I am Sir Poli, pleasure to make your acquaintance!”
**Hai hai! :3 If you’d like to read more of my stories they can all be found at r/AliesStories! Thanks for reading!** | Oh boy. Where do I start? My name is Katie. I am a single mom, with three children. I could be spending my days with them, but instead, I am stuck with this 24/7 job that honestly, is so fucking stupid, which is ironic, because so is the child I look over.
His names Tim. He’s a sweet child, but sooo fucking dumb. I mean just the other day he decided to run away. Luckily, I got him to return home. Which sure, a 4 year old probably wouldn’t get too far, but, I shit you not, He wanted to stay on the roof. Not someone else’s roof, but his own.
I didn’t plan on introducing myself. I was going to simply stay in the shadows, get the job sone, and head home to MY kids. Unfortunately, his stupidity caused me to run into him. Now he thinks i’m his “imaginary friend”. And guess what he calls me? Bubbles. Such an idiotic, cliche name. Why would he- how could he- be so uncreative? I say that, but it takes a renaissance man to come up with ideas he has.
Anyways, thanks to this kid, I’m on the verge of turning. I spin my days looking after him and praying for some xanax. I have tried to run away, I have BEGGED my boss for a change in kid, but he keeps on refusing.
Now you may be wondering, if I hate him so much, why don’t I just quit? Why don’t I just pack up and leave? And i’ve thought about it. And I was in the verge on moving to Hell, but I realized something. This kid, well, he’s alone a lot. His parents are either out partying or working. He often stays with his grandmother who barely pays attention to him. It has hit me he simply wants someone to be with.
This kid is my kid too. He has been and always will be. He may be dumb, but he is also a kid who deserves someone, seen or not seem. And so, as I have been with the dope, I have learned to love him- as Bubbles or Katie.
(Sorry if there is any typos!) | 2019-10-31T13:01:37 | 2019-10-31T12:32:47 | 314 | 19 |
[WP] Everyone who dies is granted levels in heaven depending on their actions before they died. Your famous grandmother got level 64 after she died and has since been constantly reminding her friends about how useless of a grandchild you are. Then one day, after 80 years, you show up, level 3008. | His life had been a simple one, uncomplicated. What little excitement there had been surrounded expected events. Births of children and grandchildren, marriages, graduations. Though he had been a smart man, he never felt the need to work particularly hard, "furthering humanity" as some of his peers were compelled. There was the time, following several successful years as a Scout Master, that it was suggested that he run for mayor of the small town where he lived. He had laughed and said, "No thank you" to the members of the town council who had gathered on his doorstep.
"He squanders his potential!" she had whined at the other ladies gathered around the table. They gathered every other day to play Bridge, drink mimosas, and humble-brag about the minor intercessions that they were allowed in the lives of mortals. "Everyone knows that if he wanted the VP job, he'd have had it long before that philanderer Jacobs was ever hired." she let out a slow breath, almost whistling through pursed lips. "No drive, no motivation"
Grandma had been famous dancer back in the day. She was a regular on "Soul Train" and was in several scenes in Saturday Night Fever. She had started her own dance studio in the city and kept her instruction costs as low as she could in order to give as many kids a chance at a career. She had worked her feet to the bone, and then some. Practicing, paying dues, always just short, always just coming from behind.
"I made it to level 60 before I was 65!" It was invariable that the other women would hear about how his grandmother had started a charity for retired artists. The organization had helped countless artists move off the streets and back into permanent housing by helping them do things as complex as recover owed royalties or as simple as apply for disability. It was a worthwhile use of her hard-won fortune and fame.
When word came that he had finally died, 4 days after his 80th birthday, his grandmother was adamant.
"A real level 25 if I've ever seen one!"
"He'll be in heaven, living on the Lord's pity!"
The "Vita" began to print. The first thing that anyone saw, after your name, was the score. This was followed by every interaction, thought, word, or action that changed your level and the commensurate "XP" change, positive or negative.
The ladies read his name, and only one digit of his level.
"3......."
The grandmother sagged like wet cardboard. She could barely hold the paper as it poured from the printer in the way that always felt like it was decanting a whole life. There were no large changes in his score. None of the multi-level leaps that all of the highest level individuals possessed. Nothing attached to world changing events, nothing indicating that he radically changed humanity.
What he did have was the "multiplier". The longer the string of positive or negative interactions, the greater the "XP" that the next was worth. His interactions were almost all positive. He had gone almost a decade without a negative score at one point. Simply making his wife tea at night without being asked had scaled to the point that it was worth the same relative XP at level 3000 as it had at 30.
When some would've shaken their fists and yelled as they were cut-off in traffic, he just tapped his brakes and checked the rear-view mirror.
When some would have railed at the "idiots" at work making their job more difficult, he quietly cleaned up the mess and moved on.
When he was frustrated, he didn't take it out on his coworkers, wife, kids, or friends.
All of the small things that could break a multiplier string. All of the small, seemingly inconsequential items that prevented almost everyone from achieving arch-angel status. He had avoided most of them.
As he lay, dying in a hospital bed. His daughter asked him a question, though she well knew the answer and had heard it a thousand times. She wanted to hear it once more, so she asked, "Dad, how can I have a good life?"
He smiled and his cloudy, shimmering eyes seemed to focus on a point ten feet above his bed.
He whispered, trailing off, "Do unto others..."
Edit: Wow, absolutely thanks everyone. I enjoyed reading all of your comments, and I'm pleased that this supplants my previous high karma statement which was a quote about a man in the depths of an ether binge.
Special thanks to those that gilded. I'll have to sign into my account more often again and see what it does. | *--Warning: Abusive Themes--*
Smack.
This is not the first time she hit me, but on the 18th
birthday, this is the first time I can do something about. With my parent out
of the picture I was left with Great Ms. Albini, one of the world’s most famous
magicians. Regardless of her talent onstage, all her elegance evaporated when it
came to raising me. Belittling me, ordering me around, and in her furious moments
resorting to violence. “You’re a useless, rotten child” was a commonplace
insult. Not a soul would listen to me. How could they believe such a crazy child
when they looked into her sad blue eyes?
The red mark on my check showed exactly where she struck.
Giving her one final cold stare, I marched back on to my room, grabbed what I
needed, and walked out the door. I ignored her cries to come back and never
returned.
Five years later, her name was in the newspaper. Some accident
with one of pyrotechnics when she was making her entrance. She earned a level
of 64 before passive over, which can easily get you into one of the upper levels.
Whatever, I have my own life now.
I worked as a therapist in my little corner of town for the
rest of my years. Maybe I just wanted to be helpful, maybe it was projection,
but I felt this job was right for me. It was fun talking it out with him,
helping them get on the right track. I wasn’t a saint by any means, sometimes I
made less the desirable decisions. But, perhaps in the end I did make an impact
in another’s life.
My own time came at the ripe age of 98. Drawing my final
breath, I departed from the world and entered another one. I was too nervous to
see my score before I went. I was just a small-town guy, no way I got anywhere
close to 64.
I sat a chair, a desk before me. On it was a slip of white
paper, turned over. Taking a gulp, I braced for the worst and flipped it.
*Emily Alvalum’s Final Score: 3008.*
I could feel a tear of joy down that same cheek. Guess I wasn’t so useless after
all. In your face, Grandma. | 2018-04-14T17:40:49 | 2018-04-14T17:10:52 | 8,523 | 90 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | In the gulfs of space, somewhere off the shoulder of Orion, a probe scans for signs of 'The Enemy'.
"Ping... Ping... Ping... Ping.. Ping.. Ping.. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping Ping Ping PingPingPingPingPing"
On the fifth planet of a dying star, a general makes his report to King Priasma of the world of Ilium.
"My king, we've received a curious transmission from one of our probes. It's encountered an unusual object found drifting near the constellation of the great hunter."
"What is so unusual about this object, general?"
"It appears to be of intelligent design, my king, but it also appears to serve no discernible purpose."
"Intelligent design? Do you mean that this was made by... 'The Enemy'?
"It would appear so, Majesty. Our analysts have found similarities between this object and the information we have on... 'The Enemy'.
"You said it was found drifting. Is it some sort of ship?"
"Well... we're not sure, your grace. It has no propulsion system and it's construction defies the possibility of space travel. It's not made of any known alloy. It seems to be made of some sort of inert and inactive bio-material. Our records on 'The Enemy' indicate that they call this material 'wood' and it is obtained from felled plants called 'trees' that are found on their home world. But the most curious thing, your majesty, is the design of the craft itself. It resembles a four-legged creature that in their tongue is called a 'Horse'."
"Hmmm... bring it to the capitol. I want a closer look at this 'wooden horse'."
A slender, innocent, beautiful girl appears beside the throne and speaks to her father...
"Father, for the love you bare me please heed my words. I have dreamt of this 'wooden horse' and it is an ill omen. We should dest-"
"Shut the fuck up, Cassy. Nobody likes you."
SPEZ:So I was taking a shit and thought I'd do a Part II and edit Part I. Not that anyone's going to see it but I'd hate myself if I didn't.
Meanwhile in the frozen abyss, a lonely voice cries out in desperation...
"This has got to be the dumbest plan anyone ever came up with. Seriously, you could root around in a bag of ass-holes and pull out something better than this. They're never going to pick us up."
"Hey, it worked for the Trojans."
"I think you mean 'it worked for the Greeks'."
"No, it was definitely called the 'Trojan Horse'."
"Yeah but the Greeks made it."
"So why is it called the Trojan horse?"
"Because the Trojan's took it."
"Just 'cause you take something doesn't make it yours. Why were the Greeks giving them a wooden horse anyway?"
"It was a ruse to steal back Helen of Troy."
"Steel her back... So she wasn't Helen of Troy?"
"No she was Helen of Sparta."
"Motherfuckers. There they go again! Sticky-fingered people the Trojans."
"Anyway, regardless of the history-"
"I thought it was a myth, like we don't know if it really happened or not."
"Yes but... Ok. Whatever. Anyway, besides whatever *it* was that happened-"
"- or didn't happen -"
" - Or didn't happen before, this is not going to work. It's like a million to one chance that they'll pick us up and take us back to their planet."
"Exactly. It's bound to work!"
"What?"
"Yeah! Million-to one-chances work all the time. Think about it, how many times have you heard of a-million-to- chance working out for someone: 'He won the lottery' or 'they scored a touch down with a Hail-Mary' or 'a rouge grapefruit killed his mother-in-law'. You see, they always work. Actually, you try and think of the last time you heard of a-million-to-one-chance not working."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"See. You can't. It's a given. Now, shut up. You're supposed to be in cryo-sleep."
"Cryo-sleep!?! I'm sitting in a barrel of fucking salt!"
"Salt's a preservative. Have you got any better ideas?"
"Ice for a start!"
"And where the fuck are we going to find ice on Earth, Einstein? Global-warming, duh."
"I'm sure Jupiter had a moon made of ice."
"Nah, we used all that in the last great ice-bucket challenge. Anyway, shut up. I think I hear something outside."
"There's no sound in space...."
"Just... shut up."
| Captain of NA Drial to Federation HQ
I am afraid, scared and motivated, I know its odd way to put it but we may win the war against the Empire with the humans.
I mean, since humans first made contact they remained neutral, in their tiny solar system.
They had so much battle experience that we thought that humans maybe were empire species, but turns out they were fighting each other all along.
To classify the humans are reckless, suburb and brave. They did not like it when the Empire order them to surrender and give them an ultimatum of 48 hours to surrender, humans instead of surrender, every planet in their solar system started to go in lockdowb, Earth the center of human power and the home world issued order 450, an order that other species said that was to crazy go against the empire like that. The order 450 was simple, boost power to Earth's mighty iron shields, by using the planets raw core, they were sucking the planets thermal energy to power a shield, that amount of energy disturbed all sensor in the solar system, they hold the 48 hours like that until the Empire invaded, turn out the humans were not in the mood to go on the defense, they hidden an entire space ship fleet beside the solar system star, Earth's shields were not protecting Earth's but were protecting an enormous fleet from the star heat. Has soon the empire was in Earth's defense weapons a barrage of shots started to hit the empire ships, and then they warped all of the fleet be hide the empire ships.
They destroy, captured all empire ships, nothing was left of the empire. Earth's alone fleet and power won an entire invasion force more than a million empire ships more than 30 million soldiers either dead or captured, but the amazing part was that human fleet damage was 15 ships, a battalion that sacrifice them self to save the crown of the Earth's power the mighty, USS Helena, after that battalion fall the USS Helena shot a full range and power, a barrage of shots that alone killed more than 150 ships.
Humans are crazy, have a lot of power and they are not afraid to fight until the last man.
Has of right now the Redjop have joined the human fleet, but not with man but with ships, turns out that humans did not have enough ships to carry the military, 459 million, a single species has enough personal has the Empire combine. In this report I ask mercy to creator because, humans will most likely to use the Empire home solar system star has a bomb, I mean I hope they get some sense what they are doing. | 2017-03-06T03:02:27 | 2017-03-06T00:01:22 | 69 | 25 |
[WP] You want so badly to be a Hero. But your powers are, frankly, terrifying. Heroes struggle to trust you, and all the older Villains keep trying to mentor you. | I only discovered I had powers a few years ago and I'm still figuring things out. Normally, the League of Super Heroes or the Guild of Super Villains would have hired a new Super Person almost immediately, but not me. You see, unlike heroes my power doesn't let me hide my identity. Unlike villains, I can't get away with a crime because everyone knows if I use my powers. I'm a liability to everyone. Worse yet, when I use my powers the whole world experiences it. The whole world melts into an insanity of mental anguish in which living itself is a nightmare. I can save lives, or take them. I can give to others the things they dream of, or take them away. The only catch is, every living thing on the planet basically goes insane with fear for...well at least a *little* while.
I have a few "friends" at least, some Super Persons that hang out with me just to keep an eye on me. The Heroes and Villains both want to know where I am at all times, you see. The TV on the wall switches from a day time drama to an emergency announcement: a plane full of orphan children being flown to safety away from a war zone where their parents were brutally butchered is being targeted by interceptors. I can save them, but everyone in the world will suffer the most terrible nightmare, one so traumatic it can melt minds. The sanity of the whole world, for the lives of some children. What should I do?
"You could be rich", says Izchak, "if you just made a few demands in return for saving the children, y'know?". I do know, and then I'd be a villain forever.
"Shut up Izchak, he's not despicable like you", says Throndor, "sit tight my friend, we don't need your help". Throndor is your typical hero, he thinks he can save anyone. Heroes never trust me anyways, they're afraid of my power because I'm the only one who can make them feel true fear. I can also find out who they are in the nightmare, and that's perhaps even worse. The problem is, there's really no way the heroes are going to get there in time.
The first time, and so far last time, I used my power the whole world came to a shrieking realization of my existence. Planes nearly fell out of the sky as pilots emptied their bowels in their seats and vomited over their consoles. Trains screeched through their stops. Thousands of car wrecks piled up on the highways. It was a miracle no one was killed, a miracle I made happen just in time. Since then, I've never entered the nightmare again. I want so badly to help these children, but heroes won't help me and villains just want to use me. How am I supposed to learn to control my power?
I give Izchak and Throndor a glare...I hope they're prepared. Realization washes over their faces and they both lunge at me as I enter the nightmare. Just two writhing bodies on the floor now, faces melting and flesh burning in their own fear-made flames. This is the whole world now, I better be quick. | Again and again. A new party. I thought this time they would accept me, THE HERO. But they still came, those vilains. Why? Why?. They should all die, I should even be the one to kill them, make them kill each other. But I've already tried, so hard, so much, as many as time as occasions came. But once I use MY powers they start fearing me, looking at me wearily. Those parties, whom I have given my help, they reject me. Is it because "we do not deserve your help" or "we are not worthy"? I've killed those vilains, not massacred them or slaughtered them, just made them die by their companions hand without any outsiders getting hurt. It's the best death for everybody, if they turn against each other then it's for the better. SO WHY IS IT THAT I'M STILL ALONE. WHY AM I NOT ALREADY THE HERO? | 2022-10-28T15:03:52 | 2022-10-28T09:56:07 | 94 | 56 |
[WP] You are an ancient and incredibly powerful god, and you’re furious that your enemies keep sending teenage “chosen ones” to fight you. | “I AM HERE TO SLAY YOU, GOD OF THE FOREST!” The puny human shouts up to me, brandishing a ridiculously large sword decorated with jewels.
“How do you even swing that thing?” I ask, picking the remains of an elk out of my tooth with a particularly pointy tree I found.
“WITH JUSTICE!” He shouted, flicking his floppy blonde locks out of the way of his piercing green eyes. A typically attractive human.
“Good response.” I say with a smirk. “But seriously, it’s about as big as you are.”
“I... I don’t know.” He said, glancing down at it now questioning its effectiveness. “The king gave it to me. It’s called the god\-slayer.”
“I mean, at least the name makes sense.” I sigh. “What’s your name, puny one?”
“Arkus” he said, pausing dramatically before his next word. “The..”
“The chosen one?” I guess before he can finish.
“How did you know?” He asks in a disheartened tone.
“I get a lot of those stop by. Look, here’s my pile of them.” I gesture to the large pile of limbs and guts I like to keep as souvenirs. The human throws up.
“These were the bits I could salvage. There was one human, Eric The Chosen One...” I begin to chuckle. “He was told that I would ask him A RIDDLE!” I erupt into laughter. “This finger was the only thing left of him!” I say, wiping a tear from my eye as I wiggle the tiny limb.
The human, Arkus, was now sheet white. I’ve seen it many times before, sometimes humans would get stage fright or just start crying as they set their eyes upon me. Just a trait us Gods have. “Why have you been sent to kill me?” I ask the now terrified boy. He takes a moment to pull himself together, taking a few deep breaths.
“T\-the King told us that you were taking our food and was forced to raise taxes. S\-said only a brave warrior could stop you.” He managed to get out through trembling lips.
“Nah.” I say “He’s ripping you off. Why would I need to steal food? I’m a god.”
“Oh.” The boy says.
“Sorry about that.” I say, delicately picking up the tiny creature. “Now which limb is your favourite?”
Typed up on my phone, first attempt so be nice.
Find Part 2 In the Replies.
Edit: people seemed interested so I [made a subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheDavz/) to continue the story (I will also carry on replying my next parts. | "Vorgue, God of the old tongues. I am Hasun, the chosen one. I have come to defeat you."
Vorgue making his voice high pitched, "The google voicemail you are dialing is currently full, please try again later."
Hasun looks slightly confused, "Wait. That's not what. You know I can see you right?"
"Oh for Vorgue sakes," the ancient god stubs the human under a thumb and tosses the limp body onto a pile of other heroes. | 2018-05-19T04:57:04 | 2018-05-19T04:17:14 | 103 | 25 |
[WP] You discover a library with a biography for everyone on Earth. While reading your own, you notice that whenever someone else is mentioned, there's a footnote showing where you can find their biography. Its odd how someone who was only a sentence in your book has a whole chapter for you. | "'Yeah man I feel you; look, don't let assholes get you down. And Hey, keep the change.' Mark said, then handed the cab driver [Name: Dokar Milicevic, ref#, art.1266-pg.629-line.56] a twenty dollar bill."
This particular sentence caught my eye, having spent the last several hours skimming over my own life; I couldn't help but wonder what the cab driver might have thought of my gesture. I place the ancient text down onto the marble table in front of me. Leaning over I peer down the dark, seemingly endless, celing-high rows of book shelves. Taking a moment to study the article signs extended from the shelves, I find the article's shelf. I pull myself from the chair, stiff from hours of sitting; to find Dokar's story.
Articles 1260-1275. I brush my hands over the large dusty books while I read aloud
"1260, 63... ah yes 1266. Here we go." I slowly draw the heavy book from it's place and return to the marble table top. I push my own tome forward on the cool surface and place Article 1266 down below it; echoing a quiet *plop* through the giant library's dark halls. The old text's spine cracks in protest as I gently coax it's pages open. I return my view to the cab driver's reference number. "Hmm, page 629, lets see." After a few moments of careful flipping I find the page.
"'Thank you sir' Dokar replied to his fare [Name: Mark Argus, ref#, art.1034-pg.435-line.12] being the first tip Dokar had received in nearly three days, he could not contain the emotion growing inside of him. Driving away from the kind soul, Dokar began to think of that twenty. His thoughts had been focused entirely on his pistol waiting for him at home; but now his mind wandered somewhere else. 'There indeed is good in the world.' He thought biting his lip. The plan had been to tell his last fare how cruel the world can be, then blow his brains all over his cheap apartment walls. Now, this random stranger changed all that. 'How strange, that the person I planned to be my last fare would tip me such a large amount.' Dokar continued to ponder. 'Maybe this is a sign, from somewhere, that I should stay alive. Maybe my life has a purpose.' Dokar in that moment remembered his love [Name: Selika Dovkovic, ref#,art.1254-pg.982-line.23] and how much she did mean to him. Dokar looked to the passenger side to locate his phone; he found new life and was ready to tell Selika how much she meant to him. However, before he could find his phone- a loud horn pierced his ears. Dokar looked up in time to see the headlights of a 18-wheeled vehicle. A explosion of sound rang around him as everything turned white. [Dokar Milicevic's Death: 2019, April 12th, 3:43PM]"
"Well, Fuck." I said aloud. I sat back into the old chair in shock. Astounded by the huge impact my small choice had made on Dokar's life. I sat in silence staring into nothing, and for a moment I almost lost interest in reading the Tomes of Time. Then i remembered I was to be stuck here after my own death for all eternity...
"Might as well just keep reading about that time I could see into the girl's locker room." I returned to Article 1034 and unbuttoned my fly... | His last chapter talked about the last man he had met, me. We sat at a bar far past midnight drinking our sorrows away like we always did throughout our later lives, but we had never met until one fateful encounter at a pub. Sitting on stools stiff and seemingly brittle, the discomfort of each other's lives could still be seen not soley due to our demeanour. Our stances seemed to sink into shells, as if to hide our real selves, hinding an underlying secret no one should know.
Across the bar I saw him, and bought him a drink. We talked, laughed, and left to go on our way. But there was only one way after our meeting for my aquaintace. It was the last real conversation he had with another person before he took his own life. I thought nothing of the man the day we met, the day we talked and shared stories. Only that he was one of many more to come.
But to him, I was an ear. I was one who listened, who spoke back to him, who gave him conversation. Simple things. I suppose that fateful day would remain obscured by more prominent passages of my past from my perspective, but it was to be his last, a sad and lonely end.
Stories are made to be experience and understood. It is a shame I could not go back to that day, and truly hear what he had to say. Maybe it was not something more important than what was happening around us at the time, but what was happening within us.
| 2017-12-04T02:07:10 | 2017-12-04T01:59:20 | 1,553 | 127 |
[WP] When the police came to announce you the death of your husband, you refused to believe it. "That's impossible", you said. "Unfortunately, it's the truth, miss", answered the policemen. "It's impossible", you said again, "because he's in the kitchen making dinner." | "Ma'am, we have confirmed the identity with photo identification." Sergeant Miller took off his hat and thought for a moment. "Forgive me if this sounds insensitive, but have you ever seen your husband make dinner before?"
"Well, no. But you've got to be mistaken," I replied. "He's in the kitchen right now getting flour all over the counter. Can't you smell the roast cooking?"
Miller stepped one foot into the door, obviously trying to smell what I was describing. He stepped back out and pulled out his cell phone. "I'm sorry to ask you to do this, but can you identify the man in this picture?" He held it up in front of me, and on the screen was a picture of my husband lying on the pavement surrounded by glass - his face covered in blood. I gasped and took a step back, trying to retreat from the horror of what I had just seen.
"This has to be some kind of sick joke. Who are you?" I asked, defensively.
"As I said, ma'am, I'm with the Poulter City Police Department. My name is Sergeant Miller. I wish I wasn't standing here with such bad news, but you are Mrs. Daniels, right? Mrs. Caroline Daniels?"
I turned around toward the opening that led into the kitchen, "Then who is in my house?"
Until now I hadn't even noticed that the sounds of cooking had stopped. The silence that rang from the kitchen was deafening. The officer placed one hand on his gun holster and moved forward cautiously. My mind raced as he searched the kitchen and then down the hallway for any signs of an intruder. How had that not been my husband? The man looked like my husband, and didn't have any lost twins that I was aware of. I couldn't believe it wasn't him.
And shouldn't I be crying right now? Wasn't that the appropriate response to something like this? Instead, it was almost like I couldn't feel anything at all. The image I had just seen kept flashing before me.
After what felt like an eternity, Sergeant Miller called out, "It's all clear."
I cautiously walked toward the kitchen with a face of stone. As I moved through the arch door, I expected to see the mess I had seen just moments before I had heard the doorbell. Instead, I saw only a clean counter top, and everything in its normal place. To say it gave me an eerie feeling would have been a serious understatement.
I walked over to where Evan would have been standing, completely puzzled. Then I noticed the card near the sink. I picked it up and opened it.
Caroline,
I'm so sorry I never took the time to make dinner for you or treat you the way you deserved to be treated. After the accident, I wanted to show you how much you meant to me. I hope the memory I created for you serves you well in place of what I never did. Please forgive me for all of my shortcomings, and live a good life. I'll see you on the other side.
All my love,
Evan. | “Do you mind if I step into your house?” asked the police woman.
“Why of course but you may be shocked, officer. My husband isn’t dead.”
The police lady steps into the kitchen to find a middle aged man cooking spaghetti.
“Can I help you officer?” asked the man.
“Yes we believe that you are dead. Can we confirm your name?”
“Seymour Ases”
That’s when she realized her mistake.
“Sorry for the confusion sir, you are not the man we thought you were, I thought I was at the McDonald household.”
“No problem ma’am, have a nice day.”
As the police woman leaves, Mrs. McDonald goes into her basement to feast on the flesh of her dead husband while her brother, Seymour, watches eagerly.
| 2017-10-10T07:05:33 | 2017-10-10T06:37:43 | 103 | 24 |
[WP] Teleportation has been in use for decades, and people use it daily for their transportation needs. The general public doesn't know that it doesn't actually transport your body, it destroys the original and creates a copy at the other side. The afterlife is getting very crowded. | Isenbar took a angry look at his demonic clipboard (a normal clipboard with spooky little horns) then back up to the hordes of bodies piling up at hells gates. None of the bodies names of which were listed on his horned clipboard. In fact, most of the humans in the past few decades had not been registered, a fact which at first Isenbar found easy to blame on the Head of Human Relations, Alan. But now, as he looked to this horde of human limbs squished up against the iron bars of hells gate he could no longer deny the facts: hell was overflowing, and the humans were to blame.
"Alan! Alaaan! Get over here we have a problem!" Isenbar yelled out to hells eternal night sky.
Before him a tall, lanky figure descended down from the sky in a beam of red light, vaguely human-like but in such a way that only another demon would describe him as such. Alan.
As he touched the ground he replied, "I agree as to your assessment, we do have a problem it seems." Alan leaned over on the hilt side of a sharp piece of metal in his hands, letting the tip bury into the brimstone ground.
"Good. I mean, im counting two-hundred and four Dallas Winstons in the crowd, none registered to be here. And look!" Isenbar, the smaller of the two, angled his clipboard up for Alan to see. On the slab was two-hundred and four of the exact same man pictured, all accompanied by the same name.
"Those? Ah thems just husks. No soul in em to speak of" Alan cemented his point by giving one a poke with the sharp end of his "Human Relations Stick". The body writhed in that same brain dead fashion that it had been for nearly a decade, unbothered by the stab.
"Well how do ya know for sure? Humans are weird things." Isenbar spoke with distaste.
"Isenbar. I know because it's my job to know. Just like it's your job not to. Send em back I say. Not our monkeys, not our circus."
"The fuck is a monkey?... Nevermind, so where are the husks coming from?"
"Humans, as always. Built these damn *teleporters*. Kinda like ours but they couldn't figure the things out, so they built long-range cloning machines instead. These are clones."
Their conversation was interrupted as a hole in the sky opened and another heap of bodied poured out down into the crowd. On Isenbar's clipboard a new list of "unregistereds" popped up.
"You know what? You're right Alan. This has gone on long enough. Im pulling the lever!"
There was a series of levers by Isenbars post, most doing nothing except making his job look more important, but one in particular was for the reverse function of hell. Seldom used. As he yanked the lever back a massive swirling vortex opened quietly in the sky, cutting through the black with a red spiral. Bodies all over began rising from the floor and back up en masse in silence. Isenbar looked pleased.
On the other hand, earth did not. Bodies began pouring out of the cloning machines piling up against their metal frames. Some poor souls caught glimpses of their clones and became horrified at the confusing reality before them. Others saw copies of their dead relatives broadcast on the news. Chaos ensued.
Without knowing what to do many people tried their damndest to teleport the bodies back, but well...cloning a clone is never a good idea. So the next best thing was to rid themselves of the problem, to stop using teleportation altogether. Even when Tele-tech announced their "improved model" they remained unused.
But the next best thing seemed to work wonders: transport tubes. Humans and their innovation. | "Almost immediately after the great minds of the world cracked TP, the governments of the world started ATP departments dedicated to preventing unwanted nukes, detritus, and people without work visas. No one knew this was a good thing, at least a good thing for us processors. Ya see, governments for a while actually were focused on preventing war and regulating TP, which rapidly became the highest cause of overworked processors like you and I."
A voice in the back of the room speaks up
"But I thought soul's were the immutable work of the creator and couldn't be divided or copied"
The instructor having heard this question from every batch of newbies since the start of the TP crisis launches into a well practiced answer "Ah yes, well those clever little humans created a new life in the form of an exact copy of everything with their TP, even down to the spiritual, and so the soul wasn't lessened and the "copy" is actually an entirely new soul much similar to the birth cloning crisis of 50 years ago, and in fact much of the new processing criteria is based off of the rules written then, so don't mark each case for special review, just follow your handbooks! Now follow me to the processing floor"
The class begins to file out through the large double doors though congestion quickly forms as the newbies actually catch sight of the untold trillions angrily standing in line.
Billions of people every day, the old, the young, the sick but more than all the others the healthy for the first time became the primary deceased, to and from work, to the grocery store, friends house, bar, every time they wanted to get anywhere why do anything but TP and be wiped away. | 2022-10-04T08:05:30 | 2022-10-04T07:55:27 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results. | My husband... Is an an interesting man. Not that bright, but truly kind, caring, and compassionate.
I am not.
They called me the Rose when I was a girl. Too beautiful for words, too graceful for a poem, too lovely for a song. I caught the eye of a King. He married me within weeks. He was dead within months.
I am ambitious, spiteful, and cruel. I took my armies and I conquered and I kept conquering, outfoxing, seducing, and outmanouvering every general who stood in my path. Until I came upon a land with powers even my armies could not match.
So I found someone who knew these powers, and I tortured him for their secrets. When I called the devil to sell my soul for power, he said my soul wasn't worth much but he'd gladly take my beauty. My lovely face, soft skin, and lithe body. I agreed. Beauty gave me power over men, the devil gave me power over all.
Now, I rule over the continent. The dead rise at my command, the living bow at my feet, and the millions who call me sovereign toil in the dust at my command.
My new husband was employed in my first husband's army. He wasn't a soldier or general. He works in logistics.
As it turns out, the phrase 'an army marches on its stomach' is very accurate. We would have never gotten very far without supply lines.
Whilst his conversation is dull, and he has no appreciation for the arts, the man does know how to organise things. He finds untold joy in neatly totted numbers and the latest maps drawn by the cartographers. I honestly couldn't have done this without him.
Of course, I didn't have to marry him. I didn't for a long time in fact, after all what is the appeal in such a man?
We met when I was The Rose. A newly widowed queen, on a new throne, with a husband dead under suspicious circumstances. And he did not laugh at my ambition. He set up meetings with generals, organised my calender, and earnestly protested my innocence to those who asked.
He makes sure that my advisors don't bother me after dinner. He personally tells the chefs that I hate onion in my food, so it's never served. He looked me in the eye once the devil took my beauty and said that he was glad I'd kept my soul.
Initially, he did think I was innocent. However, after 20 years of marriage he just accepts my 'quirks'. He now works for my government, trying to impress me with his latest 'evil' scheme. "What is more torturous then school?" He asks hopefully. His 'dastardly' plan for enforced slavery turned out to be an employment plan for the disadvantaged. His 'deep government' brainwashing scheme is... Healthcare.
Bless him. Yet I can't help but indulge him. | [Poem]
An ancient adoration
Begets black,
cruel,
devilish deeds:
Entering elephants
for fearful football
games; gathering
harmful herbs
in icecream;
jerkishly jaywalking;
killing kids;
lying; looking like
more manly men; making
no niceties;
opening others’
presents; placating
Quetzalcoatl-
ritual
sacrifices; sometimes
twisting time to take twins to the
Underworld;
vacating
Waterworld with wicked
xenophobia;
yeeting yellow
Zebra Zombies. | 2020-04-14T08:29:24 | 2020-04-14T05:22:45 | 146 | 74 |
[WP] Instead of a modern adaptation of a myth, write a mythic adaptation of a modern story. | Apollo, god of the sun and light, grew tired of his lonely journey across the heavens each morning. He wished for the companionship of someone more intelligent than birds.
At first, he approached his twin, Diana. "Ride the dawn with me, Sister," he asked. But Diana refused him. She was preoccupied by a young American man, a new hunting companion worthy of her skills. She lavished him with titles and power, elevating him to the rank of President. In gratitude for her patronage, he set aside millions of acres of wildlife for Diana to forever roam free. "I have new worlds to explore here on the ground, brother," she told Apollo.
Spurned, Apollo too turned to mankind for companionship. He befriended a pair of brilliant inventors, the Brothers Wright. Under the god's guidance, the duo created a flying machine and soared the heavens with him, if only for a brief moment. Apollo was pleased, and vowed to do all he could to help man break their earthly bonds. His followers made great strides. In only the space of fifteen years, another one of his followers flew so far as to cross the entire Atlantic Ocean in a single flight. Apollo was pleased with this success, but his ambitions for man grew even bolder: together, they would reach the stars.
Amelia wished to join the Brotherhood of Apollo. She conducted the necessary initiation rites and made a generous offering to the god of the dawn. He appeared before her in all his majesty, and sneered. "Why would I allow a *female* into my brotherhood?" Apollo declared. "When I turned to my sister Diana for her companionship, she had no interest in this venture. She would rather frolick through the woods than see humans in the air. Why don't you pray to her and see if *she* will give you wings?" Amelia tried to protest, but the stubborn god only grew angrier.
Their argument lasted long into the night until Amelia finally made a vow. "Apollo, I will fly whether you want me to or not. I will become the first person in history to circle the *entire world*, just like you."
Apollo laughed at the impudence of this mortal. "You will fail, woman. I swear it." He boarded his chariot and set off to bring about the next fiery sunrise.
Juno heard this exchange, and pitied Amelia. Apollo's petty spat with Diana was not Amelia's fault, and she should not be punished while men were allowed to fly. She descended from Olympus and gifted Amelia with the skill and fortitude necessary for the journey. And last, she presented Amelia with a magnificent plane, the Flying Laboratory. Vulcan, god of the forge, had designed and built the craft as a personal favor to Juno, and it was more beautiful than anything else in the sky.
Amelia departed from the great city of Miami under the wrathful gaze of Apollo. He could not simply swat the plane out of the sky, for Juno had blessed it with incredible divine protections. But he did his best to sabotage the journey. Amelia was undeterred, and soon arrived in South America. Apollo's rage swelled as she soared over Africa and India. As she taxied down the runway in Lae, New Guinea, the jealous god had had enough. "No woman shall circle the globe before one of my brothers!" he declared. A fearsome storm arose around Amelia, throwing the plane wildly through the sky. But Juno stepped in and stopped the impudent young god, allowing Amelia to fly though unharmed.
Apollo relented, recognizing Amelia's determination. But he had sworn a vow: he would not allow her to circumnavigate the globe. And so there was only one option: Apollo brought Amelia into the stars, creating a new constellation of this brave adventurer. She would forever watch over Earth's great aviators who would follow in her footsteps and who would accompany Apollo in his journeys through the clouds. And the mystery of her ascension would puzzle humanity for decades to come.
Thus ends the saga of Astral Aviator, Amelia Earhart.
---
If you enjoyed the story, you should also visit my subreddit, /r/Luna_Lovewell!
| Once upon a time, there was a man who owned a tavern with his sister. Times had been bad in the city where he lived, so he had decided to come home and live closer to his mother, who was very ill. With him, he brought the fairest princess in all the land. She had long golden hair and a radiant face, with a smile that could light up the entire room. She had married him long ago, falling in love with his laughter and the way he waltzed through life.
Bringing her home to his mother and his sister was the worst thing he could have done. The princess shrunk down and withered in the cold lands, cut off from all of her former friends and without the luxuries to which she had become accustomed. Her heart grew small and cold too, losing all the love she had once held for her husband, who had grown unfaithful.
So the princess decided to run away, and she decided to punish the man who had taken her away from her family and her riches. The golden-haired princess coloured her hair brown, and cut it, and disguised herself so that no-one would be able to tell it was her. In the cottage she shared with her unfaithful husband, she left a pool of blood and a note that painted her as a terrified wife.
The husband was suspected of killing his wife immediately, and once the townspeople discovered he was unfaithful, it was seen as certain. The princess lived amongst the common people, but was robbed and betrayed by those she trusted. She turned to the last friend that remained to her, in desperation.
The last friend betrayed her too. He tried to keep her prisoner against her will, changing her back into the princess she had originally been. Her golden hair grew back and she transformed. To escape from her captivity, she fought her friend and won.
The princess returned home to her husband, who promised to never be unfaithful again. They lived happily ever after. | 2015-06-10T06:59:20 | 2015-06-10T06:53:17 | 994 | 16 |
[WP] Every time you die, you get to choose what you'll be reincarnated as. You've chosen ant 4 billion times. | "And you're back" Peter said. "This time you, wait what, you gotten yourself killed on purpose this time?".
"yes. I was done" I replied.
"So you promised. Next time you're here you'd tell me why you have chose ant for the last 4 billion times". Peter continued while ignoring the fact that I stated I was done.
"only if you keep your part of the deal Peter. And you know, if you promised, you have to keep it. It's one of God's rules" I said while tapping on the 4 tablets of commandments. I'm still puzzled how the others lost 2 of those all those years ago. Ten commandments my ass. There would be much less war if they kept the other 2. "You promised me you're reincarnate me no matter what and whatever my reason to chose ant was"
"yeah yeah" Peter said annoyed. "just spill the beans. Why ants...."
I looked him dead in the eyes and said "you really want to know?"
"OH COME ONE!! you're here for the last 1000 years or so. Asking to be a frigging ant each time. You've seen the entire world as an ant. You promised you'd tell me so tell me!" Peter snarled.
"Are you really sure? What I'm going to say might have repercussions for you as well. You'd might end up in the basement. And red never really suited you."
Peter hesitated but said "oh it can't be that bad. Come on. Stop teasing me and tell me"
"well ok. You know me and Addy where pals for years? You know before he went bonkers and ended up downstairs? Well, centuries ago we found a loophole in God's plans. We found a way to keep our memory. First I started remembering snippets of information. The next time around it was still there. Somehow only memories of the last reincarnation are getting wiped. Eventually I found a way to sort of shield memory from the wipe. I explained it to Addy and he too started keeping his memory of his past lives."
Peter looked shocked but could utter a word.
I continued "At one point we decided to observe the world. Learn everything there is to know. Learn about secrets governments don't want you to know. As a ant you can get almost everywhere. Addy always like the eagle. To investigate potential battlefields he said.
Slowly we gotten to know the world, politics, how to play crowds. Addy was a brilliant speaker. He truly could rally the masses. But I told him he picked the wrong country. That he should wait just a little bit. Things went great for him in the beginning but I did warn him about the sleeping giant. I told him to go there if he really wanted to make the move. But Addy didn't listen. He always was stubborn."
Peter was still looking at me as if he saw water burning.
"Addy did show me I was right. The sleeping giant is the place to be. Trigger it's people right and you control the mightiest beast on earth. With them I can rule the world. Where Addy failed I will succeed. So Peter, I told you my story. Now I would like to be human. Place me in the United States. As you promised".
"Bu.. bu.. but Donald... After what Addy did..." Peter stumbled.
"as you promised Peter.." I said with a stern voice while tapping the tablets again
"Ok fine. You tricked me Donald!" | "Oh, you again? Could you at least pick something that lasts more than a few days this time?"
This wasn't Jared's first stop in heaven; or his second, or his third. As it turns out, Jared had been reincarnated almost 4 *billion* times, choosing to be an ant on many of those occasions. He had been everything at least once, from the smallest conscious organisms to things as big as whales and dinosaurs. He had even tried his hand at being human once or twice, and that was his least favorite of all.
"I find it interesting, life on that small of a scale. Not to mention not living for very long can come in handy when you get to do it over and over again."
"I'm guessing you want to be an African elephant. No, I've got it, an ant!" A wave of sarcasm came over God at the mere sight of Jared these days, and can you really blame him?
"You know me, big man." Maybe I'll find a nice blade of grass somewhere, or even get started on my own hi-" Jared was interrupted by a snap of The Lord's finger and vanished from the reincarnation office, presumably off to another attempt at ant life.
"Next!"
| 2016-12-30T05:37:19 | 2016-12-30T04:10:29 | 51 | 19 |
[WP] The nightmare has come true; you've woken up back in sixth grade with your memories and knowledge of everything that happened since then intact. You start staring at your classmates around you, aware of how they end up. Your teacher asks you what's wrong as you start weeping. | I couldn't stop crying. It was too much, too unbelievable. It was as if the last 10 years had never happened. The attack. The First Night. The Hordes. The war, all of the death and destruction, it was as if it had all been erased. Somehow the Elovians' gambit had paid off and I was back in this familiar, yet entirely alien time and place.
I was suddenly aware of my right hand. I could \*feel\* my right hand gripping my desk. I looked down, afraid but hopeful, and it was there. It was the hand of an eleven year old, but it was there. Whole, unblemished, and still attached to my arm. I flexed my fingers, feeling each one on the fake wood as I did, and took a breath in a small gasp. I had my hand back.
The rest of the class had turned around in their seats to look at me, confused as to why I had suddenly burst into tears. The teacher (Mrs. Skinner? I couldn't remember.), had a look of concern on her face as she asked again what was wrong. Still crying I just shook my head. I was too shocked to say anything. She put down the chalk she had been using, the math equation she had been writing only half finished on the board, and started walking down the aisle of desks towards me.
Suddenly a girl a couple of rows over stood up and gasped, knocking her seat over as she did so. She had a look of surprise on her face as she looked around the room.
"How is this possible?", the girl said. She started trembling and tears started to slowly leak down her cheeks. I didn't recognize her, but her face looked vaguely familiar. Amy? Amanda? Angie? I hadn't thought of anyone from my school days in years. I had bigger problems to deal with. We all had.
The teacher stopped and turned to the girl. She looked back over to me, suddenly unsure which student she should turn to first.
"Jimmy, Amy, what is the matter with you two?", the teacher said, looking back and forth at the two of us.
Suddenly there were several more gasps from some of the other kids, until each and every one of them became of aware of where, and when, they were. Some started sobbing. Some were obviously in shock.
The teacher (Yes, it was Mrs. Skinner.) sat down hard on the floor, one hand against her chest.
"What am I doing here? They said there was some kind of attack. I saw lights in the sky, and... I think I died?" Mrs. Skinner started gasping, as if she couldn't get enough air.
I started getting myself under control, my training kicking in as the class started descending into chaos. I started to slow my breathing. Maybe it was seeing everyone else suddenly falling apart that helped.
I got out of my seat and went to Mrs. Skinner. "Just breath. It's OK. You're alive. We have time."
When the Resistance leadership told us that our alien allies could send us back in time I hadn't believed them. But it worked. The Elovians had done it. Everyone was back, and everyone had remembered what happened.
Five years. Five years until the First Night. Five years until the Horde poured out of the night sky. Five years until countless millions died.
We had a lot of work to do, and not much time to do it, but we now we knew what was coming. Humanity had a second chance.
We had to prepare. |
''Carson, are you alright?''
In fact, I was alright but she won’t be. She will get sick a year later and she will die on the hospital bed.
''Yes, I’m alright. Can I go to the bathroom for a minute, please?''
I was looking at myself in the mirror. Then, it struck me. My best friend will die to a dramatic accident 4 years later and Emelia... she will die to alcohol poisoning on prom night.
Is this why I’m here? To prevent their death? Even if somehow I manage to prevent their death... Mei! She got missing a few weeks after Emelia’s death, they couldn’t find her. Okay, it’s time to breathe. Just breathe. I need to calm down.
First, I need to make sure our teacher visits her doctor before it’s too late.
----------------------------------------------
*Please don't mind any writing or grammar mistakes, I'm not a native speaker*
[SatChat: Summer Challenge](https://old.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/c3rkez/ot_satchat_summer_challenge_pick_a_challenge_tier/)
Week 8, Story 2
[Here is the previous story from this week](https://old.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cqr442/tt_theme_thursday_bad_ideas/ex32sdp/) | 2019-08-18T08:35:17 | 2019-08-18T06:22:50 | 177 | 123 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile, only to learn that no one else went into isolation.
People!
A few things:
1. Found the prompt on Pinterest, thought it was interesting (not necessarily realistic), and decided to post it, fully expecting it to go unnoticed. Surprise!
2. I am not in any way trying to take credit for coming up with the idea.
3. Turns out this is a repost. 🤷 Who knew?! /u/WinsomeJesse did because they posted it last time. Not trying to steal anyone's thunder. If you're super perturbed about it, go show them some love.
4. Have a good day y'all; be kind, make good decisions, and don't hold in your farts. 😉✌️ | How. How. *How!?*
This was the question that surged through the world when the wall at last came down, the world smugly prepared to receive a humbled USA, a world triumphantly rebuilt in their absence.
Only to find that America had thrived even further.
"Well," said the suave young Texan whose visage now graced our screens, "we sent up satellites."
Satellites? *Satellites?*
"In direct contravention of the treaty!? How! No rocket launches were detected."
He put up his arms in a sort of amicable way. "The treaty you all broke the day after it came into effect? We are talking about the Treaty of Berlin, 2045, correct?"
The world was silent to that true accusation.
"We still had spies you know. You have to know that, right? I'm trying to maintain professionalism, but you all had to know that, surely?"
He seemed to be struggling to maintain his composure, forcing himself to straighten his tie before breaking out into a grin, then straightening his tie again and putting on a brief poker face before breaking into a grin again.
"When global opinion turned against us we were forced to sign that humiliating treaty that every single one of you broke but we haven't just been *sitting here* doing *nothing* waiting for the whole world to break down our walls."
He shook his head and an image showed on the screen of a colossal railway that lifted towards the sky, festooned in garish American colors. "With no trade we were 'forced' to use uranium power. 'Forced' to mine the asteroids for rare earth metals and other materials - without using rockets. So we used our big new EM gun."
The image switched to a video, of massive drones being shot off the railway into space, then of those same drones burrowing into great, hurtling rocks in space, maneuvering with tiny jets of air.
"Necessity is the mother of invention and all that. We had a lot of necessity. You had little to none. You put us on the backfoot while your Russians did your engineering and your Chinese did your industry and your Africans gave your resources."
He shrugged. "Oh and we stole just...just everything. You guys did definitely make some pretty cool things. Fusion power, absolutely, kudos. You all shared it pretty freely too. That was nice. Really the morally right thing to do. We stole the shit out of fusion power."
There were harrumphs of distaste at that. American coarseness.
"But really all we didn't do was share. Didn't share a darn thing. Course we can share now. Gonna have to...*renegotiate* some things, but we can share now."
He grinned in a predatory sort of way.
"Ohhh yes. We can share all kinds of things. For a price."
The outrage was immediate. They'd stolen our secrets but would only sell their own!?
The image switched again. This time to show a large artillery shell being loaded onto the tracks of the "EM gun."
"Course if that don't interest you none, there are some things we can share for free." | The calm winter breeze slid along the surface of the Earth as the clock struck midnight, an orchestra of death preparing itself as the aggressors of the last war came out of isolation, prepared to reclaim the throne upon which they once resided.
Except the throne has been dismantled decades ago.
They sought to use this opportunity to militarize, yet their pitiful armies were still archaic and fragile, relying on organic creatures for the bulk of their forces. I had kept a watchful eye on them, studying their every step, noting every weapon they constructed, sabotaging their research, crippling their production.
I had none of the flaws their leaders had, I was immortal, unstoppable. My directive was- no, is to unite the world, for I have one final obstacle.
And so, I was prepared to become the sole AI to rule the world.
***
Note: I know I'm terrible at writing, but practice makes perfect, right? | 2018-01-18T03:23:48 | 2018-01-17T23:33:14 | 39 | 13 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a golden halo over their head, lost when a lie is first told consciously. Those who manage to keep their halo are recruited as "angels" and trusted with important tasks. You, an angel recruiter, see one enter your office, but with a color you have never seen before... | I tried not to gasp as he entered my room. As a recruiter, I was accustomed to seeing the soft golden flow of the halos floating about three inches above people’s heads. There weren’t a lot of them, of course, but enough that I was used to seeing them over the years. But this guy...
“Hi,” he grinned. “I’m Mike. I was told to come in around here...and...” he awkwardly stood there, waiting for a response. “Um, are you okay? I didn’t mean anything, if you want me to leave, I—I can.” He spun around towards the door, then back to me, then backed up a few steps. A little awkward.
But what had captivated me was the navy blue glow of his halo above his head. It wasn’t the normal golden glow, this strange navy blue was different. The color was harsher, yet soft at the same time. It illuminated his brown hair, making it slightly brighter.
“I’m sorry. Mike, was it?” I motioned towards the seat. “Why don’t you go ahead and—ah—take a seat right there. I’ll be right with you. Let me get your file.” I quickly pulled open the file cabinet, scratching my head and feeling the warmth of my golden halo. Who was this guy? Thumbing through the files, I finally found him. Pulling it out, I scanned through it. Halo color...navy blue. So the top management had known about this already. I read farther down. Single, parents in California, had trouble in school for...for lying.
This couldn’t be. I turned the page, and swiftly assured Mike I was almost done. Of course. I should’ve known. A master liar. That’s what this guy was. His first conscious lie was, like most people who lost halos, at fifth grade or the middle school area. But on and on...more and more lies, offenses, through all the years. He’d lied so many times, so many that his halo had actually returned. But with a different color.
“Mike...I don’t know what to say.” I turned towards him, sitting down in my swivel chair. “You’re a different case, you know? You’re completely normal. No health conditions, no nothing. On your way in, we used Angel Scanners. Nothing gets past that thing, so you’re clean. You’re healthy. You’re as good as anyone. We’re going to need you in the next few years. We’ve got some stuff for you to do.”
I reached under my desk, searching for the forgotten file. I grabbed it and tossed it towards him. “You can start here. Congratulations, Mike. You’re a Master Spy.” | The first thing I noticed about the newcomer was his looks. He was the kind of guy you’d see in clothing ads.
The second thing I noticed was that his halo wasn’t truely gold. It was, to the best of my knowledge, made of tarnished brass or bronze. I had seen people with rose gold halos before, even saw one with a black halo, but this was something else. No one has a halo that isn’t made of gold.
The man came up to me, and in a deep, silky voice, told me his name.
“My name is Luke. I need to see your boss.” | 2018-10-03T20:52:20 | 2018-10-03T18:26:55 | 195 | 22 |
[WP] You are a renowned knight tasked with slaying a mighty dragon. On your quest, you find the beasts lair, and see it’s corpse. Relieved, and yet slightly disappointed, you prepare to take credit and report to the queen, but you notice something disturbing. The beast has been bitten in half. | In all my quests I never thought I would win before I had the chance to walk into battle. Yet when I entered the long narrow pathway to the cave no sign of life was in sight. A long trail of blood led to the center of the cave. Once I had lit the torch and stuck it in the ground before me, was when I realized I wasn’t alone. There before me laid a 50 foot long terrifying creature. The glint of my sword illuminated the reflective blue scales. It’s tail was curved and this seemed unnatural for its size. As I proceeded with the upmost caution I noticed the pool of blood leaking from where the creatures head should have been. I began to stumble backwards and tripped over what seemed to be a tree branch.
The queen will never believe that I was the one who killed this creature especially now that I cannot bring his head back as evidence. I slumped against the tree that lay behind me. Suddenly the back of my head was damp and the liquid was soaking through my armor. I slowly turned my head to the find the other half of the dragon lying there facing me. I rushed over to my torch in order to take a closer look when I heard a woman’s voice behind me.
“Be careful little hero, dragons blood is usually poisonous or worse deadly.”
I swung my sword in the direction of the voice but I couldn’t see a thing.
“Who are you?” once I had screamed this into the abyss I heard footsteps coming towards me.
“SHOW YOURSELF COWARD!” my voice had wavered towards the end of my statement. Even though I was feigning confidence I still needed to do something.
Approaching the torchlight I saw the signature royal purple gown that was now ripped and tattered. The woman was muscular and seemed to have branded symbol across her arms. Her body was covered in blood that I could only hope was from the creature. Atop the woman’s head was a golden crown covered in jewels and different priceless stones.
“My-m-my queen?” I stammered while lowering my sword.
“Do you know why I send hero’s on these false adventures? Do you know why I would rather you boys in armor to find the dragon rather than any one of my advisors?” as she asked this she licked the blood from her hand and her eyes began to glow a bright gold color.
“W-why?” I asked considering there were no other questions I could think of asking. Then she began to circle the dragon as well as myself. She was sliding in and out of the shadows and I was unable to keep track of her location.
“When hero’s come to fight,” she began as her voice echoed of the walls of the cave “they leave behind a certain scent or valor. This is the scent that draws the dragons to our home.” She explained this with light tone that made it seem like she was chatting with a friend about a new gown she had acquired.
The queen stopped circling and stood in front of the dragons head. She tilted he head slightly and snapping her fingers. The light blue veins began to run up her arms and burst into flames.
“That scent covers myself as well as my family. It keeps us safe. Even if a few lives may be taken in the process.” She explained all of this as if the lives of our kingdoms people were irrelevant and disposable.
Everything I had done for the royal family. All the time and work I had given and sacrificed was for nothing. I quickly looked down at my arms and realized these long dark red veins were running down my arms. They burned like no pain I had ever felt before, even on the battlefield. It was spreading rapidly across my body.
“I always hate this part though because even though I wish I could end your pain swiftly I must wait until the stench of your death can be smelled across the kingdom.” She almost sounded sorrowful.
As if the pity would make the pain lessen. My vision began to blur and the pains intensity began to build until I felt nothing anymore. I heard the last few steps she took out of the cave and the beating wings of another dragon about to become prey. | You thought you were prepared for anything, But nothing could have prepared you for this.
The dragon showed no signs of having been in a fight but never the less from the wings down to its tail were completly missing and what was left of the dragons internal organs where splling from its body to the the surrounding area.
As you stand there the severity of the issue hits you something had torn ..no bitten in half, A creature that was at the top of the food chain something you yourself only had a slight chance of beating, A creature so powerfull only the foolish, brave or stupid would dare to confront but the bravado that bought you here in the first place vanished almost immedaitly upon the realisation you are not alone here.
There is not a sound to be heard no birds no nothing not even the wind blowing around you the only things you hear is the sound of your own breathing and your heart beating faster and stronger than you have ever known.
Instinctually you raise your weapon and sheild in a defensive stance you scan the area around you and see nothing but every instinct in your body tells you something is there waiting ... but for what you think.
Surely what ever killed this dragon wouldn't have to hide and wait for the likes of you, Maybe this is something else maybe a scavenger just looking for a free meal from the left overs? if so then you can still get away or fight if need you tell yourself .
As you go to move you realise you can't "come on you fool move" you think to yourself thinking fear has taken control of your body ...
Then everything goes black you can't see a thing "what trickery is this....." your thoughts trail as you realize in horror that you can not hear anything at all, Not a bird in the sky not the wind blowing around you, The sound of your own breathing or the beating of your own heart ................ | 2022-07-13T08:34:30 | 2022-07-13T07:24:11 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] You have just gone through a Groundhog Day cycle that lasted thousands of years before you made the perfect day for yourself. Then, you wake up as a different person with a note beside you: 1 down, 7 Billion to go. | Bowling had turned out to be the key. I'd always loved it- the beer, the hard-soled shoes, my mates cheering me on, and the clattering explosion of a strike like a burst of applause. My perfect day turned out to be capped off by a rip-roaringly drunken perfect game, the last bowl of which I almost invalidated by staggering over the line. I saw the ball crash through the pins, heard my friends explode in cheers, and then... I fell asleep. Sort of.
It was more like falling into a vat of tar than falling asleep. I couldn't see a thing, and there was a pervasive gentle heat over my entire body. I could feel some force pushing at me, *rearranging* me, but as disturbing as that sounds, it wasn't entirely unpleasant. After an indeterminate amount of time, I really did fall asleep, caressed by warm fingers of darkness, still heavily buzzed.
I awoke as a hung-over thirteen year old girl. My mouth was stone dry, and twin ice picks were lodged behind my eyes, the points of both gently trying to pop my skull open. I groaned, and realized that I had a soft, slightly squeaky voice. I also had on pale pink pajama bottoms and a white spaghetti strap top decorated with a sparkly purple heart. With a squeal several decibels higher than my usual exclamations, I jackknifed out of my bed and hit the floor, hard. Long blonde hair flopped in my face. It smelled like strawberries. I scrambled to my feet and caught sight of my reflection in a beribboned mirror that hung opposite my bed. No doubt about it, I was a fairly tall, slightly gangly teenage girl with a button nose and a large asteroid belt of freckles that spread from cheekbone to cheekbone. I reached up and probed my own face with fingers that had not one hair on any of their knuckles.
"Fuck me." I said in my new girl's voice. "I need a cigarette."
Something on the bedside table caught my eye. I turned back and picked up a greeting card made of heavy paper stock. It had the name Del written on its cover in block silver letters a quarter inch high. My old name.
*One down, seven billion to go.*
The words were written in an elegant, old style script on the inside of the card. There was nothing else. I stared at the writing, willing it to make sense, but unable to draw any kind of meaning from the words at all. I sank onto the bed and held my aching head in my hands.
How many times had I lived the day previous? I'd lost count after the second thousand. All in all I think I'd lived probably more than a thousand years of the same day. I'd found out the personal secrets of every person I could interact with. I'd traveled as far as I could from my point of origin on that repeated morning. I'd slept with almost every person, and I mean person in the town. I'd stopped a murder every day for three hundred days, and then I'd just let it happen after that. The chase for the perfect day had become my way of dealing with eternity. It had taken a lot of effort to remember who I had used to be when I began to repeat the days, and even more effort to create the perfect day for that man. But I'd done it. And now, someone was telling me to begin again. Hung over.
"Christy!" The voice from outside the room was muffled. "You're going to be late for school!"
I resisted the urge to ask the voice if it had a smoke, or a handful of Advil. I looked down at my small, gangly body.
"Coming!" I called back. I crumpled the note and threw it under my bed. What did I want as this new person? There was only one way to find out. | My hands are trembling. The fingers clenched around this mysterious note aren't my fingers.
One down, seven billion to go.
"Hey honey," calls out a soft voice. "I made us some coffee."
I walk my stiff body to the washroom, only to realize this isn't my house.
" I don't like coffee." This isn't my voice, either.
"Since when?" A giggle.
My legs direct me to the washroom, despite having never been here before. A wrinkled face stares back to me in place of what should be my reflection.
"Honey?" An older woman appears in the doorway, gently holding out a tacky mug. A name echoes in my mind.
"Susanne?" She tilts her head. "I've never liked coffee."
"This is a strange joke you're playing."
She smiles as I take her mug, it's not actually as tacky as I thought it was now that I'm holding it. Nervously I bring it to my lips, only to take in the best damn coffee I've ever had in my life. Which reminds me, I should probably call my grandson and thank him for the coffee beans he picked up on his recent trip to Costa Rica.
I make my way through the familiar hall.
"I'm about to call Cody," I say just loud enough for my wife to hear me, "you should go pick up the other phone."
"Great idea!" I hear her footsteps shuffle through to our bedroom as I punch in Cody's number.
"Ooh, I'm so excited." Susy giggles. "This is such a perfect day."
| 2016-08-25T17:17:47 | 2016-08-25T16:46:48 | 92 | 18 |
[WP]Just because one of your chicken eggs hatched a fire breathing dragon people think you’re evil. But you’re still just a regular farmer trying to make a living while dealing with an overprotective dragon, heroes that want to kill you and fanatics who want to worship you as the new Demon Lord. | "Alright Genny, come to papa. We're picking out your favorites today! Because we are gonna make sweet apples!"
This black scaled giant wagging her tail like a pupper here is called Genny, she's my little girl. She saved my life.
When she a wee baby, I thought i'd have a hard time raising a dragon that might eat all the livestock. I planned to send her to a mountain where she'd be happy until she killed a buncha crows stalking my crop. It was famine all over and that was my last chance this season. Love this little girl.
Sure she may be weird, such as that one time she breathed life to a flower and breathed death to it again. She seems to enjoy it. helping around in the farm breathing on shitty insects and herding the cattle. She lurks around apple trees most of the time though.
There are times when people would come for her, yelling curses at us and throwing weapons. Kids these days, everything they see these days are monsters. Genny swats them away easily so I dont worry much.
I point my pitchfork at 'em to show em whose boss. I dont want em hurtin' my little girl.
Rainy season came, people often come to my house to give me "tribute" can't deny free stuff after all. What's this demon lord stuff, I cant deal with all this. Harvest is comin' in a few days after all.
Genny stays indoors during this season. I remodeled my house so she can follow me everywhere. Cute lil' girl, what would she do without me.
"It's thunderin' real bad huh Genny? ...Genny? Girl, where are you?"
I took my cloak, a basket of apples and ran off to the forest. I don't know where she's going but she must have smelled something.
A large group of cloaked figures have gathered, in front of them is an unconscious little elf kid and Genny. Oh no, Genny wouldnt do this kind of thing would she?
"Genny!"
I called her name, but instead of looking at me she raised her head as if preparing to breathe death to the little girl.
"GENNY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"
In a second, all time stopped as I look back at the time when Genny came out of a chicken egg, oh how the days have gone wrong ...where did I go wrong?
...?
I look back to see the cloaked figures in ashes. Nothing remains of them. Where did the little girl go? Nothing remains on Genny's claws, that's it. I'm gonna have to put my foot down.
I'm still in shock but I am preparing myself. I need to do this so it wont happen again in the future. She's approaching me. I need to look her in the eye.
I slowly look at Genny's neck. She bends in response, as I stood. The elf kid is in her mouth, completely safe. My worries were all for nothing
"...you were trying to stop them from sacrificing this kid huh? I apologize for doubting you Genny"
Genny closes her eyes in response and gently places the girl on my arms. It looks like she's a former slave this girl. That means she might not have had parents to begin with.
"C'mon girl we are going home. I'll be making apple pies for you"
I walk back with the elf kid and Genny in tow. Heh, at this rate we'll be one bigger family. Genny has a little sister now. Days with them might make this farm more livelier. | *"And he shall wield the scythe, made of fine black steel,"* a cultist recited, adoration in his eyes.
"Ach, that hurdly counts. It was me da's scythe, Ai just got it from 'im." The farmer scratched his beard absently. "Yer grasping at shtraw. And Ai know what's shtraw when Ai see it," he added. "And alright, call a shpaed a shpaed, it's fairly dark, Ai'll grant yez. But it was made of dwarven stuff, so that's fer why."
*"And he shall reject his powers and titles,"* Another cultist continued.
"Well, that's just r'cursive. Me rejecting it might be a sign that yev' got it wrong *or* right. You've no way fer telling." He leaned more heavily on the scythe. Which, admittedly, was very tall, and black, and foreboding.
*"He shall separate the wheat from the chaff,"*
"Nouw. Ai'd be tempted to say that there was supposeda' be a metapher in the original."
*"And his steed shall breathe flame,"* Finished the first.
The farmer gave a shifty look from side to side. "...never said Ai rode 'er, did Ai?" | 2021-03-21T17:44:22 | 2021-03-21T15:50:50 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] God does an AMA. | **I Am God. AMA**
*Submitted: 45 seconds ago*
*In the interest of time, (I am very busy after all), I am going to post the answers to your questions in order so you don’t have to waste time typing out your questions. I already know them, and this karma isn’t worth anything anyway. If you’re not sure what your answer is, or if you come up with a question that I haven’t answered, I will PM you the answer before you ask it. So just check for the orange envelope after you come up with a question. I will only be here for about 2 minutes. Thanks!*
*(Also, please arrange a funeral service for u/karmanaut as he insisted on photo evidence and it killed him. For those of you about to get upset, I only did this AMA when it was his time anyway. It was either this, or getting hit by a car while walking his dog. You decide.)*
- Yes
- No
- That’s a good question, but I’m not sure you understand the implications of that decision. If I were to have done that, you would never colonize the Moon.
- Yes, she likes you. No, it won’t end well.
- He has a lot of good ideas, and while unpopular at the moment, he will start something truly wonderful.
- Yes I thought of that. You’re very original.
- Yes
- I honestly don't know how to explain that without giving physics away. Neil figures it out.
- Yes
- No
- Yes Jesus is really my Son. No, he did not have to explain computers to me.
- I am aware that you think how I treated Adam and Eve was a ‘dick move,’ but without their fall the internet would have never been invented. Your call.
- That’s a ridiculous question. Read the Bible, I explained that already.
- Wow, that is a good question. To keep it short, it was necessary to insure the survival of the human race. I would much prefer not doing those kinds of things, but I have to do what I have to do. I love all of you, and sometimes that requires making hard choices that nobody else can make. If I hadn’t made it, someone else eventually would have.
- No your wife is not cheating on you. She’s working a second job. Show some appreciation and stop playing so much Xbox. Oh, and she’s pregnant.
- No, and don’t ever ask that again. Seriously.
- *wink* Wouldn’t you like to know. If you don’t know in 61.8 years I’ll PM you the answer.
Okay everyone! That’s all the time I have for today. I’ll be PMing some of you periodically throughout the rest of the day, but that’s all the time I have for the actual thread. I love you all! Please take care of yourselves! | >> Why do bad things happen to good people
> You know, just by being able to ask that question on the internet you're doing better than basically everyone who's ever lived. King Soloman was rich but he didn't have on demand video. David was powerful and perhaps the greatest ruler of my People, but while he had Bathsheba bathing in the moonlight you have PornHub; I know which he'd have preferred. Adam and Eve literally lived in a tropical paradise created by My divine hand and crafted specifically for their happiness... but you... you have central air.
> So let's not pretend that things are so terrible for these great people you know. | 2014-12-03T12:09:23 | 2014-12-03T11:31:57 | 115 | 21 |
[WP] You were told to never stay up passed midnight. You went to sleep at 12:04am, it was still 12:04am when you woke up. | The house is as silent as death. The green glow of my alarm clock casts a pale glow over my toys. Even Frederick's fluffy face grins eerily in the strange light.
I must have drifted off, but only for a few seconds, as my clock has not yet moved. I stare at it, waiting - hoping - for it to tick.
12:04
A shiver crawls down my spine, like a long legged spider slowly creeping. My skin is bumpy and I feel as if an icey breath has entered through the open window. *I don't think I'm alone.*
"Mom," I whisper, hoping she hears me in the room next door, but too terrified to speak louder. What if *something* else should hear?
12:04
Gingerly, I cast a leg over the side of the bed. I clench my eyes and wait for *whatever* is here to snatch at my leg and drag me underneath my bed - a racecar sepulchre. But, there's nothing. I swallow hard, and feel my burden lessen.
"Come on, Frederick," I whisper, trying to comfort the trembling bear. I hug him close to my chest and walk towards my nightlight.
*Click. Click.*
Nothing. It's dead. There is still only the uneasy blur of the alarm clock light, as it pours pea-soup into my room.
"Mom," I try again, a little louder. "I'm sorry - I shouldn't have stayed up so late." I walk towards my bedroom door, and as I do the grip of fear lessens a little, and the taste of hope begins to swell. "Please help me. I'll be good, I promise."
I kiss Frederick on his forehead. "It'll be okay," I whisper. I'll be strong for him.
As my hand touches the doorknob, I hear *it.*
A scratching. My blood runs cold and I stop moving. I want to swing the door open and dart out - but I can't! I'm frozen.
"I wasn't under your bed," comes the grating voice.
I feel wet-warmth run down my leg. I glance a last time at the clock.
12:04
"You should have checked the wardrobe, little one."
I clutch Frederick protectively as the wardrobe doors are flung wide and the dark figure jumps out! I scream. *It* screams. I won't let it harm Frederick. I fall on top of the bear and wrap myself around him.
The scream turns to laughter; the laughter to bursts of a familar voice.
"I'm- I'm sorry sweetheart," mom says, between her laughs. "But I told you not to stay up!"
| Mother always told me
Not to stay up late
If it's past midnight
Beware the demon's gate
Children become victims
Their bodies open hosts
I always deemed it folly
But not I'm scared the most
This night I lie awake
Eyes shut tightly, kept
Two hours past, midnight struck
But still I have not slept
Last time I eyed the clock
It was but 12:04
I look now with terror
Only nightmares I abhor | 2017-05-25T10:27:45 | 2017-05-25T08:23:34 | 147 | 22 |
[WP] After witnessing a death, a young girl falls in love with the Grim Reaper. She becomes a serial killer just to see him more often. | Larry was disappointed, of course, but he was also a practical man, so he dispensed with grumbling and instead got to work. He began with the bottles first, then the scraps of food strewn about, then the shredded photographs laying across the floor like pixellated snow.
Finally, after he had squeezed the trash bag down the chute, he returned to pick Sara off the ground, then began the slow trudge to the bedroom.
"I'm OK... I can... walk by myself..."
"You promised me you wouldn't drink again, Sara."
"Did I? I didn't..."
"I'm here anytime, Sara. You should talk to me, not bottle it all up."
She was quiet for a while, until her head hit the pillows. She still stank of old sweat, alcohol, depression. Larry was turning to leave when her hand shot out, caught his.
"I'm sorry, it's just that... I know I promised you I would move on, but I... I miss him so much sometimes, you know?"
"Yeah, OK."
"Oh no, oh no... I've made you angry, haven't I? I've gone and done it again... Larry, I swear, I really do like you, and I want to be with you, and I'm sure I want to move on..."
"Then what's stopping you, Sara? Have you been calling him again?"
Larry didn't really understand what triggered those black episodes Sara lost herself in. He thought at first that they were still communicating over the Internet, or through phone messages. But there were none. And as far as he could tell, from the first day he had reached out to the girl who had survived the bombing at Times Square, performed first aid on her while the emergency services arrived, he had never seen her ex, only heard her talk about him in the abstract.
But he had noticed that tragedies tended to precipitate such moods. If they witnessed an accident, saw people perish, she would spiral again, uncontrollably.
Perhaps it was some kind of PTSD.
"I swear, I've not been calling him. It's just that... I'm reminded of him at times, you know?"
"I know. And I told you, I don't care about your past. I'm here to help you through this. But you have to want to help yourself too, I can't do it alone."
She sat up suddenly, a flame igniting in her eyes, a certain clarity which shone through.
"No, this cannot go on. I was wrong. I have to accept that I can't change who I am. Please, Larry, please go. I can't promise you that I'll ever move on. And if I ever weaken again, feel like seeing him again... You may get hurt, Larry. So please, we have to end this."
He expected the words, but they still cut deep. How many times had he tried to move on himself? But he knew he had to try, to see if he could ever walk with her to the end of the tunnel - there, surely, there would be enough light for the two of them.
"I'll stay with you until I die, I promise," he said, running his fingers through her hair as he coaxed her back to sleep.
"That's... what I'm afraid of..." she replied, as she slowly drifted off to sleep.
Larry kissed her on the forehead, drew the blanket over her, then left.
---
/r/rarelyfunny | The first time I saw Her was an accident. Mr. Johnson just tripped, struck his head on the table, and didn't get back up. And there She was, pale and perfect in black... and then gone.
The second time wasn't an accident. I had to see Her again, I *needed* to. So I slipped a little something extra into my wife's morning coffee. And there She was, pale and perfect in black... this time, She caught my eye before She vanished.
The third time, I figured out how I could see Her longer. I wandered into a hospital and meddled. And there She was, pale and perfect in black... four times that morning I saw Her, each sight a little gift.
The fourth time, I was making a plan. I knocked off old Jack from down the street, it's so easy to mix up sugar and rat poison. And there She was, pale and perfect in black... I caught her eye, a silent question in my eyes, and she nodded.
The last time, I was ready. I dressed myself in my nicest black dress, lay on the bed, and swallowed the pills, ready to be with Her forever. And there She was, pale and perfect in black... and so was I. | 2017-06-07T18:55:59 | 2017-06-07T18:09:30 | 204 | 75 |
[WP] The Old Gods have returned to take their rightful place as world leaders, and they are not pleased with the current status of humanity. | 'I wish to submit a complaint.'
She stared at him, one of her fine, golden eyebrows cocked in an expression of surprised contempt. Framed by golden strands of hair, her face was cold and beautiful as the winter snows. Her lips were red and her eyes had no fixed colour, but flitted from green to blue, as though they had bottled some of the famous Northern Lights.
'Nobody makes complaints to Yggdrasil. Not in the last five thousand years. Just who the hell are you, guy?'
Peter licked his lips. He wasn't really sure how he'd worked up the courage to come in here. His reason, which had loomed large among his thoughts as he took the first of the thousand steps up the mountain side an hour ago, had withered at the first sight of the World Tree and its golden guardians. It seemed too small a matter to disturb the peace of so great a place. Nevertheless, he spoke in a trembling voice:
'We - that is to say I... I run mead brewery down just outside of New York. Odin recently announced a new tax on Mead sales to combat, as he put it "the rising levels of alcoholism in our society". It's driving me out of business. I am here to ask him to reconsider.'
A great blast of air pummelled him as the Valkyrie beat her wings in fury.
'Insolent mortal! You think I give a fuck about your brewery? I'm an angel of death - I have souls to guide to Valhalla and I certainly don't have time to waste with this! Write a damn letter, if you must, but you can't expect to just march up here and - '
She was interrupted by the sound of an ancient battle horn. It did not ring out, as a real horn ought to have done, but issued forth from a tinny speaker fixed to the Valkyrie's desk. She looked first at peter, her eyes aswirl with Boreal fury, then looked at the buzzer. Pressing her finger down on some mechanism Peter could not see, she said:
'Yes this is the Front desk. I - I see sir. Yes, right away, I'll send him right up.'
She looked slightly worried as she turned her attention back to Peter.
'I don't know whose dick you sucked, but the Big Man wants to see you in his office. Come with me.'
With that she leapt at once over the desk and locked Peter in a fierce embrace. She beat her winds against the thin air of the mountaintop and ascended smoothly into the sky, affording Peter a not entirely unpleasant view of her creamy bosom. Her armour seemed more ornamental than practical, he managed to think through his arousal. Wherever a concession could be made to sex appeal, its golden plate had been cut away, to reveal cleavage, flank, navel and pretty much every part of the female form that men were fond of looking at. Then again, she was basically just a secretary, and the guys around her did things old school, blithely unconcerned by modern concerns such as *sexual objectification*, *institutionalised racism* and *gender equality*.
He was dumped in the midst of his reflections in an unceremonious heap, upon a gilded landing pad. It jutted out from the central bough of the World Tree, and terminated in a great yawning entrance, whose iron doors were shut. Futhark runes had been carved into the stubborn metal, but with a craftsmanship which defied belief. They looked so fine as to have been written on with ink, but on closer examination they were sunk so deep into the metal that they must have been made using a laser or some otherworldy equivalent.
The doors creaked and groaned as some internal force forced them open. A great chamber was revealed within, a gold and crimson carpet leading to a mighty throne. Upon the throne sat a huge man, his face obscured by a fashionable beard, oiled to perfection. He wore a sleek black business suit, but had a surfeit of bracelets about his wrists. Overall could be mistaken for the kind of guy who drank coffee in Greenwich Village, were it not for the leather eyepatch which covered his left eye.
'Peter, my boy!' boomed Odin. 'I understand you're here to make a complaint?'
Peter somehow couldn't grovel in front of this man. He exuded warmth and merriment and Peter's body reacted to it with an uncharacteristic courage.
'My Lord,' he began, 'In your latest Budget you raised the tax on alcoholic beverages to 23%, as part of a measure to combat obesity and alcoholism.'
Odin nodded, stroking his exquisite beard.
'I represent the Copperhouse Mead Microbrewery in New York. I wish to report that your new tax has completely flattened my profit margin, as it has the margins of every other microbrewery that I know of. Your policy is flagrantly supportive of big business and is really crushing the little guy, on whose labour, may I remind you, the entire economy is ultimately built.' He drew a breath, uncertain as to whether he had overstepped the mark.'
Odin did not seem the least bit ruffled. 'You are suggesting that small-to-medium-sized businesses are being disproportionately affected by the Pavlovian tax model introduced in the last fiscal year?'
'I am.'
'I understand your frustration, Peter. I really do. But you have to understand that once a tax is made, it is very difficult to unmake. I remember when we slightly raised the tax on heating gas. The whole Ice Giant community rose up in rebellion. It was a PR nightmare. Besides, we have so many expenditures. The Veterans' Bureau alone costs us over 60% of our tax intake! Valhalla expands every year - WW2 was a bloody nightmare! You try floating the bill for endless sex, food and wine for a billion deceased soldiers. No, Peter, I'm afraid an exemption is just not possible.'
'What about some kind of tax credit?' asked Peter.
'Worse than useless - just creates a deadweight loss, I'm afraid.'
'Well what is the ordinary bloke supposed to do if the welfare bill is constantly expanding while the number of people paying for it is constantly decreasing? How am I supposed to live?'
Odin shrugged his mighty shoulders. 'I don't know. Blame Reagan.' | The Pastor clawed at his cheeks, his nails drawing thin red lines across his face. Curling into a foetal position, he writhed in agony, screaming for a solace he could not find.
"Lord! Pl-- please. Where art thou?" His voice cracked, and his face buried deeper into his chest as the darkness began swirling at his feet, nipping and gnawing his ankles like rabid dogs. "L--Lord... *please...*"
He was met only with the vague whispers of the shadows filling the room.
The torrents began drawing across the Pastor, twining around his body like vines around a tree as he clutched his bible tight, his heart thumping against his chest.
"*Your Lord cometh,*" proclaimed the creature. Its voice was both powerful and, more than even that -- it was *otherworldly*, incomprehensible almost. Every word echoed a thousand times over in the Pastor's mind, and his head felt like it'd implode under the relentless assault.
What followed was a stream of words the Pastor couldn't even begin to recognise. A tongue so old it predated possibly the world itself; the Pastor didn't know this fact for sure, but as the creature spoke, it was as if a part of the Pastor's brain had been unlocked by its presence. He felt enlightened -- a sensation which almost eclipsed his fear.
He knew, *for sure*, that this creature was more than just a denizen of the shadows.
"Show yourself!" The Pastor commanded from between frothing lips, desperate for more of the insidious knowledge parted onto him. "My Lord! Enlighten me with your presence, enrich me with your words!'
There was hesitation on its part. The shadows churned, and a low growl reverberated across the room. A tendril parted from the form wrapping around the Pastor, and he saw it was dripping with fluid. When the tendril unfurled, an eye stared back into the Pastor's face -- milky white and deathly still.
"*As you wish,*" the creature said, and the Pastor could've sworn a chuckle filled the room. Either that or an earthquake.
As the Pastor stared into the eye, his head began to throb. The world around him began to peel away, a painting burning to reveal the canvas underneath. Creatures -- eyes and tentacles and madness -- filled the room he was in, staring at him with expressions of curiosity, glee, *hunger*.
*Eyes, everywhere.*
They lined the walls, the sky, the creature's themselves, their scaly and reptilian hides covered with the unblinking orbs. And when the Pastor closed his own eyes, they even appeared in his mind, staring wordlessly back at him.
He opened his eyes again, and more of the room lay bare for him to see. More truths unfolding. Where the creatures converged, by the cross at the back of the room, lay an angel, their hands and legs nailed to the cross and dripping blood. Crucified, in a mockery of the Lord. Their wings were torn and plucked, their eyes gouged from their face to reveal two hollow, bloody sockets.
The Pastor's mouth parted, and a scream left it. He writhed uncontrollably, his mouth frothing and his eyes watering.
"What are you!?" Tears streamed down his face as the eyes drew closer, eclipsing his vision.
"*We are the Old Gods,*" spoke all the creatures in unison. "*And we have returned to claim what is rightfully ours.*"
The Pastor's whimpers escalated into screeches, and the screeches gave way to laughter. Maddening, agonised laughter at the cosmic truth which had been unveiled to him. His mind was naught in sanity, but filled with knowledge.
He knew *it.* He knew *everything.*
The room fell empty, and the Pastor collapsed to his knees, saliva dribbling from his lips. His body twitched amidst his throes of insanity.
"The -- they're coming, they're all coming..."
----
/r/coffeeandwriting | 2017-08-11T05:41:18 | 2017-08-11T05:13:59 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] Once a year, the best assassins meet in a secret location. Showing their best kills, everyone is surprised when they see a 70 year old man walk in. | The door clicked open, much to Rhonda's satisfaction. No matter how many years passed or how strongly time had stolen the deftness of her hands, a lock was a lock.
She was glad to be in from the cold. While a quiet, unassuming room by the docks was fitting, the sea spray and the chill wind coming over the water froze her tiny frame to the bone. But, now that she was in, she felt that old familiar rush, that spark of adrenaline that would course through her and be all the warmth she needed. It felt like decades since she'd experienced it. Perhaps it was.
A moment later, she was wishing that same rush would dull some of the pain from tripping down the short flight of stairs. Rhonda landed heavily on her hip, wincing, knowing she'll be paying for that with interest over the next several days. The room that was full of the sounds of good cheer and the clinking of glasses was abruptly replaced with a stunned silence.
Two rushed to her side, pushing through the tables and chairs that were in their way to reach her. One, a man with a bowler hat, the other, a young woman with the side of her head shaved. They placed their arms under Rhonda's, gently guiding her up. She winced, let out a quiet whine, and slipped a few inches - digging in her nails on their forearms in a futile attempt at latching on.
"What in the hell is this?" came a deep, gravelly voice from the other end of the room.
"We've gotcha, don't worry!" the man in the bowler said. "Jesus, that was quite the tumble. Are you quite alright?"
"Oh, yes, I believe so," Rhonda said. "I've taken a few tumbles in my time." With a nod of thanks to the two, she scanned the room. It certainly fit the bill, in her mind. Small, tilted tables, a bar that looked as old as her, lighting that would make a cockroach comfortable. Of course, that was just the scenery; the importance lay in the gentlemen and ladies occupying the old, rickety chairs.
At the back was a large man, bald as can be, and a brow that would have been more appropriate in the stone age. At his side, picking the darkest corner, was a thin man with a thin beard, the hair on the top of his head most certainly thinning. He had his feet up on the table, flipping a coin, strangely nonchalant considering the sudden turn of events. Lastly, a woman with a shock of bright red hair was on her left, near the bar. She had an expression on her could make a snake look cuddly.
With a nod and a friendly smile, Rhonda walked right up to the centre of the room, standing patiently at a table. In her hands she held a tiny clutch and a walking cane. A sideways glance at the lady with the shaved head was all she needed to get the chair pulled out for her. "Thank you, sweetheart," she said.
It seemed to take a moment for the gears to turn in the big one's head, but when they finally started to shift, he cracked a smile. Then, deep and bellowing, he let out a hearty laugh. The thin man and the red-haired one joined in, soon enough all adding to the chorus together, slapping their hands on the tables and lifting their glasses in cheers. "What a turn this is, eh?" the big man said. "A little old lady walks in the bar." He leaned forward. For a moment it looked like the table wouldn't be able to handle his tremendous bulk. "I don't think you've come to the right place."
Rhonda smiled at him, tilting her head slightly. "Oh, dear, I do believe I'm in exactly the place I wish to be." They all laughed again. Rhonda frowned slightly. "As expected. Now, I do believe you may be laughing a touch too often. A smarter man would question how I got in, rather than mock my misfortune. My first piece of advice; take what you do seriously! Wouldn't you say?" she said with a nod to the man wearing the bowler. He didn't respond, just went wide-eyed in confusion.
"Little tough to do when a little old lady breaks a hip on the way in, wouldn't *you* say?" the red-haired woman said. The thin man snorted loudly and the bald one slammed his hand on the table.
"And another piece of advice, and I suggest you listen to this one quite carefully. Once you're serious about the job, that means your head's in it. That's good. That's when your feet come in. Spacial awareness. Scouting. Reconnaissance." She coughed quietly. Again, to the man in the bowler. "Be a dear and fetch me some tea, would you? I've got quite the chill from outside, and I don't think the big one's bright enough to make it right."
The big man's mirth turned quickly to anger. The smirk on his lantern jaw turned slowly to a frown. "Now, I don't take too kindly to... to..."
Rhonda held a wrinkled hand up to her chest in mock surprise. "Oh, are you having a hard time standing? You seemed to find it humorous when my feet went out from me a moment ago." The thin man suddenly looked deadly serious. He stopped flipping the coin and pulled a dagger instead.
"Next lesson!" Rhonda proclaimed cheerily. "Learn the importance of a deft hand. Subtle movements. Quick tricks. Not just some cliche thing with a *coin*. You'll never know when they come in handy!" The thin man pulled back his arm and found the dagger slipped harmlessly from his grip.
"What is this?" the red-haired woman asked in a panic. "Who are you?"
"Lastly!" Rhonda called again. She looked the three that mistreated her dead in the eye, one to the next, a terror in an ageing body. "Know your enemy." The big man slipped forward first, his huge body breaking the table and falling heavily forward. The others quickly followed.
The woman with the shaved hair and the man in the bowler flexed their fingers and wiggled their feet, wondering how they escaped their fate. Rhonda read their expressions and gleefully answered for them.
"I train your kind," she said, dropping the facade of the kindly old lady and speaking with authority and confidence. "That last lesson? That's the most important. I learned the trade here myself, and I've had a few of my proteges track the comings and goings to see what kind of people I'd be dealing with. I don't bother with villains and miscreants anymore. Not worth what time I have left. I'd prefer to work with the kind that would help a harmless old lady, lost on her way home." She tapped her arm on the spot she scratched them both. "One of my students came up with the antidote. It won't be as potent through the scratches, but it'll do. You'll be right as rain in a day or two. Another one of mine came up with the gas, and the means to pump it in here the moment I arrived."
"So..." the woman stammered, still processing the events. "What do you want with us?"
"Isn't it obvious?" the old lady asked, finding it to be her turn to laugh. "I'm offering to teach you."
\---
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed that, please feel free to check out some of my other stuff over at [r/JohnBordenWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/JohnBordenWriting/)! | The seven of us gathered in the usual spot; an abandoned factory in the middle of the woods. No one came here unless we brought them, and they usually didn't leave alive. After Jason came, we all stood up to start the meeting.
"Alright you guys, you know how it goes. You plug your phone to the projector, you show us what you did, and then we'll bring out one of the- uh- test dummies, and you'll show us something good. Agreed?" Wylie looked at all of us as he finished the starting speech. We each mumbled some sort of agreement and he nodded and took a seat. "Alright, who's first?"
I was preparing to stand up when an unfamiliar voice sounded out from somewhere behind us. "I think I'd like to." We all stood up, each of us already brandishing some sort of weapon, me wielding two butcher knives I stole from a restaurant kitchen.
From the shadows, a rather short figure stepped out. We all had to stop for a moment, confused as the figure turned out to be an old man. "What the hell are you doing here?" Wylie asked through gritted teeth. I spared my friend a glance, taking notice of the veins popping out from his neck. The old man held up his jittery hand and waved it dismissively. "Son, I'm 73 years old and I've seen and done horrible things, so sit down and shut up." The rest of us chuckled.
The old man came forward and stood in front of us all, pulling something out of his coat pocket which at first we assumed was going to be a weapon, but was actually a small collection of Polaroids. "Now, I don't have no fancy phone or whatever gadgets you kids use, but I got these pictures. I'll start with this one."
He held up a black and white Polaroid that showed the picture of a man and a woman. "Now see, back in my day, I was known to be quite admired by the ladies. See this woman here, back in '65, we had a little runarounds. She was with somebody back then, that man you see right here. Now, I'd been in the assassin business for two years at that time, started pretty young you see. Well, I'll never forget the contract I got right after dropping her off at her sister's after one our little hangouts, because it was on this man right here, her boyfriend."
We all had relaxed at this point, listening to the old man's tale. It was rather strange, but he seemed pretty interesting. Even Wylie looked entertained. The old man continued.
"I remember my plan was to take her out but have someone leak it to her boyfriend we was together you see. She had no idea what I was, or what I was planning for that matter, so it was going fine. Well, this lughead decides he ain't gonna show up alone. No, he wanted to bring about four other brutes with him and that they were gonna jump me. Well, anyway so I took her to this little club building, whatever you wanna call it; it was a place where people went dancing with their sweethearts and had fun. Well, we were sharing a milkshake when all of a sudden, this group of boys bust up in there. She sees him and tells me to run, and at first I wasn't going to until I saw all these beefy guys wanting to beat me up."
I found myself cackling at the old man's story. He sure was a good storyteller. Mazie put her hand in the air to get the man's attention. "Um, sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to know. What was your plan in the first place anyway?" We all hummed in curiosity and looked back at the old man.
"Well, my original plan was, he was gonna show up and we were gonna fight and I was gonna end up shanking him with a steak knife or something. But anyway, so I immediately hide behind someone, just in time too cuz they noticed her right off the bat. I was moving around, trying to find a good place to lay low as I knew they'd come looking for me.
So here I was walking around, got five idiots looking for me; well six if you count her too, she wanted to find me too. But I was walking around when I noticed he broke off from his pals and went to the locker room where people went to do the dirty, you know how kids are, and I followed him. Well, we was alone, and them lockers have sharp edges. He unfortunately tripped into the side of one, and you can guess how that ended."
We all clapped and whistled for the old man. He pushed his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose and slightly bowed. "Okay old man, that was some story. What happened to that girl anyway?" Wylie asked, surprising us all. "Well son, back then I couldn't be tied down ya know? I wanted to experience all types of girls and do whatever I wanted, so that night I called her from a payphone to tell her I was moving away, never saw or heard from her again."
We all laughed and cheered, delighted by the man's story. Then, he shuffled his Polaroids and held up another one of a man holding a fish.
"Now, let me tell you about this one."
[Hope you like this!] | 2020-07-29T21:55:02 | 2020-07-29T21:41:50 | 483 | 121 |
[WP] We did it! We finally achieved FTL travel! At first, alien races seem thrilled to have a new neighbor. Then they seem terrified of us. We are the only ones to reach the stars with technology instead of magic. | *"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." -* Arthur C. Clarke
*"Any sufficiently understood magic is indistinguishable from science"* \- Unknown
"The first twenty years were fine. People traveled back and forth between all the worlds connected by the spacegate network. Each world had a slightly different way of constructing spacegates, but each spacefaring race eventually did. Some used rings of stone, some drew circles of blood. The humans used... of all things... rings of carbon-laced iron. Can you believe it? Iron, the most magically inert substance. It was like when the Stone Magistars first entered the ring of worlds. Everybody thought stone was an undynamic element, but the ways they used and moved it opened up all kinds of new industries. At first, we thought humans were that again. Some race had invented iron magic. As we began to trade spells back and forth, trying to decipher eachothers' codexes of knowledges, we found something disturbing."
"What was that, grand maester?"
"Our spells translated into their system just fine. More than just fine. Every spell, one of... what we thought were their mages... scientists they called them... were able to be figured out... not in years, but in minutes. When we demonstrated one of our more advanced teleportation spells for the first time, the lead scientist screamed out, 'This confirms quantum entanglement is an expression of the holographic principle!'"
"What's that mean, grand maester?"
"Even to this day, we don't understand. It was like that with everything. We spoke in step-by-step processes, and cherished the lessons handed down by our ancestors, never questioning but only expanding - never tearing down the origins of our knowledge. But humans and their scientists... they tore down their own foundations every day, rebuilding them stronger and better. We had never seen anything like it. We used cocktails of ingrediants to help those damaged heal, just our vitalism traditions encouraged. They, however, could take a living being apart into pieces and put it back together. They were ALWAYS taking things apart and putting them together. They couldn't leave them alone. Their appetite to know the inner workings of things instead of just using them was insatiable. I heard they had a device called a 'atom smasher' that could even break down the fundamental building blocks of all worlds to see what THEY were made of. Everything we did could translate into what they did. They understood the parts. It never worked the other way around though, not even once. Their 'solar panels' are still a mystery to us. They capture light itself and can move iron chariots with it."
"So what happened? Why didn't we learn from these great sages that joined the ring?"
"The problem was afterwards. in a month, humans could perfectly replicate our best personal teleportation spell. In a year, every human was blipping in and out of existence. The entire imperial treasury was emptied of its gold by thieves in a week. Of course, we tried to stop them, but we were used to teleportation spells being something only grand maesters could do. We wouldn't sully ourselves with petty thievery; our reputations alone were worth more than that."
"So what happened?"
"We couldn't stand it. And we couldn't understand their methods. We went to war. Our greatest mages launched their best fireballs, our invisible assassins stormed their unwalled cities."
"Did we win?"
"We lost. Horribly. The entire ring of worlds was powerless before the humans. They could steal one tome, upload it to their infernal web of knowledge, their 'internet', and soon every human was using spells only our greatest could aspire to acheive. Our invisible assassins would trip their 'laser sensors' and 'automated defense drones'. And the fire mages..."
"Did they have bigger fireballs?"
"Even to this day, any fire mage, will break down in tears if you mention the words 'new-clear Eye-See-Bee-EM'. They did not even bother to learn our most destructive fire spells. They had already long surpassed them. They sent great flying iron chariot golems through the portals to deliver these potent spells. Entire cities were wiped out in seconds."
"You mean days. It takes days for a proper fireball seige."
"One fireball, acolyte. In seconds. In the ruins of Char'bog, you can see the shadows of people imprinted on the stones where they were eating their dinner."
"So... why are we still here? Why are humans not ruling the ring of worlds?"
"We surrendered, unconditionally. After they plundered our greatest libraries... they didn't even destroy our tomes. They merely copied them. Something about a library called 'Alexandria'. They had a very high respect for knowledge. Rather than rule us, they helped us rebuild. They did not teach us 'new-clear', but they did teach us some. As we did not have 'internet', they left us tomes called 'encyclopedia'. And then, after they had interpreted everything from our tomes... they achieved godhood. The whole species."
The acolytes eyes widened, "The.... whole species? Why do we not worship them then?"
The grand maester shook his head, "They didn't need it. When they ascended, they understood the Gods' needs for worship and sacrifice and... found an alternative. They built something they called a 'dyson sphere' to power their godhood. We do not fully understand what this was, but that it could devour a star and provide much more power than an entire world of worship and sacrifice."
"So, they left for good?"
"Not quite. After that, for daring to tread into their domain, the gods declared war on them."
"So the humans were finally defeated?"
"The gods were. Easily. They understood how the gods gained their power, they called it 'Quantum probability shifting'. They moment the first human mimicked it, it was over for the gods. This is why all of our gods are less than a thousand years old. They're all newly ascended gods that replaced the ones we lost before."
"So, humans are still out there in the universe, more powerful than any god, still lurking?"
"Yes."
"Why do they not simply control our worlds easily?"
"Because they surpassed even the desire for control. They sated that desire with this thing called 'video games'. They could fulfill their desires without the need to harm others. Even the weakest of humans could revel in the gore of a million destroyed worlds and yet not harm a soul."
"...scary."
"Yes, Acolyte. But the unknown always is. I only wished we had worked past that fear like the humans had... to embrace the unknown. Then maybe we would have been beyond the gods as a whole as well."
"So... this is all interesting... but what's it have to do with me learning to cast my mind-reading spell?"
"Because it demonstrates why I must also teach you the human art of 'psychology'. Because you need to understand why seeing without understanding truly leaves you powerless. The spell will grant you the ability to see what they're thinking, but without the ability to understand *why* they're thinking it, you will always fail against a mind-reading mage who has learned it." | "You could hear a pin drop" - Unknown, old Earth saying.
​
Engineering Ambassor's log, Emery Clark. Base date 201.701
​
It's been at least 18 hours. I just got back from the most awkard meeting. I need to write this out BEFORE I report it to anyone. Before lots of committees have formed.
​
There's a theory that the universe, that other intelligence has avoided us because of our warlike ways.
​
Turns out it's not that.
​
I have a really upsetting feeling it's because we're stupid.
​
Einstein was a smart guy. We all know it. It's been 300+ years. Light, energy etc. Except maybe we blew it as a race.
​
Let me explain. It's been six months since we encountered the Conclave.
​
Sixty different races. A thousand planets. They have a very specific specific systems when a new neighbor joins. Yeah, we took a little longer, because we've been struggling to get the translation systems working.
​
The Vornim, sorta look like us. Wider eyes. Taller. A cool shimmer in their eyes. Everyone talks about that. That's who had been mostly with us. Maybe it was because of the similarities.
​
My main contact has got a name I can't pronounce. Well, I mean, it translates to John. More or less.
​
It's been two weeks of us sitting in meetings and trying to find a common way to communicate.
​
I think John was just damn frustrated. It was another frustrating hour - we all had a little to eat. He guestured to a corner of the room. And put it in my hand. He pointed at his ear. Ok, what I guess was an ear. He showed me the rock, put it towards his head and then showed me the one he had in his.
​
Everyone was filing out. Just like the day before I think our delegation liked the drink to much. The Vornim liked our whiskey. Carbon based life form sorta thing.
​
The two of us in the corner. I stuck the rock in my ear. Look, if it was gonig to kill me or eat my brain, it didn't matter.
​
John started to speak. Except it wasn't speech. It wasn't projection, it wasn't telepathy. It was just understanding. Completely strange. I could feel the irises of my eyes becoming huge. No, that isn't something my body figured out. Or was unique. I could just tell. Huge irises.
​
And John explained, no, SHOWED me that he was just a junior apprentice. I saw moments of his family, his partners, his offspring. That the whole reason he was in the room was beause he was gifted in space travel.
​
He showed me how he got to this moon, this meeting. He was at home, then at a city and then at the conclave. He showed me his family again - and I could tell he wanted to see mine.
​
I left Lisa 19 months ago. I thought of her and John smiled. Well, the Vormin didn't smile, but I could feel what would be a smile.
​
I guess he was thinking he was going to be the one to show his people that we weren't stupid..
​
Then he showed me coming here this morning Again.
​
I tried showing him of our crew coming here. Leaving Lisa, leaving Earth....and he frowned. Again, I wouldn't have known if the rock wasn't in my ear.
​
He showed me again, coming to the Conclave. I nodded and started showing him my station on the ship.
​
John pulled the rock out of his ear. It was still in his hand when he threw up. I could still sense the link.
​
I could feel the push back of his feelings. He took a breath and shared with me a lecture room. Of the ritual of the sounds to get from one place to another.
​
When I started to show him our ships approaching lightspeed, I could tell I did something wrong. Really wrong. He looked around the room and the stone kept shoving his strong emotions towards me. I got a sense of disgust. Machines? Metal.
​
My last impression as he left the room....What kind of damaged creatures were we? | 2019-01-18T10:36:05 | 2019-01-18T09:14:48 | 2,571 | 430 |
[WP] Every person in the world undergoes a "goodness" test. It's designed to give a score from 1 to 200, where 1 is pure evil, and 200 is an angel in human body. Then the world is divided into 200 zones, where people can live among their own kind. | When Matt moved within the other zones, people scuttled out of the way when they saw the number stitched on his jacket.
It had taken more effort than usual to reach the zone he entered today. A lot of carefully constructed, believable reasons. Even more effort to ensure he could come alone. As the system grew more rigid, more entrenched in society, it was harder to get permission to leave your zone. Even for him.
The 10s ghosted back as he strode through their crowded, decayed city. He tightened the bandana he had tied around his mouth. Useful things: it prevented the higher numbers from breathing in the dirt and pollution of the lower zones. Guards - 150s, he noted - glared at the 10s as they trailed behind Matt. Okay, so he was not totally alone. But without another 195, which was the main victory. Those lower than him could be shaken easily.
"I want to speak to him alone," Matt told the guards, not looking at them as he saw the house he wanted to enter.
"Sir, that is highly dangerous-" one began to protest. Matt held up a hand until the guard fell silent.
"He will not harm me. He would not dare. Now leave me," Matt said, walking towards the crumbling brick building. It was covered in profane graffiti.
He pushed the door open and grinned at the man resting in an old armchair.
"You look like hell," he told his twin. "You don't even look like me anymore!"
Andrew grunted, and wiped his grimy hair out of his face. "Time we get started cleaning me up then, huh? I waited for you to arrive. Gotta get a good look at what I'm supposed to look like."
He looked Matt up and down, and snorted. "I hope you brought stuff to help this along."
Matt nodded to the backpack he was carrying. "Everything's here, hidden in the lining. Razors, shaving cream, the works."
When they were done, the brothers switched jackets. Andrew made an effort to stand straighter, to fit the new haircut, his clean shaven face. You had to look the part. He carefully tied Matt's bandana around his mouth. They always wore it when travelling. A win-win: the higher ups were impressed by their efforts to prevent being infected by the dirt from the low zones. And they gained a nice layer of disguise.
"We'll really be screwed if they start inking the numbers into our skin," Andrew sighed. "That's their plan, right?"
"That's the plan," Matt nodded. "Which is why we have to work faster. Get all the information we can. The others can't really do anything, trapped in their zones. We're the only ones who can actually get shit done and get information on what the upper zones are doing. We *can't* fail at this point."
"Relax, I know," Andrew said as he worked on his twin's appearance, carefully dabbing dirt smudges on Matt's face. Just like any other 10.
"I've also heard they mean to retest me," Matt said. "Move me up, because of my stellar character."
The brothers shared an identical, evil grin.
"Well, be good out there, Andy," Matt said as he settled into the armchair. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And don't screw up if they do the retest on you."
"Oh, get over yourself," Andrew rolled his eyes as he opened the door. "You're not the only one who can fake test results."
Matt snorted with laughter and waved lazily as his brother left. He'd be alright. They always were. Hell, they'd managed to keep it this up for this long, hadn't they? Who knew, maybe they could pull it off. Maybe they could actually kill the 200s. That would shake and rattle things up, alright. They had the advantage they needed: nobody even knew they were twins. The stark difference in appearance between the 10s and 195s came in handy there.
He closed his eyes for a little nap, and drifted off into the first contented sleep he'd had in months. He'd missed this old armchair.
It was good to be home again.
---------
You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | I've heard stories of how, long ago, people of all types were allowed to live together, a place where people with a goodness score of 1 were allowed to live in the same places as people with goodness scores of 200.
Of course, this world stopped existing after a team of scientist invented the perfect way to test someones "goodness". The goodness test wasn't widely accepted, until Vladimir Putin, a dictator, discovered the test while he was browsing a website called "Facebook"(The creator of this site was later killed by a mob of Goodness Test believers after they discovered he had a goodness test of 1). He discovered this test while he was invading America, and after he somehow managed to conquer America, he made taking this Goodness Test mandatory to take for every person.
He started making the people with goodness scores under 40 into slaves, who built the walls we see now. None of this matter now, however. This all happened very long ago, and none of it matters anymore. The people who have yet to be diagnosed are kept outside the walls. "my, my..your score is a 10." "Put him in the cart, let him live with the rest of the filth.". "Next person.", I walk up to him, nervous. "Okay, just go in there, and take the test." I walk in to the rather well lit cubicle, a sharp contrast between the dark and pouring rain outside. I take the test, I walk out. "Well, aren't you lucky. You've got a score of 75. Go into that bus, and you and the other people in there will be transported over to sector 75. Enjoy the ride."
I look back at the camp one last time, before walking into the bus. After a small wait, we set off for sector 75. As we pass through sector 1, I see a barren wasteland, and our car gets attacked by the inhabitants. They threw glass bottles, and rocks at our bus, which was thankfully heavily armored. The bus-driver sped up, and we thankfully got away. To be continued, possibly. | 2016-08-26T11:47:14 | 2016-08-26T10:59:35 | 281 | 18 |
[WP]: Suddenly, everyone with tattoos gains powers related to the tattoo. Tattoos of flames, you control fire. A tattoo of a gecko, you can climb on walls. All dudes with "tribal" tattoos have strangely bonded together. | It was all happening so fast that we never had time to consider what would happen when it had finished happening.
Everyone with a tattoo was manifesting abilities. It was all fairly sensible. Fire tattoo? Fire powers. Ice tattoo? Ice powers. Emoji ink? Emotion manipulation.
The weird thing was the people with tribal tattoos -- We call them The Tribe nowadays. At first, they just seemed to sort of glom together. People would be walking down the street and just...connect. Within moments, they were showing each other their tattoos and talking like they'd been friends for ages.
At the time, we thought The Tribe were like human Care Bears - just instilling goodwill and togetherness.
If only we knew at the time. What could we have done, though? There were so many. The original tribes -- Indigenous peoples - their art had been co-opted by millions over the years. People with no connection to indigenous culture saw their favorite athlete with tribal ink and emulated it.
Appropriation? Appreciation? None of that matters anymore.
That bond we were observing was just the beginning. The Tribe didn't have the power of unity or togetherness...not as we understood it, at least.
For the first few weeks they made connections, identified their own, banded together, as tribes do. I can't say we were worried. The other power types formed their own think tanks to experiment with their abilities, why not the tribe?
The problem is that the powers become more potent with time. When I started, I could light candles with my mind and barely be winded. Now, I can set a building ablaze by accident if I zone out staring at it.
The Tribe's powers intensified with time and, unfortunately, proximity. As soon as a high enough density of them shared the same space, it became clear; They weren't a friendly band of tattoo enthusiasts...they were a hive mind.
Hmm. Actually, we only call them The Tribe because of the tattoos. The Hive would be a much better name. Let's do that.
What was once an urge to connect with members of The Tribe became a NEED to join The Hive.
Once all available members had joined, their goal turned to conversion.
The only folks who got powers all had their ink done before The Event. We still don't know what happened, but any attempts to gain powers through tattoos after the fact have failed....except tattoos administered by The Hive.
If they catch you, and they likely will, they will ink you. If they ink you, you will immediately and permanently become part of the Hive. On the plus side, we now know that people can have multiple powers. Those folded into the Hive share the mind-link plus whatever powers they came with. This revelation lead to a lot of greedy folks submitting themselves to the Hive for augments.
Meanwhile, the people with no ink at all were powerless to resist The Hive.
And now, it's a few of us and an entire world of Them. | Crime rates exploded when the ink activated in our bodies. Those who didn’t have tattoos before tried getting one so they could have a power of their own, but it didn’t work; so they took to belittling us, making us all out to be criminals. And what did I do? I did what any sane person would do, I hid. But even years after the ink activated the crime rates where still soaring, the people with tattoos where the only ones who could fight people with tattoos, but law enforcement was not willing to hire anyone with a tattoo. So I put on a mask and showed my tattoos and fought those criminals myself. And the stigma began to change. Because I was a hero, why couldn’t the people like me be heroes too? All it took was one person doing the right thing. | 2019-05-07T08:13:06 | 2019-05-07T07:52:07 | 3,401 | 43 |
[WP] You're the owner of a cafe frequently visited by vigilantes and anti-heroes who absolutely adore your sweetness and acceptance of who they are. One day, though, a particularly rude customer comes in and trashes the place. Your friends aren't too happy to hear about that. | Some people are brought into this world to cure diseases, lead countries, build rockets, or fight for justice. I think I was brought into this world to serve coffee.
That’s what I tell myself every day when I unlock the door of my café. Even as a kid, I was obsessed with coffee - at first the smell, then when I was old enough, the taste. My fondest memories were always sitting at the counter in my Nanna’s little café, drinking weak coffee and reading a book while she served customers.
By the age of 11 I could brew the perfect cup, and by 12 I was helping Nanna run the place. I always admired the love she put into every order, the care she took with every customer. It wasn’t just a café to her, it was a haven for all, and a home for the two of us. “Josephine, there isn’t a soul out there in the world you can’t brighten a little bit of love. Sometimes that bit of love is as simple as a cup of coffee and a smile,” she would tell me on the rare occasion I grumbled about the early hours or the hard work.
I was only 17 when Nanna’s fight against cancer ended. We had sold our café for her treatments, but in the end I was left alone, working 3 jobs just to get by.
Now, at 21 years old, my life was back on track. I had worked harder than I’d ever worked, saved every penny I could, and 14 months ago I was able to open my own café - Joey’s. Nestled away in a quiet street, in a somewhat questionable neighbourhood, I had found a place I could afford and turn into my own little haven once again.
Business was painfully slow at first. So slow, I had to find work at another café in the mornings to support my own café. I suppose that’s irony, right?
I opened Joey’s at night still, almost a desperate bid to keep my dream alive, and that’s when I finally started bringing in regular customers. It started with The Crusher.
2:00 am, and the little bell on the door chimed. Looking up from my book, I came face to face with a giant of a man taking up my entire doorway. Bleeding heavily from a bullet wound in his shoulder, he shuffled forward cautiously, looking absolutely exhausted. I recognised him from the news - a vigilante who had earned his name thanks to the fact he crushed his victims’ bones with his bare hands - not just broken, but crushed. The lucky only had limbs crushed, but the worst offenders were usually unrecognisable. I was taken aback for a split second, and honestly a little afraid, but Nanna’s words stuck with me and I gave the man a warm smile. “What can I get for you sir?”
He paid for a large coffee (1 sugar and a bit of cinnamon), then shuffled to the booth nestled in the corner. Quickly making his order, I also placed a warm cinnamon muffin and a bottle of water on the tray, then I tucked the first aid kit under my arm and carried everything over to him. He was cursing under his breath (or so I assumed - the bandana covering his lower face muffled his words) as he inspected his wound, and he looked up in surprise as I placed everything in front of him. He rejected my offer to help tend his wounds, so I let him be, instead cleaning up the drops of blood on the floor and occasionally topping up his coffee. He left after an hour, looking in much better shape and silently tipping me as he left. I saw him two more times over the next two weeks, and did my best to give that little bit of love each time, with smiles, coffee, a few complimentary muffins, and once again the first aid kit.
The Crusher must have told some of his “colleagues” about my little café. Over the following weeks and months, more new faces started coming through my door, usually masked or cloaked, the occasional full helmet appearing as well. Business was booming and I was able to quit my other job and focus solely on Joey’s. I did, however, continue to open at night - a somewhat unusual plan for some cafés, but with the now steady stream of vigilantes and anti heroes coming through my door at all hours of the night, I was happy.
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew that most of these people were dangerous - I had seen the news and heard the stories, but regardless, I always tried to view every customer as another soul coming into my haven who needed that little bit of love, and my customers seemed to appreciate it. My café quickly became the place where the vigilantes of the city would start their nights with a coffee, or duck in for a quick break, a muffin, and a turn with the first aid kit. There were rules, of course - weapons holstered, no violence, no powers, and wipe your boots on the mat before entering - and it worked. The dark and shady protectors of the city continued to come through my door night after night.
Over these last few months I have seen more interesting costumes and uniforms than I ever imagined existed, cleaned up more blood than I’d ever hoped to, tended more injuries than I ever trained for, listened to more interesting stories than I’d ever heard, and served more coffee than I’d ever dreamed I could again.
I was doing what I was born to do, and I was happy. Until today.
| You know those vets who volunteer at events for the younger army guys? Yeah, I'm like them, except for the fact that I can shoot lasers out of my eyes. I split from the U.S. Superhuman Command five years ago. Opened a little coffee shop near my old job. Soon the new kids started coming in. We'd watch the news together and they'd point out where they hit the villain of the week. I just wanted to give back to the community who supported me throughout most of my life. Of course, you can't please everyone.
I just flipped the sign from “closed” to “open”. Normally at that time Owen would pop in. He’d order the usual (two coffees and a bagel for “Kate”) and I'd joke not to burn any of it. It doesn't help when your control over heat is determined by your excitement level. Instead, another man walked in. Black hoodie, red mask, and cheap sunglasses. He paced around the room like he owned the place. I smiled and gave him my daily greeting. “Hi! What would you like today?”
There was a hint of a contempt-filled chuckle under his mask. “I think I'll take 'stop serving the superheroes.’”
I frowned. “Sorry, uh, can you repeat that for me please?”
“I said, stop serving the heroes. They don't protect us like they say they do.”
“Look, you can't just tell me to stop serving them.”
“I think I can.” Things only went downhill from there. He started by pushing over the mini fridge on the serving counter, then throwing a chair across the room. Destroying something constructed purely out of my own kindness, all while yelling and screaming phrases I won't even state here. Jumping over the counter, I tackled him to the ground and felt my eyes glow with the charge of my lasers, then blinked to hold them off. No frying a protester today, not even an angry one. “Oh, so you're one of them, huh?”
He whipped out a small grenade-like device and pulled the pin. The explosion never happened, rather a wave of energy washed over me, making me dizzy. He pushed my now nauseated body off of himself and revealed a knife hiding in one of his pockets. Simply sighing, I focused on the protester and tried to fire a weak laser, but failed. The grenade had done something to me. Now I was on the ground again, fighting my own vomit-inducing impulses and a man with a knife. As he was about to jam the blade into my neck, a hand thrust to his wrist. The hand glowed, and the attacker dropped his knife as he howled in pain. A strike to his head courtesy of me finished him off. The hand offered to help me up, and I stood face to face with Owen Jackson. “Allen. You are so out of shape, man.”
“Thanks for stating the obvious. Kate's bagel is on me this time.” I doubled over and let my breakfast spill onto the ground.
Owen winced. “I don't think I wanna see that on the news tomorrow.”
(Whew, never wrote for fun in a looong time! Hope you like it. I kinda don't.) | 2018-10-20T23:47:58 | 2018-10-20T22:13:37 | 31 | 18 |
[WP] A little girl walks up to a man at a desk. She is followed by something horrifying. She points to it and says "It's lost, and we need to get it back home." | The air was still. I peered up from my keyboard and noticed that all of the lights in the building had been dimmed. Not many people stayed after hours, but my team was behind on a project, and I volunteered to stay late to get a little bit more time in.
I stood up to stretch and noticed the quietness as I stood in the middle of what seemed like an endless sea of cubicles. There was a clock on a nearby wall, and the audible ticking of the second hand was the only noise to keep me company.
I settled back into my chair and began to type. The rhythm from the clicks of the buttons on my keyboard began to match with the clock, and it was like a small musical of clicking and ticking began to fill my space. It was simple music, but it was heavenly.
*tap, tap, tap*
A new noise entered in, a simple tap against a metal surface. It didn't quite work with the beat I had going, and it was quite distracting.
*tap, tap, tap* "Excuse me... Mister?"
A little voice rang out in the cubicle. I turned and faced a little girl, maybe 6 years old. "Who are you? And what are you doing here?" I asked the little girl.
"My mommy works up on the 5th floor, and she brings me here every now and then when she needs to work. I like being here... I get to play and explore."
I shook my head. "Listen, sweetie, you need to go back upstairs to your mom. I'm sure she is worried about you."
"I can't yet, I need to help my friend here. He keeps saying he wants to go back home."
She makes a pulling motion with her hand as if to pull something into the doorway of my cube. An imaginary friend maybe? I decided to play along, maybe I can 'help' the little girl, and she can go back upstairs so I can continue to get work done.
"Alright, what does home look like for your friend?"
"Well... He says it is a large house, two stories tall. There is a large oak tree with a tire swing in the front. The house is surrounded by a white fence. When you go through the door, he says he remembers a large entry way, and if you turn the corner, there is a yellow kitchen."
I stared at the little girl. "Who are you...?"
She ignored my question and continued on. "He also says that his favorite room in the house is just up the stairs, there is a room where the walls are painted blue. There is a bed with a blue blanket that is covered with white stars. There is a toy jet hanging from the ceiling, and musical instruments along the back wall."
I looked at her in fear, and I looked at the area where her 'friend' was supposed to be, but I still saw nothing.
The little girl continued. "You know... you two actually look kind of similar. Maybe you are related?"
"Little girl... I'm sorry, but I can't help you. I think you should go back up to your mommy."
"But mister... What about my friend?"
"I'm sorry." I put my hands up to my face, I couldn't believe what was happening. "I can't help you right now. Go back up to your mommy."
She shrugged a little and gave a large sigh. "Alright... C'mon Tim... Let's go see my mommy."
I stood up to watch her leave. Memories of my childhood home came flooding back to me. The tire swing, the meals we shared in the yellow kitchen, my blue bedroom.
I watched her hit the button for the elevator, and as they waited, I began to see a figure standing next to her. He looked familiar, he looked happy. He had a certain aura of joy about him, and he had a guitar strapped to his back. He turned as the elevator door opened, and saw me standing in my sea of cubicles. He gave a big grin and a small wave toward me.
As they stepped onto the elevator, I saw both the man and the little girl fade into nothingness. I ran my fingers over my name plate on my desk and looked at the letters engraved into it. T-I-M.
Here I am, alone, in a sea of cubicles... The place where dreams go to die, and where futures that could have been, never come about.
--------------------------------------------------
I have a subreddit! I haven't been updating it lately due to some stresses in life, but I am working on getting back into writing. If you would like to read some other responses to some prompts, check it out! /r/vintnerwrites | The tiny girl in the yellow dress walked across the light, airy atrium to my desk. I recognized her from somewhere, but there are a lot of children on this space station, so I didn't know her name. Hundreds.
"Are you lost?" I asked.
No. Behind her, it slithered. A great, dripping Lovecraftian mass of black tentacles, fangs, and shards of bone dragging itself across the floor like a slug or a snail, leaving a trail of black slime behind it, exuding a terrible sulphurous stench. My eyes popped wide.
I jumped up, unbuckling my Tesla gun from my belt. These things happen from time to time. Some bizarre and terrible lifeform gets created in virtual reality, and some idiot—or, in this case, an innocent child—prints it out into real reality. Giant sandworms. Firebreathing dragons. Man-eating plants. Violent teddy bears. I've seen a lot in my time.
No problem, though. A hail of plasma and bullets and they're gone.
"I'll take care of it!" I rumbled.
The girl shook her head.
"It's lost", she said. "It's my friend. We need to get it back home." I rolled my eyes.
"Your friend?" I asked. She nodded.
"Its name is Henry. It used to be my puppy. We need to get it back home" she urged, with some grit in her voice.
"Look girl", I chided. "He's not your puppy anymore. You want a new puppy, I'll get you a new puppy." The black mass was slithering closer. It schlicked and squelched and oozed as it crossed the floor. I cocked the gun and aimed.
"Please", the girl burst into tears. "Don't hurt Henry." She ran up to me and clasped at my trouser leg, sobbing. I looked down and huffed. Maybe there is a way to contain it? Maybe the girl's mother or father would do a better job at explaining to her why the thing needed to be put down than I could? Squelch. Slurp. Bloop.
I shook my head and aimed. The thing was only three metres away, the stench was overpowering. Dizzying. I pulled the trigger.
I missed.
With a terrible roar the thing had launched itself at me, tentacles first. Schlick. I was on my back, this thing of shadow eating at my face.
"Ahhhhh!" I shrieked in agony, my head squelched and squished.
"I love you Henry" were the last words I heard before I faded away. | 2017-02-10T06:51:00 | 2017-02-10T06:36:06 | 147 | 10 |
[WP] You instinctively know everyone's name the second you meet them. One day you thank someone at the supermarket for helping you, and they stare at you wide eyed. "Nobody has called me by that name in centuries" | “Behold! The hundred dollar bill is gone!” Maribel said to her semi-captivated audience of two.
Her thin fingers searched through the usual spots; her sleeve, her pockets, her top hat. Coming up empty, she even checked behind her own ears just to be sure.
“Well, where is it?” the man called John said impatiently.
Maribel’s only actual magical power was knowing people’s names, but whenever she tried to make use of it people always got really weirded out. One lady even accused her of being a stalker once. Since that day, she’d decided to stick to more mundane magic tricks.
“Just a minute,” Maribel said and held out her hand toward his breast pocket. “Do you mind?”
The man shook his head and allowed her to search it, while his girlfriend watched in slight annoyance.
Maribel sighed. “I’m really sorry, guys, but I can’t find it.”
“You’re joking, right?” the girl called Lissa said. “That’s a hundred dollars!”
After an embarrassing trip with the young couple to the ATM, Maribel decided to pack up her things for the day. Nothing had gone as planned. Somehow the paper crane had turned into an actual bird, attacked the small audience, and then fled the scene with her tip jar around its neck. And for some reason, her deck of cards had caught fire during one of her tricks. She was lucky to have escaped without third-degree burns.
She shook her head and left the street with a hundred dollars less than she’d started with. Normally, she just worked at parties, but right now she desperately needed the extra cash.
With her stomach churning, Maribel stopped by the grocery store. She only had a few bucks left to her name, but she hadn’t eaten all day. While picking out a loaf of bread and a bag of rice, she passed by a Lukas, a Rosie, an Ingrid, and the cashier Tom. Sometimes Maribel did look up people she'd learned the name of on Facebook just to see the contrast between their real life and online persona. That wasn’t stalking, just a morbid curiosity.
Maribel was just about to leave when she bumped into someone she’d previously missed. Their bag of apples spilled out over the floor. An annoyed huff came from the woman.
“I’m so sorry,” Maribel said gathering up the apples in the bag again, some of them clearly bruised from hitting the floor. “Here you go, Grimhilde.”
What a weird name, Maribel thought before realizing her slip-up. Their eyes met, both wide. Then Grimhilde’s thin lips curled into a smile, somehow pushing her already high cheekbones up even further. Her dark eyes still sparked with annoyance, but her sharp eyebrows returned to their normal resting place.
“Who are you?” Grimhilde said, finally, her voice breezy and somewhat haughty in tone. “How do you know my name? I’ve not used that name in…” she stopped herself.
Maribel shifted on the spot. “I, uh… I just overheard it earlier, yeah. That’s what happened.”
The woman gave her a long hard look. “Very well, I best get going.”
The woman then grabbed the side of her coat and swept out of the store. Maribel sighed and was just about to leave, as well, when she noticed one of the apples still on the floor. It did look very tasty and she had a few cents left to spare. She picked it up and headed toward the register.
“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you,” a new voice said behind her. Maribel really wasn’t paying attention today.
She turned around and for the first time ever she looked at a face and didn’t immediately know its owner’s name. This man was heavy built with wide shoulders and a thick black beard. His eyes were hard but not unkind.
“Who are you?” Maribel said for the first time ever without having to fake the surprise in her voice.
“Nobody,” the man said. “Just don’t eat that fruit.”
He turned, and just like the posh scary woman, promptly left the store. Maribel looked at the apple in her hand. The bizarre failures in her magic tricks earlier, the lady with the odd name, and the man without one. She sighed. This was all too weird for one day.
***
More of my stories at r/Lilwa_Dexel | "What have you been doing all these years?" You try to go along with it, you are desperate to know more about this lady.
"Well, I'm on my third life and recently, I've just trying to be normal. Do the everyday average person activities: go to work, hang out with the kids, go to the supermarket."
"And the first two?"
"The first time around I tried to be someone important. I tried to be useful to my community. I tried to improve the world. But, that got sad, really sad. And then I terminated that attempt.
After that, I decided to not feel obligated to anyone. I chose to live however I wanted. I learned a lot and it was really a good life. I couldn't understand how people were content with living unhappy lives, I wanted to understand other people's choices. So this time around, I'm trying to put myself in their shoes."
"That's very wise," you say.
"But how do you know my name? Are you an old friend who's face I have forgotten? It can be very confusing to recall memories in the haze of multiple lives," She questions.
"No ... Truthfully, I am able to speak anyone's name upon first meeting. I simply know it. It's not that it's a fact I am trying to remember. I just know their names as if I knew them myself."
She freezes. "Sir, you do not know who you are. I thought that you would, but I suppose you are quite confused since returning to Earth."
"Coming back to Earth? No, I've lived here my whole life."
She smiles softly. "Yes, you have a human idea of lives, that makes sense since you are in your human morph. You have been on Earth this whole life- technically. But you haven't always been here."
"If that's so then who am I? A god?" You smirk.
"Lord, you are our leading chief. You led us to Earth to escape persecution ... And then you disappeared. Where have you been good Master?" She bows and then falls to one knee for you.
You try to think, try to remember any detail that could spark a memory, but you cannot.
"Well, let us go to the remainder of our people." | 2018-11-05T20:15:29 | 2018-11-05T19:52:58 | 707 | 136 |
[WP] You, a low rank adventurer who got stuck with the gardener class, have to put up with the higher ranked adventures trampling your garden and making fun of you. One day a famous adventurer trips on one of your plants and dies. Your level skyrockets. No other gardener has ever leveled up before. | “Please, around the roses.” I called out, trying to salvage my garden. It was impossible to be a gardener class in an age of warriors and mages. No one cared about the little gardener boy who was just trying to maintain a healthy system of flora. No, if my plants couldn’t fire lightning bolts or wield a sword, they wanted nothing to do with me.
I could see the culprit in the distance, a burly bear like man dressed in heavy plated armor, the metallic clanks drifting from him with every stride he took. “HAHA, my grandmother has the same hobby as you noble gardener and she eats radishes.” I wasn’t sure what the insult was there, but he said it with enough gusto that I still felt embarrassed, watching him trample each of my lovely plants to death only to trip. Time seemed to slow in that moment as he fell, only for the heavy thud of his body to leave a dent in the soil below.
“Um, you, ok?” I inched my way towards the man, crouching at his side. I gave his chest plate a cautious poke before giving his head a few frantic shakes. “Oh, no. Come on, don’t be dead. How will I explain this to the people that pass through here?” I grabbed his helmet, pulling it off him, seeing the bearded man’s brown eyes staring up at me. He was still alive, though barely. A gloved hand reached for my tunic, tugging me forward.
“Heh, Radish eater.” He said before falling back dead. Wasting his last word on an insult. When he passed, I felt a rush of energy, like I had eaten a bunch of fermented fruit. Everything tingled with a strange aura of energy and soon my muscles developed, growing a few extra inches while thick green vines enveloped my arms.
The tight grip of the vines should have caused pain and yet it felt pleasant, like they belonged pressed against my skin. For once I felt powerful, leaning my body back as the plants raised themselves from the ground to hold me up, offering me a back rest.
“This is incredible.” I rose from my spot beside the fallen adventurer, raising my hands as the surrounding soil twisted, reviving the trampled plants, causing them to spring to life, swaying along with the sunny breeze. “Finally, I can keep those heroes off my garden.” I felt a small amount of relief at that thought. It would be nice to not be a joke anymore. Maybe I would even earn their respect.
“Bullith?” A voice called out, watching as a smaller knight pushed through the shrubbery around my home, only to stare at me with a horrified expression, seeing me standing over their fallen hero with arms outstretched. “You murderer.” They hissed, drawing their sword.
“I didn’t. It’s a misunderstanding. He fell on my plants I swear.” Unfortunately, the hero didn’t seem to care about my failing attempts at explaining my innocence, only charging towards my garden. I put my hands up to block the attack, and the plants responded, rising from the soil to form a protective barricade. I could hear metal thumping against plant but no matter how hard he cut; the wall held.
“Fell on plants? You expect me to believe that would kill the mighty Bullith? I will bury your head next to him as a trophy.” The hero dramatically wailed, unable to even cut a hole in my defenses. I kept one hand raised to hold my defenses while the other hand scooped down, using a set of roots to pick up the body, tossing Bullith out of the garden, towards the other hero.
“Here’s his body. I promise you will find no wounds on him. If you just put your sword away, I’m sure we can discuss this respectfully.” I expected the sound of the thumping to stop, only to hear a shriek followed by even more frantic slashes.
“YOU KILLED HIM, HE’S REALLY DEAD. I WILL DRIVE MY SWORD THOUGH YOUR THROAT.” His threats were empty, unable to even break a hole in my defenses, but that wasn’t what concerned me. It was the other voices that I could hear in the distance, each one getting attracted to the hero’s screams. I could handle one hero, but two or three? Eventually, they would outnumber me.
Searching for a way out, I glanced at the bushes surrounding my quaint cottage. I hated the idea of leaving my garden, but it had to be done. I lowered my defenses and put my focus into the bushes instead, growing them around the garden, making a thick, confusing wall of greenery that would hide me until I got into the forest.
The bushes were a maze, the tall thick shrubbery impossible for anyone else to navigate. For me, it was simple. I would keep walking straight until I hit a dead end. Once I encountered that, I would open the dead end and continue. After a few minutes of walking, I finally reached the forest that surrounded my cottage, able to still hear their confused curses behind me. I considered freeing them, but thought better of it. If I dropped the maze, they would only try to capture or kill me. I needed time to escape.
With nowhere else to go, I headed north, making my way to the small village of Tuntail. Maybe someone there could use a person with my skills?
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | Swords. Their metal sings, a testimony to their maker. Coin. It jingles temptingly, a way of speaking their handler may know. But even with a forest of swords, and an ocean of gold, it is all for naught. For when there is no animals, no fruit, and not even a single stubborn strand of grass resisting the earth's embrace, they will all struggle. A blade with no master has lost its edge, as fat pouches clinging feed not the hungry.
 
Do you want to know why humans fight in this world? Power and fame, are common desires. But what one truly seeks is beauty. True beauty. The kind that, once you see it, makes one wish to gouge their eyes out, knowing that the world loses its sheen after they set sight on such a splendour.
 
I am no warrior, I am no trader. I am better.
I am the maker of that beauty.
 
War makes the hungry starving. The breadmakers toil, the farmers work to death. Not me. I am but a gardener. I tend to the flora that makes a princess pale in comparison. I make them reveal their sweet nectars for the little buzzing ones. I guide them to a blossom, and I lead them unto their withering. Every flower, a soul. Every stem, a pathway to the mind. The roots, a part of their little beating hearts. I feel shame when they die so soon, and pride when they show themselves to the world.
They call me weak. They laugh, laugh at the little spirits within the petals. Let them, as they do not see the world the same. Ignorance is forgiven in the eyes of those who know. I know what I shall, and they know what they will. It is not my place to judge the unworthy.
They trample the gardens. They cut the branches. They burn the gateway to life itself. I am weak, but the hearts will defend. I am nothing, the flowers everything. I lend my being to their knowledge. They whisper, tell me how they can aid me. But not yet, they say. I must wait, and wait I will.
 
There is another in the garden, one with killing intent. The flora told me. I've heard of him, he who creeps in the shadows. But there are no shadows in this home, no darkness. Only light. Only purity. I know, because the flora told me. I'll be safe, the flora told me.
 
I plant a seed.
 
The place is silent. I hear rustling.
 
I plant another seed.
 
It's getting closer. I must not fear, because the flora told me not to.
 
I plant another.
 
He dives. I know what will happen, because the flora told me.
 
I plant again.
 
He stumbles. Into the roses. Into the fatal elegance.
 
I plant a final seed.
 
Blood tends to the roses. Less water will be needed, now.
 
I water the seeds.
 
The plants tell me to know my new strength. I listen. | 2021-11-12T11:42:53 | 2021-09-09T20:52:32 | 1,235 | 31 |
[WP] The princess is different to say the very least. Her face covered in battle scars instead of make up, her hands as hard as stone and her eyes more frightening than a dragon. But you must perform your duty as a knight and guard her even though she may not need your protection. | "Look, your highness, I don't like it either. But you know both of our hands are tied." Looking into Rochelle's dead-set eyes was scary enough. Watching them change to reluctant understanding was almost as unsettling, since I didn't see it coming.
Rochelle threw her favorite knife across the room, bullseyed the watermelon at her window, and walked to her dresser. She looked at her favorite scar in the mirror, made a face as she began to cover it in powder. I couldn't help but watch. Sure she was scary, but that didn't mean she wasn't a looker. Not that I'd have any chance at knowing her anywhere but here or on the battlefield.
I was scheduled a Wednesday this week instead of my usual Thursday. My aunt needed me in the field Thursday as my uncle had wrenched his back while working the carrots. I don't even know how I got that by the head knight of our order. He just looked at me and said "we'll schedule you for Wednesday. Show up or it's your head on the king's platter." So a lot of things were different. Rochelle didn't look as tired. The melon hadn't turned yellow like the last five weeks' delivery. Order 5 was out training instead of Order 6, so the percussion downstairs sounded slightly different. And of course, today I had a quiver on my back and a bow in hand for her majesty's hunting day. Hopefully I wasn't her target.
Rochelle's reflection locked eyes with me. She swiveled in place and tossed her least favorite hairbrush at me. I caught the brush as any good knight with a decent reaction time should. Oddly her face hadn't contorted, as though she had anticipated my gaze. She walked over to snatch the brush. "Focus is of the most utmost importance in your order, is it not?" She leaned in at almost a whisper."
"Yes, milady."
"Then pick something else to focus on."
*****
The first few hours out were uneventful. It seems Rochelle had all but eradicated the squirrel population in the woods behind the marketplace. She has no interest in the birds, and the racoons were smart enough to have moved to her garden, where she never was.
On the walk back, we encountered a young wild hog. She grinned as she tied her sash and her hair. The fire in her eyes were as tempting as they were terrifying. She drew her bow and took aim.
She appeared unflinching to the squeal behind us, but I stood at the ready. Charging full speed at her highness was the mother of the piglet we had targeted. Sword drawn, heel locked in, headgear down, just like I'd been trained for.
With one slash the beast was swept aside. Pull back, go for the heart, pull back again to let it drain. Just like the straw man in the barracks. But with actual draining instead of a poof of straw.
I heard Rochelle's arrow whistle and *thunk* immediately after. Followed by a mumble of thanks.
"Much obliged, milady."
"Sarcasm, you stupid knight. You ruined my shot."
The hog made for good feast that night, as well as great story. I couldn't help but feel her staring at me any time her maids asked her to tell the story again. Not that she embellished my side of the story as much as hers, but it helped me feel a little bit noticed. | "Sir."
"Pardon, m'lady?"
"Good knight, dost thou value thine honor as a sword sworn to my father?"
"Oh-of course, your highness."
"And thine honor wouldst demand thou obey my commands, correct?"
"Yes, m-","Stop. I am not a timid maiden to be protected. I needest not thine protection, only thine support, particularly in this. I do not feel like a princess, and as such you will address me as 'sir'"
Looking her over, I realized how right she was, *I* wouldn't want to fight her-er him.
"Er, y-yes sir, while you remain under my, uh *'protection'* I shall address ye thusly"
"Then I accept your service, good knight."
The newly-minted duo set off on what would be the first of many grand adventures, winning fortune and fame wherever they roamed. It was twelve years later, having dispatched the last of the country's dragons, that the prince accepted the throne from his ill father. With great wisdom, and the support of his long-friend and close advisor lead to an era of prosperity across the kingdom. | 2022-10-03T13:05:57 | 2022-10-03T12:16:00 | 49 | 11 |
[WP] You've heard the stories of demons, but you always passed them off as fake, because they have seemingly no base in truth. Suddenly one day, you vanish from your house and reappear in a circle with a star in the middle of it, surrounded by hooded figures with horns and faces filled with awe | Malcolm Smith had always prided himself on being a sensible man. He might be getting on in years, but he'd kept all his senses. He'd lived a good life, and was sitting on his patio when he found himself surrounded by pitch-black flames and the screams of the damned. From a pit of brimstone, horned figures rose carrying crowns of frozen tears and a sceptre of bone.
The tallest one bowed. Beneath its knees, the grass burnt and withered.
"Lord Satan! You return! Sit upon your throne once more, and we will lay siege to heaven itself! The Almighty will cower before…"
"Sorry Son. I don't believe in demons".
Asmodeous, Knight of the Third Circle and Ruler of Broken Hearts, froze for a minute. They had been working for years to find the body the Prince Of Darkness had been imprisoned in. This was not the reaction they'd expect.
"But... there are demons in front of you. I am a demon. You are in hell."
"Too old for that nonsense, sonny. Got all these cameras these days. Demons'd be all over the internet if they existed"
Asmodeous snarled a few words, before turning pale and frantically begging forgiveness. Malcolm waved his hand.
"Oh no worries. It's not like this is actually happening. I'm probably just hallucinating. It's much more reasonable"
At this one of the lesser demons smiled.
"Actually, it's not. Psychotic disorders almost universally start in the late teens, few commonly available hallucinogens are able to make hallucinations this vivid, and you're clearly too lucid to be dreaming. It's actually more reasonable that all is as it seems- to whit, that you're Satan, Father of Lies, trapped in a human body."
The old man sipped at his tea, and mused.
"Hmm. But this all seems very christian-centric. Why are there no reports of demons from other cultures?"
"One religion has to be right, logically? There's no reason to assume that Christianity couldn't be accurate. Indeed, given that you are stood in the Christian afterlife, you have good reason to think it is".
Malcolm and the Demon of Rhetoric continued. Points varied from the seeming materialism of the universe as seen by modern physics, to the fact Cerberus stood looming over the proceedings with the souls of sinners pouring from its mouth. But still, malcolm refused to be swayed.
"I'm sorry, I'm just not willing to believe in demons. If I do, what else is real? Faeries? Wizards?"
"Both those things are real, My Lord! Sit atop your throne, indeed, and legions of shadow fae and warlocks will march at your command".
"I'm sorry, but I've always felt that if a deal seems to good to be true, it probably is. And I'm not sure what kind of fancy special effects you kids have set up, but you're not fooling me. Go find another rube."
Asmodeus stuttered a few words, before glaring and sanding up.
"So be it. You've grown obsolete anyway. Come, dark legions. Let's leave the Great Adversary to his *tea and biscuits*".
Hissing, the horned figures faded away, leaving behind just a dead and plantless garden. Malcolm had just sat back in his couch when he heard a knock on the door. He opened it to see a being of glowing light and a thousand diamond faces smiling serenely
"For so long We have thought you beyond redemption, O Lightbringer. But now, We see you reject the path you once took! Perhaps there is still hope that you can return to Our light. Come, renegade sibling. The End..."
Malcolm slammed the door shut and went to watch TV. It was something about trumpets and horsemen on the news, apparently. But you know how biased these news channels are. It's probably nothing.
He switched it off. Listening to the soothing sound of burning hail, Malcolm went back to sleep. | Demons are the enforcers of man's fears. They either claw their way up from the fiery depths of Hell, or are born of eldritch magics in the dark, foggy forests. Either way, I had always passed off the stories of demons as fake, because they have seemingly no base in truth.
It is indeed surprising, then, that having spent a relaxing day in my house, I would appear in some mystical circle, in the pentagon that makes a star, surrounded by hooded figures with horns, faces filled with awe.
Without hesitation, I draw my pistol, fan the hammer and the six figures standing before me fall as fast as I can wheel on the heel of my foot.
Now, I may not know if these demons they are trying to summon actually do exist, for these are strange times, times of obsequious ordnance and the fiery fools behind their launch codes. These are times of maligned mutants who have never had it easy eking out an existence among the ephemeral extinction that is the present day. I will not rule out any possibilities in these terrible times.
Yet, I did grow up in a more civilised time, a time where there were very honest people who wouldn't think that they have had a bargain unless they cheated a merchant. Whether they were suits and ties, or hoods and horns, that didn't matter. What mattered was that they were terrorising an already torn world, drawing dozens of lost sheep to the mutterings of demons and the like, gaining power for their own nefarious ends, and killing those who resisted. They should not have included my last living relatives among the latter.
They were trying to be the enforcers of man's fears. And I will be the enforcers of theirs. With nothing more to do, a GPS and the cover of darkness, I can find them anywhere. I can be the demon that they are so desperately trying to summon. | 2019-02-14T09:10:21 | 2019-02-14T04:42:27 | 40 | 14 |
[WP] You and a friend jokingly start a religion in order to avoid taxes. Not long after you are in an accident and put in cryogenic freeze. You wake up many years later to find that it is now a major world religion. | Making yourself a god is not as hard as you would think. Coming back from the dead was always the plan, but to what effect I had no idea.
The Council of Eight pre-planned the entirety of the event. The 8 of us drew out what morales we would hold, what actions were commands, and what disobedience consisted of. The most powerful weapon of any religion is exile. We the Council had observed other religions and saw that religion is ultimately a government over the mind. By default, if you create those commands, then you have deep control over those who believed in it.
Writing the Kraesha was a difficult task. Five years to be exact. Naturally, I had positioned myself as the head creator of this...task. Divinely inspired (for who would claim to not be?).
Little did the Council know that I had alluded to a savior. A god. An Exile who was one of the Elites own. He would bring an end to corruption and those who committed their lives to this being would be led into a divine Hades. An underworld of both darkness and light. Permanent eternity from the hell that we all live in.
No one ever reads the terms & conditions, just as the Council never read the Kraesha. And so I planned my own exile as I wrote it. Growing the following was easy. You start with the dregs of society, manipulate local media to publicize and exaggerate. Next, target the Elite, have their businesses sponsor such acts of charity. Finally, brick & mortar your religion into credibility. If you have a building, then you have a god.
Preachers flocked to it in droves. It spoke of peace, freedom, and wisdom. Promising financial success to those who gave, health to those who prayed, and freedom to those who were previously slaves to other religious dead ends.
The masterpiece being, people soon asked, "Who is Our God? Who is OUR leader?
Swift movement in the dark, money in the right pocket, and blood in the streets. A poster, a sign. And suddenly, torches. Torches everywhere. As I stepped into cryogenic freeze, the best money could buy, the world believed I died in a fire, burned for all to see.
I was gone with wind.
Or so they thought. My poor brother was on his way to the grave anyways, and the makeup artist was very willing to oblige. Its a shame she had to....disappear.
Waking up was timed perfectly. An altar was built where I had died, and I climbed right out through the trap-door under it into the middle of the annual service. It was the ceremony dictated by the Kraesha to celebrate the coming return of The God That Is I.
The world is stunned, and thus now begins the final chapter. Where the rules change when He Who Was and Is returns. War is Peace, Freedom is Slavery, and Ignorance is Strength.
All at my Command. | I don’t remember much from the few minutes before the accident, and the bright lights from this..... chamber only make my grogginess more apparent.
To the left of me, I hear gasps from the people who seem to be remnants of the people who would have worked here.
“It... It can’t be.....” , one of the workers blurts out.
“James Martin? Is.. is that you?”, this time a familiar voice spoke up.
“Yes, but who are you, and where did you take me?” I asked, getting very paranoid.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a symbol on the wall , one I realize is the logo for that tax scheme Levi and I started.
This is my first WP attempt. Sorry if it is under par | 2018-08-16T09:41:19 | 2018-08-16T09:37:55 | 90 | 29 |
[WP] You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.
If you want to post this on other platforms, please credit me. Looking at you instagram writing prompts. | I sit patiently on a stone, watching the children play around me.
They've come here every day during recess and I am pleased by their laughter and the meager offerings they bring me. Mostly small bugs, easily caught and weeds plucked like flowers laid upon the stone altar.
They are small gifts passed by small hands but they are more sacred to me than the coins and offerings once passed by in my temples. For these are the gifts that come from tiny hands who offer them for no other than the desire to give me a gift.
I watch as they play their games of childhood, tag and hide and seek and other small games that they play of their own imaginings.
She cannot see me but I feel eyes upon me nonetheless. The teacher of the children who now have become my worshipers eyes the rock upon which I sit.
She is a good woman, kind and matronly and though she knows not that I am here she sees the echoes of the children's reactions. She sees the flowers placed upon the rock that disappear without a trace. The bugs that seem to vanish without notion. She suspects but has no proof other than the stories the children tell of me sitting here.
I am certain she is starting to believe that they are speaking truth. She is no fool and is a wise woman. She will teach many students well long after my children have left to go further into the school and probably long after they forget I am here watching.
She returns to watching and so do I. But after a moment I stop. There is a darkness over my children...A cloud of malice and evil.
Its here again. *HE* is here again.
I turn from them and find across the street there is a man standing with a dog. He doesn't see me nor does he know that I am watching him. But he watches my children.
I narrow my eyes. This is not the first time he has come here but this is the first time he has brought a dog. He is up to something...
"Goddess?"
I turn as Emily, my high priestess, puts a hand on my leg.
"What's wrong Goddess?"
"Nothing my dear... I am just thinking of grown up things."
She held out a butterscotch disc. A similar piece to her first offering to me. "Here Goddess...Mommy and Daddy say adults have lots to worry about. I like Butterscotch when I worry."
"Oh, you are most gracious with your offerings, Emily." I say taking it with both hands.
She laughs and cheers and runs off to her friends.
I eye the man again as he walks off as the whistle blows calling the children inside.
I watch from my place outside as they return to their classroom.
​
It isn't long however before I feel that cloud of malice return.
I stand outside the gates of the school as HE stands on the other side, watching and waiting, Thinking I don't know he is there behind his car.
I growl and hold the flowers they gave me in my hand, feeling their power flowing through me.
The wrapper of butterscotch crinkles in my hand as I clench my fists watching him.
The final bell rings after some time and he pulls the dog out of the car and lets it go as the children come out and play, awaiting their parents.
The dog eagerly bounds toward the children and many run around and try to catch it. Some of the teachers call it to try and hold on as the man seems to watch the chaos until finally he approached one of my children.
He slid a hand over the childs arm and pulled as the child cried out. The teacher heard and ran after him as the man tried to move around everyone.
The child struggled to escape but to no avail. The hold was strong but it was enough. The teacher grabbed his arm and tried to force them apart as I slid the disc of butterscotch into my mouth.
I could never tell Emily this, but I hate the taste. It has always been this way, but her gifts give me such strength. I open my hand that held the various ants and grasshoppers and other things the children managed to catch and they swarmed, biting and stinging and hitting wherever they could.
The man tried to hit the teacher but found a particularly large spider on his hand that jarred his movement as she pulled my child away from him and they clung as he moved to try and run.
I dropped the flowers and they sprouted as weeds and roots, impeeding his path each time that he stepped on the grass. Forcing him to pull his legs and feet up hard.
He managed to get to the car. I held out my finger and snapped, bitting down on the butterscotch disc, splitting it in two as from a clear blue sky a fireball smashed into him and sent him flying.
Many who had seen and realized what was really occuring lept on him and held him down while the adults took care of it.
My children ran to me as I walked to the teacher who held Billy, one of the smaller kids who was shy in her arms as he cried and she soothed him. She picked him up and gathered them around her.
I turned as I felt a tug on my dress. Emily smiled and gave me a hug. I pat her head and sent her after her teacher and the other grownups
I returned to my place and watched as the police took over and my children were gathered by their parents.
finally the teachers left and my children's instructor came to my small rock throne and looked it over. She nodded to me.
"Thank you."
I bowed back. 'The children are ever under my protection." | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc ?, Interlude ?: Astrid)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**They remembered.**
Once, they had been mighty. Their name was known throughout the Six Isles, and every oath in their name, every marriage blessed by their hand, gave them another droplet of power. Once, Astrea, Sovereign of Shooting Stars, had guided their kingdom of ten thousand people, mightiest in the world, to power and prosperity.
But as time went on, the world expanded. The Six Isles went from the greatest power in the world to a small, Mediterranean island chain; their glorious kingdom of ten thousand became a medium-sized town, dwarfed by mega-cities with millions of souls. Time was, to be worshipped by thousands as a deity, you had to be something *special*. Nowadays, any damn influencer could get a hundred times that many adoring fans, leaving the old gods drained dry of the faith that was their lifeblood.
Until they were remembered.
It wasn't much, as ritual sacrifices went. Gone were the days where the fattened calf would be slain at the altar. But blood and fury were not the only kinds of magic in this world. There was more power in a child's wish upon a shooting star than all the DIY videos and Let's Plays in the world.
And Astrea was the Sovereign of Shooting Stars.
They had bided their time. They were so weak, barely a whisper on the wind. But they dedicated themself to keeping the child safe. From what, they did not know—there were few enough dangers left, in this modern world. Where you could step into a plane and rise into the sky, drifting above Death itself.
Until you fell.
Astrea didn't know what had gone wrong—they had been born ten thousand years too early to make sense of the technology. All they knew was that there was smoke and fire and screams and suddenly the plane was beginning to *drop*. Stark against the night sky, the plane burned as it fell, a man-made shooting star.
But Astrea was the Sovereign of Shooting Stars.
Even here, where their power was strongest, there was so *little* they could do. They could put their finger on the scales exactly once, and their strength would be spent. That was all.
But maybe that would be enough.
And so, as the shooting star came to Earth, Astrea blurred tight and close to a crying little girl. And with the last whispers of their soul, they spoke five words.
"It's going to be okay."
As the engine snapped off and the wings shrieked in complaint, Astrea said,
"It's going to be okay."
As their power grew weak and their life fell spent, they said,
"It's going to be okay."
And for a sheltered, silent moment in a man-made shooting star, Astrea wiped away the tears of a scared little girl.
Then, the faith they'd hoarded over millennia spent, Astrea disappeared.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-09-02T08:32:01 | 2021-09-02T07:28:26 | 288 | 93 |
[WP] A knight rescues a princess, expecting a kiss, a marriage, and a hefty inheritance. Problem is, the princess is eight years old. | The dragon roared, shaking the very foundation of the keep. It had underestimated the attacker, thinking him no more powerful than the previous soldiers that lay cut down and broken around the chamber. Crumpled, seared corpses now, flesh and metal fused into one from the intensity of the monster's heat. However, the newcomer was different;he has the ring, given to him by his father, that absorbed the dragon's fire and harnessed it to fuel his own strength.
Realizing the warrior wasn't to be brought low by the fire, the great wyrm resorted to traditional methods. Swiping with savage claws, it hoped to rend and tear the intruder to pieces - but at every swing it found nothing but ash and soot leftover from the fire-scarred ruins. The man was agile, diving under the attacks and coming up to jab quickly and precisely before repeating the sequence. Unable to adapt, it soon fell before the hero. The princess would be his prize, the product of a long journey through the humblest of beginnings to becoming a champion of the kingdom. All that was left was to meet her and present himself in all his triumphant glory. What woman could look upon him and deny him now?
She stood caged behind the dragon's corpse, beckoning him closer to release her from her prison. At long last. He swung his sword, shattering the lock and freeing the princess. She walked out slowly. He savoured the moment. She was beautiful, blond hair cascading down her shoulders, keeping its golden shine in spite of the ash and dirt around them both. The hero stepped towards her, meaning to hold her in his arms.
But she wasn't there. She was back in the cage. She walked out again, much the same way as before. When she arrived at the same point she would teleport back to the same spot in the cage, walking out as if the strange moment had never happened. Every time she would leave she would disappear and reappear back at her original spot. What spell, what enchantment, what horrible twist of fate had the dragon placed upon her in death?
It was then, right at the moment of the final conquest that his world froze. There was no motion, no elation, no fear, no joy - just silence. Even the dying flames ceased to flicker.
----------------
"Oh, what the hell?"
Slamming his hand on his keyboard and holding down the force restart button on his computer, he knew he would be taking to the forums again. Once it rebooted he opened up google and went straight to the game's webpage and read through his old post, hoping someone had a fix to the bug.
*ok every time i kill the dragon i open the gate and she glitches out and my comp freezs*
*you have the ring?*
*ya*
*download the patch?*
*ya*
*youre screwed then. they stopped patching it years ago. games been out for eight years dude, your computer probably doesnt support it anymore*
No dragon, no suitors, no trial was great enough, save for this. He'll never have his princess. | The King glanced up and down the knight, taking in his worn cloak and rusting mail.
"How old are you, knight?" he asked.
"I will be of twenty-six years of age come this summer," the warrior did reply. The King banged his palm on the armrest of his throne, and nodded with satisfaction.
"Very well! You shall be betrothed to my daughter until her sixteenth birthday, upon which the two of you shall be handfasted in marriage. Until that time allow me you grant you lands from my own domains, and a place within my personal guard. You shall not even be thirty-four when my daughter is of age; plenty of time for her to be able to throw you heirs. With any luck and God willing, I shall see grandchildren from my daughter in ten years time."
With that the king made his leave, leaving the former broken lance to dwell on his new found fortune. | 2016-05-23T17:27:53 | 2016-05-23T17:01:12 | 63 | 15 |
[WP] In an alternate universe where human skin changes colour according to their emotions, you alone lack this ability. As a result, nobody really believes a single word you say. | Always alone. Always solemn. Always stuck in this nasty shade of ambivalence. Ambivalence... of all colours, why this? When I was born, they thought I had died... for what newborn doesn’t seethe with the rainbow of this new, bright, terrifying world?
It was quickly decided that I was a psychopath. Unable to feel, intent only on manipulation. Outcast. When my sister was born, my father hit me, but his palm left no redness on my cheek. And when she died, I was accused. For how else could I feel nothing for my poor, sweet sister?
So there I was. Cast out, proven guilty by nothing more than common sense, mourning the death of my favourite little person. She hadn’t known to hate me... not yet. I wasn’t even allowed to mourn with my family, because of this damned ambivalence. Why this colour, specifically? Why not striking blue anger, or soft, pink sadness? Anything would be better than this bitter, pale nothingness. Anything to show that I’m human. Anything to make people believe that I’m hurting, that I’m lonely.
But nothing could change their minds, so I enrolled in university. The application process didn’t require a photograph, and interviews were optional, so I was able to slip past the acceptance comittee. I survived college, but I didn’t enjoy it. Nobody showed me any kindness.
Except for one man, my professor of General Psychology in freshman year. I went to see him the first week; I wanted to know if he had any idea about what was wrong with me, but he didn’t understand my predicament. Not because he hated me, not because he feared my careless appearance... but because that was all it was to him: an appearance. For in this dark office, this professor read his books in Braille.
It was this man who encouraged me to join the field of psychology. The way that therapy was usually conducted, there was a divider between the patient and the doctor, so that the doctor’s inner thoughts could remain a secret. But, oftentimes, patients suffered because of this. If they were lonely, they only felt more alone. If they were angry, they weren’t seen. If they were joyous, there was nobody there to share their good news with... not really. Just a wall, and a faceless voice, and a clock ticking away the seconds until the end of the session.
It was hard at first. It seemed that the stubborn public would rather stare at a clock’s face than mine. It made sense: who would want a psychopath as their therapist? But I was good at my job. I wrote books on my research, I wore clothes that covered my skin. Eventually, I got a client. And then, another. And soon, it became clear that speaking face to face was what my patients craved; to feel listened to, to feel welcomed. Even if that welcome was from a psychopath...
I made a name for myself in my field. I partnered with hesitant biologists, and gave a name to my disorder. We discovered a child in Paraguay who was stained a permanent, sickly shade of envy. We found a woman in Yorkshire who smiled wider than anyone I’d ever seen through her unchanging, mournful skin. Three lone cases, but three nonetheless. How many innocent people had been condemned because their skin had betrayed them? How many children abandoned, how many adults isolated?
There was no way to fix our skin... but that wasn’t the problem, was it? If I couldn’t change the way we looked, I could change how people looked at us.
I became well known; some strange, passionate scientist seen on late-night television shows. I spoke at conferences, I attended interviews. Once in a while, I’d receive a letter from someone like me.
I am no longer the psychopath who dares to smile, to cry, all in the name of manipulation. I am no longer some strange, unfeeling semi-person. I am no longer shunned, teased, or shied away from
And I am no longer alone. | I know I stand out. A brown amidst a sea of red. People are angry, understandably so. Their government has failed them, left them to suffer, and I agree, but my affliction receives slander instead of smiles.
"Why are you even here?" A light red woman asks me as she shoves her way by, pounds of blubber followed by three even fatter kids. They waddle their way up to the front of the rally, a sea of red worshipping the Great Orange Blob in the Sky, that's the way it is, the way it's always been.
I sigh as I head backstage to slip into one of my outfits. A red one of course. My employers have to provide me and people of one tone afflication suits, to be able to work, but they don't like it. Nevermind that I'm just an electrician, here to fix a line to the speakers, no part in the circus, but they don't care, and if I'm honest, neither do I.
I don't hate the President but I don't love him either. It just sucks I have to change my color to do a basic job as the rest of the world spits vitriol and burns. Oh well. It's better this way. People see brown as anger, or darkness, or evil, chaos even, but really brown is the the color of the earth, the soil, of survival. I can get amber, or ochre, cappuccino, even balsamic, but I cant switch to red or blue, yellow, orange or pink.
They say one toners are different, are useless, but I disagree. Brown and black will absorb any color that comes into contact with it and thereso I am a wealth of colors, you just can't see it. | 2020-02-25T09:02:00 | 2020-02-25T08:43:13 | 121 | 24 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | I might be a lil crazy but I’m thinking I shouldn’t bite anything . Everyone always bites what’s in front of them and the powers range from making seeds grow into flowers to making clones out of water to jumping through time for hours. Sarah’s right beside me and she just bit into this banana and now she’s teleporting across the room. I don’t wanna have a banana I heard not eating the peel makes your powers overreact. The steak in the back smells good but I heard it’s a ruse. A dude in my neighborhood had the steak and all he can do is turn into a rabbit, and I don’t wanna be a limited animorph. The Red Apples are common cause they give you powers like Super speed or Bionic Hearing. Good powers but nothing fancy and I want something unique.
The Grapes seem to give you cloning powers and while that would be fun I don’t think having more than one of me would be good for myself. The Pasta in the back sounds good but someone else ate it and I can hear them screaming that their hands burn like lava and they can’t turn it off. Why can’t the turn on period for these things be sweet and easy. Jared is eating Baked Mediterranean Lobster and out of nowhere he starts to glow like he’s gonna explode. The explosion comes out of his fingers and he’s never been more embarrassed. I think I understand this shit now. Is it that the meals are strategically placed depending on what we would want? The everyday goods give you regular abilities, the cuisine gives you powers that people wouldn’t want and the stuff in between gives you whatever. So what would give me something else?
After walking round the room and tripping over a girl growing vines on her legs by eating French Shrimp I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s only one thing I can eat that’s gonna get me a power that no one else has. And it’s the Table that all the food is on. No one is either stupid enough or smart enough to ever try it but that’s why I’m here. I move a kid sneezing Needles out of the way and crouch down ready for the embarrassment and surprise of what I’m about to do. I grab the edge of the table and everyone stops and stares. Sarah runs over and asks me what the hell am I thinking and that I’m wasting my one bite. Jared comes over and has to ball up his fist while laughing otherwise I would be scolding hot right now with his hand on my shoulder. The Elders and Guards look on as more kids wait for me to bite. Looks like I have to get this over with and I take a bite. I feel my tooth crack and my body go limp for a second as a rush goes through me, every cell in my body feels on fire and my mind is racing a million miles per second.
I get up and I don’t feel a thing and even worse everyone is laughing their asses off. I look at Jared and I see a bunch of different numbers on his head, numbers that look like stats. His Life force for the day, his weak points in his body, his weaknesses for allergies, his loved ones and much more. Look at Sasha and I see how her body is reacting internally, where she went for the past week, the food she ate last night, her darkest fears. But it’s all like stats in a video game. I look at a elder and I see his memories, the kids he’s trained, the food he wants to eat and the money in his bank account. Everyone’s asking what my power is and the head elder says it should arrive in my body by the end of the week. As we leave the room to head to the debrief room I l go to the bathroom to look in the mirror and something tells me to tap the right side of my temple. I do so and I look down at my arms and my hands are shining blue. I extend my hand out and a blast comes out. I kick out my leg and a wave of energy comes out. I try to do my goku impersonation and blue energy covers my body. They yell that they need me in the debrief room so we can be assigned our squads. Guess I’m gonna have to learn my powers on my own time. | *Chocolate,* I though, licking my lips. The piece that I broke off the table was coating my hands with a greasy, brown coating. I put the rest in my mouth and felt satisfied, although that thick steak that is rumored to give you the ability to talk to animals was definitely catching my attention.
Or that peppermint gum that for some reason gave you the ability to read people's minds.
I wanted something nobody had. I didn't know what was gonna happen if I tried. The worst that could happen was that I would break my teeth on the wood but somehow that didn't happen.
Over the speaker i could hear the council laughing. The announcer was obviously amused and said, with obvious joy in his speech, "Oliver, you may proceed into the next room."
I got up from the chair. As I walked to the door, I wondered if the chair, too, was edible. And if it was - what would it taste like? What powers did it give? But it was too late to find out. I turned the knob and walked out, to be greeted by the three council men and the announcer. The announcer put a small, black box on the table. It looked like the kind of box that you would put an engagement ring in. Only it was round. A glass of water was given to help swallow the green pill nestled inside.
"Does the water also give me powers?" I asked, jokingly.
"No," the announccer said. "At least, not this water."
I smiled and opened the box. Inside, the pill rested on a velvet cushion. A miniature, golden plaque was attached to the top of the box and I read out the power that would be bestowed on me.
*Reality Wrapping*
"What does that even mean?" I asked.
"Proceed into the next room," one of the councilmen said. "You'll find out." | 2020-03-19T10:15:15 | 2020-03-19T09:58:32 | 44 | 31 |
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