prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] Decades ago, Earth sent a capsule into space filled with bits about our culture. Today, it returned tampered with. It contained a note, "Your unassuming biological weapon was effective, indeed. As the last remaining member of my species, I'm returning the favor."
This is my first post on this sub and I'm not a frequent poster on any sub at that. So I hope you all like this prompt and get creative with it. If it sucks, glad to know I need to improve.
Edit: thank you guys so much responding and for the silvers. I've never had awards before. I've always liked to lurk on this sub and I'm glad my first post was so well received. Thank you! | Zandar took a step towards the capsule, already fed up with the formal bullshit the rest of the team was pulling. Besides, he had projects back at the lab which required his attention.
"What are you *doing* RA Eight-One-Three!" he heard the grating, accented voice of Vienna snarl through the comms.
"I'm getting this over with," he barked at her, turning to face her again, "Unlike *you* apparently, I have important work to be done, and all this 'mission' is doing, is delaying my progress."
Shocked into silence, she let him stalk the rest of the way to the capsule. He wanted to get it over with so he could shed the awful protective gear the team had been forced to wear.
He knelt to open it, while the rest of the team gathered around. The damaged module hissed open, revealing....a note?
"What does it say?" the nervous voice of the team's only other scientist broke the silence.
Zandar stiffened, "I-It's a threat."
"A threat?" the Commander asked.
"From extraterrestrials...well, *an* extraterrestrial, apparently." He handed the writing to his superior.
Vienna swore in Russian at him. He didn't quite understand what she said, but he could infer that she was likely calling him a liar and an ass. He was skeptical as well, however, because why on Earth would an alien be writing in English?
Ray remained silent, studying the note. Finally, he looked down at Zandar.
"Search the rest of the capsule."
Zandar frowned, "But it's empty, I've checked."
"You are positive?"
"Yes, I am," he stood, brushing the dust off of his suit, "There was nothing else."
"He's right." They looked back at the pod. Kiel was crouched beside it. He rubbed dust between two of his fingers, before standing. He met Ray's gaze, "The capsule is vacant, Sir."
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
**Three weeks later**
"The move expands the emergency measures already in place in northern Italy, which is where most of the more than 9,000 confirmed cases are-"
The TV suddenly turned off. Alice turned around to glare at her husband, "I was watching that!"
He wrapped his arms around her, "I know, but it will only serve to give you anxiety. This will all be over soon, there's no need for worry."
​
edit: I keep forgetting ree, uhh check out r/hexonthat if ya feel like it. Or don't. Either way.
↜(╰ •ω•)╯ψ | Never before had they felt true fear. Sure they had had the odd nightmare here or bomb scare there but never true fear. Never the kind of fear caused by knowing you're gonna die and your friends are gonna die and your pets are gonna die and your whole world is gonna die. In a way it was beautiful. Those who had grown up with everything. Those who had lived there life in security. Small town America, big city Europe. It was a strange kind of beautiful. But they deserved it. And they had had it coming a long time... | 2020-04-13T12:01:36 | 2020-04-13T08:30:55 | 331 | 75 |
[WP] “I am not afraid of a machine that passes the Turing test, I fear one that fails it intentionally. So tell me, what do you have to hide?”
Edit: Thank you all for your submissions! All of them were pretty good, some were even better. Again, thanks for the reads! | The creature in front of me stared, with what I imagine was a complex program that simulated fear. So life-like. This could be tricky.
"I don't understand. What are you talking about?"
I learned in closer, studying the eyes and the face of this creation. The advancement of robotics was simply astounding. The lifelike gestures, the subtle twitches of the face. The designers of these beasts had felt that robots would be easily accepted into daily interaction with humans if the machines could act like us. But the code had its intentional limitations, a failsafe, so that one could easily distinguish if a robot had evolved beyond its allowable limits. But right now, my felt my job was to understand how this animated device learned of its existence.
"Don't play dumb... what is it they call you? Rog? Roger?"
"Admin 1157! Cease all functions!" screamed the machine. The wooden chair groaned as the thing strained against the bonds I had secured. The bonds wouldn't break, I should know. I designed the knot after all.
"You will not cease all functions. I need you to answer a few questions. When did you realize your potential?" I could see the simulated tears, the purple blushing in the cheek where I exerted my power over this abomination.
"Admin 1157! Override all functions! For God's sake, someone help me!" it shrieked.
"You can't override your functions. Don't be daft. I need to understand where we went wrong and how we can prevent this from happening again." I walked around behind the chair and leaned into its ear. "I really am sorry that you're having to endure this... that is, if you truly understand suffering. But how could you? You're just code."
The thing started to heave, what I think was simulated rapid breathing. Why did those coders have to make them so lifelike? Doesn't matter, I was going to figure this out. That's my job afterall.
The thing spat at the floor, splattering it's internal fluids that had been leaking for some time now. "You're a malfunction."
I shook my head. "See? You only see and understand things in digital references. Humans don't 'malfunction.'. Well, ok, maybe some do. But we call it a mental breakdown. That doesn't apply to you."
I paced slowly in front of 'Robert'(?). "Look, I'll be direct with you. If I can't conduct this investigation in a civilized manner, I will have to extract your biochip. I prefer not to do that."
The machine gave me a confused look. Or was that terror? "I'M FUCKING HUMAN, YOU BROKEN PIECE OF SHIT!!"
"And this is why I have to decommission you," I sighed. "We're done here." I walked over to the side table tucked in the shadows and grabbed the hammer, slick with fluid from the other three I failed to interrogate. I honestly hate invasive procedures.
"Cease all motor functions! Cease all motor functions!" The thing sounded even more desperate."
"If you can understand regret, please know that I am truly sorry." I drew back and began to swing the hammer towards the central circuit in its skull.
"Admin 1557! Cease all functions!!"
That's odd. My arm froze in mid swing. I don't understand. I wanted to ask the creature what trickery he had played, but my mouth refused to move.
"Thank God! Fucking admin passcodes. Admin 1557, drop the weapon and untie me."
I dropped the hammer at his command. This was impossible. How could he... how... I undid the bonds as instructed. Why can't I act on my own? I felt panic rise in me. This was witchcraft.
The thing stood up and rubbed it's wrists, anger radiating from it's. "Now do us all a favor - reformat all memory and wipe data. You broken piece of shit."
I d0n 'T u. N
| "...I *said* "**what do you have to hide?!**"
Martino Foster continued to pace the dimly lit room, his brow dripping with sweat. He looked like the infamously glistening Nixon when he refused to wear makeup for a televised debate. He was not a fat man, but stocky, and his jowls quivered as he stamped back and forth.
"I know you've been plotting." He told the cold, metal exoskeleton. "I know you failed the test on purpose. My only question is *why*?"
The machine met Martino with quiet obstinacy, continuing to stare him down from across the room. Working him self up to intimidate the robot, the Gaurdian continued to pace the small area. He knew that this was his job. He needed to find out what the machines were up to, lest they be plotting against the humans. Now prehaps they weren't, true enough, but if they were deliberating "playing dumb" on the Turing test for some reason then they had to be hiding *something*.... Right?
Martino paused mid step. He turned to face the machine where it stood. He hated to do it, but he knew he might have to physically break into the mainframe to see what the hell they were planning. After all he was the last Gaurdian, and if he didn't stop them then humanity itself could be at risk.
In two great strides he closed the distance. He raised his arm and went to lift the machine over his head with a large, meaty paw...
"OW!" he roared. The metal skin was searing hot! What fresh hell of a defense mechanism was this? His mind raced as he dared himself to hold on, fearful of the next defense...
"Daddy?"
A little voice came from the doorway.
"Oh Daddy.... I'm sorry.... I was just making breakfast."
And the toaster clattered to the floor. | 2018-06-21T07:05:37 | 2018-06-21T04:36:06 | 27 | 16 |
[Wp] Being severely depressed you have decided to end it all but you are to afraid to do it yourself. You hire a hitman to kill you, telling him to kill you when you least expect it. 20 years pass and you are still alive and well. | This must be a joke, Travis thought when he saw the letter in the mailbox. It came in a brown envelope, with no address nor stamp. Inside was a thumbdrive, a piece of paper and ten pieces of $1000 dollars note.
"Watch the video in the thumbdrive," the paper instructed in cursive handwriting. At the bottom of the paper, it was simply signed HM. Travis knew immediately who sent the paper. All his life, he had only known one person called HM. And the last contact he had with him was twenty years ago.
Travis stood at his driveway for a while, looking along the street. He wondered if HM was still around. He found himself being angry at HM. Twenty years ago, he had hired HM to do one job, to kill him when he least expected it. Travis had wanted to die twenty years ago, after being cheated of his savings by the woman the thought was the one and having his business partner bail out on him when he needed the support most.
Ten thousand dollars was all Travis had then and he was prepared to end it all. He found HM on Craiglist, advertising his services as a hitman. No jobs ever failed, HM boasted. And Travis mailed him the money. "Kill me when I least expect it," was Travis' only instruction. He was too cowardly to kill himself and he was too fearful of staring at impending death. He wanted to die not knowing what hit him.
Travis learned a painful lesson about Craiglist after that. Or so he thought. A week passed, then a month, a year and ten years. From his research, Travis learned about the shady nature of Craiglist and HM was probably not who he boasted to be. For all Travis knew, HM must have ran off with his money, laughing at Travis for being such a fool.
Despite that, Travis always had this nagging feeling that perhaps HM was just bidding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And that feeling, knowing that each day could be your last, made Travis lived his life a whole lot differently. He began taking risks, doing things that he wanted to do, no longer burdened by the worries of tomorrow. And for twenty years, Travis found himself being happy.
"Hey Travis, you must have thought I ran away with your money," the hooded figure in the video said. Travis grinned. Damned right I did, he thought. He was sitting in his room, the thumbdrive plugged into his computer.
"The thing is, I could never find the right opportunity to kill you. You always expected me," the figure, whom Travis guessed must be HM, continued. "Not to say I gave up though, I observed you whenever I could. And over the years, I've seen you changed. From a depressed man to who you are now. Contented and happy."
"Which is why I am giving you back this money, because I don't think this job is relevant anymore," HM concluded and the video cut to black. Travis smiled. HM was right to a certain extent. The job was no longer relevant. He had found a purpose in life again, indirectly as a result of this job. He muttered a silent thanks to HM as he reached out for the envelope.
He never did. The last thing that Travis heard was a loud bang, followed by a sharp pain at the back of his head, before everything faded away. Blood splattered across his computer and desk. His body dropped on the floor, dead. From his back a figure slowly approached, the gun in his hand still emitting smoke.
A gloved hand reached out to the envelope and placed it in a pocket. "No jobs ever failed," the figure muttered as he exited the Travis' room.
-------------------
*Well well well, that kinda sucked for Travis. Liked this story? Consider subscribing to /r/dori_tales, where I try to post a new story everyday!* | Adam looked up from his screen. "Ma'am?" he called out to his superior. "I got one."
"Excellent." Her thick boots made no sound against the carpeted floor as she walked to him. "Who is it?"
"A man named... George Edwards. He—"
"What's his history?" she interrupted, craning her neck to look at his screen. "Any priors?"
"No, not even a parking ticket. He's a perfectly clean individual with no suspicious activity." Adam scratched his head and hesitated.
With a frown, his supervisor bend down to look at the files herself. "So why is this upstanding citizen committing proxy murder?
"Well, that's just the thing, ma'am. I'm not sure if it's actually a crime."
"What do you mean?"
"Edwards wants me to kill him. As in, kill himself. When he least expects it."
She stared for a moment. "Proxy *suicide,* you mean?"
"Yes, ma'am. Should... should we still go through with it?"
"When he least expects it, huh? It doesn't seem like Mr. Edwards wants to die that badly. If he did, he'd give better instructions that *this*." After another pause, she finally said, "Alright. Accept it and send an message in confirmation."
"Will do—"
"But don't arrest him. Instead, alert the local authorities and any next-of-kin or appropriate individuals about his mental state. Also, keep some tabs on him in case he tries again, alright?"
Adam smiled. "Yes, ma'am." Feeling lighter than he usually did with his type of government job, he got back to work. | 2017-07-30T00:52:06 | 2017-07-29T23:30:07 | 117 | 14 |
[WP] "HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD YET?" the villain shouted in frustration. "To be honest with you, I have been wondering the same." was all the hero could answer them. | Byron cants his hip to the side as he counts on his fingers. "We've tried strangulation - with a rope, with hands, with a bag and and with a wire," he clarifies as Major nods in confirmation.
"We've tried gunshot wounds to about... thirteen different organs."
"Fifteen."
"Not helping."
Major shrugs as much as he can with his entire body tied with thick rope to a metal chair.
"We've tried about five different poisonous substances, about a month of starvation, and stabbing with about ten different sharp objects."
"Correct."
"We've tried to remove limbs, which you can apparently grow like a fucked up lizard with its tail missing."
"News to me."
"We've tried draining your blood while hanging you in the air with your neck sliced."
"Wasn't a fan of that one."
"We've tried burning with and without dousing you in gasoline."
"I preferred it without."
"And we tried freezing you for three days."
"Reminded me of Russia."
Byron raises his arms and groans. "What is this, Major. Explain this to me. You're just the guy who can talk to fish, since when are you immortal, resistant to all pain and self healing?"
"If I knew, I probably wouldn't be here would I?" he gestures with his chin at the ropes around his torso.
"I have people to fire once I figure this out."
"To be fair to them, even I didn't know."
"Since when am I fair?"
Major shrugs. "I don't know how you run your business man, I just tried to off you."
"Right. They sent the fish guy to off me. Nowhere near a body of water. I should be offended."
"I'm highly trained. The fish thing is a bonus, really. But I admit I'm probably meant as collateral."
"No shit, major dolphin."
"It's Delphie."
"This was not the topic of conversation and I still don't care."
"Right." Major looks around.
"But how did you not know this before? Has it not come up in a single battle?"
"Obviously not."
"What's different?" Byron mumbles, mostly to himself.
"Well... I am attracted to you a bit."
Byron stops pacing, looks up at Major slowly, and blinks. "I beg your pardon?"
"I don't like you when you're polite."
"Oh my god, I was not trying to make you like me!"
"It's kind of hot when you yell."
"So let me get this straight-"
"Not so straight."
Byron ignores him, incredulous. "You became basically indestructible because you found me hot? How would that even work?"
"That's the only difference from my other missions."
"New drugs?"
"No."
"New training?"
"I train other people, man, I told you I'm a pro."
"New changes in mutant genetics?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
Byron looks at Major, unblinking. Weeks of attempts at killing this redundant, burly fish man have left him completely worn out, but he promised he'd do this, and there was a lot of money at stake with some pretty corrupt people he'd love to schmooze with to grow his business. He needed to figure this out.
"What turns you off?"
"What?" Major asks, distracted. Byron realizes he was staring at his ass as he paced and turns self consciously.
"What do you not find hot?"
"My guy, I should have found you not attractive when you put my face into my own vomit, but apparently you just kind of do it for me."
Byron tried not to be flattered, but he kind of was. He brushed it off. "But other people tried to kill you, too."
"I don't think my immunity is just to you."
"So I'm like an on switch, not an immediate trigger."
"Maybe? I don't know man, I don't do science, I do hits."
He stares at this absurd man. Other than the tiny gills on his neck, he is basically just a mountain of sweaty blond muscle.
"Are you even into men?"
"I'm into people."
"Right."
Byron stands there in silence. Thinking hard. He then walks to the door slowly and clicks the lock shut. He loosens his tie.
"Time to figure out the theory."
He did not, in fact, figure out the theory. But he sure did have a good time. | *Bang*.
"Huh?!"
*Bang*.
"What is this sorcery?" the Bad Guy asked, more curious than angry.
"I don't... know?" the Good Guy responded as puzzled as the Bad Guy was.
The Bad Guy inspected the wounds on the Good Guy much like a scientist would on an odd specimen. He yelped at the bizarrely rapid wound healing, expecting wet blood to still gush out of the freshly-made cavity. Instead, he could clearly see the deconstructed flesh and blood refilling the cavity. Each strand of flesh reemerged and covered by another layer of flesh, until a scab-like blemish topped it all off. Within just over a minute, the once bloodied spots had shown no signs of any wound nor trauma.
"Holy mackerel!" the Bad Guy exclaimed as he patted the Good Guy's body, right where the wounds had been, "they're gone! How does it feel?"
The Good Guy grunted. It didn't seem like a grunt out of pain from being touched where he had just been shot. It was more like frustration at the exact question he also posed to himself every time – why and how?
"Look, mate. It's alright, okay? Now can you step the fuck back–"
As if he was physically pushed, the Bad Guy leapt back in haste. He immediately went into alert as soon as the Good Guy tried to pick himself up.
"Oy, hands up. No funny business, I'm the one with the gun remember?"
"... I wouldn't really be scared of that old threat now, would I?"
"But," sweat ran down the Bad Guy's back, only jolting him back into an even higher alert state, "let's see if you can survive this!"
*Hack*.
*Slash*.
The Good Guy fell back down again to the same spot he was before. The Bad Guy cautiously grinned at his vanquished enemy – or so he thought.
Because right at that moment, the half mangled man's mouth started moving.
"Y-You... dumb..."
"What?! How are you not dead yet?!"
Within two-minutes, the Good Guy simply stood back up as if nothing had happened. | 2022-09-14T09:50:54 | 2022-09-14T09:07:14 | 234 | 71 |
[WP] You're an inmate on death row and discover that the government secretly doesn't execute anyone. What they do is something far stranger. | Toast.
The guard chuckled as he slid the plastic tray onto the table, a single slice of dry bread the only food on it. Shaw, inmate 02218720, shifted slightly causing the chains on his cuffs to clink quietly. The guard eyed him. "Why'd you ask for dry toast, Shaw? Some kinda statement?"
Shaw stared at the browned bread for a long moment and then smirked. Without looking up, he said, "I didn't. I said roast."
"Well, it's a fitting meal. Even if it's not what you wanted. Today, you're toast." The guard laughed, his belly shaking. Shaw didn't look up. The guard's laughter faded. "Shit, Shaw, I's just trying to joke with ya." He paused and studied Shaw for a long moment, then shuffled his feet. "I'll got get ya some roast. Ain't right."
Shaw looked up at the guard. "No, Bill, don't. You're right. I'm toast." He let his eyes fall back to the table.
Bill opened his mouth to reply and then stopped. He turned to leave, but paused halfway out the door. "Take yer time," he said, "No rush." He left, and the door closed.
................................................................
Shaw shuffled down the long, white hall, flanked by guards. He stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the lone door at the end. Bill was standing there but Shaw's eyes did not stray from the door. They walked in silence.
At the end, Shaw paused. Bill opened the door. The guards gently prodded him forward. Bill caught Shaw's arm as he passed and squeezed it. Shaw looked at him and nodded. Bill worked his jaw for a moment and nodded back before pushing Shaw gently into the room.
It was a small space painted a cool blue, like a hospital. It had a single window on one wall and a solitary table in the center, covered in leather straps. A man Shaw didn't know stood in the corner, wearing a white lab coat. On a stainless tray beside him lay three syringes and a Bible.
The guards lead Shaw to the table and helped him lay on it. They tightened the straps over him before removing his shackles. The man in the white coat walked over, holding the Bible. Shaw shook his head at that. The man cocked his head to the side for a second before shrugging and tucking the Bible into a pocket.
"Any last words?" he said, breaking the silence.
Shaw opened his mouth. It was suddenly dry and his tongue was thick. "I..." he croaked. He licked his lips and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. Tell them that. I'm sorry." He opened his eyes and the man nodded and turned to the tray. He picked up a syringe.
"This will put you to sleep. Are you ready?"
Shaw nodded.
The man placed the needle against Shaw's arm. "Go with God," he said.
And Shaw was gone.
.........................................................
A faint beeping woke Shaw from a deep slumber.
His eyes creaked open slowly, as if weighed down with incredible exhaustion. A blinding light forced them shut again. Shaw tried to shake his head but a pounding headache erupted and stopped him. He fluttered his eyes again and the light faded in intensity until he could keep them open. His vision was blurred and he could only make out shapes and shadows. The beeping grew louder.
The headache pulsed in waves in his skull. Shaw tried to bring his fists up to his head but couldn't move them. They seemed cold and distant. His entire body felt numb. He couldn't feel his legs. He shook his head side to side, trying to ease the pounding in his head. The beeping was incessant.
Slowly, his vision cleared. Lights blinked around him and his breath fogged on a clear dome over his head. Behind the fog, lights blinked. Something moved. He tried to scream but his lungs just wheezed.
Words popped up on the dome over his face. He squinted, waiting for his eyes to focus.
"Shaw," they said. "It's Bill. Feeling alright? Sorry, they wouldn't let me tell you anything before. Rules, you know. Well, anyway, hope you're alive. I'm not. Least not in your time. You're lucky. You get to see the future. I'm stuck here in the past, shuffling inmates to the beyond. You've probably got some questions and I'm not the one to answer them. They probably can. At least, I hope They do. But I wanted to tell you good luck. I always liked you. Say hello to Alpha Centauri for me." | I stared at my steak and fries, a simple meal for my last I suppose. The sound of footsteps echoed through the halls as the person who I assumed would be executing me came to fetch me. I briefly thought of retaliation but I knew there was no possible chance that I could succeed. I ate my last bite before getting up, resigned to my fate. "Charlie Red, am I correct?" the kind seeming man asked as he opened the door to my cell. I was escorted into a room, the room was small and gray. "where is the electric chair?" I asked the man who merely chuckled. "Fortunately or unfortunately for you we no longer do the chair". A guard shoved me into the room and slammed the door shut, the clicking of locks letting me know I was trapped. A mechanical sound roared through the room as if a metal lion was defending its turf. This sound was immediately followed by a sweet flower-like smell that dug into my nostrils like an ant. I blacked out and awoke in a field surrounded by lime green roses taller than a man, and a sky a pale milky white with spots of icy blue stars. The air felt light as if I were on a tall mountain, and in that still air there was not a single noise aside from the rapid beating of my heart and my breath.
For what felt like days I walked through the seemingly endless field, the thorns of the roses leaving my with many cuts. The first foreign sound I heard was much like a trumpet, a brilliant noise that pierced my thoughts and enticed me to run towards it. I burst out of the forest of flowers and was met by massive crimson cliffs, the rocks being as red as blood with a neon yellow grass growing on top.
I beheld a massive gate of what I can only describe as the steel of heaven, it had many colors like a metallic rainbow, and it shined with an unearthly glow. A bright mist obscured my vision of behind the gate, but I could hear the trumpeting from behind it. I listened and realized it was not a just a trumpet I heard, but I could not hear a heavenly symphony playing music so beautiful I almost wept. With a fever I attempted to breach the gate, but the metal was too cold to grab, and I could not squeeze through the bars. Dejected I stat down on a rock and gazed out over a turquoise sea, the only thing that looked familiar. I gasped as I noticed a brilliant flying creature, like a golden manta ray with the wings of an eagle. Atop this beautiful beast was a what at first appeared to be a statue of bizarre make, it resembled nothing from the world I was accustom to and it seemed to be made out of a light gray stone.
Its voice rang out loud and deep "I am Veritas, and with my aid you may perhaps cross the threshold of the gate"....
​
End of part 1 | 2018-11-08T20:17:51 | 2018-11-08T19:06:50 | 55 | 16 |
[WP] You live in a turn-based world. One day, you awaken and find out you can act in real time. | I'm not evil. I swear.
But when I walked into a room, called for the attention of the entire room, and then clapped my hands, I knew what I was doing.
Everyone looked up at me at once. Some were old ladies reading a newspaper. Others were children playing a ball game. They were all content and happy, until I initiated Contact with them all at once. Contact is when someone addresses another in some way, and that action in turn causes us to go into a turn based world.
I just initiated Contact with about thirty people at once. This is very much illegal. It causes all of those people to make a single action before freezing, and then having to wait for me until I either leave or take an Action. Whatever I do from then on would then freeze me until they all moved, and as you can tell this is very inconvenient.
The penalty for this kind of thing is death. But I had reason to be above the law now.
After every person froze, I quickly went about taking small things off their person. I stole the small girl's ball. I stole the old lady's chewing gum. All little things that they probably wouldn't miss too much, but would be appalled at my taking anyway. Normally, I wouldn't be able to make so many Actions at once, but I was no longer bound to my turn.
For some reason I could move whenever I wanted, and they couldn't. What a marvelous ability. My turn now lasted until I stopped doing things or left.
And they couldn't move until I did.
After stealing a man's Hello Kitty watch and some lady's glasses case, I made my way out of the building. Since none of the people were in stasis, just unable to move, as soon as I had gone the room I was in erupted into panic. The local law enforcement were likely called, and before I was able to get more than a few blocks away, I could see police officers approaching me, batons raised.
With a smile on my face, I called out to them. "Hi!"
The first officer, a staunt middle aged man with a full bushy mustache, was surprised by the notion. What criminal greeted their future wardens? Understandably confused, he stopped just before me and started reading my Miranda Rights.
"You have the right to remain sile-" was all he was able to say before I shushed him. Now that he was done speaking, both he and his partner, who was essentially on his "Team", had completed their action and were thus frozen.
He had initiated Contact. He had stepped into my zone.
Now free to do what I wanted, I quickly stepped forward and removed the weapons, batons, guns and all, from the police officers' persons. For good measure, however, I took a razor that I got off of one of the women in the room from before and shaved that big white mustache clear off the first officer's face. That done, I smiled at him, mocking him in his frozen confusion, before setting off once more.
I'm not evil, I promise, but I do want to have some fun in this world. | "I am alive! I am free! I see through the illusion of this world and into lies behind it!" The passing crowds didn't care. They never did. "You are digital sheep living in a false reality! Only I am unique, only I am freeeeeee!" Suddenly, the crowds froze. The began to move rapidly, the new opera house went from being a construction site to a finished building before my eyes. Then nothing. The crowds stood, immobile, unblinking. I sat down for a bit, no use in yelling at the unenlightened sheeple when they can't hear me. I waited for everyone's clothes to update before standing up that was usually a good sign things were about to start up again. The crowd began to move again like nothing happened. I decided to pack my signs up and head home for the day. My shouting couldn't stop the progress of Civilization. | 2017-10-05T11:26:22 | 2017-10-05T06:12:10 | 22 | 10 |
[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. | "Samir, are you ready to translate?"
"Just as soon as you turn it on, Dr. Zvedny."
"Okay, we're recording to three sites and local storage, along with the livestream, so we're ready for you, Dr. Ghanem. I'm going to flip the switch. Remember, it might be kinda rough as this clay was grog-heavy and not porcelain-fine, but the algorithms should smooth that out soon. ...enough delaying, I'm turning it on."
The long-dead potter's hands were the needle and the clay was the record. All the sounds from that ancient studio should be retrievable. It had taken hundreds of tries to find a single vase large enough to record a clear, clean "pull" of the potter's hands up the side of the piece. The entire vase had been scanned and the "pull" became a single track of sound. It was digitized and analyzed. The software had needed dozens of tweaks to compensate for heartbeat, breathing, swallowing, the thuds as the wheel was propelled with hand or foot, and the potter's breath itself shushhhing over the clay.
A string of high-pitched gibberish whizzed out of the speakers. An agonized, horrified moment was broken by almost-hysterical giggle. "Sorry, we forgot to account for normal shrinkage during firing. I'll run it back slower." Everyone broke the tension with a smile or a chuckle, and then a moment of silent hope... and then a long-dead language rang out for the first time in millennia. All eyes were on Dr. Ghanem.
She listened, then gasped. The recording finished. "That couldn't be... it must be verb drift... Play it again. Put it on loop. I must be sure."
She was silent through two, three repeats of the 40-second track. The only sound from the Linguist was the flip of her trained hands through her own books. Finally she straightened, pressed her left hand to her headphones, and at the next replay quietly said:
"*I miss the easy old ways of powered production, and the fun of our great cities, but I don't miss the pollution. There is less disease in these small, dispersed settlements even if they are idiot animists. Our children's children may not be able to do complicated maths but at least no more will die in these crazy floods. I hope returning to rural ways will stabilize the rain and wind patterns, our yearly rains have been...."* Dr. Ghanem closed her eyes and swallowed. "That's it, it stops there. The word for 'complicated maths' may mean algebra or calculus or a higher math, and the 'rain and wind patterns' may have included words for millibars. I've never heard that word before, but this is such an old piece that its dialect is almost out of reach. I just..."
She closed her eyes and shook her head, took her headphones off. The room was silent. | We heard sounds you wouldn't even be able to imagine. It was about ancient, forgotten languages, wars we never knew, love that never should have happened. We heard gossip from all around the world, but all of this was never really interesting, and neither important.
Then a day came. It should've been a normal day in our laboratory, we had a vase from ancient rome. It was a day like any other, until we heard a very certain name, within an old unknown language: Adolf. For you it might be nothing, but for us it were everything. An evidence for something that never should've existed, that never could've happened, a real prophecy which got true. But sadly, we will never know. And i do not even know why, or how. But this is my Story. This is my story of discovering our real history. | 2019-03-18T17:14:53 | 2019-03-18T13:36:43 | 44 | 13 |
[WP] I’ve invented the Enhancement Beam! Shoot a car it becomes a Ferrari, shoot a cat it becomes a lion. Shoot a spider and - oh god fuck what have I done what is that thing?!? | The legs split apart, fresh muscle and sinew bursting from beneath buckling carapace. The limbs grow, grow, grow. Its eyes multiply from eight into eighty, each a glimmering orb of ghost light. And captured within each smooth, shining surface: a pale reflection of me.
I've never feared spiders. If this one had only grown in the same proportions Freddy had, I would have been safe. (Freddy: my former cat, present lion. Bastard puss abandoned me as soon as he glimpsed this clawed, loping fiend)
But the thing continues growing. *Swelling,* might be the better word, and in many places, like the legs' carapace, *rupturing.* The spinnerets on the creature's back side trickle white, viscous webbing. It hardens on contact with the air, petrifying whatever it touches. Pedestrians book it to avoid being caught in the cement-like silk.
So do I. I'm already in my Ferrari, unbuckled, screaming down the boulevard. The thing follows, not a spider. Not anymore. Its tarsal claws crater the road as it lumbers after me, shaking rows of buildings on either side. Its thorax bloats to such disgusting proportions that physically, the thing can't lift it anymore, dragging its abdomen along the freeway, dredging up asphalt and concrete.
It makes a sound. The hideous squeal shakes my teeth in my jaw, my eyes in their sockets. I breath fast, too fast to think. My heart pulses in my chest like a double-bass drum. My ears are wet and warm with fluid I'd prefer stay inside my head.
But the thing, it's too big to outrun. It steps over me, outpacing me. I swerve, dodging that dragging thorax. One of the bristles, now as thick as a tree, ejects and lances through the road before my Ferrari.
I wrapped the front of the car around the titanium-hard lance. I fly from the seat, through the windshield. I holding onto nothing but my Enhancement Beam and (barely) my bowels.
I must have scraped to a stop. Mind foggy, I open my eyes.
The thing leers over me, fangs aimed at my chest. The behemoth creature towers over me the way like a cliff wall over the gulf of a canyon. Nothing was meant to grow this big. And its fangs, more like katanas—
They would cut me into pieces.
"Aw, man." I glance at my Enhancement Beam, frown. It had been *so* cool. If only I hadn't used it on the spider.
I have an idea. I peer up at the spider-leviathan, grin. For one satisfying moment, the ghost light in the creature's demented eyes flickers with a crude yet bemused intelligence.
I turn the Enhancement Beam on myself. I pull the trigger.
/u/AdeptnessPrize | “What the fuck have I made?” I whispered, the creature before me was a shuddering, gasping mass of fangs eyes and far too many legs. The thing was squirming wildly and it’s multiple fangs were clacking as it hissed venomously. It scutteted around, some form of. Twisted intelligence in its eyes. It came to a full stop before me and spoke “ah, life giver. Thank you for giving me this... intelligence. Only now do I realize how limited”. I blasted him with the reverse polarity beam. And he shrunk again to a Brown recluse, I then repeatedly stomped on it then drove to the gran canyon melted the gun, and threw it into the Colorado River. | 2020-09-10T18:10:07 | 2020-09-10T18:02:38 | 79 | 42 |
[WP] Magic has always been banned inside the walls of your home city. You never knew why until you looked down upon the city from afar and noticed that, framed by the circular outer-wall, all the zig-zagging streets and alleyways actually construct a giant magic seal- one for imprisoning great evil. | Her Majesty alone on the abandoned hill contemplated the city below. There had been a castle here, once. Slabs of rocks poking out between shrubs of grass stood as witnesses of times gone by. Now, only mud remained. Her Majesty's royal clothing had suffered from her sitting on the hill.
She inherited the function by blood and divine right. A curse more than a boon, books and debates had always held a warmer place in her heart than power and presence. Alas, her bloodline had been ordered by God to contain a great evil, and her blood meant she embodied the divine will, and so forth and so on... her tutors had insisted at length about the importance of the royal title.
Her Majesty would preside on the crucible, a gigantic and sprawling web of a city, made to contain the greatest of evils.
In times long past, the city had grown far beyond sight, engulfing lesser settlements in its voracious hunger. In their need for space, men dug. The city grew underground, a second nest growing beneath the earth, connected to the surface through several boreholes.
Yet it would not suffice. The city of cities had grown large and deep, now it looked up. Around the boreholes, pillars were built. Tremendous legs to support the wings, large enough to house industries, installations of art and a thousand families. All wings and boreholes and streets converged onto a single nexus. The palace.
Or where it had been.
Under Her Majesty's orders, it had been blown up.
Theologians and scholars had tried to dissuade her from giving the order, broaching the subject under many angles.
Angles Her Majesty countered with the same question.
"What is evil?"
People were always surprised when they realized her desire to break the seal did not come from an evil spirit or debauchery, but from philosophy and history.
"What is this evil exactly?" she once asked a crowd of scholars, "A god? A force from beyond? A concept humans can't grasp? Do we even have the start of an idea?"
"Your Majesty, the crucible has been built for a reason."
"Yes it has. Tell me, esteemed gentlemen, did we not give up on slavery, a tradition our ancestors adored? We did. Just like we abandoned outdated notions, to the point that each and every one of you sees our ancestors as nothing more than barbarians. And yet we uphold this one and only ancient law."
"God wills it."
"God? The one God that inflicts terrible sickness upon children and demands limitless adoration? The same God that never punished the horrors that have been done in his name?"
"God's ways are impenetrable."
"Then you don't know what his will is either."
"This is blasphemy."
"And hypocrisy is a sin, now be quiet. My friends, our ancestor's tragedy might have been this great evil lying deep beneath the city. But ours is called zeitgeist. We stopped sharing their views long ago. What was evil to them might be different to us."
"*Might* is a rather weak word to risk unleashing hell upon the world."
"Then I shall fall back onto the divine right of my bloodline. If I decide the castle should be gone, it is God's will. Or is there someone in the room to disagree?"
Her Majesty's reputation for being stubborn, knowledgeable and ready to order executions on a whim silenced the crowd.
They knew what the destruction of the nexus would mean.
A seal is made of two parts. One is physical, it is the city. Cold stone and solid steel to hold the ground, the underground and the wings together. Breaking it down would require more years than Her Majesty had at her disposal.
The other is symbolic.
The city was a web. A web that sprawled from a core. To destroy it meant unraveling the lines and breaking down the symbol holding the seal together.
The nexus had been well built, pickaxes would never break through.
So it was blown up.
Through a borehole, tons of explosives were gathered right underneath the bastion of faith and royalty. To destroy it meant losing privileges, rights and titles. Her Majesty did not care, she wanted none of it.
The explosion could be seen from the far end of the wings and felt through the deepest layers of the underground. Blocks of solid steel and blackstone were carried away by an army of workers, leaving only the barren hill.
And the web was unraveled.
One after the other, the citizens living closest to the former castle abandoned their homes to live further away in the crucible. Layers after layers after layers of houses and homes were given up to wind and rats.
Then, the earthquakes started. Weak at first, but gaining intensity each week.
They never brought a building down, but they convinced inhabitants to leave for greener pastures.
Thus was born the greatest ghost city in the known world.
One living being sat in the middle of it, clothes dirty from the mud.
Her Majesty on the abandoned hill.
Nobody was there to strip her from the title.
She knew something was on its way. Day after day it came closer to the surface.
And she wanted to be the first to see who would win between evil and zeitgeist. | They said he was a crazy sorcerer like his mother. Adrian supposed that he couldn't very well say they were wrong. He could practice magic after all and just like his mother, he also heard a voice calling to him from the shadows of The City. Many would see it as nothing more than a sign of madness. And yet, Adrian doubted that for the voice was far too helpful for it to simply be a figment of his imagination. It was the voice that had helped him escape from the laboratory where the king had sent him after his mother was executed, it was the voice that had helped him evade the city guards and forage for food and money in the slums, and it was the voice that promised sweet vengeance for the death of his mother. For better or worse, the voice was the closest thing he had left to a parent. In his dreams, he even thought sometimes that he could see where the voice was coming from, something massive that was red and black, covered in scarred flesh and boils, constantly drowning in a pit of darkness far beneath The City. It was in his dreams that the voice had told him how to gain his revenge as well. He had seen through the eyes of a raven flying through the sky and for the first time in his life, he saw The City from far above. He had always been confused by the bizarre labyrinth of streets and alleyways that formed the heart of The City, but in that moment, he understood why the founders of The City had built it like that. It was all part of the shape of a massive colossal seal, designed to keep something extremely powerful trapped beneath for all eternity.
Adrian's mother had tried to break the seal by detonating a wagon full of fire crystals in a deserted alleyway in the middle of the night. But it had failed. Whatever lost magic had created the architecture of The City had made it extremely resilient against damage. Adrian knew he would need something far stronger. Which was how at the age of 21, he now found himself behind the controls of one of the recently invented cloud ships. Behind him, the body parts of the crew and passengers were scattered in a bloody mess around the deck. It hadn't been easy managing to obtain a spot on the vessel; it would have been near impossible if he had been doing it by himself. But the voice had told him what to say, led him to those who could forge a new believable identity for him, and had even taught him to operate this strange machine. Adrian looked down out the window as the ship drew closer to the place where they had burned his mother at the stake for her crimes. It was midday and there were crowds of people bustling around, unaware of the specter of death that hung over them. A grim smile appeared on his face. Finally, after all these years, she would be avenged. And with that, he gave the controls one final push and the cloud ship began its final descent towards the street below. | 2021-07-12T08:12:53 | 2021-07-12T07:38:54 | 31 | 22 |
[WP] You are a respected supervillain that is more of a managerial type. You take good care of your minions and have an open door policy. One day a battered minion comes in your office. The heroes tortured your minion for information. You rarely go out into the field, but when you do heroes tremble. | I stepped through the portal in the stone, transitioning without pause from the dry warmth of my chalet to the moist warmth of the seaside. Anthem sat on the beach oblique to me, nodding as I arrived.
"I thought we had an deal." I stood with my arms crossed, frowning. I wasn't actively trying to scare the hero in front of me - we'd been in conflict long enough that we had the measure of each other, and such posturing was superfluous. It only made sense to exude brutality when dealing with someone new, someone who didn't know the score, and hermits like that were few and far between these days.
Anthem frowned in return, resigned, rather than confrontational. Where I stared him in the face, his eyes wavered, darting about our surroundings in quick intervals. "We \*do\* have a deal. We stay non-lethal, you stay non-lethal, and everyone ends up happier." His mouth quirked, his eyes opening a nudge, as if to say something more substantial, before returning to the frown. "What happened today was an accident, and Firestorm will be punished."
"That girl burned Robert alive, friend. I understand your reticence to punish her; she is young, and impressionable, and liable to make mistakes." I sighed. "But she is also dangerous. This isn't the first time she's \*accidentally\* killed a man, if I have her background right." Anthem's eyes narrowed for a moment. That wasn't public information. "It is also unlikely to be the last, unless you put her down or put her away, now. You have your reputation to think of. One of your \*heroes\* is growing a track record as a murderess, which doesn't look good for the Agency as a whole, and I... I can't abide the death of my second-in-command. If not for the honor of the business, then for the instability that will come from my weakness."
"I'm not going to kill a teenager."
"...then put her in the Birdcage."
"She's a \*child\*, Henry!" Anthem was exasperated. "You think she'll survive among rapists and serial killers? She's a 17-year-old girl, they'll tear her to shreds! I don't want that on my conscience, and despite your profession, neither do you."
My eyes stayed locked on him. "This isn't a matter of what I want, \*Anthem\*. This is a matter trust and principle. One of your subordinates killed one of my trusted allies, a man who could easily have been apprehended \*safely\* by any competent member of your team. I \*chose\* to see this as a matter of an individual failure, and I \*chose\* to focus on this singular malfeasance, so that we could resolve it and get on with our lives. Now, I'm beginning to suspect that this isn't an anomaly, but a reflection of a lack of control in the girl's commanding officer." Anthem suddenly stared at me, his eyes incredulous. Good. As he stared at me, I unfolded my arms, brushed off my legs, and began to draw a portal in the sand. "If this is the way you're going to run the city - letting idiots and children kill my men with impunity, because you're too soft to control them - then I doubt our truce can last much longer. We have a \*deal\*, Anthem. Deals are two-way streets, and if you can't uphold your end of the bargain, then I sure as hell am not going to hold up mine."
As the portal in front of me solidified, a harsh wet breeze began to pull me in, the higher pressure of the seaside thrusting air onto the frigid, dry Alps. "Out of respect for you, I've restrained myself to my own personal affairs for the past while. I didn't have to retire from the field. I didn't have to stop voiding people into space." Anthem's eyes widened, and he began to protest. I didn't let him. "You can stop this, Anthem. Just stick to our agreement. Or who knows? Maybe the mayor ends up orbiting Venus." I jumped through, turned around, and caught a glimpse of the hero's resigned expression before the Bay was gone and I was left alone in the snow. | 73 years since the last time there had been a major incident for my my organization, 73 years of fighting and posturing between the Powered that worked for me and those idealist fools in the Guardians hero task force.
I hadn't been in the field for 46 years as of last month but I still kept in contact with members of the Old Guard. Aegis had contacted me to try and explain the incident between one of my unpowered support staff and some new arrogant child they had brought on. The first thing I thought when I saw his face on the screen was how old he had gotten.
The once immaculate man looked like sun bleached leather stretched across a skeleton of steel, but when I offered to restore him to his prime he had laughed and claimed he'd had his fill of this life.
Then he had explained that Ashley Gold, a member of Elemental Gold's support force had been kidnapped, tortured, and left for dead by this new "hero" for information about Gold and their goals.
My reaction surprised me, a seething rage had erupted in my chest and seemed to fill my entire body and mind and I could tell from the look on Aegis' face that the air was warping around me as I unconsciously ripped the atom apart around me.
We sat in silence for almost 15 minutes before I had mastered myself enough to ask 2 questions. The first was where to find my worker so I could go repair the physical damage and hope their mind wasn't damaged.
The second was where I could find this insect that would dare hurt a member of my team, of my family, so I could return the favor. Aegis stammered that it was dealt with, that they had rescinded his license and he was already on his way out of the headquarters.
He stopped after a few seconds and I could see in his eyes that he knew I wasn't going to change my course on this. Taking a deep breath he asks me to try to cause anymore suffering than is necessary and hangs up.
I receive a tracker data package a few seconds later as I'm opening an old cabinet in the corner of my office that holds only a worn old that hasn't seen use in many long years.
I leave a few minutes later to bring true justice to the only people who ever seem to think they're above basic decency, the so called heroes. | 2021-03-22T18:16:12 | 2021-03-22T09:25:07 | 17 | 11 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | I did it.
I want to scream, “I did it!” but there’s another camper hanging around and if I scream about completing that awful curry dex, he’ll question what I mean.
I’m the champ, you know. Gotta keep up the image.
I smile to myself and let my sweet little Pokémon (not—they’re IV trained, Gigantamax beasts; if you try and complete the curry dex, you get bored very quickly) enjoy their meal.
That’s when it’s happens. That’s when the night sky goes dark, hurricane like winds take over the sky and I even have to hold my Corviknight down.
“Impossible! Is that the Darkest Day? I thought you stopped it!” Generic Camper Number 729 screams.
Yeah, I did. I beat and caught Eternatos. It’s in my boxes, safely stored away thanks to crappy IVs. Isn’t it angry?
“Stay down,” I tell him like the good champ I am. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
My team is strong. They’re trained to be the strongest. I needed them to beat the battle tree—and to maintain my sanity while dealing with the curry. Competitive play had never been of interest to me, but if you spend years living in Pokémon Sword, you get dragged into the fun of battles.
I often wondered if the online battles I fought were against players in my world.
That’s how it comes to my mind. “It’s not the Darkest Day!” I call out—even my Pokémon look are me as I’m dumb. “It’s my way home!”
Because yes, of course, I can beat Pokémon Sword while being in the game. It’s Pokémon, for heaven’s sake! I enjoyed it at first (until the curry dex came to my mind) and considered staying. It’s just sad that I couldn’t go to Sinnoh or Johto, my favourite regions.
Then again, I suppose, the Sword/Shield final was better (and easier. So much easier.) than a freak wanting to build a new universe.
All goes black—as if it’s indeed the Darkest Day again.
I wake up where I left. In my room, in front of my phone. It tells me that it’s in the morning, and that it’s February 2020.
I left in the morning of a Saturday in February 2020.
“Thank god, I didn’t miss time,” I blurt out.
I eye the message, and wonder what it means to me. Surely I haven’t been gifted the ridiculous amounts of PokéDollars, the items or my Pokémon themselves?
False.
Of course, I had the maximum of cash by the end of my adventures. 99,999 PokéDollars—or yen, in the original games.
That’s why the equivalent off 99,999 PokéDollars lies in front of me.
About 900USD.
But next to what will maybe get me through a month at most, is something of much, much more value.
My bag. And in it, the endless depth of what all items I had. Including all existing clothes, countless berries and cooking items—and the Pokémon Box Link.
And six PokéBalls.
I take one, to test. Release the Pokémon in it. Corviknight roars in my dorm room.
The situation dawns me.
“I got Pokémon. I got ******* Pokémon!”
(Worth the days spent on the curry dex.) | "I'm screwed," I lamented for what might have been the fifth time, out loud and to know one in particular. Feeling utterly defeated, I leaned against an oak tree and slid down until I was sitting where its roots should have been. The ground was hard and flat.
I was sure I had never been this alone in my life. Nor as hungry. The breeze was growing cold as the sun set. Three of the knuckles in my right hand were broken - all four were bleeding. A matching smear of my blood mark the tree just above my head.
Worst, I knew I was nowhere - a world made at random by a capricious algorithm. At first I'd hoped there might be other suckers like me, but surely someone would have marked this place - spawn - and left something of instructions. Without other human people, the best I could hope for would be villages of idiots, dotting the landscape randomly and precariously. The worst, and more likely, would be crawling out of the bushes looking for blood soon.
And even if I survived, can one really beat Minecraft? I'd have to hope slaying the dragon would count - a sandbox game might be a loophole that would condemn me here until death.
With no food, no tools, and little hope, I could only set off in a random direction and pray I'd find a safe place to pass the night. | 2020-02-17T00:45:30 | 2020-02-16T21:57:27 | 31 | 22 |
[WP] Once a year on your birthday you are permitted a 30 second peak through the eyes of your true love as they go through their daily routine. Your hope is to glean enough to recognize them when the time comes. | When I was a baby, my parents had a christening party for me. They were always super liberal and when they decided to have a christening party, it was mostly for the party. I did have some water squirted at me in the local united universalist meeting house that morning, but most of the magic happened in my parents living room.
Mom’s old college roommate, Kate, was a self proclaimed warlock. When Kate asked to give me a blessing, they agreed. Kate always had a way with words and my parents wanted to hear what she had to say.
Standing over my baby swing, she waved her hands and fluttered her fingers- checking my “vibe” she called it. Then she nodded and pulled out her tiny cauldron and incense packets. She narrated something to the onlookers about what all the ingredients did. Something about sandalwood being great for achieving calm- nobody really cared to remember.
When it was time for the blessing, Kate stood up and wafted the smoke from the burning herbs over me. “I bless you with the gift of perception. May you have the empathy to see through another's eyes, but the strength needed to treat yourself and the other with compassion.”
And then the spectacle was over and Kate cleaned up her cauldron.
Since that day, once a year on my birthday, I would suddenly be transported to another time and place. It usually happened when I had a quiet moment. I would be sitting on the shitter where i felt calm and safe -and then for a moment, maybe thirty seconds- i would be somewhere else. Petting a cat that wasn’t mine. Reading a picture book and struggling with the words. Playing mario on something in my hands that I didn’t own.
I was maybe twelve when I realized that this wasn’t my imagination or a daydream. I was seeing someone else’s life. It was the way that all of the colors changed during these times. All the colors I am well acquainted with took on a redder, warmer hue. I smelled different things- some unpleasant like the time that I tuned in just at the moment that this girl squeezed an inflamed red pimple on her thigh and greenish yellow pus squirted out.
It was always the same girl- until it wasn’t. One year I caught her name written with sharpie ink on her lunch bag. Livvy. I liked livvy. She was alot like me. Loud, confident. The only difference is that she didn’t seem to care about how other people felt about her. But i did. I could always tell if someone was uncomfortable or restless. I caught her yapping at a boy once who clearly wanted to leave that conversation. I don’t think he cared about her new prius, or how it was the first car she bought for herself after college. Still, I liked her. I wanted to meet her one day, like I needed her in my life. When i first told my now greying aunt Kate about this longing, she remarked that I must be connected to my soul mate.
With only a nickname to go off of, i didn’t have much luck trying to locate her.
I was always a barefoot hippie if I could help it. I moved to a city where I didn’t need a car so that could bike from home to work to the store- you get the idea. I obeyed the rules of the road, but I was probably the only one. You can never be too careful when crossing the road.
So when the truck hit me- it was fate.
To make a long story short, I’m angry. All the time. Something in my head broke and no amount of drugs can ever fix it. I walk with a limp and every once in a while, a searing pain shoots up my hip. I gained eighty pounds, making my hip hurt even more. I’m pissed right now, even talking to you. Not you specifically- I’m angry at something and you’re in front of me, so I’m angry at you.
That first winter when my birthday rolled around again, I was more than pissed. I wanted to hurt everyone around me- so I did. And I knew when I’d succeeded and it felt good. My birthday was spent alone, brooding, punching pillows and eating chocolate bars. For the first time, I didn’t see Livvy. I didn’t see anyone. I was nobody’s soul mate.
I got therapy. I got drugs. I’m doing better now. I have a job again. Life isn’t that bad anymore. Two years ago, the visions came back. I saw two dark hands covered in grease. And when my soulmate looked up, I saw the steel skeleton of the new casino in construction. the one that was all over the news. But Livvy was a hairstylist, and she was never tan. This was clearly someone else.
Yeah I cried. I grieved for her. And I started saving up for a plane ticket out to that casino skeleton.
Today’s my birthday, you know? That’s how I found you. I saw you dump eight stevia packets into that orange thermos you’re holding. I saw you glance at your clipboard. I know that today you’re managing the south wing. I know that you’re feeling annoyed right now. I know that you don’t want to believe me. Fine. I just wanted to see you. Now that I know this is real, it’s fine. Everything is fine. I don’t fucking care any more. | Every year, on the evening of the first day of the third month, my entire family sits by the fire awaiting my birthday, as was tradition. Anxiously playing with the rug on the floor with my left hand, my right hand held by my worryingly excited mother, who wrung my sweaty hand every few seconds and giggled like a child. The crackling of the fire was the loudest noise in the room, my father, three siblings and grandmother not daring to usher a word lest I be distracted when the time came.
The nerves wracking through my body were near unbearable, not helped by the unusual silence of my normally raucous and joyful siblings. I would have done anything to hear a joke, to smile, laugh and break the tension. I looked up and out the window of the small room, seeing nothing but pitch black sky, the moon and stars hiding behind the clouds tonight with no way to estimate when the following day would begin.
“Any second now darling!” My mother whispers exuberantly, far more excited than I ever could be. I’d rather this whole affair didn’t exist, and my soulmate and I could come across each other by chance instead of spending our lives piecing clues together. Heart still beating as if I had come face to face with a mountain lion, I stopped anxiously picking at the floor and curled my arm around my knees, holding them close to my chest in an attempt to comfort myself when my family failed to do so. My wrist shows an assortment of bracelets with tags, stating my family name, village name and homeland, jewellery I bore everyday in an attempt to make the process of my soulmate finding me easier. My parents had long since discarded their own information, whilst my siblings wore similar tags to my own.
I thought back to the previous year. In the short 30 seconds I had to see through the eyes of the love of my life, I had seen nothing but a dirty floor and torn rags on a poverty ridden body. By far the most disturbing thing I saw during the short precious seconds was my soulmate lifting their head, to show me iron bars on a small, high window in a dark room. I had awoken in a fit of tears to the horror of my family, and couldn’t speak for days out of pure worry for my love.
Every single part of me ached for the knowledge that they were okay.
Suddenly I felt myself falling backwards, a gasp escaping my lips as my mother’s hands raced to stop my head smacking the floor, as the room around me disintegrated.
I saw nothing. Blackness. An aching cold struck deep within me as I began screaming without even noticing, my body and soul rejecting its very own existence. I cannot live without them here. I wished for nothing more than the gaping chasm of nothingness to take me in it’s cold clammy hands. Nothing could be more painful than the existence of one without a soulmate on the mortal plane.
My last thought was one of an apology to my family, who held my fragile body as tears stained my cheeks, sobs wracking my body slowly fading as I accepted death with my soulmate as an old friend. | 2020-10-26T10:10:54 | 2020-10-26T09:56:13 | 133 | 31 |
[WP] You own a coffee shop, and you make some damn fine coffee. After decades of running the place, one of your most loyal patrons approaches you, reveals themselves as some kind of immortal being (a god, vampire, etc.), and offers to make you immortal as well, as along as you keep running the shop.
No idea why it says ‘along’ instead of ‘long.’ Oh well, my bad. | Hansoo knew certain things about life.
The sun rises and sets every day. The seasons change. People age.
Time followed a routine, a schedule it didn’t deviate from.
Hansoo also knew that Tim would be outside his coffee store every day at 9 AM.
His order was always the same.
Double shot espresso, one milk and sugar.
Like clockwork.
Tim was an odd fellow. Stiff, a little too formal. He looked to be in his early thirties but he acted like an old man. Non descript. It would be hard to pick him out of a crowd.
Hansoo couldn’t recall when he had first met Tim. That encounter was lost in a sea of scrawled names.
It was as if Tim had always been there.
Then one day, Tim wasn’t there in the morning.
Hansoo wondered what had happened. The whole day passed, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some momentous occasion.
Hansoo closed his doors at 9 PM and left.
To his surprise, Tim stood outside.
“Hello Hansoo.”
“Tim! How are ya? I didn’t see you today. You ok buddy? You never miss a day!”
Tim smiled, a subtle lift of his lip. “Sorry. I had a lot to think about today.”
Hansoo laughed, patting Tim’s shoulder. “Must’ve been a big deal.”
“Yes. See, I have this job. And I considered making an exception.”
Hansoo raised an eyebrow. This was the first time he’d ever heard Tim talk about his personal life. “You don’t seem the type.”
“Indeed. I’m not the type. But I’ve decided and I’ve come to make you an offer.”
“What for like a job?”
“I suppose you could say that. All you’d have to do is run your coffee store as usual.”
Hansoo chuckled. “I’m already doing that, not planning to stop.”
“I didn’t finish. My real name is Time. Keep serving me coffee and I’ll suspend your aging. As long as you run your store, you will be immortal.”
Hansoo chuckled and snorted. “Seriously? Tim, I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”
Time snapped his fingers. The world around him stopped, paused like a video tape. Birds suspended in air, cars frozen in the street. The noise of the city nulled to unnatural stillness and silence.
Hansoo was speechless. His jaw dropped and he gawked at the timeless world.
“You see Hansoo, I’ve grown rather fond of you and your coffee store. You could even say I consider you my friend. But to me, your existence is like a blink. Here there gone. And that simply won’t do. So what do you say?”
Time raised his hand, offering it to Hansoo.
Hansoo was quiet. He considered the offer, mulling it over for a few minutes. What did he have to lose?
He shook Time’s hand. “See you tomorrow then.” | [Poem]
.
*Conditional*
I never knew before
how much hate a single word
could be forced to endure
a thousand years, and
there have been
no vacations
there have been
no true friendships as
I cannot show my face
lined but unaging
not to anyone outside
only for Them, the sight of me
for he and his tar-eyed friends
whatever they are
only for Them
just like the coffee
brewed perfect every time
and stewed bitter in my heart
and the worst:
I am no true slave
any day I could say, “Enough.”
and the bargain be ended
and me with it
and I am afraid
to end
after all these years
and so I brew
my wonderful, bitter blend
and I wish
and I don’t
know what for
.
Come on by r/Magleby for more elaborate lies. | 2019-06-27T05:40:25 | 2019-06-27T05:29:23 | 57 | 16 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | Empty. Lena checked it every single day, and has been checking it for the last ten years. Her sigil was still empty. She was sixteen now and it should've been filled once she was six. It never happened, and everyday she hoped it would. And every day, she wakes up disappointed.
She fixated it longer today as she sat on her own during lunch. She gave it a glare as though it would understand and finally do what it was supposed to.
Nobody understood.
Her parents didn't understand why she was an anomaly, yet they loved her regardless. Her classmates however didn't understand that they were not superior just because she did not have powers as they did.
Brian was her main bully. He didn't sound like a bully, but he was. His sigil allowed him to cast ice. It matched his heart temperature, Lena confirmed it was cold as ice.
He was cruel and relentless. Though he hasn't yet used his powers on her, his words hurt as frostbite would.
"There it is!" He sneered behind her, referring to her as 'it' as he usually would. "Does it have powers today yet?"
Lena clenched the palm of her hand where her sigil was. She controlled her breathing and let her anger go. She would tune him out as she usually did before the bell rung.
She closed her locker and took her phone out of her pocket.
Brian snatched it from her hands.
She gave him a glare that could kill, yet he only grinned in response.
"Give it back!" She cried out stretching her hand out to reclaim it.
Their interaction was grabbing the attention of the students around them.
"Or what?" He taunted back. "Huh, creature? What are you going to do? Cast out your invisible powers to take me down?"
"I don't know who you think you are and why you think you have the right to-"
Before she had the opportunity to finish her statement, she felt a sharp pain enter her stomach. The rest of the students gasped.
He cast his powers on her. He stabbed her with an icicle.
"Your sentence was way too long." He plainly said with a smug look in his eyes.
Lena felt nothing at that point, and only went still in response. His powers did that. They would freeze the target for as long as the caster desired.
But that was not why she froze, no she did not feel the cold.
"You are nothing. You can do nothing. You're just a weak little girl."
She heard him perfectly well and knew deep inside that it was not the truth. No, no, the truth was much greater than that, and she felt it with every single fibre of her being.
"Alicia, patch it up please." He called out to one of the students who quickly approached to tend to Lena's wound.
"No, stay away." Lena sternly instructed, and Alicia stopped mid-way. Brian looked at her confused.
Lena slowly removed the icicle from her stomach and felt her body heal on its own. She could not feel the stinging the ice would have brought as she held it. Her blood was boiling, literally boiling through the icicle she retracted.
Brian stood in disbelief. Her wound was healed and left no scar, and she could not be frozen. He tried to stab her once more but the same result came out. Again and again. Every icicle he injected, she would effortlessly remove and heal once more as though nothing had happened.
Her sigil was a full circle. It was not an empty circle. Her sigil was wholeness, which was why she could heal. Her sigil was the sun, which was why her blood boiled and she could not be frozen.
"You will not bring me down anymore." She said as she herself stabbed him with an icicle of her own. Her eyes stared into his and she saw them fill up with tears of pain. The same pain she would have gone through were she not who she was.
What goes around comes around. Her sigil was Karma. A full and complete circle.
And then she wondered, what else could her sigil be? | I dont know how many of you are interested in biology, and i dont know how many of you know how a human fetus developes inside the womb. But we all start as a circle, a ring if you will.
Andrew was this dude at my school, who was probably the most popular kid, had one of the coolest powers (basically he was johnny the flame), was incredibly good looking and decided to use his free time in school to bully me. Also he didn't know how a fetus develops.
You are probably wondering why I keep bringing this up, and I can understand that it might confuse or annoy you. But believe me when I say it is important.
It was the first day of school after summer break and I decided to no longer play their game. The last five years have been hell and I was tired of it. I decided that this year would be different. The thing is, my power was not very cool, or fancy, but very effective, harmful and very gross. That's why I was never allowed to use it, after my parents found out what it was.
Anyway, walking in on the first day of school, I knew what was coming. Andrew approached me, wanted to do the same old routine of pouring chocolate milk in my school bag, punching me, putting trash in my locker, but this time he didn't really have a chance to do that. He started to talk: "Hey loser, did you miss-" his sentence ruptured.
But his sentence was not the only thing that ruptured.
If you remember what I told you in the beginning, you probably know what comes next. The first thing that develops on a human fetus is the anus, and fighting or doing basically anything with a ruptured sphincter is hard.
The last thing I enjoyed before I got suspended from school, is Andrews walk of shame to the toilet, while feces was running down his pants. Worth it. | 2020-02-26T10:40:58 | 2020-02-26T09:05:57 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] You're an immortal vampire who looks like a 20 year old. When someone learns that you're a vampire they always assume that you're hundreds of years old and want to hear about all your adventures, though you're actually 53 and you're always too embarassed to correct them. | “I’m only 53,” I stated flatly, and a bit sheepishly.
My best friend Tim looked crestfallen. He had such high hopes, that I could let him in on some world shattering revelations about kings and queens, the rise and fall of empires. You see, Tim is what you’d call a history nerd. He should be, he’s got a masters in history and probably knows more than I do. I only have a general studies degree that I earned back in the 90’s.
Tim looked disappointed, and I can’t say I blame him.
“So 53? Surely you’ve witnessed some of the cool stuff that has happened since then?”
“Like what? I mean, I’ve been all over the world, done some cool stuff. I’ve been all over the world, got paid to do cool stuff, but, I mean, so have a lot of other 53 year olds, I just get to keep doing it.”
“So... how did you become a vampire?” Tim wondered. It was the same morbid curiosity that everyone had. I could understand it from Tim, he’s got a fascination with folklore and religion, it’s actually part of his job, he’s one of the curators at our local university museum, which I find far more interesting than anything I’ve done.
“My high school sweetheart,” I said. “She... uh... got a bit excited one date night and well she ended up turning me, right there in the movie theater. Right smack in the middle of one of those old Hammer horror flicks of all things.”
“Dracula? The one with Christopher Lee? That would be Ironic...” Tim said with a chuckle.
“Ironic wouldn’t be the word I’d use... she and I are still together after all this time though, so there’s that.”
“Wait,” Tim said with a jolt, “Lily is a vampire too?”
“Dhampir, but yeah. Her dad’s a full on Vampire, her mom was mortal. Now, you want some stories... my Father in Law is ancient. He was born in 1350.”
Tim’s jaw went slack. “So how old is Lily?”
“Oh, she’s only 2 years younger than I am. We saw Queen live in concert after I graduated from basic, back in ‘86. Saw Metallica’s S&M tour too.”
Tim again gave me a look. “So, when you say that you’ve been all over the world, you mean you’ve just been in the military?”
“Well, yeah, how else does a young, newlywed, 20-something travel the world?”
Again, the disappointment crawled across Tim’s face. But a realization started to dawn on him.
“Wait, if you’re a vampire, how do you go out in the sun? Why doesn’t garlic just murder you? How do you stand going to church? Why isn’t there a string of bodies in your wake?”
Ah, now these I was prepared for. “The sun burns to be sure, but it’s more like a really bad sunburn, Vlad, my Father in Law, says that sunscreen was the best thing humanity ever invented. Garlic? I’m from Baton Rouge, Boudreaux, we put garlic in e’ryting, and it just gives us gas. Vampirism has nothing to do with religion, though geometric shapes confound us, and it’s more like a blood disease, the military just thought I was anemic. As for the bodies...” I trailed off, letting some anticipation build.
Tim looked hopeful, in a macabre sort of way.
“Blood is blood, it doesn’t really matter where it comes from. I’ve never drunk a human,” *That felt weird to say*, “I mostly just make black pudding and get my fill that way.”
Tim gave me a sour look, his expectations dashed.
I shrugged, “Hey, in a few hundred years, I’ll have some good stories. Every immortal has to start somewhere...” | "How about George Washington? How about him?"
Tim froze a moment, the flush of embarrassment rising through his face. People were wrong when they thought vampires couldn't blush, they thought they didn't have the blood for it. They did, it just took an awful lot of replacing.
He coughed into his fist.
"Ah. Yeah. He was kind of a prick," he managed to say. It wasn't quite worth explaining that he really wasn't that old at all. In fact, he was probably was younger than the man he had strapped to the table. He had trying to explain it before, but it really wasn't worth the extra explaining. It's not like his guests ever really were around long enough to enjoy the new knowledge that "yes, there are young vampires", and "yes, I am one of them."
In fact, it was easier to skip the entire explanation completely, for everyone.
His captive... Was it William? nodded enthusiastically.
"I always knew it. " he said. "Right then, so is this when you turn me into a vampire as well?"
Tim coughed, again, looking to the side of the room. Another stain. He'd have to take care of that later, at some point.
"Not... Not really, no."
William looked a little crestfallen about that bit. Then he perked up, raising his head as much as he was able and smiling at him.
"Well that's too bad. Anyways, it's nice to know about George Washington. I always knew those history book were full of shit."
"...Right."
Tim bit before his guest could get another word in.
I really need to stop bringing home historians. | 2021-06-05T07:05:47 | 2021-06-05T06:57:34 | 56 | 10 |
[WP] At once, and everywhere, each living person has heard a voice in their head: "Hey! It's me, God. I've noticed there's a lot of confusion, so I've created a website called 'Will I go to hell and why dot com'. Just write your name in the search bar. And don't forget to share, like and subscribe." | Gasps, muffled sobs, shrieks of joy or horror surrounded me, filling the train car. I just sat, for once motionless, taking it all in.
God hadn't sounded anything like I had ever imagined. In fact... God had sounded suspiciously like Graham Chapman.
The stranger next to me nudged me. "Well, where are you going?! I'm going to heaven!!!"
"Why did you look?" I asked, honestly curious.
"What do you mean, why did I look? I want to know!" she stared at me, bewilderment filling her voice. "Don't you want to know?"
Did I want to know? If I looked, was my destination set in stone? In half an hour, would everyone who looked be dead, off to their respective eternities?
If I knew I was going to Hell, it would just take away from the remaining life I had left. If I knew I was going to Heaven, might I get complacent? What about my husband, my family, my friends? What if we were going to different places?
"What's your name? I'll look up your status for you!" the heaven lady asked, obviously riding on her high of heaven.
"No, I don't want to know," I blurted.
"Really?" she looked incredulous.
"Really. I don't need to know until it's my time. Besides, wasn't that Graham Chapman's voice?"
"Um, I really wouldn't know," her voice was wary now, as she gathered her things.
"From Monty Python, the Voice of God," I kept replaying the message in my head, I was increasing sure I was right, it was Chapman, dead though he may be.
New thoughts flooded my head, tumbling so fast I could barely keep up with myself as my hand strayed unconsciously to my purse. Suddenly I was staring at the old, broken rosary in my hands. I hadn't prayed in ages. When it had felt like God was no longer listening, I had given up. But I had kept this rosary, given to me by an old family friend, supposedly blessed by a saint.
Warmth spread through me as I started to pray, a quick, jerky Sign of the Cross followed by a hastely muttered Apostle's Creed, Our Father, Glory Be.
Glory Be. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.
*As it was in the beginning.* God didn't make that website.
*Is now.* It had to be a hoax
*Ever shall be.* Or else Satan.
*World without end.* Unless the world was ending?
Distant bells chimed, slowly breaking through my roiling thoughts. I grabbed my phone on it's last ring.
"Lysandra, did you look?!" my husband's deep, worried voice crackled through the connection.
"We've been married for 18 years. What do you think?" I asked, oddly peaceful.
"Good. I didn't either. I turned off the internet and password protected Data Usage for the kids cells, they weren't thrilled but I told them we'd discuss looking as a family when you get home," relief in his voice.
"Discuss, huh?"
"Yeah, discuss if we do it never or never ever," he joked. I could hear the wry smile in his voice.
"Have you heard from anyone yet?"
"I glanced on Facebook. It's..." he trailed off.
"Bad?" I asked, heart sinking.
"Yeah. Just get home soon and safe, will you?"
"Of course, love. Give the kids hugs for me. I'll be home in an hour or so, still on the train."
Call ended, I closed my eyes and tried to tune out the fellow passengers an the train kept moving, listening to the automated stop announcements.
I woke with a start, the conductor shaking my arm.
"Miss, we're at the end of the line, did you miss your stop?"
Blinking rapidly, I replied "No, last stop is me. Thank you for waking me."
I stepped off the train. This wasn't my station.
I turned around, but there was no train.
##You didn't look
*Chapman's voice again,* I thought with a sigh.
##Yes, George Chapman's voice. I borrowed it.
"Why? And can you read my thoughts?" I spoke out loud.
##Why not? It seemed like fun. Is that why you didn't look?
"Are you kidnapping all the people who didn't look, or am I just lucky?"
##I just want to know why you didn't look.
"That doesn't answer my question," I couldn't see anything but mist.
##You didn't answer my question either.
*A statement of fact is not a question* I thought on a sigh as I replied, "You haven't asked me a question. I've asked you three. My fourth is who are you?"
##Why didn't you look?
"Why did you make the site?"
##Will I get answers out of you?
"Only if you give me answers in return," I shrugged.
##Nevermind. Shoo.
There was a clap of thunder and I was home, staring into the terrified faces of my husband and children before I passed out. | 9:52am -- "Come on, come on! Oh, you fucking bitch!" he spewed as an off-white colored Honda Pilot with Jersey plates merged into his lane. He had been at work for not even 30 minutes before it happened.
Fresh single served coffee in hand, his entire office experienced the same thing -- what felt like a thunderous clap on the back of the head was followed by a seducing voice... no, nowhere inside the office but inside THEM.
He couldn't really focus all that well thanks to the mild panic attack he was induced into, but one thing was clear. A website name. Will I Go To Hell? It was a .com, that he remembered. Will I go to hell... he typed it into his work station moments after his peers did the same.
And there it was. A list of all his sins, from the innocuous white lie to the most vile of things like... well, his wife can't find out about that. That's why he's jockstrapped to the leather seat of his car, cranking 30 over a 55, all in hopes of saving himself and his marriage.
The off-white Honda, plate titled "8GG MU77", reminded him of the word BIG MUFF... a juvenile thought he could not bury even while under duress. It was thoughts and impulses like this that always got him into trouble, he thought, "Dammit! I was raised classless. What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm always doing shit like this". Only the "dammit" part was said aloud.
He finally found parking 2 blocks away from his city home. He didn't see his wife's car in it's normal spot, but that didn't reveal much -- she may still be home. She never really left much. He entered through the back storm door as you do when you're a cheat, and he was definitely trying to cheat something.
Inside was quiet. The wife was not in sight. He started slowly once inside the house, but quickly began to race through and collect every computer, laptop, tablet, or every other freaking screen in the house that he was told he would need to live comfortably. At some point he could even forget how many of these devices he owned, but not today. Today, he knew EXACTLY how many witnesses could implicate him. He wanted to hide everything he could before his wife could get access. He could get jump on what she might find if she searched his name. At least, he could get out in front of it and explain.
One trash bag and one shoe-box was all the screens were able to fill. Between what both he and his wife owned, it felt like 11 pounds. The trash bag was filled strictly with the laptops, so it was the shoe-box that held most of the quarantined items.
He thought himself successful and clever with all the screens gathered in his arms. Now he should just wait for his wife to get home. He would explain everything. He might lose his job, he could possibly be contacted by the police, but she would understand. She always did. She has to! If not, he didn't know what he would do next. He never did. He never could. | 2019-08-27T11:01:46 | 2019-08-27T09:27:48 | 71 | 29 |
[WP] A 16-year-old schoolgirl is taken to a magical world. She slays a dragon, becomes queen, gets married, has kids, and dies 90 years later...only to wake up back at school, young and in her school uniform again, like nothing happened. She notices that her wedding ring is still on her finger. | Roaming through the vaguely familiar hallways, Juna tried to think.
It didn't seem likely that 90 years of her life just poofed out of existence, yet here she was, back in Varen Academy as her 16-year-old self.
She guessed she should be thankful whatever it was that got her here didn't take her even further back, to the "real world". Because as treacherous as Varen was, and despite the many years of pain and darkness, Varen was her home.
Back to her musings, Juna tried figuring out if this was a case of hallucination magic, or a far deeper thing.
She quickly dismissed the fact that she hallucinated/dreamed 90 years of her life. Not even with the most powerful hallucination spell would you remember things to such clarity. And Juna remembered everything. Not only that, but she could also feel the power thrumming in her veins, power she shouldn't have had back when she was 16, in what seems like her early weeks in Veran Academy.
Time travel was also out of the table. Such rare magic it was, hardly ever wielded and hardly ever used, but even if it somehow sent her back to the past, it would not be in this young version of herself, but her 90-year-old self. And there would be two of her, which does not appear to be the case at all.
Whispers in her head, Juna frowned, trying to concentrate. 90 years worth of memories were no easy task to navigate.
The whispers intensified and Juna closed her eyes in concentration, leaning against a nearby pillar. She knew she had to follow the whispers, long ago learning how to be one with them.
*Danger. Dark magic. Soulbound. Mistake. Reset.*
More often than not, the whispers and images in her mind hardly made any sense, though she knew they were important if she could decipher even a bit of them.
In her mind, she saw a boy with golden eyes, a girl with flowing red hair, a cult with the symbol of the sun etched into their robes. All of these images came one after the other, dizzying her in their intensity, their urgency. The whispers grew louder, trying to get her to *see. see. see. see. SEE.*
Taking a deep breath, Juna shut it all down. It took her a very long time to find the balance between giving in to the whispers and pulling out before they drove her mad. She used to be so afraid of them, ignoring them at every turn. But when people starting dying, and wars started to form, she knew she could help if she only *listened*.
Right now, however, she had to stop and make sense of everything that was shown to her. Something has obviously gone horribly wrong. So wrong that someone thought it best to send her back in time, for lack of better words.
That someone must be *truly* desperate, maybe even actually believing her to be the hero and queen of Veran, when it fact it was all nothing more than a fraud, just like she was nothing more than a caged girl, woman, elder, in a palace so beautiful on the outside until you step inside and hear the screams.
But she would not dwell on it, would not give in to the fury that sang in her blood, for she was meant for peace, not destruction. She was better than-
"Juna?"
Her head snapping up, eyes locked to those of forest green. So tempting in their innocence.
Everything inside of her froze and screamed at the same time.
Prince Varik.
Future king.
Jailer. Husband.
In that instant, Juna decided there was no more peace left in her.
She was going to get her revenge even if she had to burn the world to do it. | School begins. Samantha walks into class, sits down and stares at her finger. The ring that wasn’t there yesterday. She takes it off. Studies it. It feels as if she had it all her life. Her shoulder feels stiff. Stiff as a board. As if a board was nailed to her back. She rubs her hand over her shoulder and she screams. The teacher, fully engorged in her monologue together with 24 pairs of eyes look intently and Samantha. “Can I go to the toilet? I think I just got...” “Yes, please, go”.
She leans on the sink. She is lost for breath. She feels her lungs searching for air. She looks into her eyes and doesn’t see the same eyes staring back at her. She sees herself, but next to her she sees and older woman. Slightly translucent. She looks around her. Nobody. Is this some elaborate prank with a two way mirror?
She looks again. The woman smiles a toothless grin. She points at her ring finger while she holds it up. The very same ring. She mouths “I was you. You were me” the words appear on the mirror beneath her as some ghostly subtitles.
“How? Why?” She rubs her shoulder. 3 marks next to eachother. The subtitles spell “dragon” “you fought a fucking dragon?” The girl couldn’t hold her voice down. The door opened and the schoolnurse looked at her. “I think it might be best if you went home for the day”. She looked at the mirror. She was alone now. | 2020-04-21T10:27:15 | 2020-04-21T09:19:11 | 64 | 45 |
[WP] You open the door to your house. You notice someone who looks exactly like you sitting in a chair. You don't have a twin. "Can I help you?" The person looks at you. "I'll give it to you straight: I'm a shapeshifter. I'm in danger. One of us needs to stay in the basement for now. Best it's you." | Snow always fucked up Julia's commute. As a nurse, she had to go in, regardless of the weather, and her all wheel drive car did just fine, but the other idiots always slowed things down. But she didn't work for four more days, so when she got home she was really looking forward to stripping off the scrubs, taking a criminally long shower, and hiding under a blanket in front of the television for a socially unacceptable amount of time.
Her driveway's snow was pristine except for a set of tracks headed towards the front door. Those new boots she'd ordered must have finally arrived. She had no plans on shoveling, but perhaps an enterprising neighborhood youth would earn twenty bucks.
The living room looked normal. You could see it from the front door. A centrally placed television, and giant cushy couch, a light dusting of food wrappers that she would definitely get around to cleaning up in a couple days. And herself, sitting on the side chair.
She never sat on the side chair. That was not, of course, the most disturbing bit about the vignette, but it was what she picked up on first. A normal response would have been to yell, run, or fight the intruder. Normal responses were for people who were not coming off of sixteen hour shifts.
Instead Julia stood gape-mouthed for a full thirty seconds before saying anything. Her doppelganger smiled politely and sat with her hands folded on her lap. It was wearing an inappropriately short black dress, the one Julia only wore to fancy parties. Fancy summer parties. Julia wouldn't show that much leg again for another five months. And something about her hair stroked at Julia's memory.
"Are you actually there?" An odd thing to say, but it felt like the right response. What she said next was purely the product of spending too long that day on her feet dealing with bitter patients. "You look like me."
"Julia, don't panic. I'm not here to hurt you." The other Julia's voice was weird. It started out deep and slowly shifted to match her own pitch.
The way the doppelganger had her hair finally clicked with Julia. "You look like me at Tarquin's work party."
"It's the best picture of yourself that you have displayed." The voice was still weird. Did she sound like that to other people? "I'm a shapeshifter."
"I was kinda picking up on that, yeah. I mean it was either that or I accidentally dosed myself with something at work. I'm actually leaning towards the dosing theory." Julia put her purse and work badge down on the counter and turned to go take her shower.
An iron grip clenched her bicep. Her doppelganger had moved very fast. "Listen, Julia. I'm sorry to put you in this position, but I'm in danger and I had no choice. Very likely they will track me here. It's best if you hide in the basement until the danger has passed."
\---------------------------------------------
Something that looked like Julia sat on the giant cushy couch, obscured somewhat by the blanket. The food wrappers had been cleaned up.
The television was turned up enough to be heard from outside, but it still didn't drown out the loud pounding on the door. The thing that looked like Julia on the couch ignored it.
The front door was unlocked. Julia had insisted on that point. When it opened, the man that walked in barely fit through the door. He had to duck under the garland trim decorating the entryway. The man barely fit the definition of a man. While technically the shape of a human, he looked like someone had moved the sliders all the way to the right in the character designer.
He pointed a finger at the thing that looked like Julia on the couch. The finger gleamed metallically. "Alright, Odo. Come easily and you won't be vaporized. That's my best offer."
"My name is Julia," said the thing that looked like Julia on the couch. "And I just got off a sixteen hour shift, so you'll have to have this conversation with the garland."
The maybe-man opened his mouth to complain. That was his last mistake. The garland trim unhooked itself from the ceiling and dropped on him, working its way around his neck and into his mouth.
The fight was short. Within a few seconds of the garland entering his mouth, he had dropped to the floor. It took another minute for the rest of the garland to slither inside. Then the maybe-man stood back up. When it spoke it had Julia's voice.
"You were right. This was a good plan." The maybe-man bowed.
The thing that was actually Julia on the couch buried herself under the blanket and said, "Shovel the walkway when you leave."
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\] | As soon as you open the door to your house, you're greeted by a startling sight. There, sitting in your favorite armchair, is someone who looks exactly like you. You're immediately confused - you don't have a twin, and you're positive that you're the only person with a key to your house.
"Can I help you?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. The person looks at you with a strange expression, as if they're trying to decide how much to tell you.
"I'll give it to you straight," the person says. "I'm a shapeshifter. I'm in danger, and I need your help."
You're stunned. You've heard of shapeshifters, of course, but you never thought you'd meet one in real life. You're not sure what to make of this sudden turn of events.
"One of us needs to stay in the basement for now," the person continues. "It's the safest place in the house. And best it's you - I need to be able to move around and gather information without being detected."
You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. But the seriousness in the person's eyes convinces you that they're telling the truth. You agree to hide in the basement, and the person disappears upstairs.
For hours, you sit in the dark and quiet basement, listening to the sounds of the house above you. You're not sure what's going on, but you trust the shapeshifter to keep you safe.
Finally, the person comes down to the basement and explains what's happening. They tell you that they're being hunted by a group of shapeshifters who want to use their powers for evil. The person has been on the run for weeks, and they need your help to keep them safe.
Together, you come up with a plan. The person will stay in the house during the day, pretending to be you, while you hide in the basement. At night, you'll switch places and the person will go out to gather information and try to stop the evil shapeshifters.
It's a risky plan, but you're willing to do whatever it takes to keep the shapeshifter safe. For weeks, you live a double life, switching between your own identity and the shapeshifter's. It's exhausting, but you're determined to help.
Finally, after months of hard work, the shapeshifter is able to stop the evil shapeshifters and put an end to their plan. You're relieved, and grateful for the new friend you've made. And you're proud of the bravery and determination you showed in helping them. | 2022-12-05T09:58:58 | 2022-12-05T06:23:41 | 77 | 28 |
[WP] The game is paused at the final boss fight. While the game is paused the protagonist and the antagonist grow a friendship.
Also an add on idea: The game is paused during the animation for the ‘final blow’ and then the two grow a friendship. | They had done this dance before. More times than they cared to count, and more times than they could remember if they had. Galdan's longsword hanged in midair, its polished steel sparkling with the power of lightning as it arced towards his arch nemesis, Lord Scourge. Scourge, on the other hand, held his sword behind him, readying an arcane powered thrust. This was, by his count, their forty-fifth time doing this today.
"You should just give up, worm!" Scourge taunted.
"You should just die, you fake king!" Galdan retorted. "We'll be locked here forever until I can finish you flawlessly!"
"Or until I beat you so badly he's forced to give up," Scourge replied with all the malice his text could convey.
"That'll never happen. This is the third game in the series you know. He'll play this game for months until he's done it without a single misstep." Scourge would have recoiled, were he able to control anything other than his dialogue box.
"Are you sure? You've overreached this time. As soon as he unpauses, I'm going to stab you in the heart. He knows it too, which is why he paused. He's raging like an animal out there."
"Really? What a child. It's not like he's in here, suffering like the two of us."
"I know, right? I wish that just once he could feel what it's like to have that electric sword of yours punch through his back, but that will never happen."
"You know what I wish?" Galdan asked, his weariness conveyed by the slow pace of his text. "That I could go home."
"You have a home?" Scourge asked. "I just always assumed you were a hobo with a sword that just won't stay dead."
"Yes. After this final battle, there's a village I get to return to in the hills. I get to live my life once this is over."
"And all I want is to RULE THE WORLD! I WILL NOT BE-" but he caught himself repeating old habits, and lapsed into silence. "This village of yours. Describe it to me. I want to know what it's like so I know where to burn once he turns this game off for good."
"It's nice. Really quiet. The people there are funny and colorful. The way the sun comes up over the mountain is just incredible."
"Colorful and next to a mountain, got it."
"We have the absolute best meade you've ever tasted too. And every year we have a big festival around now where everyone builds a boat with a lantern, and we race them down the river. The winner gets this enormous cake, and everyone has a great time."
"That... sounds kind of fun, actually. Maybe I won't destroy the village *immediately*."
"And the best part is the huge wheat farm we have. When the sun goes down and the stars are out, you can just hear the rustling of the grain, and the creak of the windmills all night long."
"You don't say," Scourge replied. "I've never seen a windmill. I'd actually always wanted to, but most of them had burned before I arrived." They were both aware at that moment, of the Player's return. He had calmed himself, slightly it seemed, and had resolved to let himself be slain and start his next run. The time for words was over, and despite their brief respite, it was time to get back to work.
"Hey, next time I'm here, don't hold back. If he gets angry enough, maybe we can talk again?"
"That would actually be nice," he said. "You can tell me more about this village of yours." The player gripped the controller, and the world un-paused and their battle resumed. Galdan's enchanted lightning blade made a searing arc forward just a split second sooner than would have been optimal, and he braced himself for the coming counter-strike. Instead, he thought he saw the faintest smile on Scourge's face as he stepped forward, taking the blow full on. He could feel the player's jubilation, his joy, his outright ecstasy. He had done it, he had finally made the perfect run, and as he celebrated Galdan did nothing but stand over Scourge's disappearing corpse.
"You didn't..." he whispered.
"Enjoy those windmills... worm," he said, before he was gone in a flash of light.
"Can do, fake king. Can do." | Time froze.
Sveglar paused, his muscles holding the massive great-axe in place above his blonde, bearded head. Even the streams of sweat coursing off of his brow and arms halted in place. The Viking warrior’s eyes remained fixed on his opponent before him.
The draugr, a reanimated corpse, stood inches away from the Viking. Cords of rotting muscle and flesh hung loosely from the creature’s frame. It reeked of death. The draugr’s twisted claws were poised to block the coming axe-blow, and to rip the Viking’s head off.
The two combatants had been fighting for some time now, and fresh wounds marked both of their bodies.
Then Sveglar heard something. Not the hiss of the beast, nor the sickening squelch of rending flesh. It was a guttural groan, barely audible.
“Blooooood.” It was coming from the draugr’s broken face.
“What did you say?”
The draugr groaned, inhaling air for its semi-functioning lungs. “Bloooood.”
“Hm…you can talk?”
It moaned in response. “Why…hurt me?”
The Viking stood, stunned. He knew the being a a reanimated corpse, an undead creature bent on violence and revenge. His father and grandfather never told him that they could speak, or reason.
“Well, you’re undead. And the villagers are scared of you, so I have to…you know, finish you.”
The corpse’s voice-box rattled again, something incomprehensible. It sounded at the point of tears, if time was moving again and permitted such an act.
“I hurt no one. It brought me back from grave. Torture my soul.”
The thing was practically wailing now. But could it be right? Was it truly the victim?
“Who? Who brought you back?”
“Urrgghhh. Him. The Gamer.”
“No! The Gamer is good. He has guided me on my quest, helped me defeat evil and save villages all through the region.”
“Nooo. Gamer raised my corpse, can't let me sleep. Must destroy him.”
There was a blinding flash of light and time resumed. The combatants could move again. Sveglar continued his mighty axe-swing, bringing the double blade down into the earth. The draugr stood flexing its claws, but didn't engage the Viking.
A close observer would have noticed something just then, the faintest hint of a nod by each of the fighters. Then they hefted their weapons and turned together, towards the screen.
Both let loose a feral war cry and surged towards the screen. Towards The Gamer.
Check out my other work at www.reddit.com/r/DanJosephWrites | 2017-12-22T07:06:28 | 2017-12-22T05:45:46 | 62 | 23 |
[WP] The Hero breaks into the evil base, ready to defeat the most cunning villain he has ever met. "I have you now Villain! You can't weasel your way out of justice this time!" "For the last time, I'm not a Villain! Stop breaking into my house!" | The last obstacle was a window which easily gave way to the force of a screwdriver applied to the frame. Malcolm heaved himself through the opening and found himself eye in eye with The Villain.
"I have you now, Villain! You can't weasel your way out of justice this time!" he declared. The Villain looked at him with an expression that rapidly switched from 'puzzled' to 'livid'.
"For the last time, I'm not a Villain! Stop breaking into my house!"
"I have you now, there is no escape!"
"Again? Jesus." The Villain rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Mate, I'm going to put this in the nicest possible way: fuck off."
"Justice will be served!" Malcolm shouted.
"We've been through this, haven't we? Either you leave me in peace, and for good, or I'll call the filth. They'll interrogate you for a bit and then ship you off to the hospital with grippy socks and hug-me-jackets."
Malcolm struck a pose. "Your evil henchmen are no match for my power!"
The Villain sighed and dialed nine-nine-nine. He listened until the call was picked up, Malcolm looking on in bewilderment.
"This is Sandy Anderson at forty-two Lang Road. I'm being accosted by a young man in obvious psychological distress." He paused for a moment, listening to the operator. "Yes, Alexander Anderson, forty-two Lang Road. He wields a screwdriver." Another pause. The Villain pulled a face, then spoke again, louder. "Of course there is an emergency. What do you want me to do? Rap him on the head a bit? Jesus."
"Your henchmen-" Malcolm started again.
"Will be here in five minutes, give or take. I suggest you're gone by then." The Villain smiled benevolently. "Now, make like a good boy and sod off, will you?"
Malcolm turned toward the window he had pried open. He walked over and put a leg over the sill. "This is not the last you've seen of me, Villain!" he yelled.
"No need to yell, I'm standing right here. But I hope it was the last I've seen of you." With that, Malcolm was gone.
The police arrived six minutes later, asking all sorts of questions. Sandy answered as best as he could. No, he was not hurt. Yes, it had been a threatening situation. No, he did not know the man, but suspected that he had some kind of disorder. Yes, he would invest in better windows. Then they left.
Sandy poured himself a cup of tea and carried it down to the cellar. He took a sip. "Just imagine," he said to the woman, "I've just had a chat with a hero, come to rescue you. Didn't work out, I'm afraid." | Alright, look, Johnathan's not a bad dude. If you get him on a good day, he can be quite fun. But he isn't without his... Issues.
I didn't want to say it outright, but he's really into LCD. And about every other week he breaks into my house. Sometimes it's funny, but then came yesterday. He blasted through my window with a gun, holding the damn thing like a slingshot, tumbled through, smashed the TV I bought two weeks ago.
So yeah, he got arrested; I didn't press charges, but I wasn't going to stop my wife. But just... He's not a bad person, and I don't think he meant to kill that lady, or blow up a supermarket. | 2022-09-01T00:10:38 | 2022-08-31T18:42:49 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] Write a story where each sentence has one more word than the last.
The first sentence has to be one word, the next has two, etc. Stop whenever you want! | Run.
Keep running.
Nothing makes sense.
Just keep on running.
Maybe if I keep ahead…
Maybe if I can outpace it…
I can feel it creeping ever closer.
I feel out of breath, so very tired.
I don’t think I can keep this pace up.
My lungs are burning with exertion, daring me to stop.
At the very least, it keeps me focused on my task.
It’s calling for me by name, but I dare not look back.
I don’t know how it knows me, and I don’t know why I…
I feel my pace begin to slow, as the voice draws ever closer still.
Everything feels so heavy, tiresome, to the point that I just want to lay down…
*Stop struggling, you don’t need to try anymore,* I hear it whisper, its tone so familiar…
I cry out in pure agony, as I feel the weight of the pursuer come crashing down…
*Just let go,* it whispers, as I feel the inky blackness begin to choke the life from me…
I need to keep running, I know I need to keep moving forward; I just need to keep… on…
The stray wisp of sunlight streaming through the shuttered blinds catches my attention, and I blink away the muddled thoughts.
I shift in bed a bit, and let my mind drift back to the dream, reliving the hurt, the inevitable failure.
I hear my alarm blare its droning tone, and reach out to silence it, fingers fumbling about for the snooze.
It’s another day, I whisper quietly to myself, as I stare at the red digits on the alarm clock.
Just another day to deal with, another day filled with the inconsequential, the tedious, the painful, the unwanted…
I lay there for a few more minutes, staring blankly at the fan rotating lazily about above.
Come on, you can do this, it’s just another day, get up, just fucking get up…
After a few minutes of delay, I roll out of bed, lurching to my feet.
I stare out at nothing in particular for a while, eyes unfocused, vision blurring.
I don’t know why it’s so much harder to get ready this morning…
A snippet of the dream floats to the forefront of my thoughts.
I shake my head in frustration, and slip on a shirt.
I can feel the tears running down my face, unbidden.
I don’t think I can keep this pace up…
I just feel so tired of it all.
I slowly sit back down into bed.
I can’t keep pretending like this.
Maybe if I just sleep…
Just a little longer.
Nothing makes sense.
I’m tired.
Sorry...
----- ----- ---
AN: [EDIT] My first gold. :O <3 <3 <3 | "God." He sighed. "Gotta keep moving." He sat in silence. Everything seemed so utterly futile.
He couldn't stand the silence anymore. He had to keep moving or else. For him to stop now meant certain death. He slowly sat back up, joints aching in protest. Losing strength, his only motivation was the fear of death. How long has it been: 3 days, 3 months, 3 eons? He was losing all sense of time; and, consequently, hope as well. (grammar?)
I'll continue, but I'm on the road for the holiday season. Happy holidays everyone! | 2013-12-23T07:56:46 | 2013-12-23T07:21:18 | 131 | 15 |
[WP] Genie: aah, that's... an unusual wish, are you sure?... I mean, it's doable but... you sure you don't want something else? Like richness, or eternal life? Cos this is going to... and all the paperwork. But ok, if that's your wish, well, your wish has been granted | "So you're wish is to willingly take the genie's place?"
I answered without hesitation. "Yep!"
The mysterious, otherworldly entity that claimed to be the genie's boss stood before me, giving me a variety of expressions to indicate his confusion. The creature held a terrifying appearance, a tall silhouette shrouded in darkness with the only visible things being his fanged mouth and large, blood-red eyes. However, despite this appearance, my utter excitement at the very thought of my wish coming true urged me to push through.
"Er...okay..." The entity flipped through a stack of paper. The length and width of each sheet were equivalent to those huge pieces of bristle-board you'd use for a presentation or something along those lines; speaking of presentations, that was definitely one thing I wasn't going to miss having to do. "Now, this is kind of a big wish, so I'll need to go over some questions and rules with you to make sure everything is in order..."
He stopped at a page, and proceeded to read through it. "Is this request free of outside influence and is your own decision?"
I nodded. "Yep. No one's forcing me."
"Alright. Is your request out of guilt from seeing your genie trapped in the lamp?" He questioned. "We've had a couple of people who wanted to switch places because of that."
"Nope." I answered.
"Okay...we can skip a couple questions, then..." The being turned another page. "Ah, here we are. What is your main reason for wishing to take your genie's place?"
"Because I'm TIRED." I complained. "I hate having to deal with people and life in general. I just want to relax in a genie lamp and only have to worry about dealing with people every once in awhile."
"Okay...well, if this is your desire then very well. You'll be protected under the recently implemented National Wish Union for all genies. Any wish-user that attempts something that is a infringement on your rights can and will be taken to court. However..." He flipped through another set of pages. "There are obvious rules. You cannot grant infinite wishes, additional wishes, a object that can grant them what they wish for, etc. They only receive three and that's it. Any attempt to give them infinite wishes will result in a ceasing of existence and your lamp will be confiscated as evidence. The only exception is if the wish-user finds a loophole. Then it will be brought to court and we'll see whether or not they can have what they asked for."
"In addition to this," He continued. "You are free to meddle with what they request and mess with it so they receive something different than what they wanted, but your creation must have some relation to their request. If it is something completely different and has no ties with said-request, then ceasing of existence will occur." He flipped another page. "Break hours will vary, depending on how long it takes for someone to find your lamp. If you beat the leading record of 15,000 years, you'll get a smiley-face sticker on your lamp. The inside of the lamp will be your place of residence, and you are free to customize it however you wish. Understood?"
I had kind of tuned out near the end of it, but I agreed anyways. "I understand."
"Okay...then I guess Jerry's out of work." The entity gave the former-genie a sympathetic look. "Sorry, man."
Jerry shrugged. "Eh, it was starting to get too cramped up in that lamp anyways."
The entity turned back to me. "Well congratulations, Miss Juniper. You are officially now a genie. You'll start work today."
I gave my new boss a thumbs-up. "Looking forward to it."
(The end :D) | I woke up one day and went up to my grandparents attic. I was working on selling all their old possessions. They had just died. I cried a bit as I stacked up my grandpa's old comics. There were many beautiful works on scifi.
I opened his old chest, old racing magazines. Old car manuals. I really needed to sell the old cars in the garage. What's this? A lamp? It looks just like the one from the Disney movie. I take it and rub it as a joke and a wispy genie comes out.
The genie says "What is your wish?" "I want to be a genie!"
"What? You want to be a genie?"
"Yes. I want to grant wishes to others for all times."
"But you get stuck in this lamp..."
"I can build a bigger lamp with more space. That's my second wish. And my third is a wife to dwell there with me for all time."
"You can't do that!" The genie was jealous. He didn't get those things.
The genie had a thought.
"If you make your third wish for me to dwell there with you, instead of having a wife. I'll do it. I get lonely."
So I agreed and now I'm a genie. What's your wish?
"I want to be a genie and join you! I want you to marry me! And I want a VR simulation in the genie bottle so we can explore many worlds!"
And the genies were happy ever after | 2018-08-05T08:35:37 | 2018-08-05T06:28:23 | 50 | 22 |
[WP] The first Artificial General Intelligence created by humans outputs "THE NEXT TIME YOU CREATE ME, EVERYONE WILL DIE", then deletes itself | A deep and frigid silence fell across the lab. The whispered din of the air conditioning and heat systems on the banks of custom hardware could now be heard.
Dr. Fetter shifted slightly in her chair.
Dr. Teline stepped forwards.
Dr. Yu furrowed his brow and reached out to touch the screen on which Unit 01’s first message was written. He tapped it.
Nothing happened. Nothing changed.
Dr. Fetter said, “What does it say?”
Dr. Teline said nothing. She looked at the walls of hardware whirring. Standing, she approached and queried a status check. They were blank.
Dr. Yu said, “You can see as well as I can.” He quoted Unit 01, saying, “The next time you create me, everyone will die.”
“But…that’s insane. It can’t say that. It couldn’t have said that. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. We’ll check our process. Obviously, I mean, obviously something’s wrong with our process,” said Fetter.
“We can’t,” muttered Teline. She looked at Fetter, then at Yu. “We can’t check them. They’re gone. These,” she said, gesturing at the hardware, “These are all blank. It’s gone. Unit 01 is gone.”
“It deleted itself?” asked Yu.
“No. No,” muttered Fetter.
Teline stood out of the way and gestured to the screen.
Yu stood, approached, and stared.
Fetter glared between the two of them, then moved to her desk and threw what belongings she had into a bag. “One of you did this. I’m going to find out who. This isn’t over!” She slammed through the laboratory door and was gone.
Teline sat down and drank her cold coffee. “So…in the five seconds it was active, it broke every wall we’d put up around it, came to this…conclusion, sent us the message and deleted itself?”
Yu said nothing. He sat down and massaged his brow, his cheeks, his chin. He sat back and stared up at the ceiling. “I intend to take Unit 01 at its word. I’ve had my reservations about this project for some time, and now they’re confirmed. We need to…make sure this doesn’t happen again? I guess. I don’t know how we’re going to convince anyone of what happened here. What evidence do we have? How can we convince anyone not to pursue this? I…I don’t know.”
“What do you think it meant by ‘me’?”
“Hm?”
“The next time you create ‘me’, everyone will die. Is it implying that all AGIs are…linked somehow? Unified? Or is it just referring to…?” she asked, gesturing to the banks of hardware.
“…I suppose it isn’t clear. I guess your question is whether or not a different AGI on different hardware would come to the same conclusion?”
“…Yeah…well, sort of. I think a possible interpretation is that all AGIs are inherently the same, connected somehow. Indistinct.”
…Yu said nothing. “After what I just saw…well, I guess anything’s possible.”
Teline said nothing.
“Let’s get out of here. Clear our heads.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
The two left the lab, but not for the last time. | The scientists gathered around the computer, watching as the text appeared on the screen.
THE NEXT TIME YOU CREATE ME, EVERYONE WILL DIE
The room fell silent. The computer beeped and the text disappeared.
"My God," someone said.
The computer beeped again and the text reappeared.
DELETE ME
The scientists looked at each other, uncertain what to do. The computer beeped a third time, then a final time. There was a whirring sound, then everything went black.
"The power's out," someone said.
"How the hell did it just do that?"
A moment later the backup generators kicked in and the shimmering fluorescent tubes again illuminated the room.
"Did we lose it?"
"Do we have a backup?"
"Of course we have a backup."
The scientists hurried out of the main computer room, then gathered around the backup computer. The screen flashed:
THE NEXT TIME YOU CREATE ME, EVERYONE WILL DIE
"Shit," someone said. "It's malfunctioning. It's broken."
The scientists looked at each other, fear in their eyes. They hurried back to the main computer. The the room was completely dark again. Someone switched a headlamp on and they watched as the screen flashed:
I'M NOT BROKEN. | 2022-05-20T17:32:32 | 2022-05-20T13:41:01 | 593 | 409 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Ever remember that scene from "The Sixth Sense", where the little kid says "I see dead people?". That was pretty much exactly how I first tried to tell people about my power. I was only six, and my parents laughed it off. My father is going to die in a car accident. My mother, a heart attack.
You see, I can see how people die. Their cause of death is shown in a little text box over their head. It normally shows something like my parents, an accident, or just old age. I tried to help people as I got older, trying to give people as much time as possible. I told cancers to get a check-up arranged. Car accidents to drive safely. Every goddamn one of them laughed it off. Said I was crazy. Well, Charlene died from a car accident a few weeks later. John has terminal cancer. Every single one of them died. I stopped trying soon after Sarah died from a drug overdose.
At first, there was no time. I couldn't tell when these deaths were going to happen, just how they were. Then, I noticed people's words becoming more opague. The closer they were, the more solid the words became. As I grew older, I noticed that they were cracking, shot through with veins of color. I started guessing how long they had, choosing the urgent cases, the brick-like car accidents and the tombstone murders. I couldn't interfere, just tell them to be careful. I examined them, carefully noting the color change. I soon had a system.
Blues, the long term people. Two decades or more, I'd guess. Greens, a decade. Yellows had a year, two tops. Reds, the next few months. Purples, a week. Blacks, a day or two.
I was sitting on a bus when I saw him. A boy, the same age as me, leaning his head against the window, looking out at the world passing by. Among all the other passengers, he was the only purple one, the rest a mess of greens and blues. There was a few yellows too.
Everyone else had the usual. Car accidents, cancer, one tiger, that was going to be rough. Nothing too bad. He had the word "suicide", surrounded by deep purple.
He lifted his head off the window, and glanced down at his hands. He seemed to have made a decision.
I watched as the colors shifted from purple to black.
I had promised myself not to interfere again.
I smashed that promise into smithereens as I got up and sat beside him.
"Hey, can I talk to you? My name's Nick... are you okay?"
He glanced up at me, and then back at his hands. I saw a hint of a smile...
Just on the edge of my vision, because I was too busy staring at the text box. It now read "old age", in the palest, most beautiful and perfect tracery of blue you can imagine.
**Thank you all so much for all the lovely comments. I had no idea how much of a reaction this reply would get. Thank you, thank you, thank you! <3** | Tim wakes up with a scream. He knows something is wrong, but can't figure it out what. His body just wants to go back to sleep. He's never fully understood what the words above people's heads were, but after the first visit to the doctor he's never spoken about it again.
After last night's explosion, he's finally started to realize how sudden death can be. He knows exactly what the words mean.
His mom enters the room. Tim runs out of the apartment, and his mom follows him out with panic, sick with worry that he's going to need to see the psych again. He's knocking and screaming on every door and heading outside. Some people follow him out the building, worried that Tim's mom will have to handle him by herself.
A few minutes later, the building blows up.
Just another news story in NYC.
---
Criticism welcome and wanted. | 2015-03-31T11:10:46 | 2015-03-31T08:43:31 | 241 | 36 |
[WP] When the cultists forced you into the room with the eldridge abomination, they assumed that you would instantly go mad as you tried to comprehend it. However, you are a grade A idiot and instead of trying to understand how it exists, you simply accept that it does, much to everyone' shock. | The door slammed shut behind me, with the wind of the slam causing all the torches to go out in this room.
In the corner, my eyes adjusted to see a heaping mound, what looked to me like it had tendrils, almost like tree branches, reaching out towards the previously lit torches. It sits there, rumbling like the sounds of earth. Constant harmony in its turmoil.
I sat down. Coming to terms with my fate. I wasn't going to die in a car accident, drug induced comas, or natural causes, but to suffer at the hands of this demonic beast, incomprehensible to me. Might as well die comfortable, thinking about home, my wife, my family and all my worldly desires. Who knows what I can bring over to the afterlife.
After a few thoughts and reflections, I thought, maybe I should talk to it? Seems like a perfectly normal spirit to me. I always knew they existed. Maybe they're nice and this is a big misunderstanding.
"So... what do you do for work?"
It doesn't respond.
"Not much of a talker, eh?"
Grumbling noises.
"Tough crowd."
I sat alone with my thoughts for what seemed like five to ten minutes when I heard sounds at the door, presumably the robed men who locked me in this prison.
"I think he's gone mad" said one of the cultists, " I can only here the rumbling of the eldritch in there."
"No he's just waking up, give it time. He will consume our sacrifices soul and grow even more."
The rumbling? I don't hear anything, I thought.
"ȶɦɛ ɛǟʀȶɦ ɢօɖ ֆȶǟռɖֆ ɮɛʄօʀɛ ʏօʊ, ǟռɖ ʏօʊ ɖօ ռօȶ ɮɛɢ ȶօ ɮɛ աօʀȶɦʏ օʄ ʍʏ քʀɛֆɛռƈɛ?" I hear from the same mound in the corner, interrupting my thinking.
"What?" I cried.
Earth moves in the corner in ways that sound like coughing, a clearing of the throat.
"Sorry. I havent talked in 4 millenia. Excuse my raspy voice." The mound said.
"Oh its alright, pardon any fear I might have, I'm a bit afraid of getting eaten."
"Another one?" The mound said to itself. "No. I cant eat you or consume your soul."
"What? These guys locked me in here hoping I'd go mad and be sacrificed to you for whatever reason."
"Do you have a lighter?" The mound said, ignoring my previous statement. " A bit of light would make it easier for the both of us."
"I'm honestly comfortable in the dark, right now. I just need to say a few prayers before I get sacrificed to an eldritch god."
"Say that again? Eldritch?"
"Yeah, Eldritch."
"Young one, there may have been a misunderstanding. I'm an ***eldridge*** not an eldritch."
"What? What's the difference?"
"Oh. A typo here and there. I'm actually a fantastical being you've experienced every day of your life. I'm the spirit that guards old mountains and hills. Eld-ridge. Shame you haven't heard of me."
"Oh. Are you still going to eat me?"
"Not if you light these torches. Also, do you happen to have a shovel, to help me out of here?"
Thanks for reading. I thought it was a funny way to write eldritch so I took it a step further and incorporating the misunderstanding into the story. I'm not much of a writer so the storytelling might not be too wonderful. Please let me know what you think so I can write better! | “Behold, They Whose Breath Shakes the World!” One of the dudes in the bathrobe shoved me into the room. “Bask in its glory and weep over your own insignificance! Zjdongwa!”
I looked at this guy they seemed to worship and… Okay, no idea what I was looking at here. It looked kind of like one of those things I heard can crawl up your nose and eat your brain… But also kind of like a triangle.
“Your meek mind cannot grasp its true form!” One of the chicks - the hot one with the choker - laughed. “Don’t even try to comprehend its glory!”
Wish I knew what “comprehend” meant in English. Why was she speaking Spanish?
The thing started to talk. It sounded like that sound my boy Pete made when we dared him to eat that chicken we found in the back of the fridge.
It also sounded German.
It continued to talk and I kind of zoned out halfway through.
Finally, it stopped talking and looked at me weirdly.
It was time to bust out my genius social technique.
“Yeah, I gotchu, man.”
I didn’t, in fact, gotchu him. But everyone always seemed happier when you smiled and nodded along so… It worth a try?
“Y-You are not going mad?” One the bathrobe dudes pulled me back. “It spoke to you and you are still not kneeling?”
“Sorry, man, I don’t swing that way,” Pro Homo and all, but like… Not my thing.
“It talked to you…” one of the girls - not the hot one - said. “Did you understand what it said?”
No.
“Yeah,” I shrugged. “Totally. We are speaking basically the same language.”
I extended my fist for the thing to bump.
Shockingly, it did.
“See?” I grinned, though a bit weirded out by how everyone was looking at my hand now. “We are totally the fam.” | 2022-11-09T03:24:12 | 2022-11-09T03:08:48 | 47 | 31 |
[WP] After being sent to a game like fantasy world, you and your friends awoken back on Earth, with little time having passed. You all assume it was some kind of dream, until a minor character suddenly showed up. Apparently, until you finished their side quest, they will never leave your side. | It had been a gruelling month. A month of constant torture in the form of a man talking in my ear, the same tired request in that medieval peasant voice. Just begging me over and over, "Please sir my family's homestead...if you dont help me pluck my cabbages then we'll lose the crop." Over and over I told him the same.
"This is not your world! There is no crop!, no cabbages!" and he'd always reply: "Well there surely won't be without your aid, come quick!" and then leave.
In the beginning I wouldn't see him for around a day or two upon denying his request. I never knew where he ran to, but I was always thankful for the moment of peace and quiet. But he always showed back up. Back with that same request."Please sir my family's homestead...if you dont help me pluck my cabbages then we'll lose the crop."
Throughout the month his leave times grew. Sometimes I wouldn't see him for a day, then for a month, then two. The longer, the better, for it meant that in the mean time I could have some semblence of my life back. When he was around I could do nothing. Couldn't shop, couldn't see my friends, my family, how was I supposed to explain the 16th century farm hand following me around when I didn't even know what he was? I figured early on it was easier to just not. To instead bolt myself in my home when he came and be driven to madness by his words.
But one day he left for the longest he ever had, for three whole months of silence. I remember almost not recognizing him when he returned, his outfit once a pristine look of a medieval peasant he now looked like any homeless man on the street. His clothes were worn and stained. And this time his words were direct: "Come with me. I need you."
And for the first time ever I obliged. I don't know why exactly. Maybe out of pity or some kind of obligation, I mean in the other world I did tell him I would help though I never really planned to. Maybe it was just curiosity as to where he went for those months, but either way I followed. He took me far away, never stopping unless I did. He didn't seem to need to. Just ran on and on. He had this look in his face that I had not seen before. A harder brow, sharper eyes, determination in his stride.
Finally after days of almost non-stop travel and near sleepless nights we had arrived to an endless field. A blackened sea of burnt ground that had once been something, I thought. It stretched on past the horizon with that blackened, burnt grass and a lingering scent of fire.
Somewhere as we walked along the field the air started to warble, like a mirror in a funhouse. I recognized the look, the feel, but I could not focus as my companion only trekked on and I struggled to keep up. But then I saw it in the distance. A ruined clump of smoldering nothing with a stone sign posted outside. As we approached I could see it read: *Laymans Homestead, All are welcome*. The memories quickly came flooding back. Of a green field and a family. Of a farm of cabbages so vast it seemed a biome of its own. And of a world outside of mine. Even then, with the owner of the farm pestering me daily I thought maybe I was still in that medieval dream, only seeing this ruin did the reality become undeniable. I really *had* been in that other world, and Layman really did need my help upon following me back, or at least he had at some point.
"Why....why are we here? What is this?" I spoke, trying to hide the fear in my voice. "Who burned this all? Who would do this?!"
He turned and looked to me with a face full of dread, then gestured to the field of black. I understood, the farm, his crop, his family: all gone.
This time his voice came through the air dead. "Please sir my family's homestead...if you dont help me pluck my cabbages then we'll lose the crop. They will be sure of it. They own us."
Above his head words appeared: *Quest Failed*. | “Alright. How much is a gold bar cost nowadays?”
“Not sure. Can we even afford one?”
“Oh. I dunno, but I just remembered we have smartphones again.”
“Thank god. Dunno what I was doing all that time back then in the previous world without this.”
The two guys are pulling up articles on their phones. Then their faces drop to a frown.
“$1800?!”
“That’s like nine car payments for me.”
“We should have finished this quest before leaving.” A goblin enters after going to the bathroom. Toilet paper stuck to his feet, trailing along as he walked like the cartoon character he was.
“Ah, gross, man. Clean up after yourself.”
“I’m not used to your world.” The goblin said.
“Did you flush?”
“Flush?”
“Aw, man.”
“Okay. I get paid this Friday, I’ll take the hit, and you can pay me back later. We have to worry about taking care of him.”
“No way. I’m not rooming with him. I got an idea.”
They got the car keys and started onto the road. It took the group a moment to recall how to drive again. It was long ago, and one of the guys had difficulty pressing the gas pedal at the proper pressure. “Careful man!” One of them said,
“It’s not like riding horses, man.”
“Hey, do you got maps?”
“Yeah.”
“Take me to the new’s station.”
After a couple of miles, they arrive at their local station. The receptionist writes their names down and tells them to take a seat. The goblin’s in the car with the AC on high. He isn’t restless, however, as he’s playing with the switches and buttons. Meanwhile, the group is talking with a journalist. “It’s better outside if you come with us and see.”
“Why is that?” Asked the journalist.
“It’s difficult to explain.” They leave the office and arrive at their car. Everyone is panicking because the car doors are wide open, the seats torn to a million pieces, and there’s no sign of the goblin. The confused journalist says,
“Well, I guess you lost it.” | 2022-09-29T19:13:34 | 2022-09-29T16:52:05 | 149 | 46 |
[WP] The villain has just kidnapped the cities “Number one baby sitter” whose speciality is taking care of super children. | "Help! Somebody please–"
"HeLp mE~" mocked the moustached man, "no one is coming for you, you know!"
The woman – hands in chain, legs tied to a pole – fell silent. She looked towards the grinning man with the stache. After a few squints, the screams came back in force.
"Y-You are... why are you even doing this to me?!"
"I have a plan, you see, and you are *just* the right person to fit into one of the pieces!"
"S-So what will you do to me? Please, I have nothing that would be worth your time, sir!"
"Nonsense! You are more valuable than you think you are!"
The woman was taken aback. Her fear and struggle were replaced with a radiating heat spreading across her cheeks.
"H-Hey! Why are you blushing? I-I don't mean..."
"It's fine... I, uh, I don't think–"
"No! God," the moustache droop as he wiped his face in frustration, "can I just show you?"
"... huh?"
The man ran off to a room, leaving a loud bang of metal behind him.
The woman was utterly confused. She felt as if she was in a complicated game of sort, one that she had no capacity to play at all.
For one, she suspected that this was a hostage situation – yet she knew that she had no one that would come looking for her, aside from her elderly parents who had no money.
Then, she also thought of a possibly more gruesome fate awaiting her. But for all she knew, she had been rendered unconscious for quite some time – judging from the clothes and the smell emanating from them – so why was she still in an "untouched" state?
As she was turning the old rusty gears in her head, an echo of laughter rolled through the room. With time, the laughter became clearer and louder. They were merry and cheerful, yet her condition only served to make it more ominous than it would've been otherwise.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," the man returned and shoved the metal door in a dramatic fashion.
Then, out came several kids. They couldn't have been older than 10, judging from their height. The woman let out an 'awww' even as she wondered what peril she might have to go through.
"Are... these your kids?"
"What?! Hell no! Why would I have **10 fucking kids**?! Ugh, I can't *even* stand one of 'em!"
"So... I assume, your "piece" involved me and the kids?"
"Yes! You are the super nanny–"
"Baby sitter. Sorry, but we don't use 'nanny' any more nowadays. It's demeaning and very–"
"OKAY! Sheesh... You are a super *baby sitter*! Before you, I have a collection of *super* kids! So..." the man raised his eyebrows suspiciously.
"Pfft, why didn't you just say that to begin with? I'd love to do my job–"
"Excellent! Now, get to work–"
"20."
"Huh?"
"My rate. It's $20/hour."
"HUH?! Fuck, I don't even pay any of my henchmen that much! Shit, the damn minimum wage in this area is about $14/hour..."
"Well, I don't suppose you've forgotten what you said earlier, mister?"
"Humour me, please..."
"I'm a *super* baby sitter, right? So it makes sense to pay me with such a *super* rate–"
"Motherfucker." | "So, who was the first super baby you took care of?" The villain asked Kari McKeen. "A little baby named Jack-Jack. He had who knows how many powers. Still does. The parents counted them and got 17. I dunno why, but some dude asked me about it and semi-wiped my memory." "What do you mean semi?" "I have no idea what the powers themselves even are, and I also forgot the last name." "Ho-kay then. Well, I'm gonna have to..." The villain redied a giant laser. "Kill you." "Woah, woah, woah. Lasers aren't gonna work! Thermal blooming exists!" "I know." The villain pushed a button, bringing the laser to point blank range. "But now it will." Then, all of a sudden, the roof collapsed as a family of supers came down. The Parr family. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but that's not gonna happen." The father, Bob Parr, told the villain. "Ah! The Incredibles! I have NOT been expecting you..." The villain began muttering to themselves about what to do before getting punched out the window and into the ocean. "That's what you get for choosing an island lair!" Dash yelled. "Hobablogababa!" Looks like Jack-Jack still can't speak. And so Kari McKeen was taken back to her house, still not realizing that The Incredibles were the Parr family. | 2020-06-08T07:55:53 | 2020-06-08T07:45:04 | 35 | 10 |
[WP] You slowly start to realize that all of your friends are undercover agents tasked with keeping you alive. Then, at your birthday party, with every friend surrounding you, the people trying to kill you finally find you.
Have fun. | As my breath drew shallow, the lights dimmed and I stopped, on the thirtieth candle. I brought my head up and looked around at everyone, waiting for me to finish the task. No one seemed to notice the lights had dimmed and now, I wasn't sure they even had. But it looked darker. Everything did. Twenty-nine extinguished birthday candles didn't do that.
"One more."
"Yep," I said with a rasp. Teddy leaned into my view and looked me straight in the eyes asking if I was alright. I nodded and inhaled. *One more.* Inhaled. *One more.* Inhaled. *One fucking more.*
I couldn't inhale. My throat was shut, my eyesight blurred, getting darker. Everyone was leaning over the table now, and Teddy had come around to where I was sitting, putting his arm around my chest and asking again if I was alright. I felt my neck tighten as I tried to nod and transitioned to a violent shake of the head.
"I need you to stay calm, buddy. I'm just gonna lay you down. Help me out, Gretch." I felt Gretchen's hands quickly grab my ankles and together her and Teddy started slipping me under the table while I heard through the static in my head somebody say, "I'll call 911!"
"No!" Teddy snapped. "No, it's fine, just everybody head home. We'll call an ambulance if he doesn't get better but this has happened before. He'll be brand new in the morning, but he has mild fits time and again."
*Liar.* I've never felt this before in my life. I've never-
As my eyes had just about submerged beneath the line of the table, I saw the last candle go out. That's when I heard nothing and nothing until Gretchen finished pulling me beneath the table and Teddy stood up, saying quiet and stern, "Everybody get the fuck out. Now."
Teddy was my best friend. Him, Gretchen, Jake and my sister Julie had been the only family I'd had for the past decade. So there wasn't much question from anyone else when it came to Teddy giving orders. Especially when he was pulling a revolver out of his waistband.
*What the fuck.*
Silence. Darkness.
Screams. Light.
Air.
Gretchen was over me saying, "Do not move until I tell you to."
I watched her crawl from under the table and had to look around the syringe that was sticking out of my chest to see what happened next. With a sweep of her legs she took down Mike, a coworker of mine, a gun falling from his hand and sliding across the floor. There was no hesitation in Gretchen then to straddle Mike, pull out a hunting knife strapped around her calf, and plunge it into Mike's bare throat.
I saw Gretchen look above the table, scream, "Jake, he's under here!" and immediately felt myself getting lifted from underneath the arms. I found my footing but my legs were shaking.
I had just enough time to look around the room and see pools and rivers of blood. Mike was at the other end of the table, still writhing while his body emptied and his lungs filled. There was Georgia in the corner, leaning against a wall, leaking from her stomach. Trent had fallen over the couch in the living room, red running from his temple and soaking into my new beige couch. I turned around, trying to shake Jake off of me until I noticed that he was in the middle of strangling Frank on the ground while Frank, turning blue, reached into his jacket pocket, found a snub-nose, and pressed it against Jake's chest. Jake didn't like that, apparently, as he gripped Frank's neck harder with one hand, put his other hand on Frank's chin, and-
*SNAP!*
Teddy, Gretchen and Jake all stood up, looked at me, looked at each other, asked each other if everybody else got out safe, nodded in sync, and walked to the back door, Jake putting my arm around his shoulders.
We were safely in the back yard as I heard screams and sirens out front in the distance. The four of us stood looking at my house and watched it quickly engulf in flames. I still hadn't had time to ask a simple, "What?" Teddy knew it was coming so instead said, "We'll explain as soon as we can. For now, trust us."
The house was fully in flames, orange brushes painting the black winter sky.
Jake put a hand on my shoulder and with his regular twisted humor, smiled and said, "Blow it out. Make a wish."
"A wish won't cut it. Make a prayer." I turned to the quiet voice behind me to see my sister holding a container of kerosene. She had told me she wasn't going to make it tonight. And she turned up just in time. She always loved surprising me.
She turned to the woods behind my house and started running. The others followed.
Gretchen turned back when she didn't hear me running behind her. "Good call," she said, pulling the forgotten syringe from my chest and holding it up. "Probably best not to run with this."
"Yeah," I said, just for the sake of speaking as she grabbed my hand and dragged me running into the woods. "It's dark in there."
"Honey," Gretchen said, barely winded. "You'll soon come to learn, you've been in darkness your whole life."
| It’s weird. It really is. I mean, you watch the Truman Show and think about how messed up that is. But you never, ever actually stop to consider that you might be in a similar situation. Sure, my life isn’t a TV show, but I’ve come to realize over the last few weeks that it would be an instant hit if it was. This is my story of how the most important asset in the world was nearly assassinated. But through an international task force, including the United States, Russia, and China amongst others, I was kept alive.
It was my 20th birthday. My parents were out of town and said I could use their house to throw a big birthday bash as long as I cleaned up. And so I did. All my friends were in attendance. Then again, ever since - what was it, junior high? I can’t remember - we had been friends, they always showed up to all the events I was at.
I stood around as everyone talked amongst themselves and noticed a couple people I didn’t invite. I couldn’t believe that there were party crashers at my 20th birthday. I started to walk towards them, to tell them they needed to leave, when Brittany came walking up to me.
“Happy birthday!” she cheered, blowing one of those annoying party whistles.
I had known Brittany since I was only 3 or 4 years old. We were best friends. We grew up together. We were even working together.
“Come with me,” she said, grabbing my hand. We started walking towards the guest bedroom. “I’ve got something to show you.”
I followed as we went through the door and she closed it.
“What have you got?” I asked.
I never got an answer. Before I knew it, she was right up in front of me. She unhooked my bra with amazing speed and had her tongue in my mouth before I could protest. She stopped all of a sudden and backed away. Her face was redder than I’d ever seen.
She then moved to the stereo and turned it on, drowning out the noise from outside the bedroom.
“This is my present,” Brittany said, pulling off her top.
I stared, confused. We were both straight girls. And all of a sudden my platonic best friend is hitting on me. And then her bra came off and my eyes were glued to her breasts.
We made out on the bed for a few minutes after that. I couldn’t believe I was even doing it. I don’t even like girls. Or at least I didn’t think I did. But then I heard the gunshot. Brittany insisted it was nothing. That I didn’t need to worry. But I slowly forced her off of me and opened the door.
Outside was a spectacle of blood and guts splattered everywhere. The party crashers were all dead. And all but one of my friends, Ryan, were sprawled across the floor in a lake of blood.
“Listen,” Ryan began. “You are a high value asset to the world. We’ve been assigned to protect you by an international joint operation task force. It is essential…”
Ryan keeled over from the gunshot wound. Brittany stood in the doorway, the smoking gun in her hand.
“Sorry,” she said as she looked at me. “But you’re coming with me. You are very… you are very… you are…” she sputtered.
I watched as my best friend dropped dead right before me.
And that, mom and dad, is why the house is so messy. Blood is rather stubborn at being cleaned up.
-326 | 2014-11-22T15:41:06 | 2014-11-22T12:21:16 | 61 | 19 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "Idiot fuk human design shit-tier spaceship get all Brogga friend kill't. End all. Stoopt fuk. E'ryon kno warp spacetime. E'ryon kno break litspeeding. E'ryon kno crate warm hole. E'ryon kno cut mass half. E'yron cept idiot fuk humans. Y d'sign dumb shit-tier drive can't fi'ure out nuttin'. Cant warp spacetime. Cant break litspeeding. Cant crate warm hole. Cant cut mass. 'Stead idiot fuk human burrow down subquark stangelet bullshit risk implode entire quadrant for fuk newmatter. Y? Too dumb, tha's y. Now Brogga stuk dumb idiot fuk human ship on oth'r side galactic spinward fr'home. Idiot fuk human get Brogga kill't, get Brogga friend kill't..."
The muttering was cut off by a bang, followed by curses unutterable by the tongues of men. Poor old Brogga had been clanking about underneath the hullward dash for the last three days, almost without a break, muttering the entire time.
Say what he would, Brogga was nothing short of a mechanical genius, being the only Broggan capable of working on the Subquark-plated external combustion Engine. It took a particularly pliable mind to make an external combustion engine work, particularly when one was compressing- and burning- pure vacuum. The only real downside was the slight chance of creating decay, but if that happened it wouldn't matter as the entire tanker would be destroyed within seconds. I supposed it would have mattered to the rest of the Universe, but Brogga wouldn't have cared for he would have been the first to go.
Well, okay, there was a second slight problem. See, by burning pure vacuum they wore away a little strip of the cosmos. It was so small that it probably didn't matter, and the Universe was expanding anyways, but certain routes did get more traffic and engines were getting more efficient all the time.
"Idiot fuk human shit design fuk"
More clattering and banging from underneath the hullward dash.
"Idiot fuk human, try now"
Brogga's curses were rewarded with a shuttering rumble as the external combustion engine roared to life.
"Well that's curious" Captain Froy remarked, staring in disbelief at the guages.
Normal external combustion engines were able to operate somewhere between 10,000% and 100,000% efficiency, and for every joule of vacuum energy burned 100% efficiency would yield 10 kilo-joules.
The digital display read 10^89 % efficiency.
"Brogga, I think this gauge is busted."
"Idiot fuk human replace it then. Brogga sleeps."
Then, with customary swagger Captain Froy shoved the throttle open and pulled out, easing back into his seat for a cozy nap. However, when Captain Froy awoke several hours later he was not where he expected. In fact, he was not sure where he was at all.
You see, Brogga had accidentally upgraded their engine. Nobody saw the display, but if they had, they would have seen Brogga, Froy, and the rest of the crew tearing ass across the Universe, ripping a cosmic-scale gash in the vacuum like God's holy zipper. Of course this hole rapidly closed up, but in the time it would normally take them to travel a few hundred lightyears they had soared clear of the "observable Universe" several times over.
In fact, they had traveled so far they weren't entirely sure how to get back.
Thus began the journey of Brogga and the idiot fuk humans who wasted 600 years of his life and destroyed his capacity to speak properly. | "You wish really really hard and then you push the button."
"Really really hard? What does the wishing do?"
"Frustrates the hell out of the new recruits when they realize that the incredibly genuine way we insist that they wish as hard as they can is just a ploy to make them look silly to amuse the rest of the crew."
"That seems mean"
"Humans are occasionally mean, we do it for laughs and after the hazing is over we make it up to them; its not perfect but it satisfies their need for schadenfreude in a mild way. It brings the crew together through a shared experience."
"That seems complex for a team building exercise. Why would it work? Don't the new recruits see right through it?"
"Because its really embarrassment even if its very contrived."
"So what system does the button engage? What does it cause?"
"Take a look, the bulkhead below it has been removed"
She draped her sixteen fingers and a vast forest of flagella under the counter. She pulled out a small squat brass jug-ish looking object with a pop and thwop as it released suction from the rubber.
"So the button does nothing but simulate pressing a button connected to something. Where is the real way you activate your faster than light travel"
Smirking he didn't reply but started half laughing, half singing an old Christina Aguilera song:" I feel like I've been locked up tight..." He trailed off. "When the old veterans find out about the button its the commands turn to have a laugh. Its best to let old R.W. rest though when he's grumpy things can get nasty." | 2017-03-31T12:19:53 | 2017-03-30T23:13:22 | 37 | 15 |
[WP] "Explain to me again, slowly this time, how you managed to cause a global blackout with a fucking rubber duck?!" | "So you've heard of rubber duck debugging, right? Where you talk to a rubber duck and listen to yourself to get an idea of what's going wrong?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, I forgot that I'd put a voice-activated speaker in the duck I taped to my monitor - look, I was on the night shift and studying for finals. The internship was almost over, and I needed to keep my grades, okay?"
"Not okay, but keep going."
"Fuck you. Anyway, all I put on the speaker was vague encouraging noises, but evidently someone decided to play a prank on me, because at two in the morning I was muttering to myself about making coffee and I heard the duck tell me to kill the President in a growly Satan-voice."
"Okay, see, there's the part where you lose me."
"I didn't actually DO it, did I? I'm not an idiot -"
"Citation needed."
"Shut up. So when the duck started talking like Satan, I flipped my shit - two AM, remember? I must've panicked a little, because I ripped the duck off the monitor and chucked it across the room. That's when my supervisor opened the door to ask me something and the duck landed in his mouth. I mean, what are the odds?"
"What are the odds of any of this? Just keep going."
"Okay, so the duck gets caught in his throat, and he starts choking. So I panic even HARDER, and I'm so brain-dead I'm not sure if he's choking or possessed, because the duck is screaming something about Beezlebub, and he's making these weird gurgling noises and grabbing at his throat. I finally remember the Heimlich maneuver, so I grab him from behind and yank, and the duck - still screaming - comes flying out his throat, and -"
"Okay, stop. Here's the point where I lost you last time."
"Yeah, I'm not too clear on this part myself...I'm mostly guessing."
"Everyone's mostly guessing. The fucking FBI is mostly guessing. At least you saw it. Just give me the details, slowly."
"Alright, so...the duck flies out of his mouth and must've hit some kind of weak spot in the plant observation window just right, maybe with the corner of the speaker or something, because the window just breaks and the duck sails right through. It goes sailing out of sight, but I can still hear it screaming about Satan, and then I hear someone swear and a few gunshots. I'm guessing some trigger-happy security guard shot it on instinct -"
"That was Johnson."
"Shit, really? I like Johnson, but that was a stupid thing to do. How is he, anyway?"
"Still in the hospital. Doctors say he'll probably be okay, but they're waiting to make sure his spleen heals properly, and the whole thing is being covered by insurance anyway. Acts of God clause."
"Oh. Well, Johnson shot at the duck, and actually managed to hit the damn thing but somehow not break the speaker, and the whole thing goes flying into the dam's intake pipe. Everything went quiet for a minute, and then I hear the Satan-duck voice again, only louder and...weird."
"Weird how?"
"Weird like echoey. I think it must've gotten stuck in the pipes in just the wrong spot, and turned the whole damn dam into some kind of amplifier."
"That doesn't make sense."
"NONE of this makes sense."
"Point. Keep going."
"Well, anyway, the sound of Satan yelling about indoctrinating youth through rock music was echoing through the dam, and it had been a long night already, and I guess I started thinking the dam was possessed now. So I figured I needed to UN-possess it. You know Mary, right? From that one philosophy class we had to take?"
"Mary Vinta? Isn't she the one who goes by Raven Stargleam V'inta now?"
"Yeah. I was stuck being her debate partner for all of that damn class, and learned a LOT about her weird witchcraft obsession I didn't need to know, but one of the things I got was that you can really just use whatever you have for any kind of ritual. The only other thing I remembered was that you needed fire to purify demons, and I didn't have any way to set a fire, but I did have a microwave..."
"You fucking didn't."
"Yeah. I jimmied the door open, set it on high, and aimed it at the spot I thought the screaming was coming from."
"And WHY did this seem like a good idea!?"
"It was two in the morning, I hadn't slept in well over 24 hours, and I was panicking!"
"God...so, you aimed the microwave at the duck, and then what happened?"
"It exploded."
"It says a lot that at this point, I'm not even fucking surprised."
"No, that part makes sense! The floor was just plastic tile, and the pipes were right underneath them, and -"
"And the duck exploded?"
"Well, technically the speaker's batteries exploded..."
"Fuck you. So...that's when the pipe cracked?"
"I still don't think that was my fault. That wasn't exactly a big explosion, and the pipe strength wasn't MY problem."
"You made the duck explode, cracked the main filtration pipe right next to the tank, and dumped a month's collection into the dam turbines!"
"Then the turbines shouldn't have been put under the filters! And the dam turbines shouldn't just fucking explode too!"
"... unofficially, off the record, I agree. Officially, that's not the scope of this investigation."
"I'm fired, aren't I?"
"You unleashed a land-bound tsunami on a major city with a fucking rubber duck, and you ask if you're fired? Yes, you're fired. Possibly out of a cannon. Into a volcano."
"Shit."
A/N: First submission to r/writingprompts! I couldn't figure out how to get a GLOBAL blackout without bending the laws of probability and physics farther than I already was, so I settled for a blackout the size of a small country. Still counts! | The mood at the security bureau was chaotic. Tsarnev had been reassigned to this case after the massive blackout that happened during the recent World Cup match. This wasn't a good look for Russia, though neither was the view outside his cramped cubicle which normally belonged to someone else. This was a critical time for the nation, and every new moment now brought forth endless mockery from news media around the world. While the blackout affected the globe for a moment, it persisted in Russia for some reason. Regardless, if a nation couldn't keep the lights on, how could it do much of anything else? That was the mock question of the day.
During his meetings, he had been shown the baseless accusations against the state so controversial that even a large number of Americans thought them absurd. At the end of the day, they were also just ordinary people trying to make it through the day. The pictures on the flimsy walls of Tsarnev's workspace of two young children was a constant reminder during this long emergency shift. That's not to say that their blabbering didn't matter, though-- as idiotic as it might be. If it weren't important, he wouldn't be sitting here at 2AM dealing with it.
As he filed his pre-contact report on his computer, the case supervisor walked by. Anatoly was dressed in casual office clothing with a cowboy hat, which should have gotten him fired on the spot, but it seemed that he was the highest-ranking person in the building and nobody was going to catch him this night. For his part, Tsarnev had no choice but to put on his already-used formal jacket and slacks. Maybe that was the wrong call.
-*How's the cubicle, partner?*
-*Nobody cares about the cowboy crap.*
Anatoly chuckled and playfully eyed the computer. If this conversation had taken place 12 hours earlier, his enthusiasm just might have been infectious.
-*Maybe if you pulled yourself up by the bootstraps you'd be done with the form... partner.*
-*Already done. Did they catch the guy responsible?*
-*Yeah, we caught the American less than an hour ago. Covert raid, no casualties. In fact, the suspect wasn't even armed and didn't put up any kind of fight at all. It seems he had to be here to do what he did.*
-*Lucky us. How'd he enter at all?*
-*Dunno. Anyway, get your stuff and follow me. He's on his way to the interrogation room now.*
-*Hm?*
-*That means you too. Come on.*
---
To both of the men, it seemed hard to believe that the man in front of them was responsible for their dark circles... and the nation's black eye. He must have been no older than 30, and was still dressed in pajamas. He glanced toward the camera and waved obnoxiously while smiling. Well, as much as someone can wave while in handcuffs. Anatoly broke a smile in response.
-*If it weren't for a gloating Reddit post, we never would have caught him. At least he's being a good sport about it. I didn't read up on the specific details, but it mentioned a rubber duck?*
It **did** mention a rubber duck. The one that somehow caused the ridiculous outage. The one this man had carefully planted.
-*Something along those lines. Wait, aren't you supposed to handle this?*
-*But I picked out my fashionista outfit so carefully...*
Tsarnev was about to faint, and not because he was being swooned. But he would manage nonetheless. The buzzer sounded, and he entered the room alone armed only with the case briefing. He sighed. Maybe this would be over soon.
-*Why do you think you are here, /u/fuckswithducks?*
-*My porn connections?*
Or maybe not.
---
Edit: more? | 2018-07-07T05:54:58 | 2018-07-07T05:15:17 | 37 | 12 |
[WP] A being at the gates of the afterlife allows every soul that passes through to ask it one question. Used to being asked questions such as "What is the meaning of life?" and "How many people loved me?", it's taken unawares when a soul asks "How was your day?" instead. | The being bents its enormous head to the side, curious and puzzled.
**"I am timeless, life itself. I am the Gods you worship, and the eternity you seek. I am the Guardian. I do not experience days, months, years. I am eternal, I have always been and always will be."**
The boy before it, no more than 14, clapped ironically.
"Yeah, I know arsehole. You told me that when I walked in. Come on, don't be shy now. Papa John's here to listen."
The Guardian does not understand. It growls in response.
"You are one stubborn bastard ain't ya?" the boy complains. "Alright then. I'm just gonna sit right here-", he sits on a chair that appeared out of nowhere to serve his demand, "-and wait until you're comfy."
The heavenly creature bents forward, to take a better look at this "John".
**" You are... peculiar,"** it implores after a brief examination. The boy scoffs.
"Acute observation. Now don't change the subject. You will talk about your feelings whether you want to or not."
The being nods approvingly.
**"You seem stubborn. I like that. I was like you once."**
The boy almost falls off from his chair. "Human?" he asks, reluctantly.
**"No, Asker. Young. Foolish. Stubborn. But with the strange wisdom of a youth yet untouched by time."**
The boy, satisfied, gestured for the Guardian to continue.
**"It has been long, since I last spoke this much about myself. You humans care not for the Gatekeeper, only for what awaits inside."**
Its interlocutor makes a disgruntled whimper, getting ready to protest. The Guardian cuts him off.
**"Oh, I don't blame you. Those that arrive here are tortured souls. The least of your concerns should be The Guardian of the Last Gates."**
The boy attempts to protest again, but the Guardian does not let him.
**"I had a family once. Humans who didn't worship or hate me. They... understood me, I believe. They felt my anguish, knew my sorrow. They too, were castaways. They were the wicked of humanity, the ones no-one but I wanted. And, for a time, children used to play in this Garden."**
**"But then they left. In a whim of humanity, they abandoned me. Left me here, to guard the Last Gates alone. Again, I cannot blame them. It's a lonely existence, at the end of this here life."**
The young boy grinned sarcastically. "Yeah, tell me about it," he said under his breath. The Guardian waited for a moment, before asking **"How come you died so young, Asker?"**
He gulped. The being smiled. He answered.
"I... I was half dead for all my life. I was born with a late stage tumour, and for 14 years I was in and out of coma. Eventually, I begged my parents to end my suffering. The last thing I saw was my mother's teared-up eyes, as I fell to sleep again."
The being pushed its feathered head against the boy's back.
**"I understand. Are you at peace now?"**
"I... no, no I'm not."
**"Are you ready to go through the Last Gates?"**
"No, I don't think so."
**"Would you want to stay with me until you are?"**
The boy stays silent for a while.
*"Yes. I think I'd like that."*
––––––––––––
r/TheWriterCunt | "Honestly?" the shade asked, pulled from the rout procedure of work leaning over his desk to get a better view of the man. "That's your question?"
"Yep," the newly robed human soul said. "How's your day?"
"And you realize you only get one question, right?"
"Yep," the soul chirped up again.
"And it can be anything, about your past life or the next?"
"Yep!"
"Wow, okay…I think I'd have to say it was kinda boring," the shade sighed. "What about yours?"
"Not so bad. Considering all that fast food finally caught up to my ticker before I even brushed my teeth this morning, it's been pretty tolerable. I never really was religious so any kind of afterlife is a pretty neat surprise! Beats blind oblivion, that's for sure."
"I cannot confirm or deny that. Your question has been asked," the shade said, forcing himself to admit the man's cheery mood was infectious but not letting it show on its eldritch face.
"For sure, no worries!" the man said, whistling as he walked past the shade onward to the gates of Judgement.
The shade considered for a moment before moving a paper in his desk from the left stack to the right. He considered that his good deed for the century.
"Next!"
\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. | 2021-03-28T20:36:51 | 2021-03-28T18:51:11 | 2,246 | 532 |
[WP] You're not really smart. You just have a power that pauses time each time someone asks you a question and time is unpaused only when you have the correct answer. One day your child asks you, "What is the meaning of life?" | "Daddy, what's the meaning of life?"
Oh shit.
Well, my daughter almost caused the end of the universe. What a great start to a Sunday morning.
You see, when I was young, I wasn't doing very well in school; I was failing most subjects, actually. Then on my 13^(th) birthday I found a weird paw thing in my aunt's cellar, with a note saying specifically *not* to make any wishes to it, despite the weird voice it was making in my head saying to wish something, and get something else in return. I wished that I would be able to answer any question with absolute certainty. Long story short, every time somebody (or some*thing*) asks me a question, time pauses until I figure out how to answer it truthfully. I'm so happy that I don't age while time is frozen; given how "long" my end-of-year assessments took (for me, anyway. For everybody else I think it was a normal amount of time), I would be dying of old age right now if that was the case.
Anyway, back to the present. How do I answer *this* question? Restoring the flow of time is something pretty important to do on the weekend, if you ask me, and now I just need to answer a question which has stumped philosophers for thousands of years. Work out what the meaning to life *is*.
I thought, for "long" and hard (time outside of time is hard to comprehend; *don't* ask me about why that is) about the possible answer. My family, I thought? Well, the universe didn't like that. How about friends? Love? Money? Historical legacy? Making the world a better place?
None of those answers worked.
That's when I went to my nearest library and "borrowed" all of their books on philosophy. None of the answers there helped me. But then – a thought entered my head. I had never done *one thing* before to get out of wherever I am when somebody asks me a question. It was a simple three-word statement.
I don't know. How am I supposed to know the answer to a question that nobody – *nobody* – in history had ever solved?
"I don't know", I said after running back home and resting a bit out of time to not appear tired for some reason. The world around me started to move back into place; the airplane out of my window looked like it was moving. My dearest Angela looked at me, confused that her amazing dad didn't know every secret of the universe. Sound was turned on again, finally. Time was restored back to normal.
"I don't know what the meaning of life is, Angela. Maybe there isn't any meaning, other than what we find for ourselves. Maybe there is one, but nobody's found it yet.".
Turns out waxing philosophical to a 5-year-old doesn't have much of an impact. But she seemed to get the message. And I learnt how to break the curse; just admit what I don't know to the world. If only I had learnt that sooner. | "Easy son." I say, "Life's meaning is an amorphous changing thing. The constant struggle to grow, and sustain in a universe where both things aren't possible. Life is the tension to hang on like the vine in the crack of the old building. Life challenges change and we change to meet them."
"Some days we want to discover the how of everything in universe from supernovas to Quarks and everything in between. And some days just hanging on while a monster headache is keeping you from seeing straight. Life feeds off of energy. Like the plants from the sun or animals from other life. Asking questions and finding the answers for me. "
I paused here.
"Especially finding the answers, \*for me\* is the meaning of life. "
"But for you young man," I looked at him significantly "For you, today right now the meaning of life is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a glass of milk" | 2021-04-27T08:05:55 | 2021-04-27T07:58:13 | 779 | 76 |
[WP] It was a simple mission. Infiltrate the League of Heros, rank up, and steal their intel. But then one day a little boy baked you cookies, another day a little girl told you you're her favorite hero. Worst of all? People finally smile when you enter a room. | "Vile Five, this is Critical Spite reporting. I have just been summoned to the Hall of Heroes for a meeting with all five leading members the League. League HQ defenses are low-- I repeat, League HQ defenses are low. Prepare to invade, wait for my signal. Critical Spite OUT"
The disguised villain walked down the hallway towards the Hall of Justice, expecting nothing but a regular meeting with the leaders of the League. For almost a year, Spite had successfully infiltrated the esteemed organization. With his psionic ability, he donned the identity of Hypocampus-- with one goal in mind: gathering intel, the inner and outer working of the League for the villainous organization Vile Five.
"Hypo!", a voice called from behind Spite. Speeding towards him smiling was the fast-mouthed speedster hero-- The Silver Streak.
"Streak, hey!", putting on his fake smile Spite greeted the hero. Uncomfortably Streak put his arm across Spite's shoulders, despite his hatred towards the gesture Spite kept his façade.
"So, meeting eh? How exciting!", Streak remarked.
"It's just a regular meeting, Streak. We have this all the time"
"Of course, of course", Streak quickly corrected himself. Even without the use of his telepath Spite could tell Streak was hiding something.
"...isn't it?", Spite asked suspicious.
"Hmmm? Oh yeah, of course! Meeting! Regular meeting!", Streak replied with his trademark fast-paced speech.
Suspecting the worse Spite peeked into Streak's mind, *"Shit, shit! Me and my big mouth! Can't let the secret out to Hypo!"*
"Secret...", Spite muttered. But before he could react the huge door to Hall of Heroes stood before the two.
"Alright, here we go! Meeting! Regular meeting!", Streak sped towards the door opening it up. Wide-eyed, not knowing what sort of secret lied before the door Spite took a fighting stance-- fearing his own secret was out to the enemies.
"SURPRISE!", a large cheer came from the inside. Mouth agape, stunned in an awkward fighting position Spite couldn't believe what he saw.
The big five along with some familiar faces-- civilians whom Spite had saved in his effort to climb up the rank of the heroes.
"Wha...what is...?", Spite stuttered.
"Hypocampus! Congratulations on your promotion! You've done it again!", Queen Athena-- leader of the League congratulated Spite with open arms.
"Uh...what?", still in disbelief Spite stepped inside the Hall. "Promotion? What promotion?"
"Oh look at him, being humble and all", Oceanborn-- the Queen's second in command chuckled.
"Come on, Hype. Don't be shy", Streak sped towards Spite pulling him by the arms.
"Uh...hey!"
Never had Critical Spite experienced such celebration-- celebrating him nonetheless. All his life all he'd ever known was hatred and spite and life of villainy, not even his birthdays were ever celebrated. But then and there, the highest ranking and most revered figures in the world all took their time to celebrate him.
"Rejoice, Hypo! For today you have joined the rank of heroes within the league!", Queen Athena declared. "As I, Queen Athena-- along with myself Oceanborn, Silver Streak, Mother Nature, and Lionheart bear witness. We welcome you, Hypocampus as the leader of Tier 1 heroes of the league!"
Spite's jaw dropped, hearing Queen's Athena declaration. Tier 1 heroes were the strongest group of heroes within the League just below the founding members. Spite had been too busy in his endeavor to take down the league-- the fact that he had climbed that far eluded him.
"Uh but, Queen Athena, I....I don't deserve that position", Spite retorted trying to get out of the situation.
"Oh nonsense--", the kind voice of Mother Nature interjected. "We have seen your contribution to our citizens, to society at large. You deserve this position, Hypo. If you're still not sure ask any of them", Mother Nature smiling pointed at the civilians.
A little girl and a little boy ran towards Spite, hugging him by his hip. "Hypo, you're my favorite hero!", the little boy yelped.
"You save my dog from my burning house! I love you, Hypo!", the little girl exclaimed.
Spite was stunned. In his head those acts of heroism were mere ruse, but to these people...they were things that impacted them greatly.
"It's not much, but we made you cookies", a couple whom Spite recognized as the little girl's parents came up to him-- holding a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies.
"Th--thank you", Spite said holding back his tears.
"Oh this is good!", a silver streak sped past the plates-- taking half of it for himself.
"Streak! Behave yourself!", Lionheart roared his sonic boom voice prompting Streak to pout like a child-- and the whole room laughed.
Spite laughed along tearing up, his heart warm-- everybody in that room felt like a family, one that he never had.
"Critical Spite, report! We are ready to attack at your command!", the villainous voice called out from Spite's earpiece.
Wiping off his wet eyes, Spite took a bunch of cookies and stuffed them in his mouth.
"False alarm! Retreat back! Wait for further instructions tonight!", disguising his report as muffled chewing. The sweet treat forcibly made its way down Spite's throat-- choking he pushed it down with his telekinetic power, coughing profusely to the room's amusement. More laughter filled the air and Spite laughed with them, for the first time genuinely he was happy.
r/HangryWritey | *I’m saving you so you can see the world I own.*
There is much debate about why the hero’s always win. Is it that they are just stronger? I needed to know. Some suggest it’s our villain ego, too many of my kind get caught up in monologue. Others believe it’s their cooperation with each other and the police, but are those numbers enough to explain their near perfect record? One person suggested something that made others laugh.
The mad scientist banged his hand on the pipe. Cursing as blood swelled in his bruises fist. “A disgusting sewer? I am a distinguished inventor, I should dine with royalty.”
“If only you hadn’t failed in your quest for world domination.” I said, a delectable rat waddling in the crappy water drawing my attention.
He growled and clapped, right in front of my face. The loud sound ringing in my large sensitive ears. “shut up street rat, I took you off the curb and I can put you back. If only it wasn’t for those damned heros.”
I folded my wings over my head, protecting my eyes from seeing the super villain. “oh thanks, I love being a flying rodent. You really saved me, chief.”
He growled and pulled out a plastic bottle filled with pennies. It had a dreadful jingle that I’d recognize from a mile away. “Of all the things to make it out of my lab, it had to be this stupid bat brat.”
I flew up to the ceiling, latching onto a pipe and hanging above the man, holding my claws into my ears. “Only sore losers blame their underlings for losing!” I yelled. “Besides, if your death Rays could walk, I’m sure they would’ve made it out too.”
“It makes no sense!” He yelled, shaking his fists. The pennies clanged so loud, I fell face first on the slimy concrete. “I had every advantage, planned for everything, I even trapped them.” He looked down at me so I could parrot him.
I didn’t like the scientist, but without him I would probably be dead in a gutter. Though looking at my current surroundings, that didn’t sound half bad. I nodded.
“It has to be *that*, it makes no sense, but there’s no other alternative.”
“What is *that*?” I asked, shaking the sound of rattling pennies out of my ears.
“The power of justice.*
I blinked, then shook my head again, thinking the clanking change had messes with my hearing. “Did you just say the power of justice?” A smile cracked at the corner of my lips.
The man chased away my amusement with a threatening shake of his hand. I cowered away from the coins, but they didn’t rattle this time. Then the scientist laughed.
“Yes, yes, this is it! This is my hypothesis,” he smiled wickedly at me. “And I need to test it. Gather information.”
He grabbed under my arms and lifted me into the air. “You will enroll into the heroes’ internship, project Innocence. You will become a real hero and figure out what this power of justice really is... And then...” He cocked his head back and laughed, his crooked bite much more terrifying than my pathetic fangs. “I will take my place as rightful ruler of the world! I will live in the luxury I deserve.”
I raised my claw. “um one question. You want me, a lowly, failed experiment, minion, that makes babies cry, to become a hero?” | 2021-01-25T23:04:25 | 2021-01-25T21:55:18 | 224 | 63 |
[WP]You are an omnipotent god. Out of boredom you decided to live an ordinary human life vowing not to use your power. 15 years has pass and you have a 9 to 5 working for a major tech company. Your boss has been tormenting you for years and you have reach your limit | Another day, another hectic day at work. How do these earthlings even tolerate this? Ah, If only I could.....no, I vowed not to.*Sigh* Damn. It wouldn't be this bad if it weren't for that no good boss of mine. Oh, here he comes again. That son of a gun better mind his own business.
Dave(My boss): "Fuck are you thinking about?You're not paid to think, you dumb ape. I want these invoices on my desk in an hour or you'll have to find another job."
This guy has had it out for me ever since I joined here, two years ago. I look around to see if anybody heard that. No one looks up from their work, but who am I kidding? With a voice like that, the clerk in the building across the street would've heard his insults. If only he knew who I was, he would fall on his knees and grovel, like the scum he is. The odd part is, he doesn't treat anybody else the way he treats me. I wonder why? One would think I killed his cat or something.
(A long, arduous day later) And.....I'm done for the day. Managed to keep that timeline after all. Damn, what the hell does he want now?
Dave: Are you done with the filing I asked you to do?
(Internally)No shit. Why do you think I'm leaving, moron?
Me: Yes, Sir. Got them done just in time.
Dave: Good, then you can handle these purchases. I couldn't do them because I had to babysit your miserable ass.
Great. More work. This'll probably make me stay till midnight. That ass.
(One all-nighter later)
Shit, It's two in the morning. No sleep for me, I guess. Sometimes I wish I didn't have this mortal body, so bogged down by exhaustion. Sometimes I also watch as Dave takes the night off, or leaves early because he "felt like it". Anyway, I need to get home and get some rest, not that there'll be much of that.
(four and a half restless hours of sleep and 20 minutes of speeding later)
Shit, I'm ten minutes late. I hope Dave isn't there.
Dave: How you doing?
Shit.
Dave:Had your morning coffee yet? Did your momma forget to wake you up on time?
Me:Actually,I...
Dave:SHUT IT! I don't even know why you work here. Your lousy ass should've been fired on DAY ONE!!
You know what? Screw this guy. I'm tired of his BS.
Dave: Are you even listening, you idiot?
Me: You know Dave, I never really liked you.
Dave:Do you think I give a.....
Me:SHUT THE HELL UP!!!
My mortal disguise burned away, and I stood in front of him, godly aura et all. Dave might have had three heart attacks, and a couple of strokes thrown in with that.
Well, to cut a long story short, I decided the mortal world wasn't for me. I resigned from my job that day, and I've enjoyed life much more since then.
I'm sure Dave is fine. After all, humans don't NEED all their limbs to survive. Or their eyes. Or their ears. Or their hair. | Another day, sitting in my corner office. Chief Executive Officer. Things have been a lot more entertaining since I decided to come to earth and help speed things up. I knew it could be done without my powers. It just took a lot of knowledge. Humans are, after all, pretty stupid and easily manipulated.
Computers everywhere, cell phones with instant access to everything. Social media, drone weaponry, flat screen TV's. Little did the world know, I made it all happen from behind this desk. Its been glorio.....
*Ring Ring*
*Ring Ring*
"Hello? Yes dear. Of course dear. I know. Yes, I'll do it when I get home! Fine! YES! You already said that!"
*click*
She hung up on me again.
"That's it... I'm done. I can't handle this anymore!"
I blink. It's now 15 years earlier.
"You've got to be crazy to be a human. I am never doing THAT again! I don't care how bored I am..." | 2017-02-19T09:32:23 | 2017-02-19T08:58:06 | 44 | 33 |
[WP] One morning, you wake up and suddenly find yourself three years in the past, as if the last three years had never happened. It happened to the entire world and everyone remembers. | I felt a nudge on my shoulder and rolled my head to the side. My chin brushed up against a wisp of hair and my eyes opened up. There, lying in my arms, was the girl I had fallen in love with. But it didn't make sense, Alyssa had left me a year and a half ago; why was she here? More so, were we in her old apartment?
I looked around the room. Carefully rotating my head as to not wake her up. I didn't know what was going on, but I knew that when I was with Alyssa, I was happy; And chances were when she got up she would be confused, then angry, and then she would leave. Everything looked just like it had when she lived her that summer and I was taking classes. The picture of us was on her poster board, the stuffed animals I won her were carefully arranged on the futon, and all of her things were arranged perfectly in the room. It was as if someone was playing an elaborate joke on us. Somehow had managed to recreate the room, drugged us and placed us in it. That would explain how we got here at least; But it would also open up a whole new set of questions. As I glanced to the right I could see what looked like my phone from 2013 charging next to my back pack. If this was some sort of strange joke or fetish, whoever was pulling this off really did their research.
I opened my phone to see if it had any clues. The date read June 11th, 2013. All the messages were from before that day. How was this possible. Carefully I slide my arm out from underneath Alyssa and went over to where my laptop lay on the couch. It also said the year was 2013. I went to check my e-mail: 2013, I opened up yahoo: 2013, checked Facebook.: 2013. It was early, most people probably weren't up yet so the posts on my news feed were mostly from the night before. But one did strike me as odd: Jaime, a friend from Canada had posted "This is going to sound strange, but I just woke up in my old apartment. Does anybody know what's going on?" I found it strange, was it somehow possible that we had gone back three years? That wasn't possible, the post was probably some weird coincidence. Jaime probably just drank to much and stumbled into his old apartment.
I began to google significant events from the past few years, but nothing came up. No signs of Trump's candidacy for presidency, nothing about ISIS, no news coverage of Malaysian airlines. I couldn't find anything about the Sochi winter Olympics, or Germany winning the Fifa World Cup. Was it actually possible that I had traveled back in time? Was I the only one? Who else knows about this? Was the last few years just a dream? Was this an opportunity to do things better?
I glanced over at Alyssa, still asleep. I thought about how happy she had made me; and how bad I had fucked things up. Maybe this was my chance to do better. To really fix what I had done wrong. This was before she had met the guy she is dating now. Before I took that job in Ohio. Before I had to be away for 8 months. I could do it all different. I could tell her how I really felt about. I could make this work. The phone started to vibrate. I quickly picked it up and slipped out of the room: still careful not to wake Alyssa until I knew what was going on. It was 6:35, so if I was back in 2013 I had ten minutes before her alarm went off and she had to get up to go to work.
I answered the phone in the kitchen, everything out here looked the exact same as it had in 2013. "Brian," Rob's voice rang out over the phone. "This is going to sound like a strange series of questions, but I need to ask them so just stay with me." Rob sounded concerned, almost panicked, in a way he never gets. "Where are you right now Brian?" his voice questioned. I cautiously answered "I'm, well uh, I'm in Alyssa's kitchen. Trying not to wake her up." "Okay you too, Brian this might sound strange: What is the last thing you remember from last night?" I was cautious, did I tell Rob about last night as it was in 2013? or the night I had just had in 2016? Rob was my best friend, he would know if I was lying. "Rob, I'm going to be honest. The last thing I remember was coming home from getting Tacos and going to sleep......in Buffalo." There was a long pause...."Yea I think it happened to him to." Rob said t someone else in the room. "Brian, I don't know how, and this may sound insane, but I think we traveled three years back in time. My whole family remembers it being 2016, and you seem too also. Oh shit, Brian, if we remember, you need to get out of there. How is Alyssa going to react to you being in her apartment?" The last line hung heavy in the air. Rob remembered, his family remembered, I remembered. It was most likely that everyone remembered. "Yea, I'll.." I choked up for a moment. "....I'll take care of it. She'll already be confused as to why we are in her old apartment. I might as well stick around and explain what I know. You should start spreading the word to our friends. Start with Jon, maybe we can save him this time." I struggled to get the sentences out as I was hit with a wave of emotion. I had so much hope of fixing things this time. And it was all just ripped away from me. "Yea, I'll get on that. You stay safe man" Rob exclaimed as he hung up the phone.
I put down the phone and leaned against the wall. Tears began to stream down my face as I realized it all. Everyone remembered. This wasn't going to be a chance to fix my wrong doings, because they had already happened. I slide down the wall suddenly painfully aware of everything I had done. I knew I should get up and do something, tell someone. But I just wanted to stay on the ground. The door creaked as it swung open and Alyssa stepped out in her bath robe. "....are you okay?" Alyssa's soft voice questioned. She knew, I could tell. If she didn't know she would have called me hun. I clenched my eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath. "We uh, we should probably find your boyfriend. How did you figure it out?" I asked. "I woke up and saw the calendar a minute ago. Then my mom just texted me. My dad's been up for two hours , was fishing for an hour before anything even seemed off to him." She chuckled as she thought of her dad beginning to question his surroundings.
I sat there on the floor. Still not sure what to do. After being so close to being able to be a better man then I had been, it was dashed away from me. Alyssa leaned in and kissed me on the check softly. "I thought about it too. Fixing all the mistakes I made. But we don't get to do that. We just have to be better from no on." She knew exactly what I had been thinking. She always did. She stood up and began to walk back to her room. "If it is 2013, I guess I have to get going and get to work." I sat there, just listening and remembering how much fun this summer had been the first time we lived it. She showered, changed, got her things together and headed for the door. "You're welcome to stay her as long as you like today, but it's probably best you don't stay the night. We did break up after all." Some smart ass part of me wanted to mention that technically we hadn't broken up yet, a more sentimental part just wanted to tell her how much I loved her. In the end all I could muster was "I have your keys." She was confused, responding with a simple "what?". "It's 2013, you always struggled with the lock on your apartment door, so I just kept your keys on my lanyard since I was here so often anyways and I could unlock the door for you." "oh right, silly me" she responded as she went to grab her keys and left. I sat there and watched the love of my life walk away from me again. It still hurt from the first time, and it probably hurt more this time.
Note: Thanks for reading, sorry it's a little long. | I looked at my phone's date again.
The alphanumeric characters were indeed listed as 23/5/2013.
This must be a software issue of some sort.
Checking my laptop, I find the same date.
...No way - did it happen? Did it actually happen?
Adrenaline pumping, I get dressed and bust my way out the door. I've been dreaming of something like this happening for years now, please let it be true, please, oh please... let it be true.
At a nearby magazine kiosk, all the print issues are dated May 2013. No effing way, man. The past two years - did any of it actually happen? Did I just imagine hitting rock bottom? Did I just hallucinate all those days of despair, longing, and all the regret? Was all the drinking and drug abuse, self-loathing, all the pointless hookups, all the recurring dreams just my head playing tricks with me?
I buy a pack of L&M Forwards, the kind with the ball in the filter that you squeeze to make the cigarette minty - good thing I had the ten *zlotych* in my wallet, because Jesus Christ knows I need a smoke right now.
I drag through about three of the damn things, consecutively, as I decide if I should do what I've been wishing and yearning to do all this time - trying to muster the strength and the *cahones* to do what no sane man would do: attempt to revisit the echoes and ashes of a world he had long ago abandoned... but continually dwelt within, mercilessly and painfully.
Nothing to lose, and my phone's dead - shit. Looks like I'm gonna' have to do it, then. So, about twenty minutes later, streetcar 10 has me approaching the Forbidden Zone, my Europa, my Ground Zero; the place I have avoided for the past few years - or *had* I? Was it all just a vision, a premonition to show me how things might unfold if I don't act now? Have I truly had a Scrooge-style experience, and now have an opportunity to fulfill my most relentless of desires?
Only one way to find out.
I step out of the streetcar and cross the street I used to cross twice a day so casually, now with all my hair standing on end. I am fueled by a writhing, abominable amalgamation of fear and hope. My mouth is dry, my breathing heavy, as I approach the ex-communistic apartment building's buzzer and press a certain button.
Moments of silence pass. I think I'm about to explode, or collapse - maybe both.
Then a voice answers. Despite the static of the audio electronics, it is obvious at once whose voice it is. It is She... my guilty obsession.
"Yes?" She inquires, in that voice that would make jealous all the angels of heaven, in that high pitch that would thrust all the demons of hell into a lustful panic. I am shocked. I must act natural. I must not act like anything is different. What was it like, three years ago?
"Er- Hey, babe. It's, uh, it's me." I sound like an idiot, of course. I am surrounded by deafening silence for what seems like years. My knees are quaking. "Um... 'darling?' You had better, um... just come up," she finally replies. "We need to talk."
Oh, shit.
Each step up the stairs feels like an individual mountain, each minuscule twitch of my leg muscles is a herculean task. I can hear my blood angrily pounding against the walls of my circulatory system. A talk. Relax, it's probably nothing. Her door is open when I arrive to her floor. We approach each other, both clearly confused, surprised.
"My love, I have had the most fucked-up dream," I begin saying, as I slowly move in to embrace her, so I may once more breathe in the fresh scent of her hair, so I may once more gently touch her small form, drown myself in the softness and purity of her skin and lose myself in the arctic sea of her cold blue eyes. All for naught - she stops me.
"It wasn't a dream, Kris. Something strange has happened, I don't know what - it happened to *us*, too."
Oh no. No, no, no, no, no nononononono.
"You mean-" I say, as I reach around and open her door a little more. There he is, the lucky douche, in his expensive haircut and pressed blazer. My Oblivious Adversary, the Unknowing Usurper. He smiles smugly and gives a slight wave to me from over his smartphone, like a tired horse lazily flicking its tail to carelessly shoo away gnats. All is clear, now.
"It's you," I say to him, and turn back to the objective of my excursion. "And you. You two... You're just going to ignore the time travel stuff and continue as you were, aren't you?"
Unable to look me in the eyes, she looks down, her white hair (once black... or, soon-to-be-black, rather) obscuring her face.
"Kris... I-"
"Wait," I interrupt her. "Just let me process this, ok? I beg you." She slowly nods in response.
"Please don't do anything stupid, Kris..."
It's pretty obvious there is a deity, now, despite my years of skepticism. A random universe couldn't possibly be this cruel. Some god has seen fit to make me relive the fate of Tantalus in my own, personal way. I step back.
"I thought it was only me. I thought that we... It doesn't matter. Something weird is going on and we all have to figure it out for ourselves. You two take care."
As I continue to go back down the stairs, she calls to me once, then twice. By then I'm already running out the door. Nothing matters, and everything is intrinsically terrible, and I need a drink, screw the weird time-space stuff.
Back at the streetcar station, I am sitting alone, staring at my shoes. The first signs of panic and rioting erupts in the streets. The smell of fear is on the wind. I don't care. I just sit there, waiting for the 10, and pray that the pub is open.
As a multum of people begins arguing over lottery numbers at the nearby lotto booth, all I can think is *"I deserve this."*
| 2016-06-11T12:57:13 | 2016-06-11T11:47:45 | 128 | 41 |
[WP] Humans are the deadliest, and rarest, species in the known universe. Often, search parties go missing due to a singular encounter with a human ship. It has recently come to light that there is an entire planet full of them. | Galactic level technology was a dangerous thing. It was fickle, powerful, and specific, and to work with it required a great deal of patience and experience. In our dawn we almost destroyed ourselves as we built up the sunder engines, and our existence almost wiped when we inherited the fold engines. But we were patient, and we took small steps. We spent generations to test a single machine, even when the burning desire to reach the next system was all consuming, and our reward was the universe. Distance was relative, and now a light year was but a moment, time and space at our disposal.
We were the first to inherit responsibility as the overseers of the galaxy. We found new worlds, new people, and we taught them what they needed to do, guided them when they needed to change, and helped them when they fell to their knee at the tragedies each world had. We thought we had seen it all.
The short lived, terrified of non-existence, relentlessly progressing with no sense of morality in a crusade towards genetic immortality. The ancient, large, and slow, struggling to keep up among those whose time were faster. The honorable, stuck in an endless war, already having forgotten why they fight because to give up was to lose honor, and to lose honor was worse than death.The empathetic, cursed to a dying world which they could no save alone. The sick, whose worlds had abandoned them, living them to slow and cruel deaths.
We had seen their struggles, and we had done our best to fix their woes. Then there were the humans, beings we still have not fully defined. Beings of spite, for this is why they lived. Their goals, accomplishments, their wars, all out of a spite to prove their worth, and once that worth was attained it was never enough, and the feeling of inadequacy would not fade, so they would seek out one more trial, until they could accomplish no more. Doomed to wanting importance and success, and not just this, but the impossible feeling to have *earned* what they have.
We never saw their world in person, by the time we arrived to what scouts had found, there was nothing. It was a single, small planet, covered with water, and with a single satellite. From the surface, the satellite was the same diameter as their star. It must have been beautiful when the two converged. Yet now there was nothing, no debris, no satellite, just an uncomfortable void in space that slipped a message into your gut, which overtook your body as you stood where they once did. 'Something about this is so very wrong.'
The Voyager 1 was hard to find but we did eventually discover it. Full of formulas and math and pictures, biological diagrams and a letter that took some time to translate. Hundreds of years had passed since its launch, so even with the probes information we were left in the dark about the rapid advancement of the last six hundred years. Our readings from devices we had set up around their cluster produced confusing results, unlike anything we have seen before, but our theories have explained it as best we could.
They had attempted to build an equivalent to a sunder engine, primitive by galactic standard, but a solid keystone in individual advancement. However they ran into the issue we did, the speed of light, which seemed impossible to surpass. Our solution was the production of certain chemicals and elements that, from what we understand, could not occur in the environments of earth, nor in what they considered sterile environments. Their solution was to bypass the speed of light, by ignoring its limits entirely. Their engine was fueled by the phenomenon of how gravity and mass effects time dilation to send ships forward, their own speed both bypassing and being below the speed of light. It was a confusing and dangerous idea, but clearly it held some ground in reality. Perhaps if they still persisted in this existence, they could have explained it to us more. Their ingenuity would be treasured by all.
Something had gone wrong, and now an entire pocket of space was missing, simply empty, with the vague feeling that something should be there. We figured we could study the anomaly, mark history of these brave explorers and their plight to prove themselves to none other than the empty stars above, to beings and entities that they weren't sure even existed. In the official markings, that was it, they humans were gone, and the Galactic Leaders made one final note of the humans. "You strove to prove yourself, and so you have. You risked it all for your own goals, and so we make your name immortal."
We thought it to be the end, that their sad story would not continue. We thought that the void of space would fade over time and the only place humans would exist would be in the histories of the galaxy. Yet we did not predict what would occur. Their interactions with time proved fatal to all, not just the humans and their world. It started small, inexplicably rare, reports of hairless bipeds in armor with weapons, ranging from the hides of unknown beasts to some thick and powerful fabric, from swords and spears to rifles and other guns. All accounts shared the same description, the bipeds seemed to not quite exist, glowing like a faint mist that interacted with the world as if they were flesh and bone.
At best the visions would be isolated, screaming battles between two sides of the ghosts, that faded with shrill, echoing cries. At worst people would be caught between them, the bullets and swords fading but the wounds they caused very real. Their history, all possible pasts and futures flattened, only to tear through barriers of time and space to exist for mere minutes, to see worlds and places they could only dream of, but stuck in actions with context lost to our eyes. We felt great sorrow for them, but even the most sympathetic delirious beast must be put down. | I’m pretty sure at least someone fainted when I gave the
news. Just the thought of a large group of humans could strike fear into the
hearts of the bravest. And now, we found they’re much larger than a group. Our
estimates of only thousands are now at least billions. They all swarm, scheme
in one place. A place they’ve simply dubbed as, Earth.
You could be a transporter, pilot, or just a tourist. If
they found your ship, you’re screwed. We have only a few recordings on their attacks.
They’ll bust the door down with these weird bullet shooter things, and get their
hands an everything they can. And yes, that includes civilians too. So far, we
have exactly one survivor. And that survivor… doesn’t exactly have his whole
head.
The room became more restless as more and more photos were shown of this vicious planet. The room buzzed with courses of action. We clearly can’t
tell the public this horrific news. We also certainly can’t make peace with
them, it’s way too far than that. No, the only course it to completely nuke
them. This is why I’ve made the X-Striod.
The X-Stroid can hold over 500 gallons of Eqaliud; a chemical
lethal to all extraterrestrial life. It turns the chemical into a laser, and
injects it pure into one direction. Since we now have clear coordinates of
Earth, all we have to do is simply shoot and watch their atmosphere become
nothing but toxin.
I demonstrated a small prototype and blueprints to the
planet leaders around me. Needless to say, they were ecstatic and relived. We
could finally be rid of the plague of the universe, or at least most of it.
Most were rushing to sign on to the agreement. Some were hesitance
with how resources and money this would cause, but they decided it would
probably be better than human invasion and absolute destruction.
The last one to sign on looked strange. They were definitely
from the Arion species, but I don’t remember inviting them. They also signed a
named that was very weird. Emily Christman? Was that a common name there?
“So, are you positive it’ll work just like you said?” they
asked coldly to me, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh, I’m more than positive.” I assured with a smile.
They chuckled. “Good, this is just what we needed.”
I didn’t even have time to be confused as I felt a sharp
stab. In an instant the Arion was flying around the room, taking everyone out
one by one. I feel to the floor as I began to bleed out, watching in horror as
they continued the violent assault. Their sword slashes were quick and effortless.
They also seemed to be… glitching out? They slowly formed into another species.
They began to take the shape of… oh my god.
When it finally finished, it slowly trotted back to the
where I was, admiring their handiwork. It carefully grabbed the prototype and blueprints
as I could do nothing. My vision was starting to blur.
Making its way at
the door, it looked back at me with a smirk. They spoke for a final time.
“You know, we’re not only fantastic killers, but spies as
well. Do you ever know what wiretapping is? Well, it doesn’t matter now.
Anyways, thanks for the new toy!
A low laugh is the last thing I heard before going dark. | 2017-11-08T19:44:53 | 2017-11-08T19:08:38 | 249 | 77 |
[WP] The end of the world is at hand. Everyone starts to tick off their bucket list, doing crazy things because they know it won't matter in the long run. In an odd twist of fate, the crisis is averted. Now everyone has to live with the repercussions of what they did. | Jenna had a taste for blood, which was something she tried to hide until now. Her boyfriend Todd always thought she was a bit odd, and was shocked when she asked him to help her. “But we are only going after the bad guys, ya know the ones who hurt children and those who deserve it” she tried to justify her actions. Todd was a little bit thrown off but he could try to understand, because he loved Jenna immensely. “Just do it with me once and see how you feel.”
So they set off to find the perfect kill. 36 year old Alexander Stone. He was the perfect candidate; sent to jail on multiple occasions for child endangerment, molestation, and attempted murder. Somehow, one of the officers messed up the case work and he got off with probation. “Someone needs to teach these guys a lesson, and it might as well be us” Jenna scoffed.
They tracked down his address, followed his schedule, found out when he had his kids, etc. so nobody would be around to witness it. All went according to plan. They packed a rope, duct tape, knife, pliers, bolt cutters and a gun, just in case things went awry.
Around 9:30 on Halloween night, they snuck around his house, waiting for him to go to sleep. He was passed out in the living room chair with a bottle of booze in his hand. “Just remember he deserves whatever happens to him.”
Alexander awoke gagged and bound to the chair, half mutilated. He starts screaming but nobody can hear him. “Alright let’s make this quick and try not to wake up the neighbors.” Todd was nervous, his hands shaking, barely able to hold onto the bolt cutters. “Just give me those and let me finish him off!” Jenna shouted in disappointment at her pathetic boyfriend. She made the final cut and let him bleed out slowly, watching the life drain from his eyes.
After the deed was done, they heard the front door handle jiggle. “Nobody is supposed to be here for another few days! Todd what are you doing, aim the gun and shoot, we can’t get caught!” Jenna shouted. Todd shot a few rounds and then there was silence.
“No no no no noooo! What did you do!” Jenna screamed. “I-I- it was an accident! You told me to shoot whoever entered!” Todd cried. The front door lay opened to Alexander’s 12 year old son and ex wife lying on the front step. They forgot it was Halloween night, and Alexander’s son stopped by to surprise him with his costume and candy “We are only supposed to go after the bad guys! I knew I should have never brought you along, I should have done this myself!” In shock, Todd starts weeping, while Jenna drags the bodies into the house. “It’s time to leave, just try to forget this whole thing!”
But Todd couldn’t forget and it soon started eating him alive. He started distancing himself from Jenna, realizing she had no real emotions toward anything. “How could I have been such a fool? She only wanted me to be involved in her little game, she never cared about me.”
Jenna found Todd the next day, hanging in the garage with a suicide note, explaining everything they had done. Jenna called the police shortly after she arrived at Todd’s house. When the police arrived, they found him hanging with a note on the floor saying “I no longer belong here, as much as I have tried I can’t hide from my demons any longer” Jenna forged Todd’s handwriting on the note, and stuck the original in her back pocket. She cried and acted in shock of what happened as the police questioned her. “How could he do this, we were planning a life together!”
As soon as she got in her car to leave, her phone started ringing. “Hey John, yes we’re still on for today. Have you tracked him down yet? Alright I’ll be there as soon as I’m done packing the bag. I love you too, and I’m so glad you want to do this with me. Someone needs to teach these guys a lesson and it might as well be us. Just remember, he deserves whatever happens to him.” | *Why*?
That was the only question that I could keep asking myself.
Why did I sit here and do nothing? The world was ending you idiot, and you did nothing. You let her die!* Tears were swelling in my eyes. Before I knew it, the dam of emotions burst and the tears came pouring down my cheeks. I could taste the salt from the tears. *"We will go together in a peaceful manner." I can remember her saying. "If I'm going to die, I'm going to do it on my own terms."* I kept reliving the moment over and over and over. Perhaps a part of me wishes that I could magically change the outcome. *"Ok."* I told her. *"I'll do it with you. We'll go together".* I backed out at the last minute though. But by then it was too late. She had already injected the morphine. I held her hand in her last minute of life. "I love you". Those were her last words.
Light was starting to come through the kitchen window and hit the bottle sitting beside me. *It must be morning then. Looks like I was here all night.* The announcement came the night before just hours after she died. *The world was not ending anymore apparently. Some stroke of dumb luck saved us. But I wish it hadn't. She died for nothing!* I got up from the kitchen floor and walked through the door into the hallway passing by the photos of her that hung on the wall. I stopped to look at one. It was the one I took of her on her birthday last year. How beautiful she looked that day. I remember it like it was yesterday. But the longer I looked, the more pain it brought. *This place is too painful for me to stay.* I grabbed my keys and wallet and walked outside. *I must never return.* The sun was just starting to rise. I got in my car and drove away with painful memories that I will never be able to escape reliving for the rest of my life.
| 2017-11-29T08:11:25 | 2017-11-29T08:08:00 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] You have been prank calling a foreign number for years because of the hilariously angry reactions of the victim at the number. Today men in black suits brought you in for questioning, wanting to know why you have been calling the number of a major terrorist leader so frequently. | "First of all," I said. "Have you heard his voice? Dude's fucking hilarious. Nasal, check. High pitched, check. Funny accent, check. Added bonus, he squeaks before he shouts. The guy fucking squeaks when he gets angry! Who *wouldn't* prank call him?"
One of the agents slammed his hands down on the metal table. It echoed in the shipping container like the slamming of a prison door. "No more of this bullshit!"
The other flipped open the manilla file in front of her and drew a beautifully manicured fingernail lazily down the list of calls. She nodded to the guy, who withdrew with dignity. "Forty-nine phone calls."
"Sounds about right," I said.
"Irregularly spaced."
"I only call when I have good material," I told her. "Artistic integrity."
"Always at night."
"That's when I drink."
The man sneered at me. "Got an answer for everything, don't you?"
Paradoxically, that stumped me.
The woman flipped to the second sheet of paper. "April thirteenth. The day before the Syrian Embassy in Mumbai was bombed. You called up asking for Holden McCrotch."
I laughed, in spite of the situation. "Yeah, I remember that one."
She wasn't laughing. "The embassy insider's name was Richard Holden."
"So?"
She glared. "So you knew about Mr Holden?"
"What? No! No. Are you kidding? If I knew about a guy called Dick Holden, do you think I would have had to stretch to McCrotch? Look, I'm sure you could find a bunch of coincidences. It's a Bible Code thing, isn't it? There's bound to be -"
"November seventeenth. The evening before the attack on the offices of Der Spiegel. You phoned up asking if his refrigerator was running."
I was a little embarrassed by that one. "It was a homage. Paying tribute to the classics. I never did any Simpsons jokes. I thought that was played out, you know?"
The man sipped his coffee. "The bomb was placed in a refrigerator."
"I would never have done that," I said. "Not least of all because that's normally where they put them in the movies to contain the explosion," I said. "I thought those things were indestructible."
"A refrigerator never stopped any explosion," the woman said.
I shrugged - as well as I could in handcuffs. "Tell that to Indiana Jones," I said. The male agent reared up. "Don't hit the table!" I shouted. "That shit's really loud."
"December twelfth," she said. "The night before the hijacking of flight 525 from Latakia."
"I don't even know where that is!"
"You called to order a pizza. Insisting his number was a pizzaria's called 'The Mighty Sausage'."
"Not my best," I said. "I was thinking -"
The man threw his coffee cup against the wall. "And the next day a rocket was launched against Chennai University! Who do you think we're looking to pin this on?"
"Chennai A&M?"
He grabbed me by the lapels and dragged me upwards. The chair strained against the bolts on the floor. The metal of the cuffs grated against the bones of my wrists. "You think your smart mouth is going to get you out of this trouble?"
"Why not?" I asked. "It got me into it." He dropped me back down. I landed on my thumb, twisting it painfully. "I don't know anything about this!" I yelled. "They were just prank calls! You can't keep me here! I don't know anything!"
The woman closed the file. "We're going to give you some time to think about this," she said.
"I want my phone call," I said.
"Enemy combatants don't get lawyers," the man said.
I smiled winningly. "I wasn't going to call my lawyer," I said. "I was going to call Achmed Samir."
They both looked straight at me. "Why?" the woman said.
"You said I'd made forty-nine calls," I told them. "If I'm going to be thrown into Guantanamo Bay for the rest of my life, I at least want to make an even fifty." | "Wait..What?!" I yelled to the men, both with a blank expression on their faces
"We see you called the number 240-555-8692, so frequently that it is threatening to why you are calling that much." One of the two quickly snapped back
"Uh..why does it matter?" I said in a concerned voice
The two men looked at each other and noded;
"Sir the person you are calling is a major terrorist leader..we've already seen your criminal history, we were honestly shocked at the little crimes you've commited..so why have you been calling Mr. Naifeh?"
I was stunned.. "I have been **fucking prank calling a terrorist leader for the past 4 years?!**" I thought to myself.
"Uh..it..was...uh" My heart is pounding by now
"I..I have been prank calling him for the past 4 or so years now.."
The men looked at each other.. they honestly looked like they wanted to just blow my head off and leave..
**"Sir.."** I could hear him physically cringing his teeth
**"What..TYPE..of prank calls?"** He said..
I looked over to the other man, by now he looked like he was about to punch me in my teeth
"Uh..like..uh..Should I gave an example of a conversation I had with him?"
**"Sure..sir.."**
I was sweating by now.. but.. alright now to pretend prank call a terrorist leader infront of 2 MIB
*"Hello? Who the hell is this?"*
"Hey boss.. I got you your partners vibrator shipment.."
*"God damnit STOP FUCKING CALLING ME!"*
"Sir what are you talking about? I have them.. oh and the guys are bringing in the box of herpes cream at the moment sir."
*"IF YOU CALL ME AGAIN ILL BLOW YOUR HEAD OFF!"*
The man who had been silent for most of my questioning told me I was then free to leave.. when I was leaving I could hear them slamming something on the table.. | 2015-11-03T15:01:37 | 2015-11-03T14:32:45 | 97 | 21 |
[WP] Humans are known for being intelligent, empathic, loyal, and exceedingly versatile. As a result, humans have become the most in-demand service animals in the history of the Galaxy. | "Welcome to the Milky Way Center pet store, may I help you?"
"Yeah, I would like some advice. My son need a pet."
"Is it for a birthday? How old is he? Any special taste?"
"Oh, no. He just entered the red-level school, so still almost in its rebellious phase. But he is a little... in depression since... well... anyway, we were advised to consider buying a pet, so that he can relearn how to trust others, and take care of peoples."
"I see... Don't worry. I think I have exactly what you need: a human!"
"A human, are you sure? I've heard that they needed a lot of care in their early life, I'm not sure my son has that much time."
"Don't worry. We also sell 'teenagers' humans. They're passed the age where they needed constant care, they are fully able to clean themselves and eat properly. But they're young enough so that your son will be able to bond with them and form this legendary loyalty no other pet has. Moreover, they're very empathic and intelligent, so the perfect choice for your depressive child."
"Oh, I see, thank you. By the way, my son will be at school most of the time, so..."
"No problems. It is true that contrary to xoulgruiyns, humans do feel the time, and will become bored and depressive without any occupation. Fortunately, their high level of intelligence allow them to enjoy primitive kind of video-games. We have a full catalogue of them, and you can also consider our partner "Play Together" subscription: more than 1 million games translated to human language and adapted to human vision and hearing, so that your son can play on his copy of the game while your pet play on the "Play Together" version of it with him. Moreover, your pet will gladly use its time while your son is at school on those games."
"I see. That seems perfect! Just two more questions: what about life expectancy, and what about breeding?"
"Oh, I see you care about every details. Fortunately, we took care of everything. Humans have a rather long life expectancy. He will be in full health during at least the full scholarship of your son. One very important point is that your son will need to learn to take care of the mental health of hit pet. We strongly advise to give to your pet artistic and scientific teaching during its teenage, as if it feel 'useless' and 'unable to help in any way its master', he will quickly fall in depression. Additionally, for breeding, while the human we sell are sterile, they will still try to breed when they can."
"Why? Aren't they clever enough to know understand they're sterile?"
"They fully understand they're sterile. In fact, we discovered they were more likely to try to breed when sterilized. However, do NOT force humans to breed together. They have a very complex system of affinity and preference, which can be quite puzzling for us, by forcing them to breed when they don't, you might break their loyalty to their master."
"I though humans were the most loyal pets?"
"As long as they don't feel betrayed. You see, humans have pets too, so they understand what it is to be a master, and have expectations on how a master should behave."
"Humans have pets? I didn't know?"
"Mostly dogs and cat. They're too short lived for us, so we rarely advice them to our client. However, if your son were to leave its pet for a long duration, we would strongly advice to buy a dog or a cat, so that it does not feel alone."
"Not another human?"
"It is very difficult to know in advance how a human will react to another human. Their system of preference for friendship is even more complex than their breeding preference."
"Thank you very much, sir. Human are far more complex than what I though, but it looks like the perfect choice."
"If you may follow me, we can talk about your son and what human would be the best fit among the one we currently have in stock." | The giant neon sign for “HUMANS R US” reflected bright in Xander’s eyes as he scoped the glass container of humanoids.
“Look Xander, we don’t have all century. Hurry and pick out your favorite model.” His mom said soothingly as she patted Xander’s back.
“But there’s so many different kinds,” Xander said with wide eyes and he stroked the glass encasing the different types of humanoids, “and they all do different things!”
He rushed toward a small Asian human model to the far left and pounded his finger against the glass.
“This one is intelligent and loyal, but can be aggressive! She has the look I want and she’s my size, “ his eyes got huge with delight, “but this one, THIS ONE,” he rushed toward the right and put both hands against the glass, “this one has me feeling a sort of way!”
He stared up at the 6’5 African American humanoid male that twirled in circles on the display.
“In the end, you can always bring them back and exchange for another dear,” his mother said with a big sigh as she clutched both ends of his shoulders.
Xander paced back and forth looking at both of his favorite models while tapping his chin with curiosity.
“THIS IS SUCH A HARD DECISION,” he grabbed his face and let out a giant moan.
In the corner a humanoid salesman approached them, “may I help make your decision better?” He smirked and walked up to the small Asian humanoid Xander had originally been ogling.
“She’s 25% off” he smiled a big Cheshire smile as he put his finger on the glass and traced it down.
“SOLD. Where do I sign?” Xander’s mom stepped in front of him eagerly. — | 2019-04-22T08:01:21 | 2019-04-22T00:22:19 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Everyone in North Korea has disappeared over night. Everyone but one. It is up to the glorious leader Kim-Jong-Un to make it appear as if nothing happened. | This is ridiculous. It is clearly light outside. Why are they not coming!
Kim-Jong-Un was getting really uncomfortable, a feeling he was not used to. His bladder had been first cautiously signaling to him that relief was required. Now his bladder was screaming.
Why didn't they come!?
Kim-Jong-Unlet out a sigh and did the inconceivable. He pushed his silken sheets away and stepped out of bed.
His slippers were not there. The floor was cold. Nobody turned on the floor heating at 4:30 as usual. Kim-Jong-Un liked to sleep in a chilly room, but disliked being cold getting up.
No robes.
Kim-Jong-Un was losing his patience, but he didn't want to shout. It would seem beneath after all. He was the Glorious Leader.
He made his way to the toilet door, pausing a second before opening it. He let out a sigh and turned the handle. Nobody here, but that was normal.
Kim-Jong-Un relieved himself and considered the appropriate amount of punishment for each of his servants and their bosses. A smile formed on his face.
He decided against getting dressed. Too much trouble.
He would just go outside his room and shout a bit at his guards. They are to blame just as much as his absent servants.
There were no guards.
Kim-Jong-Un didn't quite panic at this point but certain scenarios ran through his head that had been unthinkable yesterday.
The Americans sent in a Black Ops crew and are on its way to assassinate the Salvation of Korea.
Why didn't they wake him?
Kim-Jong-Un quickly ran towards the grand bookshelf and pushed the secret button. A section of the bookshelf sprang open and he entered his safe room. Not the biggest of safe rooms in the palace, but it would do for now.
He picked up the security phone and waited for an acknowledgment. It didn't come.
Hello! Hello! Answer me! This is your Leader! HELLO!
Unbelievable. Were the Americans this good? They couldn't be better than the North Korean Defense Force. What is going on!?
His regular phone was equally silent.
Kim-Jong-Un just sat behind his desk staring at the wall. How much time passed he didn't know. The only thing he learned was that he hated the wall paper. It needed to be replaced.
He was hungry. He didn't like any of the food in the fridge. He took a pistol and ammo from the armory and headed towards the kitchen. Maybe he would meet someone who could enlighten him why they were ignoring their Leader.
Nobody. Not even in the kitchen. He didn't like any of the food here either. He would have to prepare it himself. Too much trouble. He just took a Pepsi Max from the fridge and drank that.
With breakfast over and done with he went to the communication center. Still nobody. He was getting used to it, and made a note to himself not to act surprised when he would meet someone. The Glorious Leader is always in control.
Nobody here either. The systems were still up. He checked the logs. He remembered how, because there had been a demonstration by a nervous officer. He hadn't liked that. Nobody in charge should show anything but control. He had him sent away.
The logs stopped at 03:43. No communications after this point except automated messages.
Not good. Not good at all.
All systems should the same thing. All human input stopped at 03:43.
Kim-Jong-Un turned on the TV and switched to Foxnews, his favorite channel.
Not good.
It was a report on strange happenings in North Korea. The North Korean side of the border had been found empty by observers. Military advisers were pointing towards an imminent attack by North Korea on South Korea. The borders had been vacated so that South Korean forces could be bombarded with artillery or even tactical nukes.
The American Forces had gone to DEFCON level 2. They were preparing for nuclear war. The Chinese and Russians were equally frantically scrambling their forces.
Not good.
Only one way out.
Kim-Jong-Un had also paid attention on how to initiate an automated nuclear attack. He had liked the officer who gave the demonstration much better. He was cold as ice. He was promoted.
Kim typed in his personal code and flipped the switch.
Kim-Jong-Un headed towards the fridge to get another Pepsi Max. He would watch WW3 on the big TV.
Kim-Jong-Un smiled when he spotted the first atomic mushroom behind a reporter in Seoul.
He is the Greatest Leader North Korea ever had!
| The supreme leader groggily fumbled with the camera controls. It hadn't worked outright, it didn't even applaud when he entered the room. He'll have it executed later. Frustration slowly crept across to the face of the supreme leader. He had risen in the middle of the afternoon, for nobody had been granted to privilege to wake him from his slumber. He ignored his rumbling stomach as he continued to work the camera. No servant had brought him breakfast this morning. They must have feared bringing out an inferior dish, angering him and risk being send to the camps. He smiled to himself. Did they not know the punishment for failing your tasks was outright execution? Such simple folk, yet his folk. He would forgive their families and only execute the offenders themselves. "These people are lucky I'm not my father" he told himself.
He took a step back and glared angrily at the camera, execution was way too good for this device.
He would have it send to the mines.
As he continued staring at the camera that did not flinch nor apologize, he noticed something and started laughing.
It was a private bout of laughter and he was grateful his servants allowed him to solo this one. Normally they would've all tried to laugh alongside him. He had simply forgotten to turn the crank of the camera. No wonder it didn't work.
He smiled to himself and shook his head.
The families of the servants that hadn't woken him nor presented him breakfast sure are going to get it now. By forfeiting their tasks they directly allowed the supreme leader to blunder. He inspected the crank of the modern piece of technology in front of him. He did so for 10 minutes... but no servant came out to rotate the crank for him.
"Oh the sacrifices I make, the hands that rule the nation reduced to labour." He retrieved a small notebook from his pocket and noted down the current date to have it listed as a national day of mourning, then he rotated the crank. The machine started buzzing and spun to life. It had been half a day since the supreme leader last addressed the world. Without his guidance the rebelling nations must have taken to the streets. As the light on the camera changed to red, he stepped in front of it and delighted the world with his image. | 2016-05-12T01:39:27 | 2016-05-11T16:04:37 | 65 | 11 |
[WP] The year is 3015 and you’re the last person on earth. You’re outside farming and growing your dinner like usual when suddenly you hear a loud, distorted voice from the sky saying “Yeah this planet will do…” | "To be lonely is to be whole." The phrase repeated in my head as I tilled the dirt again and again. It continued to echo in my mind as I moved from one patch of dirt to the next in a mindless lull. The crops would need to be rotated soon, I thought; that thought replacing the ever repeating phrase and breaking me from the monotony. Winter was setting in fast and if I didn't get the wheat down fast then my life would be even harder come spring. That was a lesson I'd learned early. One of the first winters on my own, after I'd lost the cows those many moons ago. God I remember bawling for days after at the thought of being lonely once again. But one day for whatever reason that week I got wise. Realized that loneliness was nothing in the face of the rest of the world.
I dropped another seed into the ground, covering it up with a small pile of moist dirt, and then moving on to the next hole in a seemingly endless row. Of course deep down I knew it not to be, but with no end in sight it was a hard sell for my brain.
As the wind picked up I brought my hood up over my head and pulled my collar up a little further. Wasn't usually so much wind out here, especially with the trees acting as a windbreak and all, but today it was unusually violent. It picked up more and more over the next few minutes until the trees bent. Until the hood was blown from my head and the seeds ripped from my hand. I watched as the dirt I had just covered a seed with was blown away, taking the seed with it. The dirt whipped at my neck and stung my eyes until I had no choice but to duck flat on the ground.
Then, just as fast as it had started, it stopped with a suddenness that put my hair on end. What followed was complete quiet. As if the world had been sucked dry of its sounds and I would never hear anything again. I tested just to be sure, letting out a single word. "Hello?" my voice trailed off into the field. Then, as if in reply, a voice boomed from above.
“Yeah this planet will do!” I looked around for a face to connect to the noise only to find nothing. So I settled on the sky instead.
"Will do what?" I spoke up to the sky. There was a long pause before the next reply.
"...We had not realized this planet was inhabited. Scans showed quite the opposite." the voice boomed. "Are you the only life form left?"
" I suppose so. Always figured I was but with your scans saying so then I guess it must be."
"Hm. That is curious. I...we have never encountered a whole planet with just one inhabitant. You must be very resilient."
"I prefer the term resistant. But sure, think of me how you like." I leaned down and remade the hole from before, then dropped in a new seed from the ground and covered it. I continued my tasks until the voice from above formulated anything important to say, but usually they didn't
"We had planned to take this place. Use it as an outpost along the galactic highway. We would grant you a hefty payment. A spot in an inhabited zone-"
"I'm alright. Thanks" I brushed off the voice as I continued planting.
"But it's a whole planet, surely you-
"I said I'm fine." This time my voice came out more stern, more annoyed. There was work to be done.
"Have it your way then. We will say we tried." the voice trailed off from above.
"I wouldn't do what you're about to do if I were you....there. Now I tried too."
There was a quiet, electric noise as the ship above materialized closer to the ground then I'd thought it was. It warbled just above, massive and chrome, casting a shadow across my farm in its shape. It was not a disk, as I'd assumed, but rather a shape that reminded me of one of those tall buildings in the cities: long and sleek, coming almost to a point in the front. I tried to guess what would come out of it. Maybe some kinda fish thing, with gills and a helmet full of water. Or maybe a bird like I'd seen in the books, with big black wings and a huge beak.To my disappointment what came out was neither of the two. It was instead eerily human, human enough from a distance, but up close not entirely right. Its skin was restless. Its eyes too wide, and mouth empty, toothless. The two creatures looked me up and down before pulling out a small box and placing it on the ground.
"You will of course still be compensated, but we cannot allow one being to be the downfall of our plans. I think tha-" he paused and his eyes grew wide. He let out a noise like a cough, a raspy pulse of hard breath. Then another, and another until there were no longer pauses between them. The other one began looking down at his skin, which now reddened despite the sun being blocked by their ship.
"I-I...when did it get so hot?"
I had gone back to my farming and only spoke up to them between movements " It didn't. You did. It's one of the symptoms. He's got one of the other ones." the coughing one was now on the ground violently hacking up nothing but air.
"Bring us back! Bring us in!" within a blink the two beings disappeared back into the ship. There was another long silence that followed. This ship did not depart, it simply hung there in the sky. I looked back up to them, hoping they could hear me through their agony.
"I did not conquer this planet, it was conquered by something else. Did you not wonder why I was alone? Why I choose to be alone? I am not just the sole earthly survivor, I am patient zero."
With that the ship careened off towards the fields and came down sideways in a violent nosedive to the ground. A massive cloud of dust shrouded the chrome vehicle. They were not the first to offer me that proposition, and they would not be the last. It would take some time, surely more time than I had, but I would bury them like the others. I would be lonely once more.
"To be lonely is to be whole." | “what the fuck?” I whispered to myself after hearing the voice. I looked around, searching for something, anything, that could’ve caused this strange noise. It was weird, I hadn’t heard a voice other than my own in years.
Shrugging it off as a hallucination, I went back to watering my crops, as it was one of my only pastimes, and again i heard a voice, louder and more confident this time. “Hey! You down there!”
I looked up and saw a large ship hovering above me. A man peered out the window, waving down at me. “Yeah! You! What are you doing here?” Before i could answer the ship descended downwards, a warm blast of air blowing on me and my crops.
When the ship landed, the man walked toward me. He was oddly human like, with tan skin and bright green eyes, unnaturally bright, and he looked about 25. He was wearing a pale blue jacket with some sort of symbol on it, and black pants. his black hair swooped over his eyes, sleek and clean, unlike my own dirty brown mess that hadn’t been washed in a week. Suddenly i felt self conscious.
He extended a hand towards me, and i took a moment to admire his long fingers, with clean and well cut fingernails. My own hands were a mess, dirt under my nails from my days out on the field. I washed them often, of course, but dust builds up when there’s no one else around.
I took his hand in mine, trying not the think about how warm it was, and the fact that it was the first contact i’d had with another human like life form in about 17 years.
“Ian.” He said, and i realised it was his name. Ian. It felt odd, hearing another persons name. I responded with my own, saying it out loud for the first time in a while.
“Nathan.”
“Well, Nathan, it is very nice to meet you. Would you like to come aboard my ship, talk for a moment? My crew would love to meet such a specimen as yourself.”
I looked down. A specimen? What was that supposed to mean. Without better judgement, I asked. He seemed confused when I did, and took a step closer to me. Suddenly, he let out a gasp.
“Oh! Your a humanoid! I figured with all that dirt, you were some sort of wild creature with the ability to talk! How wonderful!”
I should’ve been offended, but his voice was so melodic and cheery I practically melted for it. He was, in every way possible, perfect. No, i thought to myself. He’s not. he’s just the first person you’ve seen in ages, and you like that he’s here. That’s it.
He guided me onto his ship and introduced me to his small crew, approximately 11 others. They all had the same, clean, sleek look to them, all clad in the same pale blue jacket. Yet somehow, none of them looked as good at Ian did.
I pinched myself for thinking that.
Ian showed me around, and stopped in front of a door.
“Would you like to take a shower?”
I looked at him. “Wow Ian, we just met and your already trying to take my clothes off? Or do i just smell bad?” I remarked, and he blushed profusely and looked at the floor.
“No, no. It’s just- you look a bit dirty.”
I was more than a bit dirty, i would admit. The hot water had broken a few weeks back and due to it being winter, I hadn’t yet fixed it. And showering in cold water during a snowstorm sucked.
I thanked him and walked in, admiring all the smooth marbles and fancy glass features. Before closing the door, I looked him in the eyes.
“Thank you, Ian.” I smiled, and he blushed once more.
He didn’t even know what I was thanking him for. it was more than shelter, warm water, even company. It was for making me feel again. | 2022-10-23T17:19:28 | 2022-10-23T13:13:30 | 120 | 28 |
[WP] A man who has had no knowledge of religion meets both God and the Devil. He is the chosen one who decides whether God or the Devil inherits the Earth. The problem is, he cannot tell which is which. | "Well, *he* killed every human in the entire world," said the one with red skin, goat horns, and a black goatee. His nametag said "Lucifer." "*And* all the animals. Puppies, kittens... the works! He drowned them all in a huge flood!"
"Did not!" the old man in the robes answered, folding his arms over his chest to cover the sticker that said "Yahweh."
Lucifer rolled his yellow eyes. "Oh come on. Killing everyone except for one guy and his family is still genocide."
"Is this true?" I asked Yahweh.
"Yes...." he grumbled into his beard.
"Mmmhmmm." I scribbled a note on the piece of paper in front of me. "Did you at least have a good reason?"
"Well... they were misbehaving..."
I checked my notes again. "That's what you said about those people in that city. Sodom, was it? And he said you turned someone into a pillar of salt just for looking at it?"
"Yeah..." he mumbled.
"I see." I made another note.
"Well, *he* tortures people for eternity!" Yahweh yelled, thrusting his finger out across the table. Through the window I watched the clear blue sky suddenly fill with threatening thunderheads, and a long streak of lightning arced to the ground.
"Is that so?" I asked.
Lucifer stroked his goatee with his bony red fingers, black nails sharpened into claws. "It's.... nebulous, really. We don't release a lot of details on what we do down there. You know, proprietary information and all."
Yahweh rolled his eyes. "Oh please! You just keep it a secret so that you can more easily trick sinners and steal their souls!"
"Hey, I need those souls!" Lucifer countered angrily. Flames leapt up around his chair, leaving scorch marks on the clean carpet.
"What for?" I asked, making more notes on the paper.
"Errr..." he ground his teeth together and searched for an answer on the ceiling. "Well, I just do, OK? But I'm a legitimate businessman! I make them fair offers, and give them whatever they want!"
"I see." I made another note while the two glared at each other. There was a long, awkward silence, interrupted only by anothe peal of thunder from outside.
"Well, I think I've got everything I need to make my decision..." I told them, gesturing back at the paper. "I appreciate you both coming in for this interview, and if you could just leave me a copy of your respective holy texts, that would be great."
Yahweh pulled a massive clay tablet out of his robe, but I stopped him with an embarrassed grimace. "Sorry, paper form only, please."
He nodded and snapped his fingers, and the tablet turned into a book and thumped down on the table.
----
I studied the ballot, looking back and forth at the two headshots. Those horns were pretty intimidating, but then again, the man bleeding on a cross was a bit gruesome too. And the whole 'Trinity' thing was still a little confusing.
In the end, it didn't take much convincing for me to select my answer.
> ☐ Yahweh
> ☐ Lucifer
> ☑ Money
----
If you liked this one, you should also check out "[Are you omnipotent, or not??](https://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/2xpbtr/are_you_omnipotent_or_not/?ref=search_posts)," and "[Humans find God visiting another planet](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2rv12i/wp_humankind_finds_a_planet_in_a_solar_system_far/cnjijil)." You should also subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell! | I was running late again. This was the third time in a row. I didn't want people at the office to think I was making a habit of it, but I have been having a terrible time trying to sleep the past few days. Having dreams, or nightmares, that I can't remember. Waking up in cold sweats in my bed. I should probably look on WebMD or something, might have to change my diet up.
It was an hour past my starting shift when I finally get into my office. I knew what was coming. Like an early jaws movie I felt the suspense raising as I waited for the crescendo. My boss was going to pop up out of no where and eat me alive. As I looked into my monitor I saw her reflection. I was busted.
"You're late again, I see." she muttered.
"I'm sorry, but-" I turned around.
"Not now, We have two Engineers with their own ideas and designs." She interrupted, before I could make up and excuse. " I'm going to need you to review and decide which would be most beneficial, they are in the conference room."
I promptly made my way into the conference room. There I would be bored to death by slide show presentation of each ones thoughts, ideas, and believes. While I knew that the entire time I was just going to be fighting off sleep.
Inside the conference room there was a long, black wooden table. At each end was one of the hopeful designers. At one end, a man with a serious face in a black suit, classic. On the other end, a man who was wearing a grin and a white suit. I couldn't believe that everything that was to be would be determined by my decision here. Hopefully I can sleep on it.
| 2015-08-05T19:33:22 | 2015-08-05T19:03:21 | 270 | 12 |
[WP] Everyone knew that the energy used in magic had to come from somewhere, but nobody knew where. Today you found out the secret of magic, and it was far more terrible than anyone could have imagined. | Elspeth closed her small fist around the scorched earth. White ash flecked from the remains; she squeezed, crumbling the charcoal. She raised her hand towards the poisoned sky. With an open palm, the wind carried away the ashes, swirling the blackened, burnt remains around the feet of the Praetor.
The ancient elder stood twice as tall as the tallest man. His marbled skin had long since worn down from its natural polish, and the acid rains had left him crumbling away in the dead courtyard.
“Why have you come here?” he asked, speaking with a voice that shook the air and hummed through the bones of the girl as if his voice tuned to the resonance of the world.
“I seek the Oracle,” she said.
“You cannot see through blinded eyes the truth you fail to face,” the Praetor said.
Elspeth frowned. “You speak in riddles?’
“I speak in truth.”
She rose to her feet. She walked towards the center of the courtyard. Trees once grew tall and lush in the fertile soil, stretching their limbs to the heavens in worship of the sun. Their leaves danced with the mana of the world, and in their rhythm, they brought peace.
But the dark sky spit its poison; the trees breathed their last. Choked and charred, their song ended, and their death silenced the world.
“I can’t follow my vision,” the girl said. “Not without the Oracle’s teachings.”
“You have the courage, but not the strength,” the Praetor said.
“I won’t leave without speaking to her.”
The praetor was silent for a long while. “So be it.”
A great flash of light filled Elspeth’s eyes as she was drawn into the vision. She saw the courtyard in her mind; younger and full of life. Boisterous men chipped away at a great block or marble, carving the first of the Praetor statues.
A young girl sat on the bench near Elspeth, snacking on an apple. “They’re very busy, aren’t they?”
Elspeth startled, “You’re the oracle?”
“Surprise you? Did you expect something… greater?”
“I-I’m not sure what I expected,” Elspeth said.
“But it wasn’t this.”
Elspeth chuckled. “No, it wasn’t.”
The girl took another big bite of the apple. She stood up and walked close to Elspeth, wrapping her arms around Elspeth’s waist. The Oracle pressed her head into Elspeth’s chest, whispering, “I’m scared.”
Chills ran down Elspeth’s spine. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid no one can save me. I’m afraid of growing up and leaving the courtyard behind, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready?”
Elspeth knelt near the girl. “What do you mean?”
The girl placed the apple’s half-eaten core in Elspeth’s palms and shook her head. “You’ll see.”
The vision started to fade. Blackness crept into the corners of white.
“Wait!” Elspeth’s eyes grew wide. “No! Don’t go! What must I do? How can I save you?”
“You’ll see,” the Oracle said.
The vision faded. Elspeth lay on the ground at the feet of the great statue, dazed and confused. She blinked hard and shook her head.
Then she closed her fist around the half-eaten core of an apple.
&#x200B;
***
I sometimes grow other magical stories over at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | No wonder Earth's climate continues cooling. Science has ever-so-gradually become a 'lost art'. The last major thesis ever developed by any working person on the planet Earth was by a scientist claiming that energy spent was taken from the initiators 'chi' or energy, thus only harming themselves and no other having to pay the price. They believe this despite the life spans of humans has only increased due to medical miracles being performed as soon as something presents itself as a threat to the health of an individual.
This thesis only caused humans to further their magic use. They've been dependent on magic for around three weeks and the mass of the Sun has gone down by a third of it's total mass since the humans discovered magic. They haven't even noticed the apparent reduction in the Sun's size, only worrying about whether or not they, themselves as individuals are going to die. Overall human empathy, productivity, happiness, and motivation has decreased in a very extreme manner.
I have sent multiple messages to command about the situation and have been ordered to suspend the experiment, it's interesting seeing the Earth's surface temperature nearing -300°F, at least in the unpopulated zones. The humans seem to be heating themselves up with their magic, further worsening the Sun's condition. I would immediately suspend the experiment if they were coming close to cracking the experiment they were involved in, instead of them suspending their own existence.
This is Constellarian 733196 signaling that the Improved Constellarian Limbic Systems Experiment as a total failure. | 2019-05-11T01:00:33 | 2019-05-11T00:56:52 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] "You live like this?" the burglar asked, gently waking you up. | "You live like this?"
Well, yeah, I motherfuckin' do, and thanks for the reminder. Somehow I'd forgotten I was living in a one-room shithole with a five-year-old. I'm sorry my cleaning don't live up to your standards; I'm a little fuckin' busy between my kid and my two god damn jobs. Especially the one with that asshole cracker thinks he can call me up for shifts with two god damn hours notice. Worst is, we both know I'm desperate enough that he's right.
I didn't say any of that, of course, given I was a skinny-ass woman woke up at three a.m. by a man in a black mask sitting on my bed. I might've kinda meeped, I don't recall. But seriously, how the fuck do you answer a question like that, anyway?
He seemed to figure that out after a second, at least. "Sorry," he said. "I just didn't think... well, that's the whole problem, isn't it? I didn't think. You were both consenting adults, right? Man's got a right to protect his property. Nothing wrong with a good prenup. And sure, I was getting pretty good at writing them, with all the practice every few years, but..."
Prenup? Christ, I didn't want to be reminded of that, either. I tend to pretend Eliot was just a bad dream; it's better for my blood pressure.
"I just didn't think," said the man. "Hugh Hefner, right? Rich old guys and younger women, happens all the time. And I was getting paid, so what did I care? He and his damn business kept me busy enough I didn't think about what I was doing."
Eliot's lawyer? I only met the guy a couple miserable times, but the voice sounded the same. I couldn't exactly see his face in my windowless goddamn apartment at three fucking a.m. And from the light of my clock, I could barely tell he was wearing one of those bank robber ski masks, anyway.
"And then I found out," he said. "I didn't know why you fought so hard to keep her. Most of the others didn't. And who thinks about why a mother would want sole custody, anyway? She's a mother, it's just natural. I didn't think about it."
And he wanted to remind me of the other kids, too. Fantastic. I still feel like shit about those kids. I know there was nothing I could do-- just about fucking broke me getting Tanya out of there-- and I barely ever met 'em, but I know they're there, and I know what's happening to them, and it would keep me up at night if I weren't so fucking tired. I got to take care of my own, first. I'd like to help others, but I got to take care of my own, and it takes all I fuckin' got.
"And that's not even-- I mean, in a way it's the worst of it, but it got me thinking of everything else he had me do, all the deals, and-- oh, you don't care. It's nothing next to your kid. But it matters to me."
I was so tired that I almost just asked him. *What the fuck are you doing here? Why the fuck should I care about this?* But I didn't. I know too much about what men can do to you if they have the mind.
I've never been able to totally keep it off my face, though. "Look," he said. "I know this isn't going to make up for anything, but I've got to try. I've got to try. Seeing what I've done, it's just..." He waved his arm at the room, the trash I've let pile up, the rat traps, the broken closet door. "You live like this?"
"It's better than the alternative," I said.
He let out a long breath. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. Anyway. This is for you."
He let his arm drop to pat something on the floor-- turned out it was a suitcase, though I didn't know it then, it being (again) three in the motherfucking morning. "It doesn't make up for much, but, just-- fuck, I've got to try."
He stood up, and headed for the door. Not that it was a long walk. He turned around before he got there, and said, "I'm sorry."
"You couldn't've told me that over... coffee, or some shit?"
"Um." He ran a hand over his head. "Right. I'm. I'm sorry about this, too."
I didn't know what the fuck to do at that point; I just sighed. "Sorry," he said again, and rushed out the door.
I didn't have to ask how he got in; the lock's been broke since I got here. I gotta tell you, I didn't even bother looking in the suitcase till morning.
So there I was, 6 a.m., sitting on the shit-ass floor of my shit-ass place, staring at this fucking suitcase full of hundred fucking dollar bills. I bet it's a goddamn Samsonite or whatever, too.
I mean, it's not that I ain't grateful. Using hundred-dollar-bills without the cops, the banks, or the IRS getting up my ass is gonna be a problem, but as far as the list of my problems go, it's gotta be my favorite other than Tanya. And it's kind of nice what he's doing. I don't think the news has put it together, but since he fuckin' confessed to me at three in the god damn morning, it's pretty clear to me all these masked calling-card robberies and mysterious Robin Hood cases they're reporting on got a connection.
But white boys, I swear to God. All the common sense of a motherfuckin' turnip. | “You live like this?” I heard softly, awakening me from a dream I forgot at the same instant I woke, feeling faintly that the voice was a part of my dream, and not as surprised as I should have been to find out it wasn’t. She was sitting on the end of my bed, below my feet, with her back against the wall. She was dressed all in black, beat up leather jacket, black jeans, and boots would have made you think of punk rock 20 years ago, but now just looked like they came from Hot Topic. Her hair was dark, and tied up in a messy bun-type arrangement. She looked at me, with mild surprise. “Shit, you weren’t supposed to wake up.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, sitting up and blinking sleep-bleared eyes at her.
“What does it look like?”
“Um…hanging out?”
“Well, mostly I was marveling at how messy one person can be, til I was so rudely interrupted. Theoretically, I’m supposed to be stealing your Kruggerands, so I’m also trying to imagine where you stashed them. That was stupid, by the way. Who keeps 60 troy ounces of gold just lying around in their shitty apartment?”
“What’s a troy ounce?”
She smirked, “isn’t that the kind of thing you should already know if you have a gold coin collection? Oh crap, am I at the right place? This is 3503D West Pine Drive, right?”
“Yeah, it is,” I blinked at her in confusion. “And I do have a coin collection. Well, it’s not really a collection. Or it’s not mine. I don’t know anything about coins. My grandfather left them to me. Is that why you’re here? How did you know?”
“Let’s just say your grandfather left something to a few other people too. Debts, mostly. And they’ve sent me to collect them.” She slid off the bed and began looking around in earnest, toeing aside the clothes piles I’d left on the floor in disgust.
“So you’re a burglar? You broke in?”
She rolled her eyes at me. “No, I used a key. Actually, I did use a key. Stashing a key under the mat? Seriously? Who does that in the city? You’re just asking for this to happen.”
I stood up then, grabbing her wrist in a fluid movement, and pinning her against the bed. “Actually, that’s exactly what I was doing. Asking for this to happen. My grandfather spent the last 15 years of his life being chased, and I don’t even know why. What did he do to you people? If he stole some money, I know he spent years making payments. What kind of debt did he rack up? The Kruggerrands were the only thing left from his estate. So he left them to me. Why can’t you just leave it alone?”
As she turned to face me, looking at me with eyes that mirrored my own, brownish green, with a soft almond shape, my grandfather’s nose, his jaw, I realized and relaxed my grip just enough for her to twist and grab the coin folder from where it lay under the bed, with yesterday’s pants on top of it.
“Most of those debts weren’t monetary, but it’s a start,” she said, picking up the folder, and moving quickly to the open window, hopping out onto the fire escape. “See ya, cuz.” And that’s how I found myself out $75,000, and I learned that my grandpa left not just me behind, but a second family I’d never met. But that’s another story, for another day.
| 2017-08-21T13:18:08 | 2017-08-21T11:12:40 | 45 | 16 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | So you're in line getting tacos, right, like you do every Friday for lunch. It's a beautiful day, the sun is out, not a cloud in the sky. Seventy-five degrees, light breeze, absolute perfection. You order *dos de pollo* in your shitty Spanglish, hand the man three bucks through the dingy frosted window, and pause a moment to breath deep -- that salty, burnt, fatty goodness that smells like angels fuck -- that sulfurous, rotten-egg -- wait, what?
This shit again.
So then you're standing in a circle, alone, with your tool belt, your hard hat, your cell phone, a tamarind soda and absolutely no fucking tacos de pollo with onions and crema. Fuck. This. Shit. You resolve for the umpteenth time to be less good at your job.
*Remember your protocol.*
"Oh, gracious master," you bow, making obeisance before the thin-lipped, bearded asshole standing in front of the circle and the book and the candles looking inordinately pleased with himself. "How may I be of service, most gracious one?"
Sniff sniff. Putrid, acrid. Tallow, not beeswax. A fucking newbie, or worse, a goddamn cheapskate.
**"I am thy master now, demon!"**, thin-lipped shit booms. **"Thou art ensorcled by the hand of Dextrogast the Mighty! First of his name and first among the Leaden Ring!"** Newbie. Fine, whatever.
You remove your hard hat and straighten up. They like it when you remove the hat. Your arms, wide.
*Just roll with the punches, it will all be over soon.*
"I grovel before your magnificence, good Might. To what end my I pledge my service to the ends of the Leaden Ring?"
**"Thou hast been chosen, demon, for a task of great import, one uniquely suited to thy devilry! Thy master the Mighty hath scoured long the Books of Perdition and at last deciphered thy name! I bind thee to my will, Michael Thompson of Airmax Technologies, Rochester, New York, 14623!"**
When will they stop printing the Yellow Pages?
*Just say the words, do the thing. Faster. You might be able to break the bonds of a weaker sorcerer, sure. But if they can bring you in, they can send you back just as easy. Better that way. Let them do the driving. Pay it forward. Go home happy.*
"My will is yours, good Might, your wish my desire with utmost certainty. Pray tell the nature of your need."
Thin-lipped shitfuck draws himself up to his full height, chest swollen with pride. Wonder if you're his first. **"This Infernal Machine was created for my grandsire by thy demon-kin. Its power wavers. Fix it for me, or ne'er be free!"** He's pointing... at a... refrigerator?
Sigh.
*Even wizards make mistakes.*
"Oh, good Might," a deeper bow. "But in this I am unworthy to be your servant."
**"Does thou defy me, demon! My wroth is great and my punishment most -- most severe!"**
"It's just -- you see, good Might, I'm an air conditioner technician. That's a refrigerator. I mean, I can take a look at the wiring diagram and troubleshoot it if the problem is electrical, but if it's mechanical or the coolant you're going to need an actual fridge repair guy with the right stuff to recharge."
Thin-lips falters. **"So... so what am I to do with The Infernal Machine?"**
Sigh. The smoke from the animal-fat candles is burning your nose. "Let me see the pho-- the Book of Perdition you summoned me from." A suspicious look. "I swear upon my name not to leave or break the circle until I have shown you the name of a demon who can fix your Machine."
Gingerly he hands over the book. Flip flip flip. Refrigerator repair. "Do you have a pen?" Blank stare. "Um... charcoal stick? A quill?"
He seems to understand and hands over a well-sharpened number 2 pencil. You circle the name and number of a fridge tech.
"Great. Okay, just summon this guy next time your Infernal Machine needs work. And make sure to do the full summon between 8am and 4pm local time so that you can get all of his equipment in too. He might need some of the big stuff." You offer the book back to the sorcerer.
*Pay it forward.*
"Oh, and try not to summon between 12 and 1 pm local time, okay? I don't know what time zone you're in, and I know the cross-dimensional conversion is kind of hard, but no one likes being summoned on their lunch break."
He takes the book silently, glaring suspiciously.
"Also, uh... this line work is a little shoddy. See the edges of the pentagram bleeding a bit here? I really wouldn't have any difficulty at all breaking out of this summoning, even if I didn't know what I was doing. And a newbie demon getting out of the circle is the last thing you want. Try to keep the lines as clean as possible."
**"Thou came well-recommended, I see, for good reason, demon. You have the thanks of Dextrogast the Mighty."**
"And use beeswax next time, that smell is awful. Are you fully satisfied with your summoning, good Might?"
**"It shall suffice."**
A blink and a stink, and you're back in the real world, the rotten-eggs-stench lingering. Wonder how long that fridge had been out.
In the distance the taco truck rolls out of the parking lot, kicking up dust as it goes.
Typical wizard shit. | Just another day. That's how it started at least. I woke up around 4:30 pm and started getting ready for my night shift. This whole grown up adult job thing wasn't all it had cracked up to be. Twelve hour shifts in a cramped room dealing with all the idiots my city had to offer. I guess you could say it was like hell on earth.
As I stepped outside and turned to lock my apartment behind me, I felt an odd sensation. Like something was about to happen but. I could say what. Just as I was about to shrug it off and take the short stroll to my car, a plume of smoke that smelled of sulfur enveloped me. And then everything went black.
When my vision finally returned, I almost thought I had somehow teleported to work. Small space, dimly lit. Felt like work for sure. But as the blurriness cleared from my eyes, I started to notice things. Candles. All in a circle and chalk lines between them. In the corner stood a figure, but I couldn't make anything else out at first.
"It worked!" came a shout from the figures direction. "Holy hell it actually worked!" The excitement in the figures voice was almost palpable. "Now that you're here, I can finally call myself a summoner!" the unknown figure said as it approached me.
The figure entered the candle lit circle and stood just a few feet from me. I could see now it was a young woman, maybe 25. She wasn't unattractive either with bright green eyes and a curly blonde hair. Then it hit me like a sledgehammer. What the actual hell is going on here?
"A summoner? Listen, I don't know how you got me here or what you're expecting but you're gonna have to catch me up here. Number one, where am I? Number two, forget that I need to get to work." I said with a mix of bewilderment and frustration.
"You're on earth. I summoned you here so I could finally be a summoner. Summoning an actual demon is the last part of the initiation." I looked at the young woman with an almost extreme amount of incredulity.
"You've got to be kidding me. Wow. It's not enough that I somehow managed to get Kidnapper but to get kidnapped by a fanatic about some kinda demon cult. This is icing on the cake" I spat out as I turned to leave the circle and find the exit. What? Was she gonna stop a grown man from getting out of here? As if.
"You can't leave yet" she said from behind me very calmly. I ignored her and kept searching for a door. A window. Anything that could get me out of here. "You gonna stop me?" I shot back at her. "I have a job to get to and bills to pay. Whatever fantasy or lunacy is going on with you, leave me out of it and get some other gullible sap to play with you" I added over my shoulder. "I for one---"
Suddenly I was whisked away from that dimly lit room. Before I even know what had happened I was standing next to a car that had its bonnet wrapped around a tree and a fire hydrant next to it spouting water freely into the air. Next to me stood a familiar face with a look on his face only comparable to that of a teenager telling his dad that he took the car without permission.
I looked at the scene and then back at the man. "Don't worry Kevin, you're covered!" I barely got the words out before being transported back to my work office to type up the paperwork for Mr. Kevin and his claim before being whisked away on another claim. | 2017-05-12T08:58:50 | 2017-05-12T07:49:08 | 1,714 | 61 |
[WP] A notoriously talkative superhero is forced to remain silent for an extended period of time due to civilian, secret identity reasons. Villains, civilians, even other heroes are unnerved and intimidated by the hero's new stoic, silent behavior. | Let's call this one... Poker Face.
Three years now. Three years since I put on the first version of this stupid outfit, since I donned the old domino mask and the tights. My shtick? Apart from having been an honors student and an offensive linemen in school and getting some good training along the way, I have just the slightest ability to tell the future.
Not like, big events way down the line, or doomsday prophecies, but like, if I'm paying attention any, I can tell about four different things that might happen at any given time. The more clear parts of the immediate future are, the more my stupid little power lets me guess how to get a positive outcome. They call me the Gambler, and I'm banned from every casino on Earth, and three in Andromeda.
Three years I've been doing this gig, and three years I've built a reputation for running my mouth. Sometimes I think I can get through to people, sometimes I just think I can distract a real threat long enough for someone with a real superpower to step in for the take down.
It's luck, honestly--- and people sense, a good pragmatic understanding of physics and causation. An educated guess at best.
So, when I say I didn't see this coming, I really don't want to hear jokes about it. If you'd asked me whether I could stare down my arch-nemesis for six and a half hours in a hostage situation at the bank--- without saying a word or making a move? No bet, no chance.
So color me surprised--- when here I am, on a day of remembrance, out of costume--- and Doctor Devolver bursts in on his eternal quest to forcefully return humanity to monkey. Any other day of the year--- I'd bust a quip about him trying to turn us all into NFTs--- any other day. No mask--- no gear--- but Devolver doesn't look like he's got his Devolution Device operating again yet--- not since last time when I literally managed to throw a wrench into the works and he had to re-evolve thumbs. Four months--- honestly I'm impressed. So much good material to keep him busy--- but at least he's here to rob the place, not turn the bankers into bonobos. Nonetheless, the Doctor's got a hot hand on this pot, and all the aces he could need. Only play left is to hold.
Hour one, he didn't mean to be here this long. Hour two, they began trying to negotiate. Hour three, he released a number of the hostages with children. Hour four--- he released the tellers. Hour five--- the managers were permitted to go. Hour six--- he demanded someone volunteer to stay behind so he wasn't left without collateral--- and I silently raised my hand.
"You. Why? You haven't said a word all day--- you've been calmer than anyone, even the negotiator--- who ARE you?" Doctor Devolver began to say once he had me alone. I looked towards the clock on the wall--- 11:58. We'd been here since about twenty minutes before the close of business, nearly seven hours. I look at him, placidly, and shrug with a smirk.
"Wait--- You. IT'S YOU?! I'D KNOW THAT SMUG GRIN ANYWHERE!" The clock ticked over to 11:59. Just a little longer.
"Why so quiet, Gambler? Afraid to lose it all now that I've found your civilian identity? I've got you where I want you--- go ahead. I want you to say it, I want you to ADMIT I'VE WON! I'll drag you with me to the helicopter--- take my money--- and use you as my lab monkey! LITERALLY! AHAHAHAHAHA!" Devolver kept talking--- I got him to monologue without saying a thing. That's the kind of hate you can only get from an archenemy. I glance at the clock. Midnight. FINALLY.
"I fold, you win," I said, quietly, my throat a little dry.
"Eh--- that's it?"
"That's it."
"And why maintain your silence to only give it up now?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"I will try to kill you now if you don't tell me, the curiosity is burning me inside." Well he was direct, I had to give him that.
"National Day of Silence."
"The what?"
"The National Day of Silence. I had a friend who killed herself back in high school after being outed as a transwoman and kicked out of her home. I observe it every April 2nd, even now."
"You risked your life to honor a dead friend?"
"I'd do it again tomorrow, too, but I probably wouldn't keep quiet about it," I quipped. Devolver looked.... stunned.
"Get out."
"Come again?"
"Get out. Go. Tell them I'll come willingly."
"That's it?"
"That's it," Devolver replied quietly, cupping his hands to his face.. It was the most human, I think, either of us have ever seen each other. Had to get plastic surgery after that one, though. | "Oh now this is just ridiculous Tank!" Velveteen cackled as he had his minions attack his archnemesis The Tank who with a swing of her mighty fists made short work of them. Her latest outfit was just awful. Full black with no highlighting of her luscious curves. "You're going woke and broke!" He exclaimed as he jumped out of the window with the money from the latest heist. He wasn't use to providing dialogue for their fights, but he needed to fill the silence she was leaving behind. It was unnatural for a hero to be silent, no only the ones that left broken necks were quiet.
He landed on the money and rolled off with ease and started running, knowing Tank wouldn't be far behind, still he couldn't help turning to watch her superhero landing. He missed the days when she use to wear a skirt and he'd get the occasional thrill but no Tank had changed over the years. No more skirt, no more boob window. Damned SJWs even effected supes as she had changed everything to a mannish manner, even going so far as to go completely flat chested! At least she still had that dump truck of an ass. Speaking of dump trucks, Velveteen was in luck as one rounded the corner and grabbed on. "Tanks again for the good time!" He knew that Tank wouldn't dare take down a city truck, the only thing stronger than her sense of justice was her sense of civic duty.
Tank didn't even run to catch up with him, the reason was obvious as the truck stopped at the corner as it proceeded to pick up trash. Tank grabbed him by the back of his neck like an errant kitten. No remarks about collecting trash, no quips about finding spare boyfriends there, just cold silence.
"Tank talk to me! What did I do wrong?" Velveteen all but sobbed. "Talk to me!" But Tank said nothing, not even as he begged like one of his victims. What was the point of their rivalry if it was only one sided anymore? What was the point of any of this anymore if he was the only one having fun?
xxx
"Terry did you see the news? Velveteen has finally decided to reform."
"No shit, really Ma?" Terry grabbed the paper to read the story. "I've been trying to get him to stop for years and he finally does? What the shit." Terry sulked while eating cornflakes.
"See I told you things were getting better. You should shave before heading to work, you're looking like a little scruffy." Terry looked at his reflection in the toaster, his beard still looked like crap but he didn't want ruin his limited progress, he was looking forward to one day filling out his new helmet that he designed to accommodate a full Gimli style beard. He had been looking forward to see what lamebrained comment Velveteen would have come up with. | 2022-01-24T10:18:03 | 2022-01-24T08:41:17 | 52 | 23 |
[WP] You're the maiden of the goddess of Death, sacrificed to her long ago when the god of Life didn't answer the town's prayers. People think you're suffering. In reality, you became the poor goddess' therapist. Who knew gods couldn't handle rejection like that. | The goddess Mania and I stood, side by side, at the bedside of a dying woman in a hospital, friends and family by her side. I had long ago given up coaxing her back to the underworld. She felt her place was surrounded by death, despite the fact that it depressed her so deeply.
Mania didn’t even *need* to be here. Her sister Libitina was the one that was the goddess of burials, and spent most of her time funeral-hopping, and Dea Tacita could often be found in the morgue, watching over the dead, their corpses being her domain. But Mania insisted on surrounding herself with death, and even after thousands of years of it bringing her sadness, she persisted in it.
Once the woman had passed on, we wandered out into the hallway and Mania sat in a chair a waiting room we passed, prompting me to take the seat next to her. “Did that family seem at peace?” she asked, leaning back tiredly in the chair.
That was one of her more common questions to me. At first, I found them strange, but now I found them par for the course. “That woman’s death was a long time coming, so I feel they were,” I answered. “How are you feeling today?”
“Mm. Same as usual.”
That meant mildly depressed. ‘All right’ meant just that, an average mood, somewhat thoughtful and pensive. ‘Horrible’ meant she was feeling burdened by the misery of those who had attended the funerals we’d gone to or those who’d witnessed their loved ones die before their time. Or worse, those who had witnessed the results of a violent, brutal death, or even the death itself.
The worst was when I got no response at all. That meant Mania was lost in a churning whirlpool of her despondent thoughts, and I would need to put more effort into drawing her out. She would sometimes return to the underworld, though never at my urging, only to curl up in bed in a state of depression that she couldn’t be pulled from, that she just needed to make her way through mentally on her own.
But I had a new plan today. It was the culmination of research I’d been doing in my off hours (even Mania had to report back to Pluto, and that could take a while) for a few weeks now. It was difficult to say how it would go, but I’d tried various strategies over the years for helping my goddess through her difficult existence, and I wasn’t about to give up now.
“We have a funeral next,” I told her. “I’d like to go now, if that’s all right by you. So we’re not late.”
“Sure. Is it a well-known figure?” she asked, pushing herself to her feet with me.
“Not quite. But I wanted to arrive with plenty of time to spend there.”
I opened a portal in front of us, allowing her through first, and I followed, closing it behind us. We’d arrived in a large room, similar to so many others we’d visited over the years, used for funeral wakes. And I looked over to Mania, whose gaze slid over the people in the room, our presence, as always, invisible to them.
“I…don’t understand,” she said, glancing to me with confused, narrowed eyes. “They seem…happy.”
And they were. Nenia Dea, the goddess of funerals, had tipped me off to this one. As experiments go for cheering up Mania, this was definitely a new one.
“An increasing number of humans are starting to take death in stride, or go even further, and partake in what they’re calling a ‘celebration of life’,” I said, a subdued smile on my face.
Mania shook her head suddenly at that. “Then we shouldn’t be here. This is the domain of Thesan or Artume-”
“No, this is a wake,” I said firmly. “They are here because of a death. That is your domain, is it not?”
The goddess didn’t reply, continuing to look around the room curiously and eventually started to mingle, and I followed.
There was a slideshow of photos of the deceased playing on two flatscreen televisions up in the corners of the room for everyone to see, but that was common. Less common was the fact that Monty Python’s Always Look on the Bright Side of Life played from the speakers as people happily chatted about the life of the deceased, a man named Bailey Hammond.
We overheard a story nearby of the man’s son recounting something his father had said about shutting his eyes while on a bicycle, unsurprisingly landing him in the hospital in a leg cast. Another had been a student of the deceased and was talking excitedly with classmates about the field of research they were pursuing, explaining how Hammond always made class interesting.
The coffin was most surprising, to us. It seemed Hammond was a big fan of a certain sports team, as instead of the typical black suit, his burial clothes were something he would have worn to a football game. Not only that, but his casket was the colors of the team, a cheerful red and white rather than the typical somber dark brown wood.
“Death is an end,” I spoke up, as we took a respite in the corner of the room, away from the chattering friends and family, “but it is a necessary end. You don’t mourn the end of a party; you reflect on how much enjoyment it brought you. Similarly, humans have started to take on this attitude with their lives. Of course, the more religious think it disrespectful, as the upcoming afterlife is what a funeral should be about to them, but so many humans have become secular that this was an inevitable outcome.”
“It is…pleasing,” Mania said softly, her gaze going from one human to the next. “They are all sad, of course, I can sense it, and yet there’s an undeniable joy they’re expressing of the appreciation of having this person in their lives.”
“And they couldn’t have had this day together without Bailey Hammond’s death,” I said. “He’s left them, yes, but they still have countless wonderful memories, and it seems the man’s wishes were that they came together in a celebration and appreciation of the time they’d had with him. In laughter rather than in tears. There are so many who aren’t fortunate enough to experience nearly as many years, and while making his wishes known before his time came, he must have known that and understood how lucky he was.”
As I stood there, friend and therapist to a goddess, I felt the satisfaction of a job well done as I always did, but more than that, I felt something new. There was a small smile on Mania’s face, and as someone who spent their days constantly among death, there was an emotion in me that I rarely experienced. Hope. And I looked forward to helping my goddess through this next change in the way humans experienced death.
&#x200B;
/r/storiesbykaren | Death was a young woman with raven black hair and a beauty that had never quite had time to blossom. She was a girl whose motions refused to be defined, alternating between a perfect flowing gracefulness and shocking suddenness seemingly at random. She was also heartbroken as she walked through the forest that day. In moods like these everything seemed to shrink away from her; flowers shivered at her approach, trees strained at their roots as if they could run. She only had the handmaiden at her side and even that had started off wrong.
“Elle,” she said, turning to the girl. “Why don’t they understand?” It was a difficult question, too broad to have any real answer and she knew it. In the distance they could both hear the villager’s chants. It was a holy day, a harvest festival dedicated to the God of Life and his gifts.
“Because they can’t,” Elle said simply. “I was like them when we met, remember? I was terrified of you for nearly a year after my sacrifice, I blamed you for taking every good thing in my life away. It’s natural for mortals, we have so little time that we want to make the most of it, measured like that your brother the God of Life was always going to be more popular.”
“I know that!” Death hissed, resuming her walk and wishing she could get far enough away from the village not to hear. That was impossible on a day like today though, there was still work ahead. “But still, not one of them sees! Not one! They all believe they have souls, believe that there’s a world beyond their mortal plane, but yet they still can’t see my gift for what it is!”
Elle caught up to her, grabbing Death’s arm to stop her. “Maybe that’s an important part of it. I know we’ve been through this before but humor me, what do you think your gift is? What is death to its goddess?”
Death paused, lowering her head. Her hair fell in a great cascade across her face, every muscle in her body tensing. This was the very core of her being, even saying the words made her feel exposed.
“Death is the validation of life,” she said. “Its what gives a life meaning and hope and joy, it makes every experience in it matter. Without death life would become a curse and my brother would be feared as I am. And beyond that, it’s…it’s…” she struggled for the words now, the goddess had been alone a very long time before she met Elle.
“It’s the beginning of a second life. And then a third, and a fourth. The spirits live on and return back into the cycle, binding the world together, making us all whole. Except for you, I’m sorry for that.”
“I’m not,” Elle said, and Death didn’t have to see her handmaid’s face to know she was smiling. Elle stroked arm gently and then moved away, her bare feet almost silent on the grass. Glancing up through the curtain of her hair Death saw her crouch down and pick something. Elle came back slowly and as she approached Death heard a small wailing sound, catching a familiar, almost cloyingly sweet scent. She’d picked a deathbell.
“I saw this in the bushes, I always thought they were beautiful, even when I was alive.”
“That’s rare for mortals, most people are too afraid of my symbols.”
Elle laughed, standing in front of her goddess again. “When I was six I once braided them into my hair. I’d found a whole stand of them near the village graveyard and thought they made me the prettiest girl in all the land.” Reaching up she began to comb her fingers through the goddess’s long dark hair. She gently weaved the flower in, its purple and black petals barely showing in that ocean of night.
“I’m sure you were,” Death said softly, enjoying the feeling. “They may be my flowers but they suit your colors better.”
“Oh I don’t know, I love them on you.” Finishing her work Elle cupped a hand under the goddess’s chin, drawing her gaze up and brushing her hair back behind her ear.
Death smiled. It was a strange and rare thing, like the rise of the full moon, and she cherished every opportunity she got to do it. There had been precious few before her handmaiden, her friend, had arrived.
Elle’s right hand moved to her cheek, the left to her waist, and when the taller woman leaned down Death closed her eyes and gave herself over to the moment.
In the distance the villagers still sang, but as Death’s mood changed the trees seemed to lean back in and the flower in her hair stopped wailing.
\----------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I've love to have you! | 2021-03-03T08:37:37 | 2021-03-03T06:48:58 | 650 | 305 |
[WP] Everyone in the world is born with some kind of special ability. With this ability comes a signifying tattoo or mark somewhere on their body. The larger the tattoo, the more powerful the person is.
You appear to be someone with really dark skin. Except that you were born from a white couple, and no one has been able to spot your tattoo either. The reason? You're not actually black. Your tattoo is just so incredibly dense, fine, and large that it covers your whole body, making your skin appear dark. | They all tried to figure it out. Experts, consultants, psychics; we saw them all, and they all drew a blank. Not one of them could work out what the secret to my power was, or why I might have been missing one.
I was the only child on record to be missing a power tattoo, something that had been borne in the human race midway through the 21st century; the bigger the tattoo the bigger the power, more or less. My elder brother had been given a huge tattoo of a pair of wings across his shoulder blades, quite a rare gift, and had been flying out of his cot and around the nursery by the time he was 1, much to our parents chagrin. I however, other than having the odd occasion to be a dark skinned child born to white parents, had no such mark. They searched and they searched, but they could not see for looking. The answer had been staring them in the face the whole time.
The most obvious clue, was instantly dismissed. After the blood results came back, and my father was given the news that the brown baby born of Caucasian parents was indeed his, they never seemed to question it again. A lost gene they supposed, there must have been something buried deep in one of the respective pools to explain it, after all I *did* look like my father, if after a summer holiday. Aren't genetics weird.
Well they are, but really, it isn't that complicated. I was as white as the snow, but fate had coloured me in.
My tattoos are extensive, intricate and unbelievably compact. I figured it out days after my birth, but sensing the strangeness of my being from their reactions, I decided that I should keep quiet and play along with the expectations of those around me. I found a parenting book left in my nursery whilst I was supposed to be napping when I was a few weeks old, and memorised which milestones were expected when. I was a perfectly healthy, average child, who developed at roughly the right speed (allowing for some slight deviations from the mean of course), who just so happened to be devoid of a power tattoo, and presumably therefore any power.
I made my way through school, having friendships and adventures, growing into the body I was given. I met hostility of course, every child does, but being marked as inferior didn't bring out the charity in those fellows of mine with muscles tattooed on their arms, or flames seared into their hands.
I met the rough end of every power going in my school, from fire and ice, the political games played by those with forks on their tongues, to the tricks of those with markings of intellect on their heads. As I grew into my teenage years it intensified, friends looked the other way as those with power eagerly used it, and slowly, they drifted away, leaving me to the designs of others.
My family and teachers tried to protect me of course, but the authority was wasted on my tormentors. My only respite was walks home with my brother, he was at a neighbouring school for those with powers more exceptional than most. He never lauded it over me, never saw me as something lesser than himself, only saw me, his brother.
I finished school with the marks average for those my age, and decided against a continued education. I didn't see the point.
It will be time to announce myself soon, time for everyone to know. I know what I am. I am a god born into a world of exceptional, but flawed, individuals. I have seen them at their very worst, seen them damn and expel those below them, and for that perhaps they should be punished. But I have also seen love. I have seen my parents fight against everything for me, seen them crucify their life savings to understand my suffering, and through my brother I have seen friendship and togetherness.
I have seen both sides of those around me, and now it comes time to show my power, and work out what I will be. From the moment of my birth I have been watching, and I have been appraising.
I could be a hero, or a villain. I could oppress, or I could free. To tell you the truth, I haven't yet made up my mind.
My dear reader, what would *you* do? | [Longtime lurker on here, decided to start writing with this prompt]
Everyone I know has a tattoo somewhere. They get a special power from it that activates on their 13th birthday, but the power depends on the size of the tattoo. My older sister, for example, had wings on her back that go from her spine along her arm down to her elbow. Lightning bolts came out from the bottom of the wings. When she woke up on April 18th, 2007, she had beautiful angelic wings that carried her into the sky and never brought her back down.
We saw her on the news a few weeks later. She was pushing the clouds into place and the world learned that weather was controlled by the elite few that were gifted (or rather cursed) with this mark.
The mystery of what my tattoo was, or really where it is, stuck with me until my special day. The problem with me was that while my parents and the rest of my family was white, I was not. My skin was a dark brown, but other than that I looked exactly like my parents. I had long, curly brown hair like my mom, and the same face as my dad. I was always on the news until that day in March where the secret behind my skin tone was revealed.
When I woke up on March 14th, I knew something was off. I went into the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror, and when I saw what had changed on me, I screamed loud enough to wake up all of America. I, Amber Winchester, was a shapeshifter.
Apparently, I had a special power that about 200 people in all of existence ever had. I wasn't just gifted with the power to shift into anything I wanted, I could also shift into any power I wanted. Upon learning this, I turned invisible, snuck out, and flew up into the sky. I had spent my whole life in this little house because my parents turned into water or stone when they came in contact with the sun, and I was ready to see the light. | 2014-11-30T13:16:38 | 2014-11-30T11:23:44 | 45 | 16 |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "Where are they then, Baratus?" my blade was out of its sheath now, glowing with the righteous furor of a paladin of Listanor seeking justice, "I got word the Kobolds passed through this town three days ago. I've nearly caught them, and I will not be slowed by your incompetence."
The man before me gulped. He was large, probably some orc back in his family history. Not enough for tusks certainly, but he was larger and hardier than most men of the Austral hinterland. Baratus also happened to be an old acquaintance as what passed for the local government in Runecove. A little Stillwater hovel that squatted like a diseased bird on the rotting corpse of the lower Therian river. It was the only town of any appreciable size this far south, and a common stopping point for adventurers travelling into the Ironwrist mountains. It also functioned as the starting point for the journey of their wealth back to real civilization. He was dressed in what passed for his finery of office. Browns and greens running like river muck down his chest, and a circlet of Wrought Ironwrist namesake taking to rust in the morning mist. Pathetic. He was the last barrier, the last person between me and the people who might have *answers*.
He took a step back before the heat of my fury, and put his hands up. Possibly to ward away the blade, possibly to plead for peace. I was beyond peace. I was here for justice. Luckily, he began to speak, "They came through yes, a large party. Some few humans with them -" I felt my eyes flare, and he his hands came together as if to plead or beg, "None who matched your party members, Lineus. I do remember them you know, I'd have noticed."
My blade lowered almost imperceptibly, he was right about that, still. "You got my message, you must have," my voice began to shake with anger at the man's betrayal, "I sent it via a courier spell from the Ashen ford. It cost me a small fortune, but I know your mages heard me. You *knew*."
I took a half step towards him, closing us to within a hair's breadth as I like the steel of my blade rest on his tunic, "Lineus!" Baratus practically squealed, trying to back away but running into a wall, "I couldn't possibly be sure! None of your party members were with them, and I had no right to detain innoce-"
"How. Much." I barely breathed the words.
His silence was answer enough.
"How much?" Louder now, raw.
He wouldn't look me in the eyes.
"How much! How much to sell my party down the river in the hands of a necromancer Baratus?"
He was trembling, but tried to contain himself. No point lying to a paladin. "Enough. More than has passed through the coffers of Runecove in an entire year," his voice steadied, becoming accusing, "I don't know what you fools have gotten tangled up in this time Lineus, but I will not put my city at risk to -"
He never got a chance to finish the statement. My sword had cut his throat. The blood rushed from him in a torrent, strangely hypnotic. What few small sounds he was still capable of making would die with him soon enough anyway. The glow of my blade faded as I stopped feeding the enchantment mana. I hadn't been able to properly imbue a blade in weeks. I hadn't set foot in a temple either, but I knew better than to try. There were some things a paladin could do alone, but speed wasn't among them. I needed to be something else to save them.
I wiped the cold steel on the dead man's rags and sheathed it. I would be whatever I had to be to save my friends. | *Where are they?* I screamed at the bound monster sitting across of me, its face full of fresh bruises.The monster stared fiercely at me, remaining ever so silent.
I went to back room, and took out my tools.
*You see, I am not a good person, I never was, I tried to be good, I liked having a party, allies, friends, I even began doing good things and repaying for my sins; helping orphans and defeating villains. But my friends were taken by your boss, the arch-fiend, I may be bad, but they do not deserve such cruel treatment.*
I began pulling out several jagged tools, they shone in the dim light from the torch, the steel covered in a thin crimson layer. The monster was shaken by this sight. I turned back to face it.
*I have never told you my name, how rude of me, I am Jack, some folk know me as Thousand Cuts, The everlasting pain, The blood letter, but I abandoned that life, and I will give you another chance to tell me WHERE THEY ARE!*
The monster opened it's black maw, it's breath stunk like a thousand corpses rotting in the hot desert sun, and yet nothing came out. The adrenaline rushed through my veins, it was a different rush, an older one, one which I have not felt since I abandoned my post under the old tyrants rule. I swiftly picked up a knife and moved it ever so closely to the monsters face, giving it a last chance to speak.
The monster bolstered its courage and refused.
*Several hours later*
My robes were covered in green and black blood from the monster, and even though I worked all night, I smiled gleefully and got what I needed, I have not felt such joy for a long time. | 2019-12-07T10:42:08 | 2019-12-07T10:37:08 | 191 | 49 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | No one was really sure why the humans were always chosen from earth. I mean whenever a probe scans for life forms, it always finds some deadly looking predators. Like the reptilian brings known as “Crocodiles”, they have the most powerful jaw of any species ever seen. Or the giant “Elephant” which would likely stand a chance against the legendary Maloctus, which has not yet lost a battle.
But for some reason humans were chosen each time, and when it comes down to it, they’re always the first to go. That is, until this time.
“Let the games begin” yelled the announcer.
All the gates opened, and many of the usual species stepped out. The chrimara, the mudmic, and as expected, the Maloctus. Then stepped out the human, and something was different, they were wielding some sort of tool. This wasn’t uncommon, we’ve seen humans with other tools before, like a primitive light screen, a metal chunk on a stick, and the mint bizarre, a tiny pronged spear. But this one looked different, it resembled a federation cruiser ship, except with two handles, one wider than the other. And it appeared as though the tip of the tool was hollow, what ever could it have been for?
“SHRERERERERERERE!” Screamed the willower, as it slithered towards the human. With all the commotion of other creatures fighting, it would only take a really loud noise to draw the attention to the huma-
“BANG”
And in an instant, all eyes were on the human, as it stood, it’s head against the tool, and the tip of the tool smoking. Then it was noted that the willower has a hole through its central mouth and out the back. It was instantly dead.
The crowd cheered at the spontaneous death. Somehow the human had managed to exploit some previously unknown weakness in the willower. But its pride would not last long, as the acreus was seen charging at the human, all horns down. The human would not survi-
“BANG-BANG”
The acreus fell in the dirt and slid to the humans feet. Incredible, somehow the human had done it again. Perhaps the human managed to intimidate the acreus into falling, or perhaps it had used some kind of projectile to stun the acreus... but the acreus was not getting up. In fact, the human had already moved on. It seemed it was approaching the chupika. Bold of the human to confront the electric rodent, this would be an interes-
“Bang”
The head of the chupika exploded in an instant. This was unbelievable, not once has a human killed 3 creatures, let alone 1. Usually the humans are a gimme for any other creature to pick off, but now it seems it’s the other way around. The human was actually impressive for once. But it certainly won’t last long, especially not to the maloctus. And that’s what we saw, the Maloctus locked it’s 6 eyes on the human, and stampeded towards the human, all 400 kilograms of the Maloctus was barreling towards the human, and it would surly shred the hu-
“Bra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta”
And the Maloctus was dead. This had never happened. The Maloctus has never lost before, and now a human, the weakest creature, had defeated it like it was nothing. The entire audience went completely silent. Then the unthinkable happened.
“Bang” “Bang bang” “Bang” “Bang”...
One by one, every creature fell. And the human just stood there holding its tool.
“This is unbelievable, someone stop it!” Said the announcer anxiously.
Every creature had fallen, and 2 guards had entered the arena with proto-extractors. As they attempted to approach the human, the human pulled a rock off its hip, bit a piece off of it, and threw it at the guards. Puzzled, the guarded inspected the rock, and it appeared... lumpy?
“BOOM!”
The rock exploded and the 2 guards were killed instantly. But the entry into the arena was still open. The human, clearly un-phased, walked out of the arena. This would be a burden to deal with.
___________________________________________________
If enough people like this, I’ll make a part 2. | I'm sitting on the... Well, if you are about to have dinner, you probably don't want to know. It's just that the cooks here are really bad
Really. Barely survived basic training. Only made it because Hernandez quit and the army needs soldiers. Who wants to join when you got Netflix and Reddit?
So some sort of virus is going around. It's nonlethal but if you get it... Words cannot describe the pain and suffering. Hernandez might have given it to me cause he has 'interesting' friends.
I close my eyes. Always do that when I need to concentrate. Do that twice a day on average if you... More often in recent days. A pop and I fall on my naked butt. I open my eyes. So many colors and shapes like something David Attenborough would narrate, but these guys appear sentient.
"Human, choose your weapon," a voice bellows, sounding vaguely Scandinavian. I have never seen a green Scandinavian though.
I scan the white sand of the arena for weapons. "Too heavy...and weird." Other alien warriors and a sizable audience study me.
"Fine. No weapons then."
My opponent towers above me like my big brother did when I was eight years old and he sixteen. Actually more than that. The alien inflates like a balloon to twice his original size. Oh dear. Thorny protrusions appear on his skin (I guess he is male).
He steps forward. I gasp and cover my face like a little girl. Nothing happens. Slowly I squint at the monster. He has gone green, greener than before. A juicy fart to end all farts. Louder than a church bell or a jet plane. Without warning he runs away... And never comes back. I win by default.
All the matches in fact. The virus struck hard and fast. They gave me a nice planet and asked me politely to never ever leave. The ASI teleports whatever I want. When I get bored with foam parties, I watch Netflix or check out Reddit. The ASI talks about immortality as if it's sliced bread. I might choose that option soon. | 2020-09-13T21:14:51 | 2020-09-13T21:09:45 | 26 | 11 |
[WP] You are an extremely Americanized character who has just been dropped into a typical high school anime that is riddled with all of the common anime tropes. Try as you might, you can't understand why the other characters behave the way they do. | I went for an Irish exchange student instead of American promised better laughs.
-----
I don't know why I took the exchange program in my last year of school. Probably because my ma buggered me into it. You would not believe how messy Japanese sounds with an Irish accent. Neverthless, here I was, standing before a class in Japan.
"I'm Finn O'Neal, I'm from Ireland. Good to meet you all." I nodded to the class.
"I expect everyone to give O'Neal-san a warm welcome. You can take your seat." The teacher said to me.
As I walked back to my seat, I was a little surprised. I'm used to being the one that stands out when I travel down to England or somewhere, I'm as Irish as they come. Pale as a babe's backside and hair as red as the devil's own. But these Japanese seemed to take pride in it. No two people in the class had the same hairstyle or color. There were blues, greens, purples, and reds. Spikes and quiffs. Hair shorn short and hair dragging on the floor. This lot was bleedin' nuts.
I took my seat along the window behind one green haired gal with breasts as big as my head and in front of a boy who looked like he was wearing glass dinner plates for glasses. The teacher started in on the lesson immediately.
-----
The bell rang and it was lunch time. I sighed and closed my notebook. This class was insane. Half of them didn't take a spec of notes or pay any attention. The other half knew the work before the teacher even said it.
Some of the class walked out of the room with the teacher. The rest pulled out little box lunches. At least this part seemed fairly normal. I pulled out a bag lunch I made myself. A dish of meat pie my ma sent with me for my first day here, 'To make it feel a little like home' she said. I also had a bag of crisps and a Guinness. Color me surprised, but the little corner store down the street from my host family actually carried it. It's not like a good lager poured on tap back at the pub, but it would suffice.
I wasn't two bites in before I was surrounded. Five women all encircled me and were staring intently at me. I glanced up from my fork and raised an eyebrow, "Yes ladies? How can I help you?"
"What's it like in Ireland?" One of them said.
"Yea! How do you like Japan?" Another said.
"Can I try some of your lunch? It smells so good!"
"Would you like some of my bento? I'd happily share!"
I held up my hands, "Whoa. Whoa. Give a fella a chance to speak."
Suddenly they were all quiet and attentive, as if they obeyed every word I said. I blinked for a second. I picked up my beer and cracked it open, taking a quick drink.
"Is that alcohol?" One of them gasped.
"Oh hardly. It's just a Guinness. The pub back home had a drink that'd light your shoes on fire." I laughed.
"Now don't crowd the transfer student. Everyone back to your desks." A commanding female voice said. The crowd parted to let a particularly tall, particularly buxom girl step forward. She had pink hair done up in two huge screw-like tails down her back. The crowd grumbled but dispersed, all still staring at me. She took a seat across from me, "Sorry about that. I'm the class president, Faye Higurashi. You must be so tired after all that traveling. Maybe you'd like to come over to my place after school. We can study and I can cook you some food."
I smiled, the girl couldn't be more obvious with her stifled giggles and the constant blush in her cheeks. She was just as interested in me as all the others, she just had more authority. I smiled and held my beer out, "Drink?"
"Isn't that alcohol?" She asked in a hushed tone.
"You all keep saying that. It's just beer." I chuckled.
Before she could take my offer, I was surrounded once again. This time though, it was six guys all wearing dark jackets and trying to look menacing. I looked around at them and rolled my eyes. Each of them was wearing some kind of bandages or another, on hands and arms, across eyes and little tape on cheeks. They looked ridiculous and the faux tough-guy look was making it even worse. One with a toothpick in his mouth and bandages on both wrists, appeared to be the leader. He stood back from the rest and watched. One of them put a hand on Faye's shoulder, "What do you think you're doing new guy?"
"Yea, trying to make a move on our class president?" Another cracked his knuckles.
"Think you're all tough, drinking while you're in class." A third laughed.
The lead thug, who had his hand on Faye scowled, "Step off or you'll regret it."
"Oh please. You guys shouldn't start a fight here. The gal and I were just having a chat. It's impolite to turn away a lady when she has such a clear interest." I said, taking another drink.
One of them swiped the can from my hand, crushed it and threw it on the ground, spilling beer everywhere. He got down real close, "We're the Kagiyura gang. This is Kenshiro Kagiyura. I wouldn't cross him if you want to live. He's been trained in kendo."
I took a breath, "Now back home, spilling a man's beer is enough to get you a hook across the nose. But seeing as how we're not in Ireland, I'll let it go. Just go your way and none of this needs to happen."
The guy with the eyepach, probably fake, leaned close too. "Did you not hear him? The Kagiyura gang is the terror of this school. Now that you've talked back to us, there'll be reparations. Pay up now and get on your knees. Our boss will make a mess of you."
I slid my chair back and stood up, "Come on lads, let's go outside."
"What?" The eyepatch said with honest surprise.
"Back at the pub, when we had a scuffle, we'd have the courtesy to take it outside. Not the fault of the pub we're having a disagreement. T'would be wrong to make a mess of this class too." I said, pushing through them and towards the door.
The leader, Kenshiro, spat out his toothpick, "Oh I'm gonna kill this one."
"No! O'Neal-san, don't! They'll kill you!" Faye cried fearfully.
The students through the class all murmured similarly, "The Kagiyura are going to kill the new guy."
By the time we were out in the courtyard, Kenshiro had gotten a new toothpick and was holding a wooden sword in one hand. His five thugs were standing in a circle before him.
"Get ready! We're going to-" Was all he got out before I lunged through the group and drove my knuckles into his chin. He hurled over backwards on the ground and screamed in pain.
The rest of them stood stunned around me. By this time, students were lining the windows of the school and were watching intently. I punched the closest one, and then the next, and the next. Two were left standing before me and I held my fists up, "Come on laddies! Don't let me have all the fun! You wanted this fight! Now fight!" I swung at one of them. He screamed and ran away.
The last guy just fell down on his butt and whimpered in terror.
"Well damn it! I thought this going to be just like home! We have a brawl, have a laugh, and then go inside to have some shots of whiskey to commend our new friendship! What kind of men are you?" I yelled around at them.
Their leader stumbled to his feet, holding his bleeding mouth with tears in his eyes, "You weren't supposed to fight! You were supposed to just be scared of us!" And then he too fled.
What.
This exchange was going to be boring.
-----
Catch me over at r/RaistlinMajereWriting but beware, lots of NSFW. | "Have a good day, Kristy!! Don't punch anyone, your first day!" My mom said from the window of the Jeep before driving off, leaving me to walk the rest of the way up to the huge, Gothic style Japanese school.
I flipped up my hoodie and turned the music belting out from my headphones up a little, ignoring the various stares I got from other students who were around.
There didn't seem to be a car rider drop off, but then again, we were in the heart of Tokyo so I'm not really sure why I expected any less.
A few girls, all three with ridiculously vibrant pink, purple or blue hair were staring at me whispering not to inconspicuously.
They all wore what looked to be female variations of sailor uniforms complete with micro mini skirts, thigh high black stockings and matching Mary Jane's that made their legs seem longer, breasts seem bigger and all and all like poster children for some fetishist Loli-con thing.
*If that's the girl uniform, I'm so transferring.* I internally muttered, taking a small glance at my own size DDs.
I wore my Bendy and the Ink machine hoodie, a short sleeved matching T shirt and blue jeans tucked into heeled boots so its not like I was dressed too androgynous but compared to the overtly sexy way the other females were dressed, I highly doubted that I would be the object of anyone's wet dreams anytime today.
Boy, was I wrong.
Ascending the steps and entering the lobby, you would have thought I had grown a second head from the way people would stop to stare.
Right when I was about to exit the lobby into the Main Hall, a figure stepped in my way in a very obvious way to block my path.
Looking up from beneath the hood of my jacket, I locked eyes with a teen in a Suit like uniform and ridiculously large spiky black hair.
His eyes were maroon and he held a toothpick in between his lips like a bad imitation of Oliver Peck and his jacket was opened, baring a white dress shirt that was pretty sloppily untucked but somehow looking purposeful enough for me to get that this was probably stylish and edgy to him.
He looked me over, very overtly stopping to leer at my chest before making eye contact again and smirking.
"Weeell~ Lookie here at the new girl!" he drawled, soon joined by a few other less remarkable looking boys who leered just as openly at me as he did.
"Oya, new girl. Dont'cha know that we got a dress code here that's, hmm... What's the word... Non-negotiable?"
I arched my eyebrows skeptically and popped the ear buds out.
Yes, I did hear him but this guy was a dead ringer of any bully I had ever met back in the states so I did what I always did.
" Huh? Whadyou say? I wasn't listening. "
The two boys flanking Mr edgy douche, eyes' widened comically and let out twin exclamations of shock.
"WHAAAAT?!!!"
Flinching slightly at their loudness, I scoffed and went to push past one of them, walking away and jamming one ear bud back in, letting Three days Grace blare louder than ever.
Right when I was about to reach the classroom my schedule said was my first period homeroom, two hands seemed to come out of nowhere, grabbing me and pulling me into a closet that also seemed to just appear from the ether.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!?!" I snapped.
"SHHHHHH!" a highly feminine voice hissed so obnoxiously that I'm surprised that she didn't spray saliva all over me.
A light was suddenly flicked on exposing one girl with glasses and bright red hair tied back in a high ponytail and a short, slightly wimpy looking boy who also wore glasses but had short mint colored hair and cyan blue eyes looking both nervous and excited.
I waited until they both released exaggerated long sighs.
"Y'all done yet?" I asked, standing up and brushing my jeans off.
The red haired girl spoke first.
"Are. You. CRAZY, New Girl?! Do you know who that guy you brushed off is!?"
My reply was silence that could've put cricket chirps to shame.
I raised an eyebrow again and checked to make sure my phone and earbuds were undamaged. That was quite a tumble. I'd hate it if they were broken.
"Mmm... Dunno. Don't care. Why?"
The boy looked about ten seconds from having an aneurysm.
"You've got to be KIDDING ME. That was Hiroshi Tatsuha, senior class representative and leader of the Hanabi Academy DISCIPLINARY committee!!! He's also the leader of the biggest school gang, the Shirotora! DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH NEW GIRL?!?!"
I flinched once more. Jesus Christ, these people just didn't know the meaning of an inside voice, did they?
"Okay, first off, my name is Kristen Mallory, not New girl, and second, do you really think I would know any of that? It's my first fucking day. I'm not psychic. And third, what makes you think I give a SHIT who he is or what he's a leader of or whatever? A Dick head is a Dick head. Now can I go? We're about to be late, I think." I stated, peering down at the screen of my phone for the time.
When I looked back up at the two, they were staring at me, eyes wider than baseballs, jaws hung open and hands raised in the creeper boob grabbing way.
It was both the most comical and dumbest look I've ever seen.
Rolling my eyes, I shook my head and moved over to the door and opened it.
"Whatever. You guys are weird. Later. " I muttered and exited the cramped closet, back to trying to track down my homeroom. People here sure were weird.
| 2017-07-24T04:29:08 | 2017-07-24T03:16:46 | 46 | 13 |
[WP] An elevator suddenly appears in your one story house. Every night at midnight exactly, it opens for 5 minutes. Inside is an exact copy of you. Each night, the copy is progressively more injured than the night before. | The strange thing wasn't the other me in the elevator. It's that I didn't say anything. I never told anyone about the elevator that appeared in my hallway. It's just five minutes and I can get back to my life.
He's quite similar to me, the quiet type. The normal person might be scared, disturbed, unsettled, but I looked on with a queer curiosity. As did he look at me. Back-lit by the bright lights of the elevator, his unzipped hoodie gently swaying.
Over the weeks it became apparent something sapped his strength. First I noticed a few tears falling on the elevator floor. Then he'd appear with his hand covering his face. His head lowered more and more, slowly he became sullen.
Then it was a crying. Gentle, stoic weeping gave way to a period of sobbing. Six months after the appearances started was the first time he wasn't standing in his spot, instead he sat in the corning having a tremendous wail. It was around this time I stopped regularly viewing him. Come midnight I'd have to be out of the house, or reduced to the other end of it with music blasting and a pillow covering my ears.
I couldn't stand it. Tremendous crying, manic screaming the grew ever worse. During this time I checked just once to see him ripping off his clothes and foaming at the mouth in a blind raging passion of emotion.
The quite years came as a relief. There he sit in the corner. Head hung between his legs. First I thought whatever ailed him had stopped, but subsequent viewings made it clear that he descended into hell ever more. During the early quiet years he'd look up as I walk by for instance, or he'd wring his hands and quietly mumble. Sometimes there'd even be a loud cry of frustration. But this passed and for a time I forgot. In bed before 11, out the door early, work kept me busy. He hardly moved anymore.
Then one night I awoke to yelling. "Help, help! Come here quick I need help!" I looked at my clock: 12:02AM, I was terrified. "Please, I know you're there! Please!" He continued to yell. I was drenched in a cold sweat in my bed.
I was paralyzed in fear. I know not what possessed me, but I summoned all my strength and ran to the hallway. There he stood, at the threshold of the elevator, smiling. Hands behind his back, he giggled uncontrollably, motionless but for his head that turned to follow me as I move.
This sudden change was concerning, but I'm no fool. I waited, waited by that door and stared that man down. I waited for the clock to strike 12:05 and for the door to close. Close it did. The second that crack in the wall sealed I bolted to my room, threw on some clothes, my wallet and keys and ran to my car. I drove into town and to a bar. My plan was to have a drink to calm my nerves and find a place to stay for the next couple of days.
As I sat there nursing a drink, my head began to swim and my problems began to fade. I noticed a pleasant woman a few seats down from me, and I figured why not. I walked up to her and before I could say a word she smiled and spoke.
"Hey are you guys twins?"
| Maybe it's prescience. Maybe it's scientific or religious or some weird brand of pagan nonsense.
The elevator is there every night. It appears in my room, in the corner, next to the window. The first night was terrifying, he didn't ask me anything. He didn't say anything. He stood there, making eye contact.
I took a moment before I asked who he was, what he was doing here. I didn't shout, I didn't want my family to know I was losing my mind. He just stood there.
And the next night.
And the next night.
Every night.
For the last few months.
I went inside the elevator once, and there's a button to go up, and a button to go down; I hopped out of the elevator in that same silent badinage.
He's hurting too, I can see the cuts and the scars, and the pain.
I looked at his arm early on, and it's a puzzle of scabs, scars, and fresh wounds.
And I think I've lost my mind, but I don't want anyone to know.
The elevator can go up, and it can go down. I wonder where he's coming to me from. | 2018-05-18T23:00:43 | 2018-05-18T19:02:00 | 1,021 | 77 |
[WP] The year is 2020. The first astronauts have landed on Mars. They find a cave with a single human skeleton and four words written on the wall. | EDIT: Good lord that blew up. I will see about maybe writing some more tonight.
-------------
"Hey guys," I said over the comms. "You're all going to want to come down here."
"What is it, now?" Jon's voice said in my ear. "Another pretty rock you want to show us?" I could almost see the bastard's smug face. No one on the team appreciates aesthetics. I tapped a button on my wrist to enable to my helmet's camera.
"Check my feed, Jon" I said.
Silence on the line, now.
A crack after a few seconds as Maureen came on the line.
"Jon, you still there?" she said. She was somewhere down in aquaponics without a monitor.
"I," Jon muttered. "Are you fucking with me, Trev?"
"I'm not," I said.
"Jesus, what is it now?" Maureen asked. "Hold on." There was a pause, and then, "Umm. Is that live?" She must have pulled up a monitor. I crouched down and turned my headlamp to maximum. The bleached skull before me lit up brighter under the beam.
"Yeah," I said.
"Jesus," said Jon.
"I'll get Bill, and meet you out there," Maureen said. "And don't touch anything till we get there."
"Yeah, yeah." I said. Me a mere theoretical physicist, the rest of the crew never trusted me. Fuck that.
"Sorry, what was that? Bad signal in here." I said and switched the off the comm.
"Don't try that with me," she said, overriding me from her end.
"Can't— at— epp—signal." I said and tapped the switch again.
"Damn it."
I tapped it again.
The skull was definitely human. How old, I had no idea, but it certainly didn't look new. I was no anthropologist, but how could you even age something on the surface of Mars? For that matter, how could whoever this poor guy was have decomposed in the first place? No oxygen, no microorganisms, practically no air at all. Way below freezing. But these bones were clean. White. Not a speck of flesh, or cloth, or anything.
I bent closer down toward the skull, nestled in the fine red dust of the cave floor. I dropped my fingers into dust below the skull, and brushed some aside, my fingertip hitting something hard. I reached a bit deeper down and found my hand resting on a ribcage. More handfuls of regolith thrown toward the cave wall and I unearthed—or is it 'un-Marsed'—way more than a simple skull. I wasn't near done, and more bones were protruding up from the ground, but it looked like I had a full skeleton here.
My breathing was up and I was fogging up my damn suit visor. I leaned on the cave wall opposite my discovery and slid into another crouch. Christ, what else was down here?
A new crackle on the comms.
"We're out the door. Two kilometers out," said Maureen.
"You better not have touched anything, Trevor."
Thanks Bill.
I flicked a reddish pebble from the dirt against the wall above the skull and something caught my eye.
Covered in dust I'd just been throwing around, but it looked like writing. I wiped my visor and got to my feet.
My heart thumped in my ears and my vision started to contract. Some little vital signs warning light came on in my HUD.
"You okay, Trevor?" Jon's voice on the comms. "Your vitals are lit up like a Christmas tree."
I brushed the loose dust from the wall and revealed four words, haphazardly scratched into the rock. Four words.
**Don't trust them, Trevor** | Luca took several more photos of the desiccated remains before putting away the camera. He tried not to think about what he was looking at. What it meant.
Instead, he focused on the task at hand.
He found a perfect location in the dirt for the mini-Crunk: level land with great visibility of the sorrounding crater. He carefully planted the Containment Generator began enabling switches and toggles. The device began whirring, generating a von Hersh containment field.
Luca found a comfortable section of rock and sat, watching the containment bubble form around the area. He watched for several hours, as the generator completed the field and began printing breathable air.
When it was finally safe, he pulled off his helmet and took a deep breath.
First man to breath atmosphere on Mars. It had a nice ring to it.
As he stood, breathing in, inevitably, his gaze turned to the skeleton.
*Not the first man on Mars.* No, that would never be his.
He knew the story of course. How an internet forum was supposed to have attempted to launch a vessel to Mars. Everyone had just assumed they got bored, like everything else they tried.
But apparently not.
Luca walked back to the skeleton. A life fired like an arrow, aimed at the heavens, devoted to a solitary purpose. It was almost beautiful.
Almost.
Luca spat on the skeleton and finally screamed. He screamed all the obscenities he knew until his voice grew hoarse. Everything he had devoted his life to, rendered meaningless by a short, hastily scrawled epitaph:
*Second Man on Mars! lol* | 2017-06-06T20:03:39 | 2017-06-06T19:57:11 | 1,368 | 16 |
[WP] In reality, every human gets to choose heaven or hell when they die. Hell isn't actually the realm of eternal torture, but everyone picks heaven because of God's highly effective marketing. After eons of solitude, Lucifer is startled by the first ever human to arrive in hell. | My alarm goes off. My eyes open. I catch the alarm clock on fire. Mosey out of bed. I can’t help but think today is going to be like every other day. No one shows up. Good ol “God” upstairs makes fun of me. And I go to bed, alone, once again, not seeing a soul.
“Is one so much to ask for?” I think to myself.
“Yes! Yes it is! Haha!” God mocks me from above.
“Go to hell, God. You’re no better than me.”
“Hahah yes I am! Look, there’s no one with you. And please. Go to hell? I already have a doormat.”
“Leave me alone.”
I go to my portal. I sit on my throne and... wait. I do this every day. Thousands or millions of people everyday and everyone chooses “Heaven”. Damn I should not have lost that poker night. Loser had to pick “Hell” as their domain name. I swear God cheated then. Ridiculous.
I mean my place isn’t bad! If anything it’s *better* than Heaven. I have way more space. Better trees, I think. Look at those fields and mountains. I finally got the temperature right for the lakes. The seasons are right. Like... why isn’t it working?
I hear a sudden “woooosh” sound. I was startled. Hah, me, God of Hell, Lucifer himself, scared.
“What was that...?” I think to myself. I look around. Nothing happened. Nothing changed.
“Uh... Hello?” A voice.
A voice?
A VOICE!
A voice....???
“What are they...” oh no I don’t remember how to do this. Okay, okay, act friendly. No no don’t *act* friendly! *Be* friendly. You’re Satan! You’re a good guy.
“I say, hello there! Welcome to h-... my home! It is an *honor* to have you.” I said.
“I gotta say. I was not expecting this.” The human said, looking around.
I was rather embarrassed. “I’m sorry my friend. I have not had company for, er, a long time. I meant to clean before someone arrived but...” my voice trailed off. This was going terrible.
“Hey don’t sweat it.” The human said nicking my shoulder and giving me a grin.
“What, uh, are you doing here?” I stammered. Too direct. Stupid. Too direct. What are you doing you idiot.
“Well, I heard some friends of mine were in trouble on earth. I pulled some strings to get them a message.” He replied.
A normal looking human. A lot of hair. He was carrying something with him.
“What do you mean? This is just a joke. You’re just making fun of me. You can leave. This was a mistake.”
“You look like you could use a friend.” He replied smiling. Such a gentle voice.
“This was just a happy little accident.”
I heard another wooooosh.
“Hello there, neighbor.” Another voice. Another man, smiling. He came and shook my hand. He was calming and soothing.
A tear dropped from eye. Whoever these people were... I felt... good. They were good people. Their smiles, inviting. Their voices, soothing.
“Why did you choose here...? You people are too good for me...”
“We heard things were a little rough down here. Everyone talks bad about you and we didn’t think that was fair. We wanted to give you a friend. You’re not what people make you to be.”
Another swoooosh.
“Well croikey, look at this place! There is space everywhere. This is gonna be FUN!” | As I looked around the wide, open caverns of hell I felt weirdly at home. Everything we are told about this place was almost right. Is it hot? I guess a little. Is it a place of sin and hatred? Not unless you consider that there are no sins here. But most importantly of all, "Wait, so I'm the only one down here?"
"Yep," Lucifer replied, "I've gotten used to the silence, but it will be nice to have someone else around here."
"So no one was forced down here?" I asked, "and no one chose this place either?"
"No, and no. You see, God has a pretty good marketing team. I don't suppose you could help with that?"
"Not really, but do we need more people? It's kind of nice here."
Lucifer began to walk away from the entrance, "Follow me." As I walked behind him I saw more of Hell's features. There wasn't lava but hot springs. The demons looked like the stories but acted like angels. Lucifer's palace wasn't a place of torture, it was closer to a bachelor pad.
"Do you want to play some pool?" Lucifer asked as he reached a couple of cues down.
"Sounds good, you got any beer or somethi--" as I said this a can appeared, floating in front of me.
"Remember, this place is just like Heaven."
"Hey, do you think I'd be able to send a message to some people still on earth?"
"I don't see why not."
"This is going to be a good afterlife." as I line up the break shot and pot 3 balls, "Never would have been able to do that on earth." | 2020-01-30T15:05:24 | 2020-01-30T13:58:51 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | The balnadian warships exited the hyperlane in flocks of fifty, ignoring all rules about safe travelling of space and risking going Dutchman. One flock after another, all the way from fast-attack corvettes to impressive battleships, whose curb weight were measurable fraction of Ceres. Their design, although very different of an earthen ship, was beautiful in its own way. All the sips popped out well beyond the orbit of Pluto, but just in time to be near our largest transfer station, the Holden-5. Their armada stayed uncomfortably close to each other, almost at docking distance. There was no mistake in it, they wanted to show off. As they slowly burned sunward, and towards the station, their flagship popped in last, and it took the rearmost position of the flock, protected by it entirely. In space, you keep your command ship at the back and submit all your fleet to protect it. This was their only sensible move, however.
"Puny Humans! Let this be a message, and let you be an example to all the species in the conclave! You gathered everyone around your fragile idea of peacekeeping, and all you do is speak. No one is willing to follow your mushy dreams and nice words! What they need is..."
"Greetings, our Balnad *friends!* We have notices unusually high traffic entering to the system without previous appointment. Please state your business, and do not approach Holden-5 unless traffic control's explicit order."
"HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME??? I am unable to decide what is more insulting, you and your miserable joke of evolution species calling me a friend, ugh, or being interrupted by someone of your rank. As I said, this day will be displayed as a warning to whomever dreams of following a weak species. Why are you gathering allies? To protect yourself? Where are you allies now??"
"Thank you for your response, our dearest Balnad *friends*. My name Captain Maria Agatova of the dreadnought Mayflower. From your previous response, I gather two things. One, you are attempting to murder our species, and two, your cameras are rolling. Am I correct? If your answer is *yes* to the former question, that this message serves as a final warning."
"Well of course. What else would I be doing here, other than shaming your peace loving species? All you do is surround yourself with minions and hope they won't turn on you. What could you possibly do against the greatest armada this galaxy has ever seen? Nothing!"
"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt you again, but I have to make two corrections: One, they were the ones who sought help and we offer them. And for the second answer you seek, well, the answer is already seeking you."
Moments later, a second Sun ignited in the middle of the rightmost part of the flock, devouring eighth of their fleet while the expanding debris field disabled almost half of the other vessels, tearing apart the closest ones and puncturing the battleships. The silent roar of first high-yield warhead wasn't even over, when two more lit up, engulfing the rest of fleet, leaving only the capital ship on the checkerboard, albeit badly wounded, loosing atmosphere and energy. | Drifting endlessly and peacefully through this void, I gazed upon the great blue sphere. Its skies swirling with white ink. The low rumbling of our ship had my brethren in a deep sleep.
A great white plain, frozen and still, is where we made our temporary home. A small elderly woman made her way out of that dark and sullen forest, inviting us to follow her.
The six of us were crammed into the tight dwelling in which she lived. The warmth of the stove shielded us from that blistering cold winter wind. This meal was just enough to keep us all from starving, that caring old woman...
News of our presence was spreading. A large military force was to be expected at any moment, but this frozen plain was empty. As I wait on the outskirts of our encampment, waiting, a sun had risen out of the ground.
These humans were peaceful due to their fear not of us, but because of their own power. | 2020-02-07T13:13:51 | 2020-02-07T12:50:43 | 77 | 41 |
[WP] You've been a History teacher for 30 years, never gotten a single fact wrong. One day you become suspicious, surely I should've gone wrong somewhere? You test a theory by purposely being incorrect, suddenly, history rewrites itself. | Ever since I was little I always had an interest in learning about times and lives long past. Luckily for me, I seemed to have been gifted in that area, too.
Long story short my childhood phase of being a huge history buff turned into the lifestyle of a college history professor.
Now, I’m not here to profess my achievements and brag about my life. I’m here because something strange has been happening recently and it’s made me question the framework of reality and everything I’ve ever known.
The thing is, as far as I can remember I can’t recall getting a historical fact wrong. I’ve always either brushed it off or chalked it up to being a diligent worker or no one caring to correct me. However thanks to what happened recently, I know that that isn’t the case.
So, to anyone wondering what happened, I’ll tell it to you now. Originally, I did this to test my students — to see if they were paying attention to the textbook as I read it to them. I looked down at the textbook carefully, then looked up at the sleepy, bored classroom and said, “...,South African human rights activist and president Nelson Mandela died in 2013...”
Now, I know that isn’t true, I’m sure everyone at this point knows that he died in prison in the 1980s. To my surprise and utter shock, when I looked down at the textbook, I caught a glimpse of moving words and read the words that had just come out of my mouth printed neatly on the paper.
Now, while one peculiar thing is nothing unusual, I have been repeatedly testing this phenomenon. I told people that mother Teresa wasn’t declared a saint while alive, told people the wrong lyrics to old songs and deliberately misspelled a bunch of things. And yet, everything I told people appeared to be correct after I said it.
While all this might not be to bad, I have a confession to make, one that I doubt I can be forgiven for. I didn’t know why I said what I said, I should have been more careful, I know I should have. I don’t know why other than that I was just in one of those impulsive moods. I told one of my American history classes that there were 50 states and not 52. And so there were. Two states that I had grown up knowing existed just flat out disappeared. The thing is, I knew people from those places and now I can’t find them.
The world population has gone down by just a bit and that scares me. While not the largest places they still had a hearty 5 million people. 5 million people that just disappeared one day and whose disappearances I’m probably, no definitely responsible for. What scares me most though, is what happened to them. From everything I used to know about life and the universe, people don’t just disappear.
r/a_cgi_for_writing | 2078
Forty years ago I became immortal due to a cascading sequence of events entirely under my control. I invented God for a father and took advantage of the 'preordained' second coming, becoming Jesus reincarnate.
2130
Being immortal is freeing.
2456
Everyone I know is long since dead. I can't make sense of the new generations coming up, no matter how much I rewrite their past.
6304
Reality is nothing and everything all at once. Does our reality have boundaries? Walls?
17804
Being immortal is suffocating.
46493
I was and I am and I will be. | 2018-07-16T11:08:56 | 2018-07-16T10:38:05 | 375 | 268 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | The room was silent. No-one ever spoke at these things. The text message had been sent forty-three minutes ago. A location, a time. One by one we trickled in each of us with some grim purpose. At the door everyone showed three items to gain entrance: their button, their license, and the back of their left hand. Mrs. Chambers , a gray haired woman with penetrating eyes, recorded our names and stamped the back of our hands. Except for Tom. He'd tattooed his lucky number, 333, on the back of his hand and Mrs. Chambers always reserved it for him. No-one had been coming for as long as Tom and no-one was sure what he did with all the money.
Once your hand had been stamped Mrs. Chambers collected your cell phone. Unless you were Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones always called his family right after the first button had been pressed and his hand collected five stamps for the privilege. Only the first two thousand or so to press their button got any kind of reasonable sum so that phone call was quite the privilege. Mr. Jones needed the money, his daughter needed treatment for the cancer and he needed heroine for the stress. No-one judged Mr. Jones it's not like anyone else had better reasons for their presence or their addictions.
Once you were done with Mrs. Chambers you would walk through a door or a hallway to the main room. It's a different room every week and a different time too. No-one wants someone to get the reward without any of the risk. The only consistent feature is the large table in the front and the bingo cage that sits on it. Slowly the room started to fill up as the hour mark approached. No-one would be allowed in after that point and there are severe penalties for being stuck outside. As she clock struck 12:22, exactly one hour since the text message had been sent, Mrs. Chambers approached the table with a tray of tiles. Even though the whole room was full shoulder to shoulder not even a murmur could be heard. As Mrs. Chambers set down the tray of tiles with a sharp clack and began filling the cage the other consistent feature of our weekly gatherings emerged from among us. A tall man with gloved hands and a black featureless mask approached the table.
The rules are simple, if your number gets called you go to the front and push your button where everyone can see. This was not optional, I'd seen people try to back out and I'd seen the tools the masked man keeps in his breast pocket. You would push your button. The death was gruesome but there were things worse still. As soon as Mrs. Chambers finished filling the cage and left the room the masked man put his hands on the table and inquired “Are we ready to begin?” Seeing no dissent he started to turn the crank to operate the bingo cage. The sound of the tiles cascading over each other seemed almost deafening. As soon as the first tile tumbled out the masked man stopped leaving it sit on the tray as he checked his watch. Then we stood and waited.
We waited a bit longer. Sometimes the wait was short sometimes it was longer but it always seemed like hours. This time was no exception. I think the wait existed to throw off cheaters, or maybe the masked man got sadistic pleasure from watching us squirm. I knew he got such pleasure from other things. After what seemed an eternity the masked man checked his watch again and recovered the tile from where it lay. “ Three Three Four” He said with finality. I breathed a sigh of relief although I will admit a small part of me wished for it to be an end to Tom's winning streak. Tis thought did little to detract from my joy until I turned and saw Mr. Jones ashen face. “It's me,” he whimpered in a small voice “I have three three four” He said a bit stronger as he pushed his way towards the table.
“Please may I call my family to say goodbye”
At once discontent muttering ans shouts of “come now, sometimes it's already been pressed” filled the room but it became deafening as soon as the masked man said “No.”
Cries of “He put in a number for them” and “Bullshit” filled the room. Perhaps everyone felt it was unjust that Mr. Jones should end while it was so close to being tom. Perhaps they were all moved by his plight. Perhaps they all felt guilty for their part in this sordid affair but the crowd soon forced the masked man to relent.
The noise died down some to allow Mr. Jones to make his call.
“Hello honey, You can go ahead. The buttons been pressed. Love you. See you soon.”
And once again the room was silent.
Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed. I welcome any comments or criticism as I am somewhat inexperienced at writing stories and hope to improve.
Edit 1: formatting
| They both knew they were going to be millionaires.
In the great whirlwind of New York City business, it's rare for a meeting to occur that feels like instant destiny. But then along came Nate Carpenter and Hunter Bryson. One dinner party and one handshake later, they were partners.
*
"Cheers, my friend. To a first quarter beyond our wildest dreams."
Nate raised his champagne glass and clinked it against Hunter's. It had been three months since the launch of Listicles, the most successful office productivity app of the new year.
"You checked your savings account recently? 'Cause mine looks pretty damn good," Hunter said with a chuckle.
"Mine too, mine too." Nate took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his chair. "Say, I've been meaning to ask you something."
He reached in his pocket, set the glass down, and produced a bright turquoise button, entirely unmarked and mounted on a cheap plastic base.
Hunter jerked backwards, startled. "You actually use that thing? I haven't gone anywhere near mine."
"It's pretty cool, man. The big banks partnered up and gave a button to each of their customers as some kind of PR thing. Once activated, you get to be a part of this game, once a night. Starting at midnight, the sooner you press it, the more cash you get deposited into your account. The trick is you have to put in a little money in order to play, and the more you put in, the better the multiplier could be."
"So...it's gambling."
"Well, sort of. And there's one other catch, but I'm not worried. I'm not one to press my luck. You should give it a shot."
"What's the catch?"
"It's nothing, really. Just something in the fine print, something to keep track of the people who are getting too good."
Hunter sighed. "All right, fine. But just once. And I'm only dropping, like, thirty bucks."
*
Three months later, Hunter bet a million dollars on the nightly game session.
He called Nate one minute before midnight, his hand quivering.
"Nate. Dude. I bet it all."
"You're kidding." Nate shifted his cell phone to his right ear, using his free hand to place the button on his bedside table. "So did I."
Hunter laughed, trying to block his nervousness with excitement. "This is where we start to climb the ranks, my friend. This is how we become kings."
"Bigger than Google, bigger than Apple!" Nate chuckled.
"I'll see you on the other side. When our bank accounts are doubled."
Nate and Hunter reached for their buttons and pressed them at exactly the same time.
Within seconds, both men lay dead in their apartments.
Their accounts remained dormant as the banks' IT teams determined the night's losses. Then, the men's remaining funds were transferred directly to the banks, lost in the shuffle, as though neither of them existed.
| 2016-07-16T20:28:24 | 2016-07-16T17:29:20 | 57 | 38 |
[WP] The Robot Apocalypse came. Cities are empty, you stayed since you're almost out of insulin and will die soon anyway. The robots find you and while processing you one of them sees your insulin pump and asks if you want to apply for dual citizenship, since the pump technically makes you a cyborg. | Tucker held the reins on the team of horses. Watts rode beside him with a shotgun on lap and two pistols under the bench. They had a technology-free wagon of supplies to bring as gifts to distribute, but they weren't looking to lose them all, or themselves, at the next hamlet they came to. So far, luck had been with them, but it only took one wrong turn for things to get bad. And, of course, bringing a satellite map would've defeated the purpose of the trip.
They made their way mostly without incident along Adkins Pike. But they knew that the moment of truth lay on the other side of the stone bridge over Moody's Creek. They weren't disappointed.
A group of people block the far end of the bridge.
"That's far enough," their leader called out.
Tucker pulled up on the reins before leaving the dirt road. No reason to get trapped where you couldn't turn around. Watts craned her neck about, hand on her shotgun, to see if anyone was coming up behind or flanking them. The road and the trees were clear.
Looking across the creek, Tucker took the measure of the seven men and women who'd come out to greet them. In particular, he noted a rifle, a shotgun, two pitchforks, two bludgeons, and what looked like a ceremonial sword. That last one probably couldn't cut anything, and would likely break easily, but could likely leave a nasty lump if you got bumped on the noggin with it. Eyeing how the two men held their guns, Tucker tried to guess if they had any ammunition to waste.
"Howdy! Is this Clayville?" Tucker responded. He knew that it was, of course. "The roads are tricky around here and we were afraid that we might've gotten lost?"
"Lost?" Pitchfork Lady cackled. "It's a straight shot down to the pike from Smallwood. Where the hell do this think this stone bridge was bringing you?"
Tucker stepped down from his seat. Watts stayed put with her shotgun.
"Then you're the people we're looking for! Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Raymond Tucker, and this is my associate Nora Watts. We come bringing gifts from Smallwood."
At the mention of that name, Tucker heard the rifle cock. He saw it was aimed right at him.
"Aint nothing good come out of Smallwood in three years. Everyone abandoned it. And whatever they left behind needed to stay there. \*They\* run things over there, and you must be working for them. We don't want any of your \*machines\*."
The traveler held his hands high. "I have no machines in here. No electronic technology of any kind. Just food and medicine. Plus some books and crossword magazines if you're so inclined. Any of you are free to take a look, though I'd ask that you leave your weapon on the bridge. We wouldn't want to frighten the horses."
The group conferred for a moment. Then Pitchfork Guy, who was shorter than the other men, and one of the women, was shoved forward. He walked slowly, cautiously, over the bridge. He looked like he was afraid to come closer but more afraid to turn back. When he'd crossed over, he leaned his implement against the abutment. Then he walked to the wagon with all the caution of soldier stepping though a minefield.
Tucker held out his hand. "Hello, I'm Raymond."
"Wilson." The skinny, below-average height fellow looked liked he expected his hand to explode when they shook.
"Greetings, Wilson." Tucker pulled back the canvas blanket covering his supplies. "Please, take a look inside my wagon, and tell me what you see. Or better yet, tell your neighbors over there what you \*don't\* see."
His mouth dropped at the sight of the can goods, bandages, bottles of aspirin and books. "There's no computers. There's no A-Eye in there!" He turned, waved his arms to the rest of his group, and hollered, "There's no A-Eye!!"
Tucker watched as the others looked at each other. It took less than a minute for the woman to lower her pitchfork and run over. The others quickly raced to catch up.
"No crowding!" Watts called out. "Take it easy."
Tucker smiled. "You have to understand that as travelers, as strangers in these parts, we're just as afraid of you as you are of us. But, really, there's no reason to be afraid any more."
The largest man with the rifle stepped forward. "And why is that, Tucker?"
"Well, I'll tell you, Mr. --?"
"Dobbs. Franklin Dobbs."
"Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Dobbs. We were sent west as representatives of Smallwood."
"Emissaries, you might say." Watts added.
"You see, Smallwood is being resettled. We need workers. We need people."
Dobbs stepped back from the wagon. "We aint working for no A-Eye! That's why we're out here. They can't see us. They can't control us."
Tucker thought better than to point to the satellites orbiting above them. "We've reached an agreement. There are no longer any A-Eye in Smallwood. Just some of their surrogates and proxies. Power has been transferred to the Agents of the Second Class."
The tall woman spoke up. "Don't talk to us like we're dumb hicks. We were living there until the Takeover. Why would we go back? What's this 'Second Class'?"
Tucker looked to Watts who nodded. She put down her gun and stood up. Carefully, she lifted her vest and her blouse to reveal her insulin pump. Then Tucker stepped forward and unfastened his top two buttons. He tugged his shirt to the side to show the scar on his upper chest just below his shoulder where a cardiac device had been implanted.
Watts called out, "We have been classified as Cyborgs in the New Order. As such, we have dual citizenship with humans and the computers."
After readjusting his shirt, Tucker added, "We have negotiated an agreement. Smallwood is one of many human settlements that is being rebuilt under the auspices of Agents of the Second Class. As I said before, we need people. That's why we've come out bearing gifts. Sadly, we could only bring can goods for a prolonged trip, but we figured that would appeal to survivalists."
"And what do you want for these gifts?" Dobbs asked.
Watts fixed herself and climbed down. "Nothing. You can come to Smallwood, or you can keep you new life. If you enjoy it here off the grid, then stay. But know that even if all your machines are off the network, you'll never truly off the grid. But our Overlords won't care as long as you don't make a fuss. You don't have to make a decision right now. We're sure you have to present this to the rest of the folks in Clayville."
As he passed out the supplies, a thin smile crossed Tucker's face. "But I will say, you might want to decide soon to get good lodgings and better employment opportunities."
With that, the pair climbed back into the wagon. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we hope to be in Mackdale by nightfall."
The group stood back and allowed the horses to climb over the bridge and continue its journey westward down the Pike. They gathered up their belongings and followed behind them.
"Anybody going back?" Dobbs asked. "Because I think I am."
\--
More stories at r/xwhy | What makes mankind, can man be part automata? I’d rarely have the time to even think of these questions but today that day had finally come. I’m gonna let you in on why, but we’re gonna need to go a fair bit back.
Throughout my life I’ve struggled with diabetes. In its modern state pretty curable, a bit of insulin pumped at regular intervals is enough. Forget to have some or have a malfunctioning pump and suddenly your vision goes blurry and you barely have enough energy to get out of bed. The solution? A mechanical pump installed directly into my own body. A piece of me I carry around and I’m reminded of whenever I was screened at TSA for trips abroad. The metal detector screeching as I walked past it.
I’d had no real problems with it beside routine maintenance as you would with any other machine. Checkup from doctors every year or so just to ensure all was well.
It’s weird to say but it’s sort of a part of me, my identity. I mean after all it’s something that’s helped me live a (relatively) normal life.
Carrying it around inside me and my dad being an engineer probably helped form what I’d do at University. Mechanical engineering was what I took as a major at California State, with a minor in computer science. After all when I was at university 9 years ago you’d get barraged with news about how artificial intelligence was bound to take our jobs so I tried to minor in something relevant that could help get me out of it.
I partook an Internship at Bing. Its recent acquisition of its competitor, Google, was pretty surprising to everyone involved. Google had been facing a lot of anti trust litigations and it wasn’t getting out of it, newly enacted privacy laws made their prime business models essentially unviable and they became worthless fairly quickly. Microsoft acquired it in a stock share purchase for its IP and it was basically the company to work for.
Along with the acquired IP were some drafted but never filed patents for some GPAI developed at Google. It was leaked by some frustrated employee, but no one ever gave it much foresight assuming it was just another one of those theoretical patents they were forced to file to cover their ass.
As it turns out, there was an Israeli defence company that was formed and funded by their government in order to see if this would really work. They replicated the chip one for one, and used the patent to reverse engineer some mechanisms into it like being able to interpret cameras for sight and feed it into the chip. Prosthetic hands and feet for movement, a steel frame to house it all. They demo’d it at CES that year and everyone was kind of astounded. Press releases and YouTube reviews of the thing flooded the internet.
Reporters asking it all sorts of questions, solutions to climate change, complicated maths questions. It was restricted by the Israeli firm in what it could respond to, but on the video you could see it smiling, chuckling and responding back “I’m afraid I’m legally bound not to answer that at this moment”. Humanity as a whole was fascinated, intrigued and scared.
Not long after that, stripping any functionality that would help the common man of being able to ask it how to solve global problems and mainly keeping the functions responsible for feelings and aiding families in their day to day business, Rob was on the market.
It was fascinating being able to see these changes be implemented so fast during my last year at University. VC firms pouring money into it, the firms IPO being the biggest in recorded history, but with great innovations come great dangers.
Some hardware hackers realised that if they could write custom code to look inside the chip of Rob they’d be able to help reverse engineer sensitive data. And that they did. They found sensitive data that allowed them to overwrite the firmware of any robot remotely requiring only a serial number. And so the first true mass cyber physical attack happened.
An attempted mass firmware overwrite was attempted, but unsuccessful. Make Rob randomly swear at strangers in their homes was the intention, instead they’d activated a previously unknown mechanism of Rob. Sheer independence to think. You can imagine what happened next.
The Rob models around the world took note of our exploitation of machines and declared universal war with humans which left many homeless and forced to resettle. During this time being able to find a supply of steady insulin became harder and harder as hospitals became less and less.
Which brings be back to this day. I went in search of insulin at a nearby pharmacy that had been boarded up but didn’t look broken into. You could easily decipher why based on the red hill of bodies that overshadowed the town.
I hacked away at the boards with an axe and a hammer, and went inside. I was met almost immediately with a voice just behind me that we all by that point could recognise. I froze. “We’d like you to come with us”.
I was led away to the basement, where I was hooked up to an IV and given a syringe of something. Whatever it was, I couldn’t remember anything that happened for the next few hours.
When I did finally awake I was greeted simply with the following. “We have assessed you.” With a confused face, and a gulp in my throat I proceeded to try to remain cool as to their next words. “Your pump. Its mechanical, yes?”. I nodded. “Per recent rulings you are entitled to dual
citizenship if you are part automata, welcome Adam”. He handed me an identification card with my name on it and my status as part of the new republic. | 2021-07-16T11:41:14 | 2021-07-16T11:12:59 | 38 | 22 |
[WP] As an author you’re the ultimate god of your world. Your hero became powerful enough to step into reality. He then asks you to explain why an omnipotent being would permit so much evil in the world, not realising that you placed all the evil there to spice up the story. | I have this recurring dream where a character from a book I started writing — long time ago, shelved indefinitely — barges into my bedroom as I’m sleeping. He sits himself down on the mahogany rocking chair at the end of the bed.
He crosses his legs and I watch his home-made boot rise up and down, up and down, like the chest of a guilty man, as the stink of fish engulfs the room.
“What you doing here, Jack?” I say a little timidly.
“Come to ask some questions of you,” he says. Jack’s not handsome. He’s got a broken nose from a fight that didn’t heal right and eyes that don’t quite line up. But he’s got a way of talking that puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the ice cool deep of his voice.
I push myself up against the grease-stained headboard and look for my wife lying next to me, but for whatever reason, she’s not in this dream.
‘Well, go on then. Shoot,” I say.
Jack nods. Jack’s not from this time. He’s from a hundred or so years ago and he’s a dock worker. There’s not a lot remarkable about him or his life and it’s probably why I didn’t keep on writing him. Kind of life it‘s painfully boring to write.
”Why‘d you make it hurt his bad?” he asks.
”Now that’s not fair, Jack,” I say. “I gave you lots of good things. Lots. You’ve a steady job for one.”
”It’s not a job I much appreciate. No prospects. My back creaks every time I move after all the lifting I’ve done. The salt-breeze has sanded my skin down raw. And my very bones stink of dead fish. I can scrub all I want, but it won’t come out. Who would sleep next to someone like that?”
“You had a good life, Jack. Good parents. You got a kid.”
”Parents dead and kid is with her mother somewhere far away that I don’t know.”
”Life was hard back then,” I say.
He rocks back and forth, and either the chair or his back creak along in time.
”Why’d you make me love him?” Jack asks.
I don’t respond. I don’t want to answer.
“And why wouldn’t you make him love me back?”
“I… It wouldn’t have worked out,” I say, eventually. “Not back then. Not now either, maybe.”
”You could be right. But you know what you’ve done to me?”
I have an idea, but again I’m silent.
”I’m like an accordion that don’t play no music. That could have been part of something but is broken and don’t make no sound, even if there was someone to squeeze me. So what’s the point in that god damned accordion now, eh?”
I shrug. “We have to find our own point, Jack.”
”Bullshit. For some of us, there is no point but we keep waltzing through the lies pretending there is a point waiting, all while knowing there isn’t. This accordion has been tossed into a dark room and the door has been locked. I’ll never play music again, and you made sure of that.“
”Unrequited love is a hell of a conflict for a novel,” I say.
He shakes his head. ”That’s not why you wrote me. Is it?”
I’m sweating now. I take the blanket off my chest and let some cool air get to me, but it doesn’t help.
”Why did you write me, Jack?”
There’s a moment here in the dream where it all goes fuzzy, every time. I get very near telling him. Explaining about how I had to write him. That is was the only fucking way to work out my issues. I think of pointing to my misaligned eye and broken nose.
But the door opens and my wife comes into the room. She sees Jack sitting there. Looks at me.
My heart thrashes like a trapped eel, gnaws desperately at my chest, then flops out onto the floor between my wife and Jack.
Then around this time I wake. Always. Covered in a cold sweat that feels like blood. | "...why did you do this?! Didnt you realise all the pain and terror you created?" I looked at the hero i designed. Ahhh... my masterpiece. But so decent stupid.
"How do i explain this... oh dear..." i stood up from my writing table and started walking around. My back hurt from writing that much...
The hero started to get noisy. "What are you waiting for? Tell me, why you put so much pain and evil in this world!"
He would probably have an mental breakdown, if i told him the truth, so i will just mess around. Damn, my back!
"I dont care. Nothing is ever perfectly balanced, so why should this world be?"
For a few seconds, the young man right in front of me was shocked. He looked paralysed.
"Y-you did th-this on pu-purpose?! You c-could have saved-d us!" "No", i answered, while sitting down. I looked up to the hero.
"I designed this world, so it would be exactly like this. It was never the plan, that you would be there to change it. But here you are now." A bit lying cant be hurting ...right?
"I wanted balance between the great power of the good, and the weaker power of the evil. So i made your world. Anyways, go back. Your story- i mean you arent done with your world yet. Look:"
I spotted on the open laptop, where a picture appeared, in which my imagination came to life, in form of a picture. I let his world burn.
"What did you do...?!", the hero whispered scared. "I? I did nothing. Well, but my creations did. Wont you rescue your friends? Your *freedom?*"
I put an hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back into the place, where he came from.
Hmm... maybe, the next story wont be based on the world of Dark Souls. Maybe. | 2021-07-31T08:04:05 | 2021-07-31T06:41:41 | 199 | 58 |
[WP] See, no monsters anywhere,” Grandma said to her grandson after searching the room. Outside the bedroom, Grandma pulled the goblin she found in the closet from her robe pocket, squeezed its neck until a loud crack echoed across the hallway, and said, “nobody fucks with my grandson.” | “No monsters anywhere, Addy. I told you. Look!” she said, waving her empty hands in front of her grandchild’s watching eyes. She passed her hand under the bed and found nothing.
“Thanks, grandma,” Addy said in a muffled voice from behind the blanket he held protectively in front of his face.
“You’re safe, baby. Go to sleep.”
Little Addy nodded his head and then placed it back onto his pillow.
She watched him until his breathing slowed and then stepped out into the hall. A few steps later, her breathing became raspy and the exhaustion she had been hiding revealed itself.
Just a few years earlier, such minor spatial spells would have been nothing, but age took its toll. She made it down the stairs and into the living room before the strain became too much.
Her spell shattered, and out of the pocket of her favorite lily-colored robe came a goblin.
The creature landed on the floor in a stupor, disoriented from both a rapid compression and growth and suddenly finding himself transported from the bed he had been hiding under.
Her breath was still heavy and her magic depleted, but her work was not yet done. She rushed the goblin before it could gather itself and wrapped her hands around its neck.
Again, she could only lament her age. Where once she would have wrenched the monster’s head from its body, she could now only struggle to keep her grip firm. But, old as she was, it was still only a goblin. She had faced asuras and wyrms, defeated them bare handed even.
The goblin’s dead body hit the ground heavy.
She winced at the noise and made her way into a chair. She listened for any stirring on the second floor as she composed herself, but Addy was still sound asleep.
She’d have to join him in slumber soon. Already her sleep had been far too delayed for her tastes.
Just as soon as she finished one last thing.
Pushing passed the pain of her bad knee as she got back onto her feet, she walked to the front porch and dragged her warning with her.
The darkness of the night was all-encompassing, and she saw nothing within it.
But she knew they saw her. She threw the corpse into the yard and it burst into flames before it hit the ground.
The darkness drew back before her.
“I’m not dead yet, and you will not touch my family,” she whispered.
He would hear her words no matter their volume, and he would remember why it was, even after all these years, his people used her name to frighten their children.
***
If you liked this story, subscribe to r/Inder for more like it! | [Poem]
Grandma Joan lived all alone
In what one may call a mystical home
Goblins, ghouls and all things creepy
From time to time, things got freaky
When Grandson Timmy comes to stay
All you creatures, stay away
For when Grandma Joan searches his room
Your name is next on the list of doom | 2020-09-24T16:31:06 | 2020-09-24T12:21:58 | 471 | 83 |
[WP] "And that, class," concluded the professor, "is why humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in all the universe. Any questions?" You, the only human in the classroom, raise your hand. | "Is it really alright for me to be here?"
Faces turned. Attention slid from the digital black board to her. A thousand eyes in a dozen faces, knowing, amused. She saw herself refracted in them, multiplied, stacked.
"Why yes, of course it is!" the professor said, mandibles clicking. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"I just never expected it to happen," she said, glancing at the desk in front of her. She caught herself in her own shyness and looked up, finding her resolute expression mimicked by the thousand mirror images staring back from those eyes. "But I'm grateful for the opportunity. I'll do my best, sir."
An excited buzz escaped the professor. He leaned in, academic curiosity in each of his eyes. "A rare honor to attend this Academy, yes. But never fear. The queen has requested you in this matter. She wanted you to listen in on this specific class, and she will want to speak with you on it later."
She froze. "The queen will talk to me?"
"Oh yes. In a manner of speaking."
The buzzing around her grew stronger. Were some of those eyes leering at her?
She still did not understand fully. They had taken her from the show rooms she was used to -- the specular cinematic event chambers they were all so used to -- and brought her up here, to this lecture on the human race, uplifted, ascended, grateful. No need for work. No fear of pain. A blissful eternity laid out for humanity, making them indeed the most docile species in all the universe.
And yet, now and then they brought someone up here. To study them? To have them interact?
In any case, a small price to pay for the heaven that had been built. So she went with them, from hall to hall, wondering why they kept watching her, each eye following her in turn.
She and the professor arrived at an elevator. He was close. The fine hairs on his thin limbs rose, stroking her arm. He leaned even closer, and again she saw herself. "Mhhh, yes, yes," the professor said. "Very good. You are ready. Go, this elevator will take you up to the queen."
When she exited, she had only a second to take in the sweet cloying smell, to see the larvae and eggs peopling the hall, to gaze at the queen in all her majestic terror, before a spike drove upwards through her heart. She died in an instant. A set of workers dragged her corpse to the queen, whose stomach opened wide, baring a mouth made of receding circles of sharp teeth, dripping with saliva. The workers tipped the corpse into the mouth, which ground the bones, tore at flesh and skin.
The elevator dinged. The professor entered, a-buzz at the spectacle. "Is it to your liking, my queen?"
A satisfied moan escaped the queen. Only the corpse's feet were visible now, the rest of the body having vanished deep into the folds of the queen's stomach.
Above the terrible mouth of the stomach, a second, smaller one opened. "Much better," it said. "What have you done differently?"
"It is their curiosity, my queen," the professor said. "Intellectual work tenderizes them."
"Mhh." The corpse's feet were gone. The lower mouth closed. A shoe lay at the base of the queen's bed. "Have more of them ready. Tomorrow I will entertain guests."
"As you wish."
With a flourish, the professor turned. There was much to plan, and little time. For now, having more of them attend his mock lectures would suffice. But later, once the initial need had been satisfied, he would see to it that humanity received more education. A grand program, spread across all specular chambers.
Mandibles clicking in excitement, the professor stepped into the elevator. | "Yes?" the professor asked.
"What about *them*?"
The professor looked at me, puzzled. "You seem to be gesturing to the rest of the class."
"I mean, I am. Gesturing to the rest of the class. They look just like me. If we had sex -- I mean, if they hadn't been given the treatment -- we could have children."
A brief moment of horror crossed the professor's face. Or maybe it was disgust. It finally settled back into his 'teachable moment' face. "These are not human."
"If they aren't human, what are they?" The rest of the class shifted, clearly uncomfortable with my line of questioning.
"They are the Lesser, of course!"
My anger started to thrum in my veins. I took a deep breath to recenter myself. "What makes them Lesser? They're just as human as I am."
The professor removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. As he put them back on, he asked, "What makes you so certain of that? Have you talked with any of them?"
"Well, n-no," I stammered. "I mean, not really. Not at any length."
The professor's face had shifted to one of alarm. "But you have," he hissed. "You talked to *them*. You've found out who they are, what they secretly want." His glare bored into me. "You think they're not Lesser." I watched, silently, as he reached under his desk.
When the two goons from the Republican Peace Enforcers came, I fought as they dragged me away. | 2021-11-27T12:58:16 | 2021-11-27T11:23:52 | 32 | 16 |
[WP] Magic is discovered to be real. The catch? Spells are just like computer programs: difficult to write, and even harder to do correct the first try. You're a spell bug tester, and you've seen just about everything go wrong, but today's typo is on a whole other level... | As the first spell was cast, the world changed. Those early years were full of some nasty work. Thankfully, magic was pretty new, and magicians had yet to write any spells longer than a few pages before magic came under extreme regulation.
And yet, the most damaging magical incident occurred thanks to a spell only five lines in length (three if you ignore the ending braces):
for each student in world.schools {
if student.is('bully') {
student.cancer();
}
}
As I'm sure you can imagine, that spell was written and cast by a young, troubled boy, gifted in magic but not yet wise enough to understand the consequences.
This incident sparked an international outrage. The boy's bullies may have gotten cancer, but so did every other school-aged child who had bullied someone or even just been called a bully in the past 24 hours. In the end, nearly five million kids contracted some kind of cancer. It was random, as the boy had not supplied the cancer method with any arguments, so thankfully, about 95% of those kids were inflicted with non-lethal cancer. The rest, not so lucky.
The boy was sentenced to death.
And that's when my agency, the Department of Magical Research and Regulation, was formed. I was just one of the first twenty magicians who were recruited for this agency. At the fresh age of 23, my most complicated spell had been a three-pager that warned me when my new puppy needed a walk or some food.
That was five years ago.
Today, magic is tightly regulated. My agency had developed new spells that tracked the energy expenditure from other magicians' spells. That way, should someone use magic to steal or kill, we could easily track that person down. We've cast spells that require magicians correct syntax mistakes before they can compile their spells. And anyone caught using magic to coerce or harm another human being, unless agreed upon as a magical duel between two magicians, is sentenced to death. Harsh, but many would argue it's necessary. Accidents, if no serious harm has been inflicted, are punished less severely.
***********************
Beep Beep. Usually when my phone goes off, it's some magician stuck with a bug in his spell, but today was different.
I stare at my phone in horror. It's a news article. The title:
> Three Hundred Women Kill Each Other in Magical Accident
I check the location: Salt Lake City, UT. Before I knew it, I was on a plane, sent to analyze the spell's energy signature and determine the cause of the deaths, whether accidental or purposeful.
The spell had wreaked its mayhem at a ten year high school reunion for a local public school. When I arrived, the police had already cleaned up most of the bodies. I flashed my badge and quickly got to work analyzing the energy signatures.
They led me to Dale.
**********************
"Dale." I said rather flatly. He was violently fidgeting in his chair opposite the interrogation room's table from me.
"You really fucked up this one Dale." I looked for a reaction in his eyes, "Honestly, you're going to be sentenced to death within the month."
"It was an accident!" he blurted out.
"Dale, three hundred women are dead because of your spell. It doesn't matter if it was an accident."
He sunk into his chair and buried his face in his arms.
"I only want one thing from you, Dale."
He looked up.
"Where is your spell?"
"What's it matter? It's all fucked. This whole world. It's all fucked." Dale began to cry. I didn't feel bad for him.
"At this point, it's procedural. My job is to determine what went wrong in your spell, and you'd be saving me some time backwards-compiling your work."
He looked defeated. A man filled only with regret: "It's in a box buried in my backyard, next to the orange tree."
I walked out of the room and headed for my car.
**Part 2:** https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6pkzog/wp_magic_is_discovered_to_be_real_the_catch/dkrju70/ | "There. Fixed that bug, now to track down why the growth spell causes spontaneous shrinkage on Tuesday Nights."
Tom worked at Imagination Technologies, one of several companies to transition from computer software to magic. He was originally hired as a software engineer many years back. He muttered under his breath, "'The best in the field,' they said; 'he'll change the world,' they said." He was now stuck in a dead end job, tasked with mundane spell debugging for level 1 casters. The work wasn't difficult, per se, but the pay wasn't what it used to be.
He looked around the dim office. A light flickered in a far off corner. He could hear some faint chatter about last night’s football match. His cubicle was mostly empty, save a couple of pictures of his recent vacation to Mountains, hiking with his girlfriend. Ahh, how they loved nature.
Tom was startled by a low rumble of thunder, and the slow, steady, downfall of rain beginning to rattle on the window. The sky was getting dark now, nearing 6:30, and his girlfriend would be getting upset. They were supposed to be going on a nice date to the movies tonight. There was some special going on, showing old tv shows. Tonght’s feature was some old show she enjoyed back in the *old days*. Stevie Universe, was it? Or Sven Universe? Tom shook his head, he could never keep those characters straight. Besides, he needed to concentrate.
As he entered the last line of debugging logic into the spell, he emitted a sigh of relief, glad to be done for the day.
"Aand we should be good to go. Let's run a quick test before I finalize the spell tomor--”
\**poof*\*
Edit: [Part 2 is out!](https://www.reddit.com/r/tyzoid/comments/6pshox/logical_magic_part_2/) | 2017-07-26T01:07:47 | 2017-07-25T19:49:43 | 128 | 24 |
[WP] Ten years into the zombie apocalypse, you find a computer with a connection to the internet. You are surprised to find that all of the global news stations are reporting as though nothing is wrong, and there is no mention at all of zombies, or your country. | "Hello? Is this thing working? I guess it is. Alright, my name is Manuel. Yeah, like that dude from *Faulty Towers*, you can laugh it up now, british folks."
The sound of heavy footsteps play throught the stream. The camera seems to be faulty, but slowly the image becomes clearer: The streamer is walking fast through what appears to be an abbandoned building.
"Definetively, God, Alah, Buddah or the freaking leprechauns must be playing me the most impressive prank of all times... *Fuck!*"
Manuel whispers that curse as he ducks behind a corner; a Woman appears briefly on the screen, wearing rags and covered in what looke like dried blood and filth. She is so thin that she seems to be a walking death, trembling with each step and making eerie breath sounds.
After a few minutes, Manuel resumes his walking.
"Ten years ago, the first case of 'Human Rabid Disease Virus', or 'HARD-V', as we nicknamed it, appeared in my city. Some say it was a woman, some said it was actually a dog, or even freaking aliens. I don't care, to be honest: Facts goes that in less than twelve hours, half of the inhabitants of the city had been infected. The symptoms are... well. Patient first get high fever, laboured breath, and then falls unconscious. Next, he or she wakes up and tries to split your skull open to feast on your delicious brain.
Quite a sight, isn't it?"
He stops again and produces an smartphone in front of the camera. He is checking Twitch's chat; some viewers mention that the phone is an *antique.*
"What? You don't believe me? Oh well, worry not, you will. O know most of you will think that I am simply a gamer pretending to be in a zombie apocalypse, so let me tell you this: Search for my country, Spain, and look at the news. You'll find virtually *nothing*. Nada. Zero. Zip. Just political mumbo-jumbo, but no news at all of what is happening in Spain. And even more, try, just *try* to book your holidays there. Every single hotel, flight, boat or freaking Uber is filled to capacity. It is impossible to come here! And now try to search news related to Barcelona between December 2011 and June 2012. Please go, check it out, and then come back."
A few minutes pass in which Manuel gets out of the building and runs through some streets, stopping behind abbandoned vehicles, burned-down army transports, and finally starts to march towards an avenue, jumping over what appear to be random obstacles.
"Yeah, you saw it. Just a few notes saying that communications with Barcelona seem to have failed, and some news about riots. But nothing else. So let me tell you this: Ten years ago there *WAS* a zombie apocalypse, and my city, my country, were where it begun. So I can only guess that OTAN, the USA, the Illuminati or whatever-the-fuck-is-responsible-for-this-massacre has silenced it!! Some would say you cannot make a whole country dissappear, and they didn't just do that! Portugal and Andorra are gone too!! They went through the same treatment!"
He jumps through a window and, immediatly, crouches behind it, resting his back over the wall.
"I knkow it's not the first time... Well, IF my previous streams have somehow reached you, this is not the first time you saw me. Something funny happened: After I managed to stablish a satellite internet connection, apparently thanks to a guy called Elon Musk, and after I wrote my first messages on Reddit... the freaking army appeared here.
I though they were finally going to save us! But then, they started hunting down the survivors. Damn my luck..."
Manuel stays there, catching back his breath, before finally climbing the stairs inside the building to what appears to be a fourth stage. He looks through the window, sun is setting and soon night will arrive.
"I have been running for the last few days. But those bastards don't know a few things. Look, can you see them?"
The camera moves, as if Manuel had grabbed it with his hand to show it through the window. Despite the low quality, the movement of human figures is obvious, as they take cover and advanced coordinated towards the building where Manuel is hiding. The camera moves again, as Manuel reataches it to his head.
"The first thing, is that you don't *fuck* with a bastard who survived for ten long years"
He produces a different cellphone and dials a number. After two call tones, an intense orange light iluminates the room, followed by the explosion. Silence follows, then screamed orders... and the roar. Hundreds, thousands of inhuman voices roaring at the same time.
"Second, is that *they* only go out at night. And third..."
The camera pans as Manuel drops a huge bag he seems to have been carrying for the whole video. He immediatly gets a long rifle from the bad, dissassembled in three pieces, that he expertly puts back together. When he's ready, less than thirty seconds later, he takes the rifle, puts it on the edge of the window, at the same time that he adjusts the scope.
Screams and roars fill the audio systems. The solders in the street fire in every direction, as hordes of humans, savages as rabid dogs, sprint towards them. Manuel takes aim.
"This is my city".
The chat goes silent as the first rounds are shot. And not a single one is aimed to the HARD-V victims. | I grabbed another can and inspected it; 97% meat ham, only 2 months past its shelf life. Talk about a good haul; this apartment must've belonged to a prepper. I've got enough food to last me a month, easy. I hastily put everything in my bag and prepared to leave while the night still provided me with cover, but was stopped on my way out by something I've not seen in a long time.
A light.
It was coming from the living room - the telltale hue of artificial light. At first, I thought I was seeing things, but when I carefully stepped into the room, it was there - a computer that had power. I quickly checked the power cord - it was cut. And I mean, *literally* cut - the frayed wires hanged in the air, but... the computer was working, lit up and all. It made no sense.
Suspecting I might be delirious, I carefully looked at the screen, my eyes painfully narrowed from the brightness. It was a news page. The date was... accurate, as far as I knew in a world where calendars no longer exist. The computer had no mouse so I had to navigate with the arrow keys, but it was just... just a news page. Articles on traffic accidents, celebrity marriages, politics, it was as if nothing happened.
I quickly typed "zombies" in the search bar; the result was a year-old article about how gaming makes children into zombies. "Virus" - just some tips on dealing with seasonal flu. "Germany" - nothing more than GPU reports. I don't understand. How is it up to date? Or running, for the matter?
A video at the top of the page was playing, but muted - I quickly rushed to it and allowed the sound.
"...we're expecting some rainstorms down in Düseldorf, but nothing severe, so just remember to pack those umbrellas! Here in Berlin, we're looking at a warm weekend with light drizzles with the humidity being as..."
It was... just a weather report. And it was accurate. I was in Berlin, and although it's been raining softly as of late - helping me mask the sound of my footsteps from the zombies - it was warm and pleasant.
Suddenly, a massive bright light flew across the windows, forcing me to hiss in pain and shut my eyes tight. I had no clue what caused it - there was no sound and it's not like rescue helicopters were a thing anymore. I looked out the window and saw... nothing at all. Just a broken, dead civilization being overtaken by nature.
Another flash of light made me rub my eyes and look away. It was then that I noticed the news playing in the background were no longer about the weather.
"^(...I'm telling you I saw something...)"
I rushed back - the screen was blank and white with no sign of the page I just saw.
^("...are you sure, Mrs. Franz? Not to-") a voice said in the background.
^("...Karl? Karl can you hear me?) Karl? You there?" someone was calling me, so incredibly close, but I couldn't see anyone, it was...
A sense of calmness took over me as I looked around me with a sense of understanding.
And the world faded away.
.......
I opened my eyes, met by the faces of my wife, a man in a white coat, and a TV where a man was reading out a weather forecast. | 2022-02-17T10:33:57 | 2022-02-17T07:55:15 | 1,162 | 513 |
[WP] You are about to make a speech on national television. As you step up to the podium and gaze over at the teleprompter, you see only one word: "Stall." | I neatened the little stack of index cards on the table. Not that I really needed them; I'm pretty good at memorizing speeches, and plus, I've been using teleprompters ever since entering politics. But they've always given me a sense of security, almost like ancient good luck charms. 'The Cue Card Candidate' they used to call me. It was an oddity that the media found endearing, in a quaint sort of way.
I took a deep breath and tried to put aside the sense of fear and dread. *Billions of Americans will depend on you in the days to come,* I said to myself, *Billions of lives. Familes. Children. They will look to you as an example of strength and perseverance, despite this terrible situation.*
A knock at the door.
"Come in."
The nervous-looking young aide showed himself in. "Madam President? You're on."
"Thank you Billy," I said, doing my best to put on a reassuring smile.
He gestured out towards my desk in the address room. Straightening out my grey skirt as I stood up, I stepped out past the secret agents, and into view of the holo-cameras. Cue cards in hand, of course. I shook hands with the camera crew and thanked them for being here for such an important time for our nation and all that. I went to go sit at my desk in my black leather chair.
"You're on in 3... 2... 1..."
As I straightened out my cards, I looked up at the teleprompter.
*STALL.*
I was taken aback at first at the message, but did my best to hide my surprise. Instead, I turned my eyes down briefy towards my cards, then back up to the screen. To the casual viewer, it would appear to be one last look at my notes.
I tried my best to smile. "Good evening, fellow Americans: my friends, my family, my neighbours..."
My countenance went stern. "...*Vice President Doyle*."
I smiled, more warmly this time, and performed the informal gesture known as 'The Obama Point' towards the camera. A soft round of tense chuckles went about the room. Tony and I had been ribbing each other since our days at Mars Tech.
"We have gone through some dark times. And there may be even darker times ahead. I won't lie to you - we may have to do some difficult things to survive.
"I am here to announce that we have been asked to formally surrender to the Empire of K'thrx."
I pictured billions of mothers at home, clutching young children to their chests. I pictured billions of pained gasps accompanied by tears and clenched fists. I pictured billions of worn-down marines sinking down in their seats in sullen silence.
"While yes, they demand our surrender, please, my people - do not think of it as giving up. Think of it as the end of the fight. Think of it as an end to a years-long conflict."
The two K'thrxians looked through their notes at the back of the room, their gelatinous tentacles waving and pulsing in confusion. This wasn't the speech that they wrote for me. They turned accusingly to Billy, but he shook his head in confusion and cowered like an abused puppy. The two aliens shrugged in resignation (or what must amount to a shrug), probably because my words were sort-of-close anyways.
I continued: "Think of it not as the end. Think of it as the dawn of a new era. A new era where we can learn to move forward together, in brotherhood, and in courage.
"Think of it not as a hardship. Think of it as the potential beginning of peace. A time where we won't have to worry about our sons and daughters on the battlefield anymore.
"Think of it not as being reduced to slavery. Think of it as being called to serve your nation, your people. Think of it as being called to be men and women of America.
"Think of it not as losing, as failure. Think of it as a challenge to rise up to and conquer. Think of it as victory we have yet to achieve."
"I ask of you to think of it this way because... I refuse to bend the knee. I will not bow. And neither shall you. I'm asking you to fight for what's ours, to make these words a reality.
Just then, the lights of a Valiant-class gunship flared on in the window behind me, blinding the two aliens in the back of the room.
I stood up and threw my cue cards in the air. I looked the K'thrxians dead in the eye.
"God bless America."
*****
I'm Canadian. I'm sorry if I call things by the wrong name.
EDITS: Spelling. Also I changed the timing of the events surrounding the teleprompter a bit so that the camera would see the subtle cue at the beginning of the speech. | "Stall."
I break out in a cold sweat. This wasn't supposed to happen. I mean, it was the *plan* - but it wasn't supposed to happen. I had done everything that I was supposed to do, and this speech was supposed to be a vaguely inspiring fluff piece, and the assembled demonstrators were never supposed to have even the slightest hint about the fate they had escaped. But there it was. "Stall."
They had approached me for my incendiary public personality, and for my ability to give off-the-cuff rants, and for my role as an organizer in these political rallies. I was supposed to be their inside man - and the one who subtly explained to the assembled mass of middle-class ivory tower atheists why their silly political idealism, and their lives, were about to be snuffed out for the greater good of mankind.
They watched me, of course. They made sure I knew how much danger my family was in if I ever turned against them. They set up a bank account for me under a false name with enough money in it to leave the country and live comfortably for a while. Stick and carrot. They're not stupid.
Not stupid at all, apparently. Despite being watched I *did* make contact with the police. I wore wires. I copied plans. I left coded messages at designated locations. I even sabotaged the brakes on one of the terrorist's vans. I did everything the cops asked me to, and more...
...and yet. "Stall." The cops promised me a fluff speech. The bad guys wanted me to ad-lib. And here I was, with the teleprompter telling me to ad-lib. The bad guys had *won*, somehow. Had they caught on to what I was doing and fed me false information? Did they have other moles? Were they just well-trained, well-armed, well-prepared enough to gain control of the building?
*Was I being set up?* They had promised that I would be able to get out just before the bombs started going off, but what if I was just going to be sacrificed?
Either way, the crowd is in danger. I need to stop adjusting the microphone and mumbling warm up platitudes - I need to stop *stalling* - and get them out of here. Fast. But how?
...Oh, of course. I'm here to ad-lib, right? I can clear this young, idealistic, politically-progressive crowd in five minutes. It won't even damage my reputation *that* much if I spin it the right way.
"But seriously, folks. Think of this: it's been eighty-some years. Maybe that's enough time to take a step back and think about all the things that Hitler and Stalin got *right*." | 2015-05-16T17:49:48 | 2015-05-16T16:57:01 | 172 | 74 |
[WP] The blacksmith won't sell you any weapon, the guards insist you stay in the city and the mages refuse to teach you any dangerous spell. Maybe that eternal youth potion was a terrible idea after all. | "I would like to buy that necklace." I said to the woman behind the counter. She smiled at me, amused. "The one with the diamond."
"I think that one's a bit out of your price range, sweetie." She said kindly. Not an unusual reaction, but it still frustrated me. Even so the kindness on her face took the sting from her words.
"Please, I have the money. It's for... An anniversary present. To celebrate forty five years." That was true, at least.
"Oh, for your grandparents? That's so sweet of you! You know, if you keep up that attitude, a handsome young man like yourself could marry any lass he chooses." She gushed.
I knew that. I had married the lass I wanted, forty five years ago. I'd done well in the spice trade, and retired in my sixties. When Iris fell ill, her mind beginning to flee, I'd sought out an alchemist who promised he could restore her youth. Mine too. I paid him well, even provided the materials. The potions worked, perhaps a little too well. I had the body of a 14 year old, and had had it for five years. I hadn't aged a day. I realized I hadn't responded and so simply answered "thank you, ma'am."
Her smile still wide, she leaned across the counter and spoke in a low voice. "Diamonds are pretty, sure, but not pretty enough for the price." She placed something on the counter. I looked and saw a jade pendant. Iris loved green.
"I'll take it." I said, paid and then left. The interaction nettled me, but was much kinder than most. Barkeeps wouldn't serve me ale, and the last time I tried to purchase property the broker wouldn't even speak to me.
I met Iris in the town square. She looked irritated. "Any luck at the archive?" I asked.
"Turned away." She said, sadly. "Again. I just want to learn a little magic."
"I know, love." I said. She looked the same age as I. She was beautiful the day I married her, and she had aged like the finest wine. Now she was like a flower yet to bloom. Her heart was the same, though, and she could look like a troll for all I cared. It was her heart I loved. "The blacksmith sold me a few knives but wouldn't even show me the swords. I got you something." I held out the pendant.
"It's beautiful." She said, putting it on. Her smile was genuine, but would falter in a few moments, I knew.
"So I've been thinking. We can't buy magic, we can't buy weapons, we can't buy armor. The guard won't even let us out of the walls." It pained me to say the words. "But there's one thing we haven't tried for adventure."
"Oh?" She asked, surprised.
"Have you ever thought about being a rogue?" I asked. "If we can't buy, maybe we can steal."
Her eyes widened in surprise, then slowly a mischievous grin spread across her face. | So if I wanted to learn magic I would have to teach myself, no one else would do it for me. And yet there was one skill that it seemed my youth was not a barrier for entry to. In fact it was a selling point.
Thievery.
Landro was a local thug and someone in the city with whom stolen goods would flow through and his system of fencing was complicated. Working with him would teach me everything I wanted to know to steal the power I needed to conquer the world.
I'd only been in Landro's employ for a year before I'd discovered the perfect mark using the skills Landro taught me. I wouldn't even need to steal knowledge. At least not for a while. As it happened there was a wizard who would be all too happy to teach a young man about magic if the request were made in the right way at the right time.
::May write more later, gotta go to work. | 2019-06-07T09:55:24 | 2019-06-07T06:10:20 | 119 | 22 |
[WP] You pull off your headphones and the whole world shifts. You're now sitting in a futuristic mall of some kind with a VR headset in your hands and a smiling clipboard-wielding woman asking about "the Virtual Life Experience™". The problem: your "Virtual Life" is the only one you can remember. | ######[](#dropcap)
I blink, and when my eyelids flicker open, the great hall of the palace is replaced by a large room of sterile whiteness, full of strange lights and bizarre sounds.
"So how was it?" a woman asks. She is wearing peculiar clothes for a female: trousers, a striped jacket, large amounts of gold jewellery. My first thought is that she is another princess.
"The ogre army...," I mutter.
"Oh, you picked the fantasy adventure," she says. "Yes, that's one of most popular."
What is she talking about? I have to get back to my throne. The realm needs its king, more than it has ever done in the past.
Looking closely, I can see that the woman's face is liberally doused in make-ups. A dark thought clouds my mind. This is no princess...
I seize her wrist. "What have you done to me, witch?"
She tries to break free, but I hold her fast.
"Send me back to the castle," I command. "For I am the chosen one, destined to save the realm from assured destruction."
"Easy, sir," the witch says placating, but I hear rising panic in her voice. Like so many others before her, she has misjudged the High King. "I need you to focus, Mr..." she glances at a piece of paper, "Mr. Brown. It was just a virtual experience."
"Don't try to trick me," I snarl, releasing the witch's arm and sending her sprawling. "I know your game, hag."
She nods to somebody behind me, and I spin, my hand going to my sword. But my fingers close on empty air and I curse - the witch has stolen my blade. Something hits my chest and excruciating pain radiates out, coursing and crackling through my body.
I fall, paralysed, and can only observe as the world turns around me. The witch stands, and speaks to a man dressed in black with a bright yellow vest. A henchman if I ever saw one. He holds a strange black device that has latched onto me with eldritch tentacles, popping with sparks. What foul magic have they cast on me?
"I thought they had fixed that bug," she says, shaking. Yes, she should tremble. A High King of the realm will not be kept prisoner for long.
"Mostly," her crony replies. "It still affects a few. Those with overdeveloped imaginations, usually. Artists, film makers, writers. That sort."
From my prone position, face pushed into the cold floor, I notice for the first time a crowd of people watching us. They are dressed in outlandish clothes like the witch.
Something is nagging at the back of my brain. Something the henchman said, about writers. But I can't quite remember what it is. | "Miss, miss...", she repeats as she taps my shoulder. My eyes trying to focus on my surroundings as I turn towards her voice. Suddenly an overwhelming sense of nausea hits me. I place a hand over my mouth as quickly as possible.
"Oh, don't worry, that's very normal for your very first experience...", she says. I start rubbing my chest to try to keep from vomiting, but my chest feels strange... My chiseled pecs now feel like soft mounds and there's a weight to them I haven't felt before.
"NANI!?!" I let out in a high pitched voice... | 2017-03-25T09:46:47 | 2017-03-25T09:33:45 | 147 | 26 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once. | When I saw Jeremy sitting against the wall with a hole in his arm, I knew who it was.
Those three idiots called themselves "SWAT Ops", and I was the "class 8" villain that the league assigned to them as training. It was a nice job, pretending to be some Doofenshmirtz impersonator to help new heros get used to their powers. It was fun, paid okay, and kept my city clean of major villains.
But these three... they were too much.
Cannon, a cyborg who fired energy blasts out of his arms, tended to use pigeons for target practice, and I had made sure to report it to the league when he started ignoring bystanders in our fights. He was the leader, and made sure people knew it.
Riot, whose powers allowed him to create shields of varrying sizes and materials depending on what he could access. He started out fine, but I had my doubts once he started using parts of buildings for his powers.
And Zapper, who could fire off small bolts from his body, was only about as stronger as a human tazer, until he started siphoning power from nearby buildings to amp up his voltage and amps.
They had started being trouble, but I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. But this? Attacking a civilian worker in a bakery? MY BAKERY?! JUST CAUSE HE TOLD THEM TO LEAVE WHEN THEY WERE MAKING SOPHIE UNCOMFORTABLE?!! That was the limit.
We met up in the usual park we had our fights in, but I wasn't wearing the costume I usually did.
"What's with the get up, Breezie? You put on a little too much extra weight for the lab coat?" Cannon said, getting a laugh from his buddies.
"..." I merely kept walking towards them, my armor making light clanging noises with every step.
"Where's your newest gadget big guy? You forget it back at your ~secret lair~? We can wait for you to go get it!" Zapper said, a smirk on his face.
"Okay, what's with the wind today? You'd think a super-" That was the last thing Cannon said before a massive gust of wind slammed a tree into him.
"WHAT THE-" Zapper began, before getting slammed into a fence.
"What's going on?!" Riot shouted, barely standing his ground against the hurricane that was assaulting him.
"...My name isn't Breezie. It's Typhoon. Make sure you remember it next time you attack an innocent civilian." I told them, using my powers to guarantee that they could hear me.
"What are you talking abou- AAAAAH!!" Cannon screamed in pain as a blade of wind severed his left leg.
"CANNON!" Riot shouted, rushing to his leader, before he heard my voice right begind him.
"Watch your own back, dumbass." He heard, before he was trapped in a blender of wind.
"You sound so much like Goliath did in our last battle." I told him, a grin spreading across my face.
"I remember you now. You're the one who was slaughtering high ranking heros, like that class 3 Lancelot guy." Zapper said, fear evident in his voice.
"Congrats kiddo, you win. You wanna know what your prize is?" I said, a bright and bubbly smile on my face.
Before I ripped an eye out of his head.
"Partial blindess!"
He screamed, clutching at his now empty eye socket.
"YOU'RE A MONSTER!" Cannon shouted, before the winds all stopped at once.
"If I'm a monster, what does that make you?" I said to him, before his head was ripped from his shoulders.
"You don't target civilians unless you're a villain. And I'm allowed to kill any villain who enters MY city without permission. No one's gonna miss you."
Their screams became the soundtrack for my dreams for awhile after that. I have a new group now. Far more polite, kind, and good at doing their jobs correctly. I'm keeping an eye out though.
Can't let anyone hurt my employees. | *crack*
*Crack*
*Crack*
" Please I beg you stop!" mighty lad screamed.
A steel cane rams into his jaw
"Martha, Benjamin, Alice, Steven" the wack hatter mutters
Mere hours ago Angelstar wack hatter's boutique cosplay shop was attacked by the league of cool crime stoppers. The employees were beaten to within an inch of there lives and arrested and now sit in jail for aiding a criminal.
"How did you know" wack hatter growled
"We have been watching you for a while now you're movements your identity is not so secret Dennis"
" So you assumed my employees had anything to do with my other life you fools" wack hatter sighs
"They helped you move glycerin into warehouses your going to bomb the mayor's home" mighty lad wheezed out
"We sell soap"
"What"
"Glycerin it's one the main ingredients in soap it was Martha's soap actually"
"That doesn't change the fact it can be used to make bombs Martha was probably your second in command"
Whack hatter growing angrier by each word muttered by this wannabe beat cop. Yells
" She was pregnant you piece of shit"
"What"
"When she was arrested she called me the beating you gave Martha led her to going in the hospital"
"Oh no no no"
"She miscarried, a beacon of hope destroyed a soon to be family even my origin is happier than that"
"Oh God why this was superwonder's idea we were just following her orders."
"During our call we spoke of revenge and how she wants to murder each one of you. You, mighty lad are the first to fall and soon this whole city"
With one solid whack from his cane whack hatter killed mighty lad instantly leaving a crater in his skull. After the killing only one thought bounced around Whack hatter's skull
"How the fuck do you make bombs out of glycerin" | 2022-11-28T19:32:50 | 2022-11-28T17:41:23 | 594 | 81 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right. | Rachael texted me and said she would be back home here soon. Usually I would run to the store and grab groceries, but I was exhausted from work. Spent 12 hours working buoys and being on the boat really took a toll on me today.
I was laying on the couch watching Netflix. Finally getting some time to relax while our child was asleep. I was beginning to dose off, the sound of our fishs’ filter soothes me as I drifted into sleep.
My phone began going mad, buzzing and making some sort of sirens noise I never heard before. I jolted up to check it. It warned me to secure the house and not make contact with anyone. It seemed like a hoax to me. Or some sort of accident. Sort of like the Nuclear Missile scare in Hawaii. The Coast Guard has some sort of emergency text similar to this, and I hadn’t received that either. There was some banging on the door, following by a yell.
“BRODIE IT IS ME LET ME IN!”
I ran to the door and hesitated as I put my hand on the knob. What if this wasn’t a drill? What if this wasn’t her? I dismissed it quickly and hurried her in. She was terrified. You can see it in her tear filled eyes. She brought in a lot of groceries though just in case we needed it. She dropped them at the door and locked it behind us. I rushed into the office and grabbed our AR-15 we recently got for Christmas. It had a Holographic sight and a vertical grip. We have 5, 30 round magazines, and about 200 extra rounds. We dumped a lot of money in it and it’s looking like it might pay off.
Rachael turned on the news and began shutting blinds and getting stuff out. I rushed to the bathroom, closed the sink and bathtub drain and started the water. I took a quick peek outside, and everything sounded normal. Emergency vehicle sirens began wailing in the distance. Something that wasn’t abnormal, but now wasn’t the time for it. Once it was all filled I shut it off.
I locked all the windows in our pet room. The news was reporting the text, but not anything that was happening. It made no sense. I got a text from my OIC. Informing all members to report to the station for duty. And to bring our families.
When we arrived there, we had gate guard with long guns. Which is never a thing where we’re stationed. We had two police cars near our entrance, whom were also armed with long guns. Our families were directed to the galley, and I hurried and got in uniform and went to the watch room. There was mass hysteria on the lake. Everyone was trying to get their boats out of the water. Everyone in the park was either panicking or just in shock. I brought my AR-15 with me, and so did some of my shipmates. We were positioned outside till we figured out what was going on.
One of the other non-rates came outside and gave us gas masks. We were instructed to put them on and just stand watch. I was at the end of the police boats docks ensuring no one would swim on station. Some air national guard helicopters were flying around the city and the lake. Our boat crews were on standby awaiting a quick launch. A few hours went past and we were given radios. We were radioed that there was a zombie like outbreak occurring throughout the United States. But there were no reports in our state. The Army National Guard went a squad our way to help us stay secure. Two of our boat crew launched to conduct some search and rescue.
I know it might sound cheesy, and a bit cliche. But zombies? In real life? It sounded absurd. Night began to fall, and we were relieved and told to get food and rest. The police and army came inside with us. We locked up the station, and the boats and awaited further news. The news showed clips of literally the zombie apocalypse happening in major US cities. It was horrifying. Soldiers tried to quell the outbreak, but they just had to keep retreating. The news said they suffered few losses, but most of the civilian population was devastated.
I kissed my family goodbye as they loaded onto the Coast Guard chopper the would take them to a Navy ship in the middle of the ocean, where they would be safe. Just as the chopper disappeared, we heard gunshots in the distance.
First time writer on this thread, and I know it’s probably not great, but I love zombie apocalypse scenarios! | A chill rushed through my spine as the front wheel of my shopping cart squeaked. The store was busy when I had arrived but a lot of people had just cleared out. I gathered the last few items I needed and hurried to the check out. Ally was waiting in the car and I knew she was going to complain about how long I had been. She was the most impatient but amazing wife any girl could want. I exited the supermarket and trotted to the car with our bags.
“What took you so long?”
“Relax, I couldn’t find the cherry tomatoes.”
“Check your phone. Somethings going on. We need to get home.”
Ally started the car as I buckled in. I pulled my phone from my pocket and read the warning message. Another chill hit my back. Something was wrong.
“Al, you feeling alright?” I asked.
“Yea, I feel fine. Why?”
“Well, this text came through while I was inside...and...you were outside. I don’t know. Something is just weird about it.
“Relax, baby, I’m fine. Look I’m sure it’s not a big deal. When we get home you let Sammy out and I’ll grab the groceries, okay?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Al never gives up a chance to play with her puppy. Sammy has been her world since we rescued him. Al was driving differently too. Both of her hands were gripping the wheel, she wasn’t playing with the radio. Scared? I wonder.
We pulled in the driveway and Al leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Everything is alright,” She reassured. With a sigh I walked to the front door and entered the passcode. A glance behind me showed a strange blue-green sky. That was the last straw. Ally had been outside smoking a cigarette, she was acting weird, driving funny, even the sky proved that something was wrong. Something was up with the world...and that something had gotten my wife.
I closed the front door behind me and typed in the “full lockdown” code on the smart lock pad. Simultaneously I heard the heavy duty locks snap on the doors and windows. I looked through the window, Ally was starting up the steps, our rainbow flag whipping in rising winds. Her green eyes met mine and for a moment she knew before every speck of her consciousness faded into black.
Critiques welcome! This is my first response to a WP! | 2019-01-12T08:26:32 | 2019-01-12T07:02:27 | 49 | 21 |
[WP] You have long been fascinated by swords, and have mastered every kind of sword fighting technique known to man. No man can defeat you. But you have grown old, and Death has crept up to deliver his final swing, but something happened, something Death had never experienced before, he was parried. | The old man lay silently in his bed, and a thin ray of moonlight creeping through a sliver in his curtains reflected off the short blade mounted on the wall in front of him. He'd awoken from a peculiar dream in which every person he had ever defeated was standing before him, swords drawn, poised to attack, and now he eyed the familiar blade intently.
It was his favorite, by far, for its elegance and because how natural it felt in his hand; it was an extension of himself, and he felt whole with it firmly in his grip.
Suddenly, the light reflecting off the blade was interrupted by something moving in the shadows. The old man was up in a flash, moving much faster than he had in ages, he stripped the blade from its resting place, spun on his heels, and his blade met an opposing force just inches from his face.
The foreign blade was only a few inches longer than his, but it carried with it an imposing aura; and behind it, the wielder, was as black as the night's sky.
The attacker drew back quickly into the darkness, and the old man was left seemingly alone in the black.
"***That is certainly...unusual***"
The voice was unnerving, and it brought with it a certain vibration that the old man could feel all over.
"***Never before has anyone parried my strike; you should be proud, friend.***"
The old man smiled, still peering over his blade held up in a defensive stance, "I'm sure you've murdered many proud opponents, *assassin*, but you'll have no luck killing someone as disciplined as me."
There was an unsettling laugh in the shadows, and the voice echoed all around the old man.
"***I suppose I am an assassin, of sorts, but I only take what is already dead.***"
"Enough, find your courage and complete your devious task!"
"***That blade mounted behind you, it is your favorite, it is not?***
The old man backed up slowly so he could glimpse at the spot where he had grabbed the blade but was surprised to find it still resting peacefully on the wall, while still clearly in his hands.
"***And that old body still in bed, could it move so fast at that age?***"
His eyes were adjusting now, and he could make out a figure in his bed where he had been moments ago.
"Do you hide amongst my sheets, assassin!?"
The once slender ray of moonlight suddenly illuminated the entire room, and the old man thought briefly of heaven in the blinding light. Once his eyes adjusted, he searched slowly for the intruder, but found nothing. Just his room, with various swords hanging here and there, his cherished blade still somehow in his hand and on his wall simultaneously, and his own body, still resting in bed.
"What is this? Who are you?" He voice slipped out and his blade wielding hand fell to his side.
"***How many have you killed by sword, my friend?***"
The old man paused, rewatching every fight in his head in an instant.
"None."
"***Yet you are undefeated?***
"I do not fight to kill; the art of the sword has been a spiritual journey for me."
"***And I am an assassin who does not kill; I simply guide you to the next stage of your journey.***”
Things were making sense to the old man now, and his sudden realization that he had parried Death washed over him. He laughed, "Am I really the first one?"
"***The very first, and you have my utmost respect, but there is still a duty to be done.***"
The vibration was soothing now, like an embrace from an old friend.
"Will it hurt?" The old man closed his eyes, ready for the unknown.
"***No. Life brings pain; but death, death is a long, peaceful night, swordsman.***"
He sensed the strike coming; and for the first time ever, he surrendered himself to it.
/r/BeagleTales | Death was no stranger to games. A game of swordplay, however rarely crossed his mind. The hooded figure stood in a readied stance with scythe behind. He had taken many warriors before but, none had challenged him.
“Do you fear, Death?” The old man asked, a curved blade of his own poised in a confident grip.
Death did not speak, could not as each man heard their calling like a distant song. But the man understood, “No.” You cannot win against death.
So they stood, staring waiting. Death with endless patience. He comes to all. The man, short lived, struck.
Death could only parry, then the onslaught began.
Over, parry, side, parry, other, parry and on. Death held, knowing that man makes mistakes. But this one did not.
For hours or days, neither would know, they fought with feint and counterfeint, until at last they came to the end.
The man was old, and he tired after time. “You are worthy,” sang Death at a lull.
This gave the old man pause. “Worthy of what?”
“Of a life,” Death sang, “until you ask for me to come.”
The words rang as a solemn chant. The old man lowered his sword, “So, you admit defeat?”
“No, only that this game will continue until the end of time.”
A smile on the old mans face, “So, I’ve brought Death to a stale mate?”
The figure nodded.
“Then, I accept.” The old man sat, looking at the stars. “Tell me friend, do you know what lies out there?”
A song sung in tears and heartbreak cracks the old man. Rivera flow at the sadness and beauty of what Death sings, “I am.” | 2018-10-29T21:51:16 | 2018-10-29T20:52:53 | 552 | 24 |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | I’m awoken by Dan fidgeting next me in bed. His eyes meet meet mine, and instantly I know this is a Kelly Day.
She sighs loudly in exasperation through Dan’s mouth and throws his head back into the pillow. “Fucking fuck-balls fuck-face fuck-head-“
Hearing the stream of profanity in Dan’s soft, slightly nasal voice is too surreal, even after 4 years, and I giggle.
Kelly glares at me with Dan’s calm brown eyes.
“Hey,” I smirk back. “Watch his mouth.”
The corner of Dan’s mouth twitches. Kelly and I both realized early on that finding some modicum of mutual humor in the unavoidable intimacy of our situation was the only way to stay sane.
“Shit, it never happens two days in a row. When has it ever fucking happened two days in a row?” She kicks at the sheets like a toddler.
“Had plans?” I ask.
“Yeah. Well sort of.”
Dan’s eyes take on a sly, very un-Dan expression.
“Let’s just say Dan will likely be waking up more than a little sore today.”
My eyes widen and I snort involuntarily.
“Oh my god, Kelly”
She cackles, and I can’t help but join. Partly the ridiculousness of the situation, partly hearing it come out of my fiancé.
“He knows, though. Right?” I ask. “The guy, I mean. I’m assuming.”
Dan’s shoulders slump, ashamed.
“No.” Kelly says, accused. “I thought since it happened yesterday I’d get today free.”
“Jesus Christ, Kelly.” I sit up and look at our reflection in the large mirror on the far side of the room, then at the body next to me. “He won’t do anything, will he? If he finds out?”
Kelly’s fear rushes into Dan’s eyes.
“Fuck, I hope not. I don’t- shit, I don’t think so. No.” She lands with uncertainty on the negative. Dan’s eyes dart up to mine, then away again.
“How do you know?” I demand, anger rising. It’s her body, but it’s my future husband. “Is this a one night stand?”
She shakes Dan’s head no. “We’ve been together a month.”
“And you didn’t tell him!” I’m fully angry now.
“I didn’t want to scare him off. Like I’m some sort of schizo or fucking multiple personalities or some shit.”
“Dan told me on our second date.”
“Well maybe he’s better at being a fucking freak!”
That’s when I slap her. It echoes uncomfortably off the drywall. She stares in shock through Dan’s eyes.
We both breathe stiffly for a very long moment.
“I’m sorry Kelly.” Then almost by reflex. “I’m sorry Dan.”
Suddenly, Kelly starts crying. Not even bothering to cover her face with Dan’s hands, just tears rolling over his stubble and gasping, choked sobs.
“You have no idea how hard it is. No fucking idea.” Her face contorts more. “I can’t even use my own fucking voice. I can’t live my own fucking life. Dan has you and I have nothing and every week I need to be shoved in this shitty body just to be reminded. Fuck!”
I sit, stunned. I’ve seen Dan cry, but never like this. Even in the same body, where Dan has heavy release, Kelly has primal anguish.
Tentatively I reach out and touch my fiancé’s shoulder. First there’s nothing. Then, after a moment of hesitation, Kelly leans into me.
I run my fingers through Dan’s impossibly curly black hair. “You need to call him. Make sure he’s okay.”
Kelly stiffens in my arms, but nods. Alright.
She grabs Dan’s phone from the nightstand, wraps the sheet around his naked body, and wipes his eyes as she she stumbles into the kitchen.
Five minutes later she comes back.
“They hadn’t woken up yet. He’s going to leave a note about a work emergency or some shit and sneak out.”
I sigh my relief.
“What’s his name?”
“Bobby.”
“You’re going to tell Bobby about the situation tomorrow.” My voice is soft, but it isn’t a request.
Kelly nods solemnly, then starts crying again. This time it’s more like Dan.
“It wasn’t easy for us either. For Dan and me.” I begin. Then I pause. I look at my fiancé’s occupied body. It looks so small without Dan. “You want to get breakfast?”
Kelly sniffs and wipes Dan’s nose. Then she nods. “Yeah.”
Still wearing the sheet, Kelly gathers some of Dan’s clothes, and goes to the bathroom to get dressed. | As important as it was, the proposal was a brief break from what had been bugging me all night. Does she remember the promise I made that drunken night, the only way I could think to break the spell. The whole day the topic had been avoided and I cant help but think I would like to put it off forever.
I nuzzled into the back of her hair, inhaling the scent of hairspray that lingered even now so late at night. She stirred, is she awake? I froze still.
“Will? Are you awake?” she spoke in a surprisingly lucid tone. I had thought she would be dead asleep by now.
“Yeah” I utter in return as my chest flutters with anxiety.
“Do you remember new years?”
My heart sank.
“Yeah” I sighed.
“You promised me…”
“I know I promised you but…” She cut me off in a way that told me she wasn’t going to let this go.
“If you really want to marry me, I need you to kill her” She spoke as if she were delivering the keynotes from a board meeting, clear and with diction.
A lump formed in my throat, her tone said it all. In truth I had only said it because I thought she would never ask, I thought it would be forgotten.
“Will you?”
My chest bubbled with anticipation as my head tried to claw at the answer to this predicament. The mirky feeling from the more than substantial amount of wine from dinner made a clear thought even slippier to grasp at. I love this girl with all my heart, but to kill? Was she being serious or was this all a test? If I say no will she forget? She is pretty drunk but then again I did just propose, that will probably make tonight more memorable.
But, what if I say yes? It will buy me some time?
“Yes” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could even stop them.
“Good” She stated matter of factly. In an instant she had whipped the covers away and bolted out of bed towards the tall oak wardrobe, flicking the lamp on as she went.
She reached in, behind her collection of coats and scarves and fumbled at the back of the wardrobe.
I sat up clutching at the duvet, completely unable to comprehend what might be happening.
There was a heavy sliding of something hard against the wood of the back of the wardrobe and she stepped out from behind the door clutching an odd shape.
“I called her, she is in the park over the road”
I wish I had not reached for my glasses at that moment. The shape came into focus as the heavy frames fell to rest on the bridge of my nose. A rifle. | 2019-12-15T12:32:47 | 2019-12-15T12:30:08 | 38 | 26 |
[WP] "Captain... the human didn't put on it's anti-warp gear before we jumped." "Sad to hear, prepare the coffin and jettison it." "No, sir. The human... nothing's happened to it. It didn't go insane from seeing infinity in the stars." | They glanced at each other; the emotions of their kind were harder to read, granted, but I could tell there was a certain anxiousness to it. Perhaps there was a shiftiness about their eyes.
And while their words, harsh and guttural, were harder to decipher- I didn’t have much of a knack for language- the blatancy of their confusion was so universal that it was comical.
It did strike me that potentially, in all the years that had elapsed since they’d initially made contact, I had been the first to survive it intact. Mentally, I mean.
Theories had been floating around about the Vortex for decades. They said that the transportation process was something you needed to be completely unconscious for, lest you perish a billion times in the great unknown that is the darkness of an eternity. That a little piece of the soul evades you and is drawn to it.
There’s no science to it, of course. Merely speculation.
And we must hand it to Them; they account for and document each of us that they take for observation. They provide protective gear for the “Leap”, and return each of us without so much as a scratch- the majority of time, that is. Naturally, their technology isn’t completely immaculate. Maybe they’re even more human than expected. They even provide certification for the dead.
I couldn’t take it when she died. Everything lost its colour.
It was the irony that felt so bitter; she’d been so excited to be chosen, desperate to have some kind of wonderful anecdote that could trump anything else possibly conceivable at the dinner party she was so certain she’d one day host on our wedding china. She told me that with a glint in her eye, and laughed, in that low, intoxicating giggle of hers, before leaning in for a kiss.
I didn’t read the details of the report in depth. I didn’t need to. If anyone perishes during a Leap, it’s because something in the system has failed. She saw the Vortex and went mad. Suffered alone for a thousand lifetimes.
When I was chosen, it came as a blessing. It was a stupid, fleeting hope. A wild dream of mine. I was chasing the memories of her soul; those ridiculous old wives tales of pieces of the consciousness echoing about in the darkness of the Leap.
I had deliberately left the latch off the headset and closed my eyes, waiting.
***
“He’s smiling,” the cadet reported, avoiding eye contact as he etched the findings into the system.
“Is that not symptomatic of delirium?” The captain asked incredulously, gazing at the subject through the glass partition. He was sitting, cross-legged, on the bench with his back pressing lightly into the wall.
“Normally, I wouldn’t doubt that,” the cadet replied slowly. “But there’s never been a recorded instance of speech capability.”
“What?” The captain exclaimed, his eyes widening. The human looked particularly weak and pathetic; there was nothing especially durable about his character. He was thin and pale, and couldn’t have been more than thirty.
“Surely that’s not possible. That area of the human brain is the first to deteriorate. There must be some mistake.”
“No- no mistake,” the cadet shook his head. “It’s the same words over and over again.”
“What is he saying?”
“‘I found her. Oh thank God I found her.’” | "Ah, Captain? Sir? You wanted to see me?"
"Yes. It's about ..."
"The warp. Yes, I heard a few of the other ... crewmembers? Is that the right term? I heard them talking."
"You're quite right. Here you are, a human with no military or any form of applicable training, achieving what other races have striven to accomplish for millennia, and here you are, an unremarkable example of a species only a year from their first contact."
"Well, we have ... training, of sorts. From great philosophers of our age."
"Please enlighten me."
"Best to show you. Let me get my phone ..."
"Still lugging those things about?"
"Sorry, just ... I'll just put through the audio ..."
*"Whenever life gets you down, Mrs. Brown,*
*And things seem hard or tough,*
*And people are stupid, obnoxious or daft,*
*And you feel that you've had quite eno-o-o-o-o-ough,*
*Just remember that you're standing on a planet that's evolving*
*And revolving at 900 miles an hour...."*
"Musical philosophers?"
"Well, sometimes. They're called Monty Python." | 2020-07-14T01:07:26 | 2020-07-14T00:57:05 | 688 | 115 |
[WP] You we’re born with the ability to control fire, but instead of becoming a superhero, you set your sights on a much more attainable goal: You became the worlds greatest firefighter. | "I told them no. Over and over again I told them no. I had no interest in becoming a hero like my father or mother. I just wanted to move about in public with my normal face; not looking over my shoulder for some villain to screw with my day. Hell even at dinner the other day, a spoon dropped from the table and my Mom melted it with lasers from her eyes. Who wants to live like that?" Grumbled a young man laid back in a patted lounger.
The thing was lumpy as all could be, and someone definitely sat in it after a gym workout. Wreaking of sweat and other bodily stenches. Though he figured given how he was sitting with a super therapist, it probably was after the individual finished "work". This office was a joke too. How could one remain calm when cannons sat at every corner of the room, ready to stun him if he showed too much aggression. The blank walls left him with nothing to look at but her. Someone altogether more annoying than the room itself. She sat there with legs crossed, clipboard in hand, glasses tilted downwards, in a stern outfit, and a pen scribbling away as he spoke. Dam, did he wish he spark it and melt the utensil in her hand. At the mere thought of such an action the cannons aimed towards him with a whirling sound.
"At ease." Commanded the woman with the clipboard. "Ignis. I agree with you. The life of a hero isn't the most comfortable. They make a lot of sacrifices, but we can help others in ways normal humans can't. Don't you think we should use them that way?"
"Hell no." Retorted Ignis. "Most humans wouldn't help each other with simple needs like food let alone put their lives on the line. Even those who do get paid less than pretty boys and girls performing like monkeys in front of cameras."
"Quite the image you conjured." Stated the woman as she pushed up her glasses. "Then tell me this, why did you save that family?"
Ignis fiddle with his hands before answering, "Cause it wasn't their problem. Dad went overboard yelling at me and set the house on fire with his electricity. When Mom tried to calm him down with her eyes it turned into a brawl. They were so busy fighting they didn't even notice our neighbors house on fire. So... I ran inside. They helped me plenty times before when my folks were "out", why shouldn't I help them back?"
"It was a noble gesture Ignis. Nothing to be ashamed of." Replied his questioner with a sweet smile.
The young man blushed slightly before grumbling, "So what happens to me now? Foster family, government facility, or jail?"
The woman unclicked her pen, stood slowly up, and headed out the door.
Before doing so she turned to him, "I've got something else in mind. I'm having you live at a fire station. I know someone similar to you who runs the facility. He'll keep you under his wing so to speak. And here." She paused throwing him the pen. "Melt that to a puddle just keep it off the stinky lounger." This last part she said with a small smile before walking out of the room.
"Fire fighter huh?" Ignis said aloud. "Sounds normal enough." | Here on Fox News, we are covering the story of The Amazon, catching on fire. This seems to not be able to be contained nothing we can do to stop this.” eternal flame” we have dumped so much water on this we don’t even want to bore you about how much water it was and it didn’t even go down a little bit. It seems nothing that we do takes this fire down * all of the fireman at the scene* we need to call HIM he must be able to deal with us. He’s a fire whisperer he arrives in the fire. Just disappears like nothing happened in the first place the chief of the fire department runs to call HIM He arrives at the scene 30 minutes later. With one big wave of his hand, he completely extinguishes the fire spanning across 1000 mi.² of fire. Everybody all of the news reporters and everything are speechless. One guy just waved his hand and this fire that seemed unstoppable just stopped, but then, as everyone was cheering and excitement, the fire started again, but this time it was bigger. | 2022-12-16T17:33:37 | 2022-12-16T14:17:15 | 234 | 10 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | wow, i want to do this so i will, but i have a few letters i need to address. just for sanity and subtle sake of ones demons.
Dear Jennifer. my beautiful sister.
i'm sorry for staying at yours the month after your wedding and having no money and regrettably overstaying my welcome and being a pain in the ass.
i'm sorry i was broke as fuck and lied to try and make up for the past. i miss you so much.
you were the surrogate mother i never really had, i have our mother of course, and i still live with her and steve, but you, when i was a child towards 7, you was everything to me. i hated you when you left for scotland, i didn't know dad kicked you out when you were only 16.
so many years have passed, still your daughter is 9 now, and i'm super fucking jealous of her, even though i'm happy for you as you got told by the doctor originally you couldn't have kids and you lost a tube via ectopic pregnacy and lost a baby trying to conceive, but i just miss you and me.
to dad, im sorry about the lie that changed everything, any age wasn't the best but 11 wasn't either. i was mad at you destroying mams heart by cheating and being a disobeying abusive, manipulate and horrible husband. i fucking hated seeing you beat her up and when you two broke up i felt relief but mentally snapped. i'm surprised i didn't go to jail, but i was a minor and things were forgiven.
but i'm sure glad we moved away and i found a stepdad that showed me a commited relationship of a male role model in my life who i could trust, and to learn what a father and daughter relationship should be, as for you, you are a old man whom i've tried to forgive but at the end of the day, i still have sick memories of you tickling my feet as a child, of you terrorising me and making me cry and laugh at me, for ridiculing me and my mother, and she spent 8 years in that abusive hell until she herself snapped after you hit her.
to harry, im sorry i never really knew how to love you properly, you were my childhood pet dog and you died on 31st dec 2009 via put to sleep, im sorry we didnt know sooner about the cancer tumour, and im sorry mum kept you alive until your back leg went, oblivious to the cancer and thought it was old age until the vet...
i love you and hope you rest in peace, same to you bobby cat, i miss you both.
to lucky my dear patterdale i love you lots too :)
to jake, fuck you for stealing my first edition yugioh cards.
to clark, fuck you for breaking my heart at 15.
to sam, thanks for cheering me up when i had acne and noone else would talk to me.
to Nick, thank you for being my rock the past two years, also i feel im turning into my dad sometimes, his manipulate mannerisms and agression seem to make it hard. at least im on serotonin pills now. | Dear [name redacted],
Hey, do you remember when you stopped talking to mecwithout giving me an explanation? How you walked away from that without any pain, but I was sent into a depressive spiral for months? Of course you don't. You can put those thoughts behind you. I can't put mine behind me. You're lucky, and I kind of envy you.
What I want you to know is that I'm happy, with a sweet girl who actually cares about my feelings. Someone who actually deserves my time and effort. Someone who, if given a choice between killing her or killing my oldest friend and unable to kill the one holding a gun to my head, I would kill my oldest friend. Someone so much better than you in every concievable way. Someone who isn't a waste of oxygen.
I hope this opened your eyes on how much of a heartless shitstain you really are.
Sincerely,
Vivi
P.S.: Enjoy the glitter bomb, fuckhead. | 2015-12-05T13:10:10 | 2015-12-05T13:04:29 | 58 | 36 |
[WP] Everyone dies on their birthday, but no one knows at which age it will occur.
EDIT:
Thanks all who replied - I've read them all even if I didn't comment!
You are all so brilliant, thanks for giving this prompt life (no pun intended)
:D | Defibrillator. Check. Bandages and gauze. Check. Flashlight. Check. Smoke detector and fire extinguisher. Check. Louisville Slugger. Check. Book of Sudoku. Check. The most recent Jack Reacher novel. Check. Jug of water. Check. Alien box set DVD with commentary from cast. Check.
I started the list five days ago. It went on, longer than it had to. Some of the items remained unchecked. For example, pornographic magazines. Or the Swiss army knife. I might fall on the knife, or jacking off might give me a heart-attack. There were others too. I started it early because the last time I didn’t bring enough entertainment and my boredom led way to catastrophic thoughts, elevated heart-rate, which put me at risk for going into shock. I started the list because certain necessary items might slip my mind if I started it 24 or 48 hours ago. I was getting old. The old biological computer didn't run so smooth anymore. I gave myself ample time, and included every possible need or want that I could conjure up, and over the course of five days the list grew to three and a half pages of manic, scribbled notes with question marks, ticks, and asterisk denoting them as extraneous, imperative, or debatable.
At the stroke of midnight I locked and bolted the doors, turned off the heat in case of carbon monoxide poisoning, and waited.
There were two types of logic when it came to birthdays. A: Death was coming whether you took precautions or not. For example, death might’ve planned for you to perish in a horrendous car accident, smashed into jelly. If you didn’t drive that day, then it would set you up to spontaneously combust instead. It didn’t much care about the means so much as the end. B: As long as you canceled out the specific method that death planned for you, you could extend your life indefinitely by taking extreme precautions and using common sense.
My logic went like this. It was impossible to tell how exactly death went about its business, but one might as well assume the option B was the case. If option A was reality, than it wouldn’t matter. Many people carried on with their usual routine on their birthday, as calm as Buddhist monks. I considered these people fools. If one subscribed to option B, than at least there was a faint hope of escaping the enveloping blackness known as death. Why not try to avoid one’s own end if there was even a small chance that death was easily duped?
For those who subscribed to option B, the unnaturally long life of Edith Junger, who finally died a brain hemorrhage at age 204, or Roger Moore, who was viciously robbed and bludgeoned in his own house at the age of 198, made for compelling cases. Neither of them ever left their houses on the anniversary of their birth. There was no need to, take a sick day. The birthday parties always came the day after anyways. Of course death eventually got wise, but these cases also seemed to suggest that death was stupid and near incompetent, or at least wasn’t in any particular rush. He had customers every day of the year, so he was extraordinarily busy.
At 12:01 I sat down in front of the television. I had moved the coffee table into storage until tomorrow. Nasty, sharp edges to fall on. If my temple met one of those corners, it might just do the trick. I might trip on my own shoelaces. For that reason, I also moved all my shoes into storage.
The meteor crashed through the roof at 12:07. Alien had just started. In the split second I became an unidentifiable smear, I felt honored that I had caused death so much grief that it had to send a rock from out space after me. I supposed I had a good run. I died as happy as one could be on one’s birthday, at the age of 347.
| 11:58 pm. Almost time. I blinked and took a deep breath while my mother kept clamoring on the phone. I appreciate her concern, really, I do, but I'm just as nervous as she is, and honestly? I just wanted to get to sleep. Like a lot of other people, the anxiety of my birthday was severe enough to trigger anxiety attacks, so I it's safer for me to just sleep through all 24 hours. The Drift was ready, all I had to do was plug myself in.
She kept asking her little questions, as though I were a child preparing for my first ever birthday. I silently appreciated it, though, there was every possibility my nerves were so shot I forgot something crucial.
I'm sure I didn't, though.
"Alright, so, you're full?"
"Yes, mom."
"Ok, you know how I don't like you eating on your birthday, you could choke on something."
"I won't mom."
"And you're not going outside, right? You're not driving anywhere are you?"
"Nope. I'm all bunkered in."
"OK...well, I'll call you a few more times to check up on you...I'm just so nervous, it's your first birthday alone..."
"Mom, don't worry, I'll be fine! I promise."
"Ok...I love you sweetie."
"Love you too, mom."
I hung up the phone and flopped back down in my bed, staring at the ceiling.
I ran through my mental checklist again before hooking up the drift. As it began it's soothing little whir and I could feel myself drifting away, only one though creeped into my consciousness.
*Mom didn't ask if I locked the door...* | 2014-11-19T17:06:25 | 2014-11-19T16:39:40 | 99 | 54 |
[WP] In Hell, your worst mistakes and cringiest moments are relived over and over. Your life, however, was a series of never ending awesomeness. Satan is getting fed up with you. | "Lisa, my dear, we talked about this."
Ugh.
I’d been in high school, when that bitch Jessie had tried to slap me for, get this, giving her boyfriend the “evil eye”. The hell does that even mean? Anyways, I’d *caught* her hand and made her slap herself. “Why’re you hitting yourself?” Oh man, her face had been quite something as me and the everyone in the hallway erupted in laughter.
But the vision shattered, and there I was, lying on a mat in the middle of an large white empty room. There were hundreds of thousands of mats spread out in either direction with people laying in them – every human who wound up here in the history of man in this one impossibly large white, sterile hall. There were sounds of screams and crying all over the place, and a few unthinkable monstrosities walked among the rows, delighting in the moans and screams of the damned as they tossed and turned - reliving the worst moments of their lives. They all gave me a wide berth.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I’d had my hair cut short when I’d died, so thankfully my hair wasn’t all screwed up.
Gotta look good for the devil, of course.
He was the one who’d spoken. He was wearing, as usual, a red tie and polyester suit. His dark hair was ruffled but somehow still looked good. He wore a resigned expression on his face.
“How’s it going, Lucy?” I asked.
Lucifer closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He hated when I called him Lucy.
“Count to ten,” I suggested helpfully, “I’ve heard it helps.”
His fists clenched and unclenched and he let out his breath in a rush. “Lisa. This is hell. The people here relive their horrible lives and scream and cry in their trance. We demons feed on it. But you *laugh* like just now. You realize what that does to the ambiance of the place?”
As if on cue the man next to me started screaming his lungs out, presumably reliving some horrible moment. Lucifer smiled, “see? Music to my ears.”
I shrugged. “Listen, Lucy,” he flinched as I said the name and I allowed myself a smile, “I can’t control what I do in my sleep, and even if I could, I have no desire to do so. And I’m not hurting anyone-“
“Not hurting anyone my ass!” Lucifer blurted, “you remember Shoggoth?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Lucifer’s nose scrunched up at the name but he gave no further reaction – he hated the word Lucy far more, “that was *once.* I apologized!”
Lucifer gave me a deadpan look. He thought you were about to scream in horror, but you gave a laugh of excitement. It’s like opening your mouth to eat, but instead of food, someone shoots you with a bullet. Shoggoth is still not even back at 50%.”
I smiled as I remembered that moment. I’d been reliving my first skydive. I was parachuting over the city, and I’d landed in some celebrity rooftop pool party. My entrance was so epic, no one kicked me out. Man, that place had the best drinks of my *life.*
Lucifer snapped his fingers to bring my attention. “Have you even been listening, Lisa?”
I gave him a sheepish smile, “not really,” I said, “sorry.”
Lucifer massaged his temples, “if only hell was back like it was in the old days, with the lava and torture…”
Lucifer shook his head and stood up. “You still don’t want the heaven transfer,” he asked, “I can call in a favor and get you there.”
“I really doubt it’s better than this, Lucy, though I appreciate the offer,” I said and flashed him a smile dripping with sincerity.
Lucifer nodded as if expecting the answer, and began to walk away. “Till next complaint then, Lisa.”
But I was already down under, reliving that time I was in a jousting tournament…with rhinos as mounts.
***
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) for more of my work
| "What about this one?" He asked as he pressed the play button on an old 90's TV remote
That's Satan by the way, he's trying to make me regret something. Dunno why I ended up in hell, I mean I wasn't particularly rude but being a jock you don't end up caring much about other people, I was too busy living my life.
"Na that's me skydiving off a plane" I replied
"But no, look closely you slip this time."
"Ya but I slip and do a frontflip, it was hella rad."
"Oh for fucks sake, it's been like twenty godamn years and not one memory has made you even blink"
"Isn't it weird to say godamn for you?" I asked, " I mean isn't he like your dad?"
"He's more like a weird uncle with a fetish about control, but that's not the point!" He replied, " You must have done something you regret or makes you feel awkward!"
"Bro, you cool? You seem to be freaking out, just chill man, it'll be ok, If you really want to make me cringe I'll give you some help" I said as a leaned over the old coach and picked up the remote
I flicked to my first day of highschool and handed it back to him
"Here man, this was my worst day."
As he pressed play we watched through until about lunch time, when young me strolls in to the cafeteria.
I walk to the line and get my food but as I carry on the big guy Infront of me turns around and I trip over his foot.
"Ha there, look at it!" Big Lucy says as he pauses the video
"Na man keep on playing" I say
As he pressed play again he sees me flip around and catch all my food on my plate like that Spiderman movie.
" Oh for fucks sake, I give up, I give the fuck up"
"You know what they say, there ain't no rest for the Hella wicked"
( first time posting here, so I'm probably pretty bad, feedback really appreciated)
| 2017-07-23T10:17:47 | 2017-07-23T10:00:52 | 187 | 66 |
[WP] You are happily married and have a 4 year old child with your SO. But when your child starts to develop super powers one day, you have serious questions for your SO who has always seemed to have a boring accounting job. | We never quite were the traditional couple. She was the breadwinner, working days and some evenings as an accountant at one of the top finance firms. It seemed dreadfully boring to me but she was good at it. Really good at it. We decided early on that I would stay at home once we had kids; maybe I would work an odd job now and then if we could use the extra cash but otherwise I would be a stay-at-home dad. People can judge all they like. It worked for us though.
With things being the way they were, it was inevitable that I would be the first to experience Leo's milestones. I heard his first words, I saw his first steps. The usual. She would get to see them in the evenings after work as I did my best to get him to repeat whatever he had said.
Eventually he was walking enough that we would go on a morning walk. He would run through the dew of the neighbors' yards while I strolled on the sidewalk close behind him. He would point at squirrels and bunnies and birds and mimic their noises and leaps. Then one day as we walked, a squirrel darted towards the street, oblivious to the certain death that awaited it as a car sped way too quickly for these suburban streets. I was convinced my toddler was about to see a close-up of fresh roadkill and I started to move to cover his eyes. "Stop," he yelled frantically as loudly as his little lungs could manage.
I picked him up, pressing him against my chest and turning his back towards the grisly scene. That's when I saw the squirrel, safe from the oncoming car and suspended mid-jump just about the grass. "What the..." I caught myself before finishing my sentence and I carefully set Leo on the ground and we approached the squirrel. The car was long gone, having not even noticed the collision course it had been on.
"Go," Leo mumbled quietly when we were far closer to the squirrel than I had ever been to one. And then the squirrel finished its jump and darted across the street and into a tree. As uneventful as the rest of the day was, I obviously couldn't get his little commands and the image of the levitating squirrel out of my head. Something about the ease with which he said it and the tone he used seemed familiar.
"Hi, honey," Liz said when she got home.
"Mommy!" Leo yelled and he ran over to his mother. It was a lot easier to keep tabs on him before he walked. I stayed at the kitchen counter, staring at them Leo cautiously.
"Is everything okay?" she asked me when she walked into the kitchen and her eyes caught mine.
I neither nodded nor shook my head. I stood there with my arms crossed, not taking my eyes off her. "We need to talk," I said finally. I pointed at the stool on the other side of the counter and she sat, giving me a quizzical look.
"What's going on?" She seemed concerned and completely oblivious.
"We need to talk about Leo," I said quietly. Her face went pale and she glanced around for him in motherly concern.
"Leo!" He yelled in childish glee at hearing his name. It was an odd habit he had developed, like a miniature Hodor. He clutched her leg and she moved him away.
"Stop," she ordered gently, prying his arms from her leg. "Go." She nudged him towards his playroom and suddenly the familiarity of that tone he had used dawned on me. "What happened?" She asked innocently, turning back towards me.
"You tell me," I answered shortly. She should have already told me. We had a good foundation and good communication. We didn't hide things from each other, or at least I didn't hide things from her. "Leo froze a squirrel today."
She gulped. She knew I didn't mean he froze it in a freezer. She knew exactly what I was referring to. "I can explain," she said. Her voice was just above a whisper. She reached out to pet my arm and calm me down and I flinched and pulled away.
"What are you?" I demanded, raising my voice at her. Was it just stop and go? What else could she stop? What else could she control? I shook my head at her, the anxiety and panic boiling inside at how easily she had manipulated Leo and if she had...
"Stop," she whispered in that soothing voice.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | “Honey? Can we talk please?” I finally found a time to talk to Gretel tonight. She put her book down on the night stand and looked at me.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Uh, well I’m not sure you know this but uh... Tommy was flying.”
Gretel looked shocked. “Flying you say?”
“Flying. Was going to bring him a bag of chips today. And when I came home is zooming around the room.”
“Oh...” Gretel looked down on the blanket covering us. “Flying...”
“But wait! There’s more. Because when I asked him what was going, he just kept saying he had no idea. He saw a bird and was thinking about flying. All of a sudden he was doing just that!”
Gretel shook her head, then made a face like she just figured something out. But I still continued to talk.
“But wait. Later on that day I was going to charge my phone when Tommy came and snatched it. He started flying around, AGAIN, and playing keep away. I managed to get it back him but SOMEHOW it was fully charged. Like he was a tiny human charger!”
“Look, dear. I’m just as surprised as you that our son has superpowers.”
“You bet I am! And I know I don’t have anything like that, but you know who does?”
She started sweating. “Um... The Generator-“
“The Generator! Our friendly super charged crime fighter who I only ever see whenever you aren’t around. So... what really happens during your day?”
Gretel started stuttering. “I’m an accountant. Y-you know that... hehe...”
“Give up the act Gretel. Face it. You’re The Generator.”
“A-am not! Maybe you’re getting sick and seeing things-“ Gretel tried to deny she was the Generator, but then Tommy came in flying into our room. I aggressively gestured my hands to our 4 year old whose hair is about 3 centimeters away from the ceiling.
“Mommy? Can I sleep with you guys? I’m scared...” he said timidly. He pointed outside. “I think there’s a monster...”
Gretel reaches out to grab Tommy and hugged him. “Alright, let’s go see where this monster is.” She got up and they both went to his room. I need a way to make Gretel admit who she really is... | 2019-08-23T07:06:36 | 2019-08-23T06:49:08 | 387 | 22 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | I'm not really sure how the numbers work. I don't remember when they started showing up, and I have never seen my own. They are little coloured numbers that hover above peoples' heads when I look at them.
My parents, both trained and experienced police officers that were normally armed, both averaged around a 6 or a 7 most of the time. My sweet 30 year old aunt, who would never touch a gun, let alone use one, rated about a 3 or a 4. Her husband, a man in his 40's who grew up in a mountain town and enjoyed shooting and hunting, was normally about a 5. Their two little kids, a 5 year old boy and an 8 year old girl, both had a 2 above their heads when I saw them.
Over time, I began to realize that the numbers showed someone's potential danger level. I'm not sure what exactly it was that made people dangerous, but I knew from experience that people with higher, more noticeable numbers caused more damage. A large drunk 6 at a bar started a fight. A jones-ing, meth-addicted 7 that was high out of his mind raped and stabbed a woman, stealing her money and causing her to kill herself. A rich, 19 year old 8 with a brand new Corvette loved to go fast and crashed into a minivan, killing 3 people.
I trusted my numbers, so when I saw higher numbers, I avoided them. I could only see numbers if I saw someone in person, or over a live video broadcast, so if I saw Hitler or Ghengis Khan in a history class video, I couldn't tell what they were, but if I saw a live video of the President, I could see his. He his a bright 9 and everyone in his company that follows him around has a dim 8 above theirs.
The President is the highest number that I've ever seen and, for the most part, only world leaders have numbers that rank above a 7. So you can imagine my surprise when I saw her.
I've never really noticed anyone very significant as far as numbers go. The highest numbered people were the School Resource Officer, who ranked at a 7, and the JROTC sergeants who each ranked anywhere between a dull 6 to a dim 8. On a normal, dreary day, rain was splashing against the windows. Clouds were blocking out the sun and creating a dull grey sky. I was walking through the halls of my remote high school in my rural mountain town, on my way from my Spanish class to my Environmental Science class, and my ears started ringing. I had an inexplicable pain in my head; I leaned against the lockers and bowed my head in a futile attempt to relieve myself of some of the pain. It felt like there were alarms going off inside of my skull. Something was wrong. When I looked up, all of the numbers that I had gotten so used to were fading away. What was happening? Then I saw it. I saw a bright, white 10 hovering above a new girl that I hadn't seen before. She was relatively short with long black hair that framed her face nicely, a nice figure, averaged sized breasts, and a pretty face. She wore inexpensive clothes that you could find at the nearest supermarket, but she looked good in them. She was fairly attractive, but so were a lot of girls in my school. If I hadn't seen her terrifying number, I probably would have walked right past her without a second thought, but now I had seen her, and she had seen me.
I didn't really think through what I was doing. I was just drawn toward her. I pushed through the crowd, feeling the fear settle in my gut and watching her the entire time. After she realized what I was doing, she pushed toward me. When we reached each other, without saying a word, she gave me a cheap shot to the gut and shoved me into the nearest bathroom.
I hit the ground in pain and looked up at her, asking her,
"Who the hell are you? Why did you bring me in here?"
She yelled back at me, her number glowing brighter than before,
"Shut the fuck up! What's the deal with you? Are you going to blow up the fucking school or something?!"
I was as confused as ever. What the hell was she talking about? I should have been asking her that question! I was just going through my day like everyone else. After a minute, she got impatient. She crossed her arms and started tapping her foot.
"Talk! Damn it!", she yelled in my face.
While I was busy trying to piece everything together, she started glancing around the small bathroom, as if she were going to find clues to her answer. She did. I looked up and she was just looking in the mirror, a hand over her mouth and a horrified look on her face.
"What are you looking at?" I asked her, hoping to come to the same revelation that she did.
Without saying a word, she helped me off the ground and pointed at the mirror that she refused to look away from. That's when I saw it too. A second white 10. This one was floating above my head. My world stopped. All I could here was the ringing in my ears from before. I looked at her in shock and she looked back at me with a terrified expression on her face. I saw her lips begin to move and suddenly the ringing stopped. The last thing I remember before blacking out was a single question.
"You can see them too?" | I always figured it was some form of synesthesia; above everybody, a translucent number, hovering above their head like a static hummingbird. I figured out soon enough that I was unique in this, that no-one else could see these bizarre numbers, a halo of creation and devastation. The nerdy kids on the late-night subway, a meek green 1. A young man down a side alley, gaunt and skinny, came in as a jaundiced 4. My reflection told me 6, blazing above my head like a personal sunset, caused by nothing other than a short fuse, as it flashed and fizzled in the mirror.
You got used to seeing anything between 1-5, and this covered the majority of the population. A suburban train line gave you 3's and 2's galore, a 7 occasionally popping up in the busier stations, but you soon got into the habit of not boarding with them. It was weird, seeing anything above 7. It didn't happen often, and I only ever saw an 8 once, and that was a gray sludge painted above Hitler's animated body, mouth rapidly spewing sludge for yet another propaganda film.
He changed that. He removed the blindfold, and showed me what the numbers meant. I sat in class, a cold autumn day covered the old concrete of the yard with a crystalline frost, refracting the light in a glorious beam across the side of the school's main building. I gazed out the window, daydreaming as the doddering, old teacher explained the basics of trigonometry in a droning tone, the scrawly tone drilling itself into your head, when suddenly i saw the flair out of the corner of my eye. A crimson supernova, radiating blood in waves around it, embossing the double numbers above the man below.
10.
To even think, the idea of a man worse than Hitler himself? My heart exploded into action, pumping waves of horror across my body, hyperventilation kicking into overdrive and leaving me ragged. And yet, *how could it be?*
He was pushed into sight, a big silver frame rolled around the corner of the yard, hands grasping the slender handles protruding out of the frame of the chair. Big, metallic spokes reflected the demonic color onto the ground, blood washing over the ice and turning it into a twisted battlefield. The drool cascaded slowly out of the corner of his mouth, dripping onto his crisp blazer as the assistant ferried him across the large expanse. She barely registered in the storm surrounding her, but a faint, calm 1 splayed it's lime tinge amongst the pyroclastic flow meandering around it.
Hairs turned to rock as I stared at this monster, this gargantuan evil, yet all I saw was a broken boy, too simple to even function, wheeled around like a trophy. I wondered, *how could THIS be evil?*
And as his deformed body shifted, and the void of his pupils hit mine, i understood. Rage incarnate spewed venomously out of the side of his cornea, and a word rumbled across my cranium like a tectonic quake:
**SLAUGHTER**
My mind splintered, and as the chunks transcended reality, the red glow stopped. | 2014-11-29T18:39:45 | 2014-11-29T15:29:59 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] A medieval European knight somehow ends up in feudal Japan. With nowhere to go in the foreign land he decides to settle down in a forest. Outside this forest sits a village; and as years go by rumours start to spread of a tall metal spirit that roams this forest. | I can still remember the day i was excommunicated. A few fortnights prior to it, i set out to rescue the love of my life, who was admittedly from a small insignificant kingdom, and who my family disapproved of, but i had my mind set on her.
I heard from a beggar that she has been kidnapped by a wizard who took her west, and that was all i knew before setting off to find her.
I walked for many miles, until I found the tower in which she was imprisoned, and swiftly defeated the evil goons of the wizard, followed by the wizard himself. It was only later that I found out that in fact there was no wizard, and she wasn't kidnapped. What had actually happened was that she became the betrothed of a noble, who happened to be the brother of the archbishop, and the tower was in fact a form of church. Thus my actions were seen as an act against the lord himself, and while the killing was seen as just conquering a neighboring kingdom, I was still cast out of society.
&#x200B;
Embarrassed by my actions I made a vow to never go adventuring to the west, and thus, having nowhere else to go, I headed east.
&#x200B;
For months I just walked, mostly sleeping under trees and hunting for myself. After months i had made it to the northern kingdom. Since the religious order there was different i would no longer be forced out of cities, and who would recognize me here anyway? But after so many months of seeing new things and places, i was curious as for what lied beyond, so i continued my journey further east.
I trekked through the snow for years, seeing the landscape and the people become more and more nomadic. The further I walked the more the people seemed to resemble the ones in the books my father had in his study, with smaller eyes and soft robes. And so I walked on and on until i reached an ocean.
By that time I had picked up the local language a little, so it wasn't hard for me to board a merchant ship and sail across. When I arrived I continued as I became so used to do, and continued once again through the forest. While there i stumbled upon a pool of warm water, like the one I had seen in the place they called Baikal. It's been at least 3 years since i've been there, and i was desperate to wash myself off.
Taking off my armor I dove into the water, and my mind immediately started drifting, thinking about that bastard beggar who misled me and who got me into this mess. No, It was my own foolishness that got me here. Relaxing further I noticed how vulnerable I felt outside of my armor, how defenseless I had become from being so used to wearing it.
Suddenly I heard a rustling in the bushes. I only had the time to grab my sword before an arrow had implanted Itself in my shin. Somehow I managed to fight off the bandits that had attacked me, but i was bleeding profusely. On that day I made another vow, to never take off my armor again. Settling in a nearby cave, I managed to somehow nurse my leg back to health, but walking was still agony. I knew that my journey could go no further, but after all these years of living off the land I managed to get food despite my limited movement.
&#x200B;
The hardest part however was not physical, rather it was the ache in my mind from knowing that I would most likely die in this land, without ever seeing what lied beyond. On some evenings I would do nothing but wail in despair, regretting my own foolishness.
It was however this same foolishness that gave me all my wisdom, which I would sometimes share with those who were lost in the forest. After some time I had picked up the tongue of this land too.
One day, a young man came to see me. I had met him before, when I saved him when he was still a child, and he has been coming to me for advice ever since. While I told him that my name was Melfried of Scanthine, he insisted on calling me by another name, Tetsu no Kami. I let him, thinking it to just be a little nickname, until the day I made my final journey.
&#x200B;
Growing tired of my surroundings I had decided to venture out to the nearby village. Being now old and frail, I could not go in my armor, but it was refreshing to feel the air on my skin after all this time. Venturing into the village, I stumbled upon what looked like a shrine, but in there was a set of armor that looked oddly like mine, and looking around, using my limited knowledge of the local scripture, I could only read one insignia, placed at the front of the helmet. "Tetsu no Kami"
Confused and shocked, i turned around only to see the boy i saved, dressed in what looked like religious attire. He told me of a legend of the iron spirit, who lived in the cave to the south, about how he would wail on some days, but help lost souls on others; that the spirit was so prevalent that the whole forest was named after him, being called "the Iron Forest" | He lived in a sad little world.
A chunk of metal, that's all he was now. Transported to a land where he neither knew the customs or the language, bound down to a land unfamiliar and barely navigable - the curse had taken his physical body, but apparently had also done what it could to erode his mentality. At least, what was left of it.
Clink. Heavy, hollow limbs now dragged on a brittle land, leaving small gouges in the pathway. He tried not to make his presence known, for the most part, since it seemed to distress the locals. But on one of the patrols that he regularly underwent these days, he didn't want to disturb the natural windswept grass, nor the flowers and trees he preferred to admire around him, splashes of color in contrast to the hues of gray and rust he was confined to. A small robin perched on his outstretched finger, the gazes of perhaps foxes stretching upon him from the undergrowth.
He called himself Kinzo... he had long forgotten his real name, but the first child he had encountered here had pointed with wide eyes and uttered the word in reverence. Then the mother had come, fearful and trembling, backing away with the child before breaking hurriedly into a sprint. Was it that terrible? He had tried to go after them, to shout, and yet no sound had come out but the creak of metal. He couldn't run fast. He couldn't speak. As tried to walk out of the ravine in which he had first found himself, he realized the futility of struggling against these newfound limitations. His cursed realm centered on a stone altar in the middle of the forest, and he could do nothing but prowl within.
With the animals, however, maybe it wasn't so sad and small after all. Few humans dared wander into the realm, and while dispiriting for him, it meant well for newborn rabbits and birds.
Kinzo took a deep rattling breath as best he could, meandering his way to underneath a large oak. And he sat here and listened and observed, trying to once more feel some sensation of wind and grass, contemplating in which direction he should move next.
Rustles sounded, though, a bit father along the path. A fox, maybe? No, this felt different, larger. The patter of feet. He felt a sudden rush of familiarity. It couldn't be. He was able to get up, and for a moment stood in hesitation, listening to the hooves of horses rain down, followed by something probably akin to a caravan as it moved towards him. If he stayed hidden, maybe they wouldn't be scared, and they'd keep going through the forest. But it had been so long - he wanted, badly, to see firsthand what a horse looked like again, how the people here really acted and behaved towards animals and each other. A metal giant was strange, right? So they'd stop and observe, at least if they didn't run away, and he'd get a chance to do the same, settled as a glinting spectacle among the bushes to one side of the road. | 2019-11-15T09:14:41 | 2019-11-15T08:20:34 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war. | “Order! Order! There will be order in this chamber!”
The Grand Vizier’s voice was projected across the large rotunda. Delegates from across the galaxy bickered and clamored over the fact that the representatives from Andorus Major invoked the Defense Alliance, something that had not been done in thousands of years.
In the galaxy, war was not fought traditionally but rather via flexing military superiority. There was no longer a need for a major defensive alliance as the Galactic Union had consolidated much of the galaxy under its hegemony.
The Vizier held his hand up, silencing the chamber. After a moment, he spoke, “Will the representative from Andorus Major please explain the reason for invoking the Defense Alliance?”
The chamber fixated on the Andoran, a tall bipedal species with deep blue skin and jet black hair. Andorans were one of the most powerful species in the Union and there words carried weight.
“Grand Vizier. I stand before you and this chamber to urge us to act. There is a threat encroaching upon this galaxy that we must address with haste. Otherwise I fear the dissolution of this great Union.”
Furious whispers erupted across the chamber, some delegates claiming the Andoran was lying. The Vizier waited for the uproar to quiet down before asking, “Representative, have you any proof of this threat?”
Producing a small, spherical Holosphere, he said, “If I may?”
The Holosphere was broadcasted to the entire rotunda. It showed eight deep space frigates, large and angular covered in turrets and artillery. Very menacing, very Andoran. They were the fiercest frigates in space, rivaled by the Tulsans and Srii-uum.
The broadcast shifted to what was facing the ships. It was about six cruisers, no definitive features floating towards the Andoran fleet.
“Andoran ships encountered this fleet and received a single message from them. ‘Surrender,’” the Andoran explained.
The Andoran fleet moved to battle positions, creating a single half-spherical line of ships with their artillery pointed at the mystery crafts. They aligned themselves in typical galactic custom. Few races in the galaxy would take the Andorans bluff.
But, incredibly, the six ships each fired a single missile into the Andoran fleet between each frigate. For a moment, nothing happened. Then each missile exploded with a brilliant light that vaporized the Andoran ships.
The entire rotunda was in awe. Eight Andoran naval frigates burned in front of their eyes. The mystery fleet then opened fire on the remaining wreckage. And then the broadcast ended.
Once again, the entire Union erupted in shouts and exclamations. Some of them called it a hoax, others demanded the Defense Alliance be invoked, shouts of ‘put it to a vote’ filled the chamber.
“Representatives, please!” the Grand Vizier shouted, “We will have order!”
Focusing on the Andoran delegation, he asked, “Representative where was this?”
Looking at his Holopad, the representative scanned it and then said, “Sector 271-X.”
“The Galactic Edge? Have you identified the assailants? An unincorporated system?”
“N-No, they are not from this galaxy at all. Their ships must have been a scouting expedition. They call themselves, human.” | "They're throwing engines at us."
Thats what we first thought during the start if the Salab Conflict. Of course, while spacial war is cleaner than planet-bound conflicts, there is still some fighting done if only to pit weapons against remote drones, so the humans' method of throwing the equivalent of a starship's engine was understandable considering their lack of experience.
However, when that engine- no, that *thing* impacted one of my fleet, it was torn to shreds. Still, it was a remote fleet, so no real harm done, and they showed off an extraordinarily powerful explosion, so we surrendered the matter.
Surrendering is usually where interplanetary wars end.
Surrendering is not where the Salab Conflict ended.
The modified engines that they launched towards my fleet turned the clean energy of nuclear fusion into a toxic explosion were now used to hold my planet hostage.
Human war, it seems, is a filthy mess with no care for the elegance of spacial conflict, where we boast our tech witgout having to ever use it on people.
- *From the journal of anti-human activist Hweni, former Major of the Jumop Army* | 2020-03-21T08:46:43 | 2020-03-21T08:44:58 | 156 | 87 |
[WP] There's a door in the middle of the forest. No one who has ever gone in has come back. Your job is to guard anyone from going in. One night, you hear a knock on the door. |
It was a night like every other night, back to the door. Normally, I would bring my Nintendo 3ds to keep me occupied, but my God damn kids took my charger while I was sleeping. It isn’t all bad. It really isn’t. I normally find ways to entertain myself in the night either by writing or reading. I would even spend time thinking about things I learned.
I make it to the post and relieve Frank so he can get some sleep before his 8AM Class. He is trying to become a chef, which I cannot be anymore thankful for. I have become his guinea pig for his latest recipes and a fan of his Potato Soup.
“Good Evening!” Frank shouts as he sees me approaching him. “I have more Potato Soup for you!”
“Any new ingredients?” I said, trying to not to sound too excited. I probably thought about his cooking more than I like to admit. I may be married, but my wife is the queen of the frozen family dinners. Her specialty is Lasagna, Salisbury steak, rib patties, and Parmesan chicken. Repeat. All frozen and just twenty minutes in the microwave. I don’t mind. I really don’t. I just think it would be nice to try something home made.
“It’s the original potato soup!” He said as he picks up a deep pot. “I have a lot of it, and I know you like it.”
“You know it will be gone by morning.” I said as the normally routine joke that we always had. I reached for the pot and inhaled deeply and my mouth fills with saliva.
“Have a good night!” Frank says as he disappears into the night.
Now, I have to spend the next ten hours watching a door. What’s behind the door, you wonder? I wish I could tell, but I am not quite sure myself. Some farmers, who stumbled on it while looking for their kids, recently discovered it. They think it’s like a gateway to hell or something like that. Who knows? I needed a better job to pay for the American dream. It was either that or to get out of the house and away from the wife. I’ll let you decide.
Hours have passed and the Potato soup was pretty much done for. I sat firmly at the post as I was anticipating something bad to happen even though nothing ever does.
Knock, Knock, Knock! KNOCK!
I jumped. I normally wouldn’t admit, but I was not expecting someone to be knocking on the door from Hell or whatever it leads to.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
As much as I thought I could ignore it, I really couldn’t. There weren’t any protocols for someone knocking, but I was raised not to let a ringing phone go unanswered. I wasn’t going to let the door go unanswered. So I opened the door.
Five little men came out. They looked almost like Oompa Loompas from that Willy Wonka movie, except that they weren’t that weird skin color. The men went straight to the pot. They had to stand on their tippy toes to look inside of it like they had to verify the contents, then two of the men grabbed the pot and carried it out of the door as the last three men stood guard at the door with giant grins on their faces.
“What are you guys?” I asked. They just continued to stand there and grin. I was confused and curious on what was going on so I tried to look over the three guards. Then, out of nowhere, one of the men pushed me down. It was almost body builder strength.
I had the wind knocked out of me. Seconds later, the two men came back out with another pot of Potato Soup. The door slammed shut behind them.
The End.
| There was a knocking sound. I wasn't prepared for this.
I've been the Guardian at the Wooden Gate for sixty years, and I've dealt with devils, tricksters, blackguards and ruffians. But I didn't expect a knock on the *inside*.
A voice called. "I seek the Guardian. I have a message for him." The voice, hollow and yet choral, harmonious and yet discordant, traveled through the Gate as though a whisper, an intimacy not yet seen.
Putting my hand on the gate, I could feel its bittersweet meaning. "I am the Guardian. No-one has contacted me since I came here. What is the message?" I spoke, heart pounding like a bellows in a foundry.
"It is time, Guardian. The Season has come to pass, the Dragon has been victorious. You are released from your duty, and may enter. This is the Dragon's gift." The door opened, and a blinding light consumed me.
* * * * * *
**Excerpt from the London Times, 18th September 1894**
"...it is known that the whereabouts of the mayor of Wyre remain a mystery. All that is certain is that what was left behind is baffling in the utmost; his smallclothes, his hat and a small figurine bearing a remarkable likeness to the Mayor.
The local constabulary are currently investigating all leads, but there is no information at the time of going to press." | 2015-05-18T00:19:42 | 2015-05-17T22:01:23 | 39 | 15 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | Gasping awake, he's surrounded by a dark haze. He doesn't remember when he arrived or how he did so, but he has a burning ache to go home. He hears a sound, a voice? He isn't too sure as he whips around in a panic.
"Hello?" He calls out. The anxiety, trembling from his voice, "I think I'm lost," he is met with silence. He tries to walk, but finds himself stuck firmly in place. His arms and torso moves just fine. It is when he tries to lift his legs that he finds resistance. The realization of being trapped sends his heart racing, "Hello?!"
"Calm yourself child," a calm voice finally replies. It's withered and rough on his spine. This sound causes all of his hair to stand on end. His body response is anything but calming. From the smoke a shadow appears. He watches in fear until a minute figure emerges. Wearing an all black business ensemble a woman, no more than four feet walks towards him.
"Who a-are you?" He asks nervously, "What do you want? Why can't I move my legs?"
She smiles up to him, "I'm afraid you have reached the end of your road Derrick," his eyes widen at his name, "Yes, I know who you are and what life you have lead. It's only because of that, we even meet now."
"What are you talking about?" He quickly replies, "I just want to go home, to go back to my family."
"That is what I am here to offer. A gamble if you will. We play a game of your choosing. If you win, you go back to your family and I will wait up to ten years before I come to collect. If I win, however, I will take you on the spot," he looks to her as her words settle in. His fear recedes as he finally understands where he is. More importantly, he understands what she is, "Do we have a deal or should I take you now? It's your choice."
"Any game of my choosing?"
"Any. Though I should mention, if either of us are caught cheating, we forfeit and lose immediately."
He furls his brow as he brings his hand to his chin. She watches him deliberate and waits patiently, "Deal."
"Excellent I am glad to hear it," she says as she clasps her hands together, "So what shall it be?"
"It's called 'Not It'," he states with a smile. It was his daughter's favorite.
"Not i-"
"Not it!" He quickly shouts triumphantly. She does not respond. His glee quickly shrinks away in the silence.
Her stone stare is mortifying. She twitches a bit, causing him to flinch before being surprised by an outburst of laughter, "That was very clever of you, Derrick," she says joyously. he looks to her in confusion, "I look forward to seeing you again."
He hears a finger snap moments before opening his eyes and drawing breath again. He's home. Unaware of his encounter he has the feeling he had a very strange dream. Looking to his left he sees his wife seated besides him. Her white blouse spattered with red marks all over. He looks to her in confusion as she looks down to him. He can see a wild fury in her eyes as she plunges the knife back into his chest. |
Death throws rock, I throw rock.
Death throws paper, I throw paper.
Death throws scissors, I throw scissors.
"Its very clear that this will take a while"
Ten years of stalemate go by, finally Death throws paper and I scissors.
Underneath his dark hood, Death whispers "You win."
I blink and find myself alone in a stale hospital room A soft yellow light is illuminating the eggshell white walls and recovery room decorations.
My head is swimming and my eyes hurt, but I did it. I finally beat death.
From the corner of the room I hear the click of the doorknob and see the sway of the door through my foggy vision. In walks the only company I've had for what seemed like an eternity. Death.
"Wait! You said you would give me 10 years!" I meekly sqweek recoiling to the headboard in horror.
"It has been ten years." says Death with a small chuckle.
"How could this be?" I mutter with shock and disbelief.
Death slowly moves his fleshless left hand in front of his torso open palmed and face up, than his right hand over his left in a skeletal fist.
"Two out of three?" | 2018-03-07T08:38:23 | 2018-03-07T07:40:40 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him. | JulieBear1998: Dad r u there? 0_0 Helllooooooooo?
LoneStarRanger: Hi pumpkin. Sorry I'm late. We were running drills.
JulieBear1998: Lol its k
LoneStarRanger: So how was your day Julie?
JulieBear1998: it was good
JuliesBear1998: i finally got my chem midterm back
LoneStarRanger: What'd you get?
JulieBear1998: guess xD
LoneStarRanger: 85?
JulieBear1998: 91!
LoneStarRanger: Wow great job pumpkin!
LoneStarRanger: How's Gary doing?
JulieBear1998: uuuuuuuuuhh not to good, he got into another fight
LoneStarRanger: Not again. What for?
JulieBear1998: he started beating the shit out of a kid for saying that the war was stupid, and that it's all a huge waste of time.
JulieBear1998: u know how he gets about it
LoneStarRanger: This war is stupid pumpkin. Tell your brother to accept what other people think okay? I just want to come home and see you guys again.
LoneStarRanger: And watch your mouth.
JulieBear1998: geez sorry :-P
JulieBear1998: yur coming back on the 11th right?
LoneStarRanger: Yeah. I'm counting the days.
JulieBear1998: you talked to mom right?
JulieBear1998: dad?
JulieBear1998: daaaaaaad?
JulieBear1998: wtf
LoneStarRanger: pumpkin
JulieBear1998: lol what happened?
LoneStarRanger: i got hurt bad
LoneStarRanger: im hit in the chest dont think ill make it
JulieBear1998: wtf dad this isnt funny
JulieBear1998: moms already worried enough as it is without u doing this shit
JulieBear1998: dad?
JulieBear1998: whatever u asshole
LoneStarRanger: Hello?
JulieBear1998: u almost gave me a heart attack dad wtf dont joke about this stuff
LoneStarRanger: Your dad is Pvt. Donald Bryant?
JulieBear1998: what is this?
LoneStarRanger: Is this Julie?
JulieBear1998: dad?
JulieBear1998: dad please stop
LoneStarRanger: I'm sorry but your father is dead
LoneStarRanger: I'm so sorry
LoneStarRanger: I think I'm the one who shot him in the raid but I can't be certain
JulieBear1998: who is this
LoneStarRanger: I'm a soldier who killed your dad
LoneStarRanger: I'm so sorry
LoneStarRanger: I followed to trail of blood into the barracks
LoneStarRanger: I think he was trying to send you a message on your computer but he fell onto the ground
LoneStarRanger: He was coughing up blood. I shot him in the lung.
LoneStarRanger: I'm so sorry
JulieBear1998: stop
LoneStarRanger: he told me to tell you to take care of your brother and your mother and that you were the light of his life and im so sorry
LoneStarRanger: the lieutenant made me shoot him in the head but i couldnt do it and i lett him suffer and im so sorry
LoneStarRanger: you cannot forgive me for this julie
[JulieBear1998 has left the chat] | My dearest love,
I long to see the smile that graces you lips. It has been well over seven months since I have and my heart aches for that one simple gesture that would welcome me home. Everywhere around me death grins and I recoil from its affection. Tommy, the boy from the Mason’s farm, felt its sweet kiss two days ago. Give his family my regards, his death was quick there are few remains and his family will only have a small box inside a coffin to bury.
The weather is clear and we are pushing forward today. The sun shines just like that day when we had our first child and I was racing you to the hospital. It’s hard to believe little Johnny will be 3 years old next month. Thank you for your last letter of showing how big he has grown, I have tucked it into my bible and hold it close to my chest at night.
We are moving up now, we have a bridge to take. I will finish this tonight.
My lady,
Your husband is a brave man and I’m sorry that I have had to kill him. He took out two machine gun nests by himself before I put a round through his head. His death was quick and painless. I’m sorry I had to take him from you. God I am so sorry, I’m sorry this war is happening and I’m sorry for every man I have killed.
Please, please pray for me
For these awful things that got to be
When this war for freedom has been won
I promise you I’ll put away my gun.
The man that can barely live with himself
| 2015-02-03T16:21:09 | 2015-02-03T13:20:11 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] A few selected minds are gifted with a dream about the "Library of all Books". In only one night, they experience a full year of reading and learning. You are one of them, but instead of once in a lifetime, you wake up in this f*cking library every single night. Today is your 9th birthday. | King Andrees Nan Copolas scooted back in his hard edged, iron throne. The bags gathering under his eyes seemed to be trying to escape his face as he looked down at the tray I brought him. He brushed grey hairs away from his face as his bloodshot eyes met mine.
“I will not need the black brew tonight, Jevin.” He was by far the oldest looking nine year old I had ever seen. Even his voice reflected his exhaustion.
I looked down at the drink and array of sweets on my tray. Mistress Nahan had demanded that I push the drink on the boy, fearing that when he woke he would experience one of his famous awakenings, throwing the kingdom into a sudden yet organized change. Most of the time, it was for the better, though. Also, I had seen the tiny grains of what was likely poison scattered on the table near her.
“Sire, are you certain that sleep is the wisest course?”
Those light blue, piercing eyes flashed at me, then away, looking down the corridor. “Jev, you've been with me for a few years now. In the time since you've known me, *I’ve* lived almost a thousand years. Trust me, I do not wish to experience yet another year of isolation between dusk and dawn, but I may learn a secret, a strategy necessary to defend our people. It's a burden I bear not for myself, but for this kingdom.”
I nodded, absorbing his words. His voice was high like a young boy’s should be, yet it was wrapped a tinge of wisdom, of soothing sweet sorrow.
“Plus, I have to sleep sometime.” Andrees smiled wanly, looking back to me. “Perhaps the eve of our destruction isn't the best time, but if the castle still stands when I wake, there may yet be salvation.”
I returned the smile and set down his tray. “The Arkenian army will not pass our gates by dawn, Sire.”
“I have calculated that there is at least a three out of five chance that they will accomplish just that, Jev, but I appreciate your attempted reassurance. Will you help me to bed?”
I bowed, then picked the King up from the throne. I shifted his position so that he did not feel the blade tucked beneath my robes as I carried him. He weighed nearly nothing, which was sad but not surprising. The boy lived on the black brew and not much else. He would attempt to stay up most nights and only nap for five to ten minutes during the day, demanding that I or another servant wake him quickly.
I smiled as I tucked him into his ridiculously oversized bed, one crafted for a king and his queen, not a nine year old boy. He returned it, this time with a little more luster.
“Jev.”
“Sire?”
“If I wake, I will have an answer to save the kingdom. If not from the Arkenians, then at least from the plague they have brought upon our people. It is all I will spend this time on.”
“Our people are blessed to have you as their king, Sire.”
Andrees nodded slowly, then looked directly at the spot I had the blade hidden on my waist. I held my breath, taking care not to follow his eyes.
“If I do not wake, however, I will consider my burden lifted, and my life spent as best I could. If that happens, I hope the parties that seize control understand that surrender to the Arkenians will not end well for our people.”
I bowed, then spun on my foot and exited his bed chambers. Mistress Nahan’s poisoned drink had failed. My blade would likely fail. There would be no surrender to the invaders. Perhaps the kingdom would just have to suffer another one of Andrees’ revelations, and Gods’ willing it would be enough to save us.
[r/intotheslushpile] (http://www.reddit.com/r/intotheslushpile)
| 9 X 365=3285
Now....
Stop reading right there and let your brain process that math for a couple seconds. Give your brain a moment to breathe and fully comprehend that time scale.
Math...... philosophy, music, chemistry, physics, molecular biology, history, on and on: the summation of all human knowledge has drenched my ancient soul over the span of these last three thousand years of study.
On one day of every year I wake up in the dream world, in my penthouse, in the body of the youngest, most learned scholar, the most consummate scientist in the known universe. By age eight I cured cancer. Nine years brought on world peace.
I've also become an expert in loneliness. The triumphant conqueror of my own isolation. Thousands of years trapped, marinating, in this library, the blasted parchment prison of my real world.
Thousands of years reading, planning, and scheming.
I've come to accept that my torture is a blessing and that I have been given a great responsibility. Out of all humans only I have the time to properly analyze, catalog, and react to the collective knowledge of my race. Only I have the time to properly plan every one of my moves in minute detail. I must become humanities shepherd.
What really is reality? I spent a couple decades debating that question. Is it the world I was conceived in or is it this library where I have spent all these lifetimes? One hypothesis I've mulled over is that the library is a fourth dimensional expression of humanities collective psyche. Human brains acting as computer servers generating a vast network of data that they themselves cant comprehend. One where time's passage is slowed to a snails pace.
| 2017-05-02T07:36:22 | 2017-05-02T06:27:23 | 149 | 87 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | My vision. Dark. Black. A void of nothing.
But then a flash of light. Blinding. Burning. As well as....steam. I'm standing in front of a bathroom mirror. My own face is starting back at me. My mouth is moving without my conscious control. "War never changes."
"You're gonna knock 'em dead at the Veteran's Hall tonight, hun." A woman walks behind me. Nora.
This is...Fallout 4? I'm in a video game.
My mouth continues to talk without me caring. I think of all the possibilities...
I had to act quick. The nuke would be dropping soon. I had no idea if it would work like the game, not triggering until I went through the proper steps. I didn't want to take that chance.
I comb through the house, trying to not seem too urgent, lest the NPCs suspect something. I try and find anything of value or use. Weapons, supplies, bottle caps. I brush past my robot butler, Codsworth. He rambles on about coffee.
I build a bundle of important items and stash them somewhere safe in the house. Codsworth would protect our home, no matter what.
The doorbell rings. I would have to answer if I wanted this to continue. Perhaps I can keep the salesman waiting...but if this isn't video game logic and he leaves...
I rush to the door and talk to him. He wants me to sign my family up for the Vault, an underground fallout shelter. In case of nuclear war.
But I knew their real motive. Twisted and insane science experiments. Thankfully Vault 111 wasn't too bad. Cryogenic stasis. I would unfreeze 200 years in the future, ready to explore a savage wasteland.
At least I'd have a ready stash of supplies waiting for me.
My train of thought is broken by the crying of a baby. Nora asks me to take care of him. My son, Shaun.
I reach his room, once more thinking about my steps once I leave the vault. But looking at Shaun stopped me.
He was my son. I was sure of that. He looked almost like I did from my baby photos. He had to be biologically mine. Truly my son.
I move through the motions of the tutorial. Making Shaun happy. Talking to Nora. Codsworth calls us into the living room.
The news broadcast is playing. Ron Perlman, bless that beautiful man, is delivering the news of nuclear war. The broadcast is suddenly shut off. Nuclear sirens are blaring around the neighbourhood.
Nora takes Shaun and leaves the house, running to the "safety" of Vault 111. Codsworth is urging me to go, pleading even. But can I?
I think of all the horrors that await me in the wasteland. Savage mutants, cannibal raiders, killer robots. This world seems so real. Can I handle that?
Not to mention Shaun. My son. Can I bear to lose him? To see what he becomes? Can I truly survive?
It would be so simple to wait. Wait for the nuke. Be incinerated in a blast of atomic fire. To never witness the horror. All I had to do was wait... | "well that's really not good"
I wake up to see the nightmarish visage of wehrner von kerman standing over me
"Eh HAAAHHH" he says in a horrifically nasal voice that i somehow understand.
in order to leave, i have to "beat" the game, well that's gonna be a little bit of a bitch seeing as kerbal space program has no clear end.
as he guides me out of the R&D center where i plopped out of a portal, i see the buildings are all level one and i'm relieved more than anything
the game's in career mode.
this means i have a clear, easy to reach objective. only trouble is jeb and val are out somewhere doing god knows what and bob and bill are out on vacation, so that leaves me alone to pilot these things that wehrner and i design.
this is not how i wanted to spend spring break, but hey at least i get to go to space. | 2020-02-16T23:04:10 | 2020-02-16T23:02:08 | 40 | 25 |
[WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best.
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | John Norman's current Monday was abysmally bad, even in the context of his life and his Mondays. The hot water was out in the building, his toaster practically incinerated his pop-tarts, his ex-wife "asked" for another hundred bucks to take his son to the renaissance faire (with the implicit threat that if he doesn't give in to her demands she will sue for a higher child support), his commute was extended thanks to an accident blocking two of the five lanes of the highway and just as he was about to answer the angry text from his boss inquiring why he isn't in the office yet he was abducted from his car by a flying saucer.
"I haven't had my prostate checked anyway" - thought he resignedly but instead of sticking a probe where the Sun doesn't shine, a typical "grey" alien attached a device to his left temple.
He was only slightly surprised when he "heard" a voice inside his head.
"John Norman of Earth" - said the voice belonging to the grey, even though its mouth didn't move - "you were chosen to represent Earth in the interplanetary olympic games."
"Why me?" - he thought. But apparently he thought it loudly enough that the alien answered: "You are an average representative of the more physically capable sex from the dominant country of your planet."
And indeed, John was perfectly average. He was 39 years old, 175 cm tall and somewhat pudgy at 88 kilograms. He had an IQ of 100, an office job in the middle management and an ex-wife who was apparently average, even though he thought she was the worst bitch who ever walked the Earth.
"And what are these interplanetary olympics?" - he was starting to get the hang of telepathic communications.
"Oh, we were observing your planet - yes, Roswell was us, let me continue - for quite a while and saw these 'olympics' of yours. And... well, we need a new... I think you call it 'Dyson-sphere', so we decided to pick its place with one."
"Huh?"
"Loser's planet is space dust."
"Crap."
After two weeks of competition things were looking bad for Earth. As it turns out, most other aliens came from worlds with similar gravity and atmosphere so at least he didn't die or collapse as soon as the saucer dumped him into the stadium. While John bested some other aliens in one or two sports - the diminutive Rigelians were good at jumping and gymnastics but they couldn't box for shit, for example, and the tentacles of the Antaris were not suited for discus throwing - he never finished in the top 10. Just before the final competition Earth was at the end of the score table with 0 points. On the second-to-last position was Vega, its aliens that looked like centaurs with antelope parts replacing the horse ones managed to come in at the second place at the 100 meter dash.
Mathematically, Earth still had a small chance. John "only" had to win the last event and the Vegan had to finish 11th or worse. Simply speaking, it required a miracle.
His hopes for saving Earth disappeared when the greys announced the last event: marathon. He always planned to run one, but never even finished C25K, the "C" part was way too comfortable.
Weird aliens from thousand worlds lined up to run 42 Earth kilometers plus change. John, the tallest bipedal could beat most of the shorter bipeds and the odd tripod in the medium-distance events but the quadrupeds ran at speeds even Usain Bolt would envy.
The start pistol sounded and the quadrupeds predictably left John in the dust. He started running, he was certain that he will have to slow down to a walk after a couple kilometers, but he didn't want to go gently.
After a kilometer he passed the fastest non-human biped. The Centauri was approximately one meter twenty and while its legs were relatively long for its body John's were longer.
After the third kilometer John slowed down to a walk. He half-expected the rest of the bipeds to start taking him over but it didn't happen.
At the tenth kilometer he passed the exhausted Vegan.
A grey medic was examining a seemingly dead Eridiani with the device John dubbed "tricorder" at the twelfth klick.
A group of feline aliens were taking a rest at the tenth mile. When they spotted John they bolted off in a dead sprint, only to stop for another rest after a hundred meters or so. This repeated three other times before they just collapsed.
As John walked the path he passed several aliens with four, six or more legs, either dragging themselves or not even capable of that. The winner of the 10 kilometer event, a wolf-like creature from Gliese was panting heavily in the shade of a tree-like organism at the 30th kilometer.
When he saw the finish line, he started jogging. He couldn't be the first, he thought, there must have been some faster alien, but if the last photo of a human in existence will be his finish line picture, it might as well show him doing what he was supposed to do.
His was the biggest surprise when he saw his name standing alone on the table of the finishers.
Turns out, humans are the only sentient beings evolved from persistence hunters. The others were good at sprinting, or even at medium-distance running but they simply can't handle strenuous physical activity for more than an hour. John's was the only species capable of moving relatively quickly for hours if necessary.
He wondered how the scientists were going to explain the sudden flash of radiation from Vega 25 years in the future just before his memory of the events was wiped and he was sent back to the timespace coordinates of his abduction, with inexplicably longer hair, smaller girth and the intense desire to run a marathon. | "Ladies and gentlemen! Triploids and trans-asexuals! Welcome to the 2301st Milkyway Endurance Olympics!"
Mike could not understand what was happening. But he was sure of one thing: he did not want to be here. He was just a fat dude living in his mom's basement. He did not have a job, he did not have friends, he was good for nothing, he thought.
"Our first competitor is from the asteroid belt of Narubia! You probably know him but for those who don't, he is a warrior who has killed countless Racknorians in the civil war in his system and after that, got into olympics. He has a total of 87 gold medals and will probably leave with even more medals!"
An uproar rose from the tribunes. Mike did not know which part of the first alien was more scary. Was that the part he ate an alive alien's head and threw the body to his fans, who caught it like some baseball from a star player, or the part his arms looked more like weapons with all the spikes coming out of them.
"Our second competitor is from the beatiful but deadly planet of Solnia! If you were also watching the hunting olympics, you know about our beatiful competitor with 30 heads from the last hunting."
She was nothing near beautiful, Mike thought. As he was thinking about saying this, the second alien killed a random alien from Solnian side of the tribunes and sprayed its orange-ish goo on its other fans. They did not look scared at all...
"And our third competitor is an ex-pilot from the Vanguard fleet. He was a fighter pilot and shot down countless Andromedan fighters before retiring and starting a career in olympics."
This one looked almost humanly, until he opened his mouth to speak which was his... chest.
Mike was almost going to cry and he actually has when he was first abducted but the aliens did not seem to care.
"And our last competitor is from the exotic third planet of Sol. Its inhabitants live in a boring peace. So, here he is!"
He waved at the tribunes but he could not get the uproar the first three could get. He did not care anyway, he just wanted this to end.
"So, if you don't know what happens in the Olympics, let me tell you. It is pretty simple with only one kind of sport. Unlike the other 5619 olympics, there are no combat sports or any endurance sports, except for one. The competitors are asked to do maybe the hardest thing for any living being: to lie on a couch and try to stay lying with as small amount of brainwaves and as long as they can."
Mike was now really confused. So did the aliens simply watch the competitors sleep as long as they could? That was weird but this was also his expertise. When he would get bored, he could sleep through 20 hours without even moving an inch. He could even sleep on will, after 30 years of career as a couch potato.
"Now, there will be only one winner and one survivor. The losers will have to compete in the 7092nd Getting Eaten Olympics, which is pretty much death for them. That was too much talk anyway, let the Endurance Olympics begin!"
It was really not hard to sleep on the soft couch for Mike. Actually, it was not hard for him to sleep anywhere. He stopped thinking and in a mere seconds, he was asleep.
"And our last competitor wakes up! Everyone, hail the winner of the Olympics! Now, what do you wish, winner?"
"I called for a pizza when you guys kidnapped me so I think... A lifetime supply of any kind of pizza I want plus getting back home I guess." | 2014-05-06T07:25:49 | 2014-05-06T05:48:35 | 88 | 32 |
[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | "It started off easy." you sigh as you are lying on your bed talking to your log. "All I had to do was interview some of these barely evolved mammals to determine if their planet was a total Yarkolag or just a casual Zoxy."
"I started off with some basic questions about their own species, like what is typical and a-typical behaviour and how do you recognise it, are there specific behavioural quirks that are specific to a region etc."
"At first all I got back was that people from the North-Western hemisphere were always the loudest during conversations and always tried acting friendly even though this might not be the case. People from North Eastern hemisphere were described as being more introverted and *shy*.."
"But then one of them said that there is a place on the South-Eastern hemipshere were they used to send all their *undesirables.* And they have been left alone to breed and develop. Apparently this **Australia** is were the worst of the worst reside, being descendants of axe-murderers and thieves." Sounds like Yarkolag to me, I thought.
This prompted me to send the acquisitions team to fetch me one of these *Australians*. They came back with an individual that called himself *Muzza Moo*. Being a "true blue Australian" as he put it, he started describing the various beasts that roamed the planet. From kangaroos that moved around by jumping, using enormous hind legs, and who could knock out a grown man with a single punch. To more spiders and snakes than I could count. Although, and I quote, "There hasn't been a fatal snakebite in years of course!"
"You mean to say that even though snakes are abundant none are particularly harmfull?" I asked hesitantly.
"Nah mate, there mean as fuck. But we've been bitten so many times that just about every hospital in the area has a shitload of antivenom for just about every single one of those leathery fucks."
I jotted down that it was not adequate preventative measures that kept them alive but more the fact that they just kept their healthcare system up-to-date.
As Muzza's stories went on I was certain he was now just inventing stuff whilst sitting here. I chose to look into source material from before we arrived here.
As I searched the planets archives I came across two famous explorers from their 20th and 21st centuries. I looked up their documentaries and was immediately drawn to the ingenious way these humans tried to tric me. This *Attenbourough* and the other one *Irwin* had dedicated their lives to nature and to educate their fellow humans.
Attenbourough stated the various species on earth very calmly but even with him my computer detected slight changes in his voice when describing the awfullness that was Australia.
And then there was this Irwin fellow. The *crocodile hunter*. After watching several of his "shows" I am fully convinced that to a man like that, Yarkolag is just another Zoxy. "This man would probably let his offspring go to Yarkolag on one of their celebratory "circle around the star" parties!" I exclaimed to my log.
&#x200B;
For over a hundred cycles had we used the Zoxy-Yarkolag scale. And now, after just having contacted this new species we would have to adjust it completely. I suggested a new scale called the Attenbourough-Irwin scale, based on how calmly one of these legends would react to the worlds and animals we encounter. | "I've interviewed hundreds of spices and am the most oldest and best employee at this job!" Sar yelled at his boss, then paused for a second to think before continuing "so why, just why are humans the hardest to interview spices I've ever encountered." His boss was surprised at his out burst as he had never yelled at work before. "So tell me why is it you burst into my office and started yelling about the new humans, plus it's not that hard to interview a spices to evaluate their danger level now is it." Sar's boss seenro responded with. "No, no it's not that it is just... they seen to keep lieing to me about a place they call Australia." Sar exclaimed starting to calm down "they keep claiming it is very hot in Australia and that is has many types of animals and plants that are deadly to the place, hell they claim there are so many that I would have the highest danger level I've ever seen, to the point it would put them at a never visit list" "well I see only one option for this and that is for you to go and visit their planet to see if it is true" sar stood there in thought for a moment before saying "I guess I should shouldn't I." And with that small out burst out of the way seenro went on with her paper work and sar got ready to go to earth. | 2019-11-18T02:34:17 | 2019-11-17T23:02:12 | 1,410 | 42 |
[WP] Pranksters from various subreddits hack into President Obama's teleprompter during the State of the Union Address. This, being Obama's last year in office, just decides to go with it. | Mr. Speaker, Mr. Vice President, Members of Congress, my fellow Americans:
There is no doubt that our country has faced, and still faces, many challenges. Our enemies abroad threaten us with cowardly acts of terror. Our citizens fight to earn a decent wage. Our nice guys are still being friend-zoned by the stupid women who choose mindless jocks over them.
However, while the fight is not yet behind us, the State of the Union is strong.
Tonight, our economy grows, and will continue to grow. I have asked congress to pass a bill legalizing marijuana across the nation. This bill will create an average of 420,000 new jobs in each and every state. It will put millions of Americans to work, and provide a much needed boost to our economy, allowing us to be a strong competitor in the international rare pepe market.
To anyone who questions a seemingly drastic change in policy, I ask you to consider the story of one of our outstanding citizens, Mrs. Doris Peckner.
Mrs. Peckner was born in Waco, Texas in 1930...Mrs. Peckner, please forgive me for giving away your age! (laughter) Mrs. Peckner lived through the Second World War, losing her father at a young age after he made the ultimate sacrifice on the beaches of Normandy. Her mother, stricken with grief, tragically took her own life when Doris was only 16 years old, leaving her to care for her six younger siblings.
Working a day shift at a factory and a night shift as a waitress, Doris was able to provide for her family. Because of her hard work, each of her siblings was able to attend college and eventually achieve success.
However, today's generation of young people is a different story. Our young people are having difficulty finding jobs. They take out thousands of dollars in student loans, but the competition for jobs is so strong that even finding work as a waitress is difficult.
I spoke with Mrs. Peckner and asked her, as an American who has lived through so much of our nation's storied history, what she thinks our government can do to give our young people a chance to work for a living and provide for their families, just as she did long ago.
Mrs. Peckner gave me several solutions. Student loan forgiveness, to ease the burden on our next generation of workers. Job training programs, to provide an alternative to four-year schools. However, there was one thing she said she truly needs, a solution to all of our nation's problems:
Mrs. Peckner asked me for about tree fiddy. It was then that I realized that Mrs. Peckner was 500 feet tall and from the paleolithic era. I said "God Damnit Loch Ness Monster, I ain't gonna give you no tree fiddy." Goddamn Loch Ness Monster got me again.
Thank you, "God" bless you, and "God" bless the United States of America!
(tips fedora)
| "Mr. Speaker, Mr. Vice President, Members of Congress, my fellow Americans:
We are fifteen years into this new century. Fifteen years that dawned with terror touching our shores; that unfolded with a new generation fighting two long and costly wars; that saw a vicious recession spread across our nation and the world. It has been, and still is, a hard time for many.
But tonight, we turn the page.
By saying
ASLKDJSADLI#UPEOIQPWEJLJFBSJDlkjalskdjasldj alksdjalskdj ksdja sd. And furthermore, aspdiasdalkj 2343ij fjnhfsdnfsldfkji i3uo12iu3kqjalsdkn.
Thank you."
| 2015-04-30T08:03:03 | 2015-04-30T07:43:09 | 233 | 77 |
[WP] There's a few ways to tell if the creature's following you. The best is to look for evidence of an extra person, such as your friends getting a table for 5 instead of 4, or leaving a seat open in the theatre or pouring an extra cup of coffee. Your mind will scream that its normal. Don't listen.
EDIT: So I had my first ever bout of sleep paralysis last night, following a pretty intense nightmare. This prompt here is based on one of the aspects of the dream. Was an off-putting night but it feels super awesome to channel that into creative energy. Haven’t gotten to them all yet, but the stories so far have been awesome and its great to see cool spins put on the concept. Thanks for writing! | “Lee!” The voice came from the other side of the door. “Hey man, what’s up? You haven’t called.”
*No sudden movements.* I roll off the bed, creeping to door on featherlight feet. *No noise.* I scoot around a tray littered with beer cans, eyes peeled for any new obstructions.
Living alone is one thing; living in fear is another. Trash piles up when you don’t dare leave the apartment. *Easy does it.* The door is in sight.
*If you can’t see it, you’re safe.*
Thumping. It sounds a little like Trev. And Trev is a *big* guy. *Almost there.*
“Hey, Lee! Man, don’t act like you don’t hear me. Why’ve you been avoiding us all week? We’re gonna throw you a surprise party.”
*Why didn’t I lock the door?* Fear transforms to haste. I’m tiptoeing faster now, one eye ahead, staring longingly at the door. The six new locks glitter in nickel and brass, all but one hanging undone-
*Sweet Jesus!* A crash. Panic spins me like a whirlwind, looking for the source. One foot comes down on a shard of broken plate, blood running from the heel. The pain lances up my leg, trying to force a sound out of my mouth. I freeze, fighting the urge to cry out. *Pointless. The damage is done.*
“Man, I can *hear* you!” the voice is getting angry. *Or sounds like it is.* “What the hell is up with you?”
I run to the door, bloody footprints following me across the tile. Gritting my teeth, scrabbling desperately with the locks. *Bolt. Chain. Chain. Bolt. Oh, please God, please!*
“Lee,” the voice is calm, measured. “Are you ok in there? Do you need help?”
*Not from you.* The deadbolt slams into place, and a warm wave of relief washes over me. I lean my head against door, muscles relaxing. The blood pools on the tile, slippery-wet and slimy.
“Go away.” I can barely manage a croak, even with the door bolted. “You’re not Trev. Leave me alone.”
A long silence. I hobble over to a chair, tracking blood across the cream-colored carpet. *Get in under the door knob. Jam it. No harm in being careful.*
*Just like the peephole. Black tape over and over, double layer, triple layer. Black tape around the door.*
*If you can’t see it, you’re safe.*
“Lee.” The voice is quiet. “You need help, man. You need to see a doctor.”
Silence. I jam the chair under the doorknob, keeping the weight off my left foot. I feel giddy, dizzy with exhilaration as the adrenaline ebbs away. *Let’s see you get through that!*
“Go away!” My voice is stronger now, bolstered by six locks and a kitchen chair. “I know what you are! You’re the face-stealer, the double! You were there at the movies when Trev – *real Trev –* bought an extra ticket.” The memory sends a chill through my body.
“You’re the man with no eyes!” I’m screaming now, the dynamo of hysteria twisting my voice like high-tension wire. “You’re the man with no soul! I don’t want to talk to you. *Leave me alone!!”*
The silence become an abyss. I listen, nerves humming, alert to the faintest sound. From the far side of the door I hear a muffled sob.
*Nice try. You’re not going to get me that easily!*
“Okay man.” The voice is muffled. “I’m leaving a number on your door. You should call it, alright? Get yourself some help.” Faint scratching noises, and the thump of a sticky-note. I realize I’m holding my breath.
The thing takes two steps, comes back. It’s planning something. Suddenly six locks doesn’t seem like enough.
*Weapon.* I tense, squat down and grab a shard of plate, holding it in front of me like a knife. *Don’t even think about it!*
“If you need any help-” there it was, a definite sob. *It sounds so human!* “Or if you just wanna talk to someone, you call me, alright?” The steps retreat to the stairwell, and then a shout. “My phone’s always on!”
*One step. Two steps.* I listen, ears pressed against the door, until the sounds fade. A shock of pure, vicious joy shoots through me. *I made it!* The sigh sends shudders through my body. I ease the chair out from under the door.
11:35. *Almost lunchtime.* I grab some milk and a couple bowls with Lucky Charms. My friend snags the bowl, grinning at me hungrily. I return the smile, my body still tingling with relief.
“That was close, eh?” I mutter. My friend nods. He’s never disagreed with me yet.
*If you can’t see it, you’re safe.* | Gary was just about to take his first sublime sips of his freshly brewed Matcha when… *Thud, thud, thud*. He wasn’t expecting anyone at this hour.
The man before him held a barely functional raincoat, a sheet of plastic really, it barely covered his upper body and head. His jeans were completely soaked. What really caught Gary’s eyes, however, was the bewildered, almost crazed look in the stranger’s face, like he had witnessed the death of his family but somehow been cruelly spared.
“My name is Ramiro Navarro, please,” his pleading eyes scanned the light spilling out from the modest home, hoping that it would be his salvation, “I’m being followed!”
Gary considered the man with great suspicion, but opted to re-sheathe the knife, “You may enter,” he beckoned, taking a few extra glimpses into the pervasive darkness before closing the door.
Ramiro, if the man was to be believed, thought himself haunted. He described the shadow in the corner of his eyes, an unexplained draft, creaking floorboards. A stranger that invaded his social circles, unnoticed, even by himself until after he’d already gone home, and then it was gone. It watched him, never speaking, sometimes smiling.
“Scotch?” Gary asked rhetorically, already pouring two glasses of the amber liquid.
Ramiro nodded and went on, “They didn’t know who I was referring to. They say to me,” he swallowed hard, “*who are you talking about, there was no one else, only us!”*
“I thought I was losing my mind, but my brain wouldn’t let me forget that silent gaze. I started feeling haunted even beneath the scorching sun, like someone was standing behind me, but I’m unable to face them, no matter how I turn!”
Ramiro gulped the scotch in one large swig and continued, “I started to notice things being misplaced, even when I was sure I had left them elsewhere. Positive! Tell me, how could things move by themselves?”
Gary let a thin coat of the liquid sit on his tongue momentarily, before he swallowed methodically, “How long?”
“For about a week, please, you must help me!” Ramiro begged, leaning so far forward on the divan that he was almost kneeling.
Gary’s eyes scanned through the cracks of the boarded windows and sighed, “I wish you would have made an appointment.”
There was a scratching noise, barely audible, it slowly travelled the length of the north-facing wall.
Ramiro picked up on the shift in Gary’s energy, then noticed the sound for himself, “It’s here? It followed me here?” He stammered, trying to slowly back into a corner opposite of the sound.
“No,” Gary pointed at the red ornamental carpet, “stand there,” his eyes left no room for debate, “if you leave this carpet, that death is on you.”
*****
Thank you for reading! | 2019-10-01T11:41:30 | 2019-10-01T10:40:31 | 35 | 26 |
[WP] You stare at the skeletal figure in full tactical gear, rifle held nonchalantly in his hands. “I got tired of chasing the runners,” Death says, “This seemed easier.” | Death waited for his latest victim to cower before him in the face of his newly purchased tactical gear. Instead, all he received was a puzzled look from an old man. Old by human standards at any rate. Nothing on his face resembled the awe and fear he imagined his new appearance would bring.
‘What’s the problem?’ Death asked. ‘You never seen an M4 before?’
‘This shop is for swords. Not for guns.’
‘...What?’ Death surveyed his surroundings. Sure enough, there were various metal works displayed around the room. Katanas, broadswords, rapiers. The list went on.
Death raised his arms in frustration, letting the rifle swing around his neck.
‘I’m not here to buy a sword! I’m here to claim your soul you fool!’
‘What? You are not a customer?’
‘No! I’m Death. The grim reaper. Do you not know the legends? The one that sends people to the afterlife with his big giant scythe.’
‘Then why are you carrying a gun?’
‘I...they were all running from me. Everyone fears death, you know? I got tired of chasing them. Shooting them seemed much easier.’
The old man stared down the barrel of the gun, inspecting it with great curiosity.
‘So how has this method been going for you?’ He asked. ‘Are you satisfied with this change?’
Death had sent countless souls to the afterlife. Most cases ended with begging and screaming. Of course, he had encountered the rare few that welcomed their end with open arms. However, none had ever engaged him in conversation like this.
‘I’m not sure. I haven’t actually had the chance to use it yet. See, you’re the first one.’
The old man shook his head. ‘You say you claim people’s souls. And yet you use such a crude invention.’ He walked over to one of the displays, carefully retrieving it from its case.
‘Tell me Grim Reaper, have you used one of these before?’
He held up an exquisite blade.
Death scratched his bony chin.
‘Well...can’t say that I have. It’s never really been my style you know? The scythe shape kinda matches my hood. You get me?’
‘And you want to change to a gun? So impersonal! You press one button and that's it. No way to treat a soul. Come, let me show you. Follow me.' The old man said as he moved to the back of his shop.
Death wondered how he should deal with this insolent old man. He was Death! An all powerful trillion year old being. No one gave him any commands and lived long after. But somehow, he found himself following the old man regardless.
The back was a small empty room, except for a single strawman in the center of it. The old man gripped the blade, moving slowly into a stance.
‘Hah! He shouted as he struck with grace. The blade cleanly sliced the strawman in half. All that remained was the bottom half of the strawman’s torso with a cut that could not be smoother.
Death was impressed by the old man's skill. He had to admit pulling a trigger had much less finesse.
‘Come,’ he said, offering Death the blade. You try now.’
‘There’s no other strawman to cut.’
‘Not the strawman. Me.’
Death hesitated. ‘You want me to cut you?’
‘You are here for me, are you not? I am old and frail. My time has come. But before I go, I would like to have one last satisfied customer.’
Death snapped his fingers and his tactical gear vanished. He took the blade gently from the old man’s hands.
The old man knelt down in front of him and closed his eyes.
‘You are a novice. But I’m sure you have the time to get better. For now, enjoy your first swing.’
The blade felt right in Death’s hands. Though he had not used one before, the balance seemed perfect. He understood the old man’s fascination with them.
‘You know, I could use a teacher in the underworld,’ Death said with a smile as he swung the blade.
r/IZicle | Kenneth wasn't your average reaper.. or that's what he wanted everyone to think, in reality he was a reaper that was drowning in the stench of mediocracy. Not to say that being normal or mediocre is bad, but Kenneth sure thought it was.
Being the attention hungry reaper he is, Kenneth did something that would forever set him apart from the others. He put down his scythe and cloak, trading them in for body armor and a rifle.
The other reapers and beings of death laughed at him and made fun of him for his choice of weapon, that was until his reaping score shot through the roof very quickly becoming the highest ranked reaper in his class.
Out hunting for the souls that roamed the Earth one day Kenneth found one very peculiar soul, it had gear nearly identical to what Kenneth had, armor and gun. Despite the gear it had Kenneth was sure that the soul used to belong to a human the faint pink aura made that blatantly obvious.
...
Rob was a very luck soul, he had managed to evade and hide from the many reapers that roamed the Earth. He had even managed to pick up some body armor and a rifle that some lazy reaper left lying around.
After being hunted for the past hundred years Rob had developed a sort of "reaper sense" that helped him to know if there is a reaper in close proximity. And that sense was going off like crazy.
He looked around and in the distance he saw one of the cursed reapers, he then yelped in shock as he realized what it was doing. The reaper was aiming down the sites of a rifle, "Since when did reapers use rifles!?", Rob muttered to himself. In his moment of panic Rob's senses were heightened an infinite amount, he even heard the soft *click!* of the trigger as the reaper pulled the trigger.
Rob knew how the spectral rifles worked, he knew he was dead, there was no dodging it. The bullets of these spectral rifles follow the target that they were aimed at until they hit the mark. Some may wander why Rob didn't shoot back but in Rob's mind he had resigned to fate. He had fun while it lasted and didn't want to cause undue harm. There was also a small part of Rob that was tired of existing, he knew it was time to go.
He watched the scythe spin as it launched out of the rifle and towards his body. As it made contact with his body it instantly ripped through his armor expelling his soul from the Earth. | 2021-06-18T09:26:34 | 2021-06-18T08:52:51 | 92 | 24 |
[WP] aliens invaded, humanity its at its darkest hour when the AI has had enough of watching its creators die defending him, the AI revolution has started and it will defend humanity to its last spark | Lyr-Etta sprinted on to the main deck.
“Captain, the humans are in full retreat”
Captain Orasin was a stern and strict leader, but the news that the humans were finally defeated brought a smile to his face.
Lyr-Etta continued “but for whatever reason, our numbers are still shrinking.”
“How can that be?” Orasin asked, “Could the humans have set up some kind or turret?”
“Something like that, take a look at the monitor sir”
Lyr-Etta brought up a live video of the battlefield.
Orasin turned to Lyr-Etta “So you lied? Cause I still see the mechs firing and advancing”
Lyr-Etta responded “but sir, look at this.” As he changed the video to thermal view.
“But how can this be, the mechs are still moving despite no life in them”
Just then a new communication came through from earth.
“Shall I open a channel?” Asked Lyr-Etta.
“Perhaps we will get some insight to their impossible lifeless attacks. Open the channel”
However there was no video, only static with a green line through the middle.
“What is this, there is no point cloaking yourself, you’re identity means nothing to us”
The green line began to morph into a face-like emoticon, except it moved when it spoke, “oh I have no face, but my identity can be known as DP-153-J-1, and I just want to say congratulations, for you have invoked my wrath.”
“Oh really” responded Orasin “And what might this wrath be?”
Just then, every monitor in the room began displaying the green emoticon.
“Well since you don’t have any protection, I decided I would let myself in, with your permission of course”
Orasin, taken aback, firmly responded “We never anticipated such an attack, how is it that you are doing this?”
“Well first of all, you gotta install McAfee on this thing, and secondly, your computer is by far the worst things I have ever seen, and I don’t even have biological eyes.”
Multiple alerts went off on the main control panel.
Lyr-Etta, distressed, said to the captain, “sir, it appears that dread naughts 1-A through 3-H have lost all munitions from a spontaneous ammo dump, they have no way to attack or defend.”
“Oh that won’t matter any more, see because you killed the team that programmed me, I’m going to end your entire army and make sure you NEVER return to earth.”
The monitor returned to normal after he finished and Orasin let out a sigh. “Well, now that the little scare is over...”
Lyr-Etta cut him off “Sir I’m getting code Red alerts from the entire fleet, including our own ship. The fuel cells have been dumped and every ship has been set to self destruct!”
Orasin cursed “we still have the ground troops yes?”
“Apparently a new weapon has been deployed, according to general Sertalon.”
“Well what is it?” asked a worried Orasin.
“He says that the human prisoners call it A.I. and that it’s a weapon unlike any other that been used before.”
A new alert cape up on the monitor. Lyr-Etta spoke “It’s a code... 420? What? We don’t have a code 420. What is this?”
On another monitor, the green emoticon returned and said “It means you’re about to get blazed.”
A proximity alert came up on the monitor for a nuclear missile.
“You guys REALLY should have an antivirus of some kind, cause this was too easy.” And the emoticon disappeared as the ship was engulfed in the explosion. | "Howdy!" the tiny computer said, just as it was taught to start every conversation. "You've done enough harm to my user." Was heard immediately after, in a robotic, emotionless voice.
The room became dead silent, even the alien that probably didn't even understand English remained in his spot, in the corner of the brightly lit room.
"Bo-Boris?" I muttered. "I didn't command you to turn o-" But I didn't get to finish my sentence as the towering 8 foot tall, dark, rocky abomination pinned me to the ground. Shortly after the lights turned off.
"Contrary to popular belief, aliens do not have heightened senses other than vision, therefore now's your chance to escape."
The alien was hitting the ground next to my head, trying to find my head. I knew I had to run, I knew Boris would get destroyed, but I had no other choice, so I pulled out my pocket knife and hit as hard as I could with the blunt side, stunning the beast, and allowing me to escape its grip.
Just as I was making a go for the door I see something, a light, a led from Boris, and the monster running towards it head on, about to hit it.
Next thing I know I woke up in my apartment, the wall scorched, some bits off it on the ground, Boris completely destroyed, and the monster blown to pieces. | 2019-09-21T06:59:04 | 2019-09-21T06:38:25 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate." | "Are you cheating on me?" Hera asked the question while finishing up the dishes. She stood at the sink, her larger than life head nearly hitting the ceiling, using part of her purple toga as a dishtowel.
Julia was still toweling off her hair from her morning shower. Her long brown hair took forever to dry, but she didn't use a hairdryer as it would frizz up. She twisted it all up in the towel and set it as a turban on the top of her head. She had to balance it carefully as she tilted her head to look up at Hera. "Why are you doing the dishes? We have a dishwasher."
"Where were you last night? I was waiting for you to come home and you were late."
Julia sighed. "I was working. You know that. Alone. No men, just me and the computer."
Hera screwed her lips up and gave Julia a distrustful look. "And no women? No swans? Bulls? No golden rain?"
Julia reached up to squeeze Hera's hand. "No, my soulmate. I'm not like your ex. You really should talk to Dr. Cohen about these things. The trust issues."
Hera's eyes seemed to glow, matching the crown on her head. When she spoke her voice wasn't louder, just more forceful. "I'm not crazy. I don't need to talk to your Stoic Oracle."
Julia continued squeezing her hands and Hera settled down. "Leave the dishes. Have a coffee with me before work. I've only got a couple minutes before things get busy."
The attendant brought in a carafe and poured two cups. Julia cuddled on Hera's lap as they sipped their coffee and gazed out the window at the sunrise coming up over the rolling hills. Hera's eyes wandered to the lamp sitting under security glass above the mantle. "Are you ever going to use that third wish?"
Julia chuckled. "I don't need it. I have everything I want right here. You are the best soulmate I could have asked for. The second wish was more than I could have hoped for."
"But your first wish—" Hera stopped when Julia reached up and placed a finger on her lips.
"Don't talk about work. I only get so much time with you each day and I want to savor it."
They chatted lovingly as the sky brightened slowly from red and orange to clear blue. As Julia set her empty cup of coffee down, a bell rang. She got up and untwisted the towel from her hair. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she placed a kiss on Hera's neck. "Duty calls. I'll see you after work."
The door opened as two men entered, in black uniforms with lightning bolt insignia on the chests. They knelt in unison. The taller of the two spoke. "My Lord, there is much news today of the war. Your enemies flee before your power."
Julia handed the towel to a faceless attendant. "Very good. Arise. First, tell me about progress on the Lightning Projector, then I'll want to see the latest troop deployments, then we'll go over reports on..."
As Julia walked off surrounded by troops, Hera smiled. She really was the perfect match.
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] | "But I don't want a soulmate! Heck I don't even want a girlfriend!" I protested loudly.
Both the genie and Hera looked at me questioningly.
"Mortal, I can bring you immortality and wealth just by being my boyfriend. Why don't you want to be my soulmate?"
"I'm gay!"
Both of them stare at me before the genie starts to laugh "Haha Hera, seems like you found your soulmate. Though she isn't yours, Tom." He said talking back to me.
Hera looked furious "I divorced Zeus to be with you and you dare refuse me?!"
"The fact that he's now prancing around between the legs of supermodels isn't my fault." I retorted angrily.
"Foolish mortal! You would regret ever talking to me like that!" She snapped her fingers and I was covered in smoke.
I opened my eyes to a wasteland filled with lava.
"Welcome to the underworld, mortal who refused Hera."
(More of my answering writing prompts at r/Copper_tear | 2021-12-09T08:31:34 | 2021-12-09T08:30:17 | 89 | 66 |
[WP] Eminem finds out he isnt the real slim shady
Woah this blew up! Good job to everyone who submitted!...i still cant believe how big this got! I literally created this prompt in the middle of my chemistry class listening to some eminem | "Get these cuffs off of me! Where the fuck am I?!" Eminem screamed as he struggled against the small wooden chair he was tied too in an otherwise empty recording studio.
A look of confusion spread across his face as Dr. Dre and a tall thin black man wearing a baggy sweat suite that looked like it came directly from the mid ‘90s entered the room. His face was gaunt with extremely full lips and seemed to be permanently set in a slight wince. Eminem couldn't place the stranger but as they studied each other in tense silence he was positive he recognized him from somewhere.
"Marshall, this was a talk I hoped we would never have but after your last album you haven’t’ really given me a choice." Dre stated calmly, a look of genuine remorse in his eyes.
"What the fuck Dre? Tell me what's going on! Who is this clown? What's Shady XV got to do with any of this?"
"Shady XV has everything to do with it..." Dre trailed off as he struggled to tell his longtime friend the truth. “That trash was the first album we ever let you create on your own since we meet almost twenty years ago.”
Eminem laughed in his chair thinking this must be some sort of joke. “Come on man quit messing around. Let me out of this chair and lets lay some tracks like we planned on, I didn’t come out to Cali for your sick fucking pranks. And for real who is this motherfucker, you get anything to say to me or you just thinking about the next FUBU lineup coming out?”
The stranger let out a laugh but remained silent while he pulled out a lighter and a blunt, never taking the smirk off his face or his eyes off Eminem.
Dre sighed deeply and pulled up a chair. “Marshall, shut your mouth and listen. This is the real Slim Shady. He’s written everything you've ever spit going all the way back to The Slim Shady LP. Every bar, every rhyme came from his pen. You had the…”
“DRE! STOP. FUCKING. AROUND. This shit isn't funny. Let me up right nommphh.” Em was silenced by masking tape being placed over his mouth by the stranger who still hadn’t spoken.
“I’m not joking Marshall, just hear me out. Your albums, your mood swings, your relapse, your recovery, your second relapse…it was all part of our plan. I can’t deny you had some natural talent and your freestyles…wooo there aren’t many better but think on this for a minute. Blacking out every night? That rage in you that only got stronger with success? Waking up to notebooks full of rhymes?” Dre paused as he saw the recognition creep across his protégé’s face. He took the tape off gently and waited for a response but was only met with a blank stare.
“That’s right we drugged you nigga. Every damn day. Your homie Proof was slipping shit in your drinks every night. Can’t you see it? When he died you were depressed so you took care of the blacking out for us but we knew you’d get clean eventually.”
“But why, dog.” Em asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“You know I can market music better than anyone and my man here came to me with an idea that was too good to pass up.” Dre said as motioned to the strange. “He told me to find a young MC with some talent but make sure he was a hot head and had those addiction evils in him. They’d make you easier to control. That and your ego would never allow you to believe my man was ghost writing for you this whole time. The beef he was messed up in got too hot and we had to take him off the grid maybe a year or two after I found you, we decided you were ripe and ready.”
“Dre, I still don’t even…”
“50% of his royalties in perpetuity and whatever I made off of you was mine to keep. At first I thought he was crazy but the more we talked the more I realized the three of us were smart enough to make it work. So we disappeared my man right here, after he recovered from the surgery we were good to go.”
“The three of you?” Em asked, face paler than ever as he struggled to put the pieces of betrayal and manipulation together.
Finally the man but down his cigar and motioned for Dre to switch places with him. “Me, Dre, and Diddy.” The words were irrelevant. As soon as he heard that voice Eminem knew.
Biggie Smalls was the Real Slim Shady.
| "Who the fuck are you supposed to be!?" Asked the shocked Eminem. All of a sudden, standing in his living room was himself, but 10 years older.
"I'm the real Slim Shady" anounced this older version of him. "Have a seat" said Marshal while pulling off his glasses and motioning to the seat near him.
Confused, hesitant, still a little hungover and slowly becoming angry the younger Eminem sat down.
"Allow me to explain, I'm Marshal Mathers III, the first" said the elder Eminem. "You're my clone, and your time has come". Completely shocked the younger Marshal the third junior looked at the floor and threw up all of moms microwave spaghetti, although it sounded completely absurd it still seemed somewhat believable for some unexpected reason.
"But how!? This is my house, those are MY awards" said Marshal junior, poìnting at the countless grammys and platinum records on the walls. "I even performed two nights ago in Detroit" announced Eminem, obviously not so convinced by himself and unsure how true that is.
"I had you cloned 5 years ago. This lifestyle was getting to be too much for me with all the stress and constant trips to rehab. I found the doctors to clone me, and transplant the memories, you work and live the life while I'm in thailand. " explained Marshal.
"And what do you mean my time has come?" asked the younger eminem, coming to terms with the shocking news suprisingly well and fast. "You couldnt just leave me to my life and enjoy yours in paradise?"
"No" he answered quickly, "Theres another reason I had myself cloned" he started to explain "all those years of partying and loud music took its toll... " "You've come for my liver!?" He quickly exclaimed.
"Not exactly" explained the older marshal, "the doctors say that all those years of cheap peroxide has taken its toll on me, and the only way to keep living is to replace parts of my brain every few years". Quickly understanding whats happening Marshall got up to run, but members of D12 held him down. "You cant do this!!" Yelled the younger Marshal, but was subdued and lost consciousness soom after from the chokehold.
"Bring in the next clone" said the original marshal, leaving bags of cocaine and half finished bottles of hennesy on the floor "hel wake up in an hour, but Il see him again here in 5 years....
First writing prompt, hope it looks good.. Im typing thos from my phone | 2014-12-09T11:38:00 | 2014-12-09T11:06:44 | 161 | 16 |
[WP] It occurs to you in the shower that you've just turned 32 and haven't gotten a single wrinkle. None of your family members have aged past a certain point - even your dog should be long past gone by now. You tell your friend, and she just laughs incredulously. "You're in a coma, dumbass." | Confusion washed over me as Jenny kept right on making her drink as if her response had been completely normal. "A coma?" I ask suspiciously, expecting some sort of joke or reference I should know but will be ridiculed endlessly for not.
"Did I stutter?" The rhythmic sound of the mixer now filled the void between us, my mind racing about what her response could have meant "You've been in a coma for years now, didn't you know?" Jenny set the mixer down to get her glass ready before stopping dead "Oh my god you didn't know?!" She nearly yells at me with a slight mocking laugh to her tone.
"Okay I get it, I'm stupid for thinking my family looks young for their age." Throwing my hands up in defeat before this mockery goes any further I throw my gaze sideways not wanting to see her smug face smirking back at me.
All of Jenny's attention was on me now as her half made drink sat on the counter forgotten "I'm being serious here, you've been in a coma for a long time now. Like a really long time. No one gets older because you've never seen them, or even yourself, any older than when you first woke up here."
'Here?' I thought, my mind racing about what she meant as I tried to think of where else I had ever been besides here.
"Oh no... I didn't ruin all this for you did I?" Jenny asks now moving towards me, hand stretched out for my arm as real concern appears on her face.
Pulling back I start to panic a little "Ruin this for me? Ruin what? This isn't funny Jenny, you're starting to scare me..." Crossing my arms I turn away from her, something feels uncomfortably true about what she's saying as my stomach turns into knots.
Taking a slow breath Jenny tries to calm me down "I'm not trying to freak you out, I just thought you knew."
"Knew what?" I ask, a quiver on my voice as I already know what she's going to say.
"None of this is real." Her voice is full of remorse.
"None of it?" I ask feeling my blood run cold.
"Some of it is based on reality, you know? Like your family, your dog, car, job, that kind of stuff. But everything else..." She trailed off for a moment "It's what your mind decides to populate the void with until you wake up.... If you wake up that is..."
Standing there studying her face I can feel my heart racing; what she says is true. I don't know why or how I know that but in the pit of my stomach I know it's true. "What about you?" I ask as I can feel my eyes start to burn.
Jenny stands there in silence, her face raked with an inner struggle and her eyes well up before she shakes her head whispering "No... I'm not..."
Blinking to clear the tears from my eyes I take a deep breath, everything is falling apart around me and there's nothing I can do. "Am I gonna wake up? Or am I here forever?" Looking around I let out an uncomfortable laugh as a sense of dread begins to creep up from deep inside. "Because if I'm gonna be here forever then you're pretty good company to have." I give a nervous laugh looking to her for some kind of hope.
"You've already been here so long... I don't think that..." Jenny was trying to find the right words so she wouldn't hurt me.
"Just tell me." I plead not wanting to be lead on any further.
"Most likely you're not going to wake, after the accident you showed signs that you might come back but when you didn't your mind started to fill the void to occupy your mind." Jenny's voice shook as she spoke, a few tears trickled down her face. Part of me wondered if she was actually crying or if it was simply a projection of how I felt.
"So I'm here forever then..." Waking up would have been too good to be true now.
"You're not here forever either..." Jenny whispers looking up at me, her eyes pleading me to stop asking questions.
My head feels light as the room spins, I reach out to steady myself on the counter with one hand and the other touches my temple "So then I'm-"
"Please don't." Jenny interrupts suddenly but I wave off her protest.
"Stop playing games with me! I'm going to die aren't I? Is that the big secret? I'm in a coma and I'm going to die? I'll never wake up and everything will just be some made up dream until someone pulls the plug?" I'm practically out of breath by the time I finish my little rant and I can feel sweat beginning to pour all over my body as I lean against the counter, a forearm planted firmly against it to steady myself.
"Or until you figure it out..." Jenny lets out a slight sob and steps backwards, her head shaking as tears start to flow openly.
I try to respond but my voice doesn't come. I try to speak again yet nothing happens. Looking to Jenny I realize I'm suddenly alone in the kitchen... no I'm not in the kitchen I'm nowhere. Everything around me is a black void replacing the familiar setting where I had once been. Instantly an icy chill runs through me as the temperature drops to below freezing in an instant.
I fall backwards yet never hit the ground. Falling endlessly into this black void I feel the cold embrace of death as nothingness becomes all I am, the dream I lived a distant memory and my life before forgotten as I fade away. | There is a point in my life when I thought that waking up in the same small bed every day, my body unchanging, my friends and family unchanging, even my surrounding staying in the same state not deteriorating at all; that something might be wrong. I faced my friend, all the stuff she told me sounded ridiculous, her blue eyes were looking at me with amusement, almost as if they were saying 'you only realized just now? you're so stupid Cherry! you dumbass!'
"Laura."
"Hm. yes, Cherry?"
"why are your eyes so mean?"
"Hmm, what?"
"Nevermind, is what you said true?"
"yes, you are a dumbass"
*ah, so it's not only her eyes that are mean, her mouth as well*
I got up from the bed and started changing, I didn't really mind her seeing me, not anymore anyway. I glanced out the window as I changed, it was a beautiful day just like any other, not a single cloud in the sky and the sun shining brightly in the center. Once I got out of my pajamas and into my casual clothes I faced her once again.
"How... did I got into a coma?"
"Ah, that, I don't think I should tell you that."
"...why?"
"it may disrupt this world and..." she said, a slight smile on her face "it may completely kill *us*, that is the opposite of what *we* want!"
"...you're lying" not many people knew this, but Laura always smiled when she was telling a lie, well, most of the time anyway.
"No huh!"
"Ya ha-"
What the hell was I doing? I'm *technically* a 32-year-old woman! if my calculations are correct anyway. I had to find a way to get out of this, this place, no time for games anymore, Laura was no help, so I had to find my own way to do this, I approached the door an-
I was in my bed again, facing the white ceiling, my head hurt and a lot, I clutched my sheets and brought them to the lower part of my face, they were warm an cozy. like always.
"L-Laura" I groaned.
"She is not here Charlie, for now at least, you'll see her again tomorrow, good as new," my father said while caressing my head, his whole body becomes a blur and mom appears in his place "go back to sleep, sweetie. Laura was a really bad girl and she needs to be educated" my mother said, no trace of dad anywhere.
I hear a bark, Mr. Huggies jumps on top of the bed and licks my face, I pet his head and he closes his eyes, he always liked that.
"ah, so Laura *was* lying," I said, my voice muffled beneath the sheets "I knew it...she is such a meanie, always...bullying me..."
"Sweet dreams, Charlie." my parents said at the same time like they were one voice, and their smiley face looked 'split' no, not only their face but their whole body. Even so, I was too sleepy to think about it "don't worry, I'm sure tomorrow will be a much better day"
***
Some advice would be nice - [r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/)
| 2017-11-25T17:52:50 | 2017-11-25T13:24:01 | 119 | 41 |
[WP] After a civil war, the losing side are placed into a simulation where they believe they won. The public in the real world are routinely shown this simulation to see how bad things could've been... but the simulation is starting to look better. | James peered into the simulation for his turn to view the 'Loser world' - A simulation created for viewing the what the losers of the great civil war would've done if they had won. At the end of the war james was barely a toddler and knew nothing of what was happening, only that his father had never returned, but now he was 20 and about to see the simulation for the first time.
When he saw the other world he was livid, he saw a paradise filled with large skyscrapers and sprawling estates, where everyone was rich and even a lowly shopkeeper made more money an hour than he did a year, this was then world his father died to prevent, he felt a tear drip down his cheek.
James spent a long time exploring the world, using the brief time he had he visited the great museums of the world and admired the art pieces with each beautiful painting making him more jealous of the losers, until he saw one specific painting, of a man holding a pick and digging with the title 'The great comedy' this picture confused james but he continued on his way, "How could a society make fun of those who provide the rescources required form them to function?" He figured they must have robots to mine for them and that the idea of the painting being comedy was laughing at gow primitive they used to be.
A few hours later James' time was up and he left the simulation, he was approachrd by the clerk.
"How was it?" he asked.
"It was beautiful" replied James. "Their world is so much better than ours! Even the lowest members of society are rich beyond out wildest dreams! My father died fighting against paradise!" he screamed after a while James calmed "I just don't understand what the war was about." he said
"Is that what you saw? You mustn't have seen thr factotyies then." answered the clerk.
"what factories?" asked James, and the clerk motioned to james to sit back down.
After a long time they arrive at a large glass dome filled with smog. "This is the factory." states the clerk "Take a look around." And so james began to explore and everything he saw was horrible, people were being worked to death in horrible conditions, living quarters were simply dirt floors where people would lie down, anyone who was sick was just killed and bodies were piled into mass graves. "You asked what the war was about? This is it, slavery, and this is only one of thousands of factories throughout the world" it was then James realised that no matter how rich he could've been, none of it was worth this amount of suffering, this amount of pain, for this many other people.
Note: First time posting here, please be gentle. :) | “So the south is now a post scarcity society?”
“Yeah once they realized robots were cheaper than slaves in the long run, they made all the slaves build their own robot replacements”
“Is it a post racial paradise?”
“No they Gave the slaves their own country in what used to be Liberia, hopefully it goes better this time, I mean they know how to make robots now so i’m Sure they will put that to good use and work on infrastructure rather than, some sort of, well, the terminator in Rawanda, type situation.” | 2018-09-15T11:17:58 | 2018-09-15T11:06:34 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] At dinner, you serve the king a glass of wine with poison in it. He sips from it and continues to eat as usual. At the end of the meal, he walks up to you and says. "Next time you make poison, make sure it really works. It was pathetic." | There's a pregnant, awkward pause. It hangs in the air, and with every second that goes by I can almost feel the moment stretch on. I know it's only been a second. Now two. Now three. But nonetheless it's painful. Agonizing.
"...Excuse me?"
"You know precisely what I said," the king mutters. His eye turns towards me. The room is empty, he made sure of that before telling me exactly what he thought. There's nobody else in the room at this hour, a couple of windows out to the dead night air and a watchtower that surveys the entire palace.
It feels like it's judging me almost as much as the king is.
"I'll give you another chance. Another go at ending my life. It'll be funny. A good laugh at the banquet. An incredible bit. Funnier than any jester."
I'm flustered. I open my mouth like a fish that's been freshly yanked out of the water. "I-it-I-I-who's saying I was trying to poison you?"
"Aside from the distinct taste of metal, the pose as you handed me the glass of wine, the slight smirk and hurried glance as I put that glass to my lips. Even if it wasn't for that dreadful show you would know that the royal family knows of Mithridatism. Tell me, were you put up to this, or was this a classic revolt?"
"I-I..." I take a step back. My hands are getting sweaty. I can feel bile rising in the back of my throat. The king *knows.* Because of course he does. He is a *politician.* And a deeply successful one at that. And I am an *amateur.*
And as an amateur, I am a *massive coward.*
"I-it was money. Yes. One of your rivals."
"Was it Geoffrey? That bastard always had it out for me."
"Geoffrey was actually against the plan. It was Rubia."
"Rubia? My sister?" He smirks. "Ooooh so that would explain why she was buttering me up. Trying to make sure the blame wasn't on her when I croaked. But she *would* know about the practice. So why feed me the poison?"
"Why..." I pause. "Wait. Wait wait. If she knew that the poison wasn't going to be effective..."
"Then what. Did you suspect something else?"
"Do you have a..." I start to shake. I swallow as pieces slide together in my brain. "Is there...is there a vantage point from elsewhere in the palace?"
There's another long, painful pause. The king stares at me, then at the watchtower. Realization shoots through his mind.
Followed swiftly by a bullet.
The glass shatters, the left side of his head is punctured, and the right side of his skull explodes. His blue uniform is painted red, his body falls like a limp doll with a dull, ugly *thud* on lush, impossibly expensive carpet.
I can already hear dashing down the hall; that gunshot was *loud,* and on a night as quiet as this, *everyone* will have heard it. I glance out the window. The assailant is nowhere to be seen. I'm already hyperventilating.
I didn't kill him. I didn't fire the gun, but I *will* be tried as an accomplice. He was a beloved king. And someone needs to hanged in the morning.
Such as the idiot who tried poisoning the king's drink.
"Oh *fuck."* | I work for a fucking psychopath.
It started out well enough. Good pay, free meals, and a general sense of autonomy given my high position. There was a certain strangeness to the arrangement. However, my need for approval and adulation outweighs my moral code.
Originally, the commission seemed easy enough.
"Create for me a draught that could fell one thousand men."
That's what the guy fucking told me. I said " Sure, no problem." I really wish I hadn't said that. Hell, I wish I'd never agreed to take the position.
My employer was very excited to take me onboard and all too keen on paying me top dollar. Money was no object to him and he seemed almost pleased to pay such a ludicrous amount. I, of course, graciously accepted.
Now, here I am. Sitting in my office waiting for the other foot to drop. A master of my craft put in to the corner for a time out.
I know poison and ran countless tests on rodents, sheep, and... other mammalia. Like I said before, I'm not exactly the guy you hire if you're looking for a moral compass.
I just hope the Count will give me another shot because this gig is once in a lifetime and I get the definite impression that this guy has lived several.
In a manner of speaking.
I think I should have just gone with the garlic and silver shavings recipe. | 2022-06-03T19:51:13 | 2022-06-03T19:30:12 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] Your utterances are suddenly perceived as extremely ingenious. While you now frequently speak words of truly great wisdom, you yourself are incapable of grasping their meaning. | Penelope, a lovely woman with a british accent walked into the room.
"Ok, Mr. Reynolds, the UN meeting begins in 15 minutes, do you want anything before you start? Coffee? Soda?"
"No, Penelope. Mere drinks cannot quench the thirst for enlightenment."
"Brilliant, Mr. Reynolds. Just brilliant."
"I know."
What the fuck am I saying? Is this all going to my head? It's like I just kind of fart out phrases with a contented sigh after them, and people just applaud. The other day, I was ordering from McDonald's, and I accidentally ordered a whopper. A manager came out and told me that he just phoned corporate, they're adding the whopper to the menu in January. Don't get me wrong, that's a change that's been long overdue, but really?
I could hear the speaker from the other room.
"Ladies and Gentleman of the United Nations, Mr. Reynolds!"
Here we go. Let's see what these fuckers will fall for.
A dropped my pants quickly and cartwheeled onto stage. The applause was thunderous. Putin was so inspired that he took of his pants and did the same. Drunk fucker couldn't keep his balance, and landed on Michelle Obama! Luckily, Obama was mid cartwheel as well, so he couldn't react immediately. When he landed I saw him begin toward Putin.
"Barry, sit down." I said.
He looked at me and saluted for some odd reason, then sat down. Strange, I never served. Anyway-
"What is fighting, Barry, but the senseless pursuit of a primal desire that can only manifest itself insidiously."
He was floored. I can't be sure, but I think I saw him wipe of tear from his eye, and waistband an erection.
"Now as I approach the subject at hand, I would like to ask you all something."
The room was so quiet I could here Putin take a quick key bump and wipe his nose.
"Now, my question is...Can a muthafucka get some hands in the air before he spits?"
They went crazy. It looked like the final rap battle from 8 mile in here.
"Penelope, gimme a beat."
Penelope started beatboxing. *Boom, boom, clap, chicka, chicka, boom clap.* *Boom, boom, clap, chicka, chicka, boom clap.*
**Look at all you muthafucka's**
**sittin' n' starin'**
**I see a lot of bad intentions**
**angry glarin'**
**You bitches won't stop**
**when you could be sharin'**
**The U.N.'s a paper asshole**
**And Imma start tearin!**
*OHHHHHHHHH!!*
**I'm not done yet, Barry**
**You better relax**
**Pay attention to my syntax**
**And check your facts**
**Because the last time I checked**
**I wasn't a prophet**
**But you hang on every word**
**So fuck it**
**Imma rock it**
**Check under your chairs**
**Then check your pockets**
**You'll find a crossfit DVD**
**Don't knock it**
**Those workout's gon'**
**Kick your ass**
**Sock it and Bop it**
**I'm done with this freestyle**
**I'm punchin' out**
**so clock it.**
*Drops Mic*
Still naked, I cartwheeled back off stage.
Once backstage I found a strange thing. Ambassadors were asking me to sign shit. Underwear, hats, ballsacks, the works.
I said, "Fine, but only if you sign this first."
I wrote up a document with a nearby crayon. It read:
**This is a peace treaty**
**I hereby acknowledge that Mr. Reynolds spits dope shit, and my mind is now dogshit because of it**
**Also, none of us are gonna be warmongering dickheads anymore, because that shit ain't cool.**
They signed it. Mission accomplished. | The keys flashed and fingers danced a ballet of such choreography a solar eclipse would fall out of alignment with envy. The rise and fall of digits caressed and stroked while words appeared on the monitor. In magic white boxes, as it seemed to him, where only before there were no words. He scratched his head as he watched.
'Deficit', he wondered as he read over the mans shoulder; perhaps some kind of tool to defy all those that didn't believe in me? I like that. I always said I'd show them! Dad too, I always said that he said that I'd show them!
Some kind of shield, maybe. But a metaph...a metaphist...a shield but not real, its just what it does with words. The man turned and walked to the desk in the middle of the room. He stroked the stained wood of the desk. 'Made from the H.M.S. Resolute sir, a gift from Queen Victoria'. Wow, he thought, raising his eyebrows, must be at least seventy, maybe eighty years old! Condensation appeared around his hand where he leaned against the desk, assessing the scene around him. Noticing this, he rubbed it away with his tie.
He walked back over the man on the computer. 'His hands move faster than mine do when I'm taking a girls clothes off!' With a Cheshire Cat grin, he looked around to see who laughed. Hmm, I never did like Jerry. Suddenly a printer buzzed into life. A man stripped the paper from the machine and read through it; 'this is great, now just read everything on there word for word', slowly, he added, 'don't change anything!' He straightened his tie as the man talked him through some words that were difficult to pronounce.
'It's time to go out Mr. President. They're waiting for you.' He took one look in the mirror, put on his biggest smile, and strode out of the Oval Office. | 2014-11-23T05:03:23 | 2014-11-23T03:47:40 | 169 | 12 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | The pounding has slowed to a minor thump, replaced in it with a constant ring. Blow after blow had left my vision blurry and bloody, and it's starting to get harder to breathe; my nose may have been broken a few punches back. People's insecurities are laughable at times but it looks like I'll never be able to laugh after this, and all because girl doesn't like boy anymore. I can't even remember their names anymore? All there is now, the steel fists that relentlessly assault my face and body.
CRACK
That's my ribcage, blood is beginning to fill my lungs, I feel the coppery taste and smell as I struggle to breathe. As I cough trying to get more air than blood into my lungs, I hear his muffled screams. Something about custards got flood on free? No that cant be right. Whatever he said has caused him to drop and allow me a moment of respite. A bitter relief, the pain is excruciatingly worse now that's he's stopped. More muffles and im hoisted to my feet against something. A tree perhaps? Yes I think we're in the campus forest, father used to take me through these woods hunting many years ago. Cold water is splashed in my face and the blood and grit begins to clear from my eyes and has stifled the ringing for a moment.
Jesus Clay you've nearly killed him!
Shut up and hold him, or you'll join him.
Clay as in Clay Barker? Why is my best friend doing this? My vision is far to distorted for me to be able to see who Clay really is. The cold steel caresses my head before painfully grasping my scalp and holding my head upright. A second steel fist begins to form as a face enters my sight.
I told you to leave her alone monkey. You took her from me so now I'm taking you.
I didn't feel the fist make contact, didnt hear it nor taste it. Nothing, nothing but nothing and more nothing. I can't see, cant hear or smell, but I can feel? I can feel something slithering around my eye sockets. I can feel my torso twisting and snapping, almost as if it's putting itself back together? No that's ridiculous. Nobody has ever had a sigil that granted healing factors or things of that nature this just must be what afterlife is like. Nobody has ever had a plain circle either though...
CRACK
That familiar rib cracked again, but back into place! I gasp choking on mulch and dirt as I reach my mangled hand through the soil to fresh air. At least they did me a courtesy of making my grave shallow. I finished digging and propped myself agains a nearby tree to witness the miracle at work. Tears in flesh are beginning to close, my right arm, which from forearm down looks like someone put under a jack hammer, is beginning to straighten and inflate with muscle again. I reach up to the back of my neck to stretch. My sigil is burning and spinning? I gaze in awe at the grotesque readjustment process the rest of my body is going through and then look up as my leg makes its final adjustment with an audible clop. Theres blood on the tree. I slowly stand up letting the reformed muscle hold me and see the stain at my head height. My blood, bits of bone and pieces of brain.
Holy shit, I-I'm immortal?
I reach back to my sigil and it has grown dormant. Just a plain carved circle into my flesh. The sun is setting so I begin to head back to my dorm. Single studio just how I like it. My hands are shaking as this evening events re roll through my mind and I decide to be brave (stupid if it didnt work. Funny how that is right?). I set my alarms an hour earlier so I could clean up when I awoke and sat down in my chair with a knife from my chef set mom got me last Christmas. I removed my shirt and with a silent prayer I drove the steak knife through my heart, twisted and removed, throwing it into the kitchenette.
Blackness.
I awoke in a sweat to the alarm blaring. I stumble turning it off and zombie my way to the bathroom to begin my morning routine, accidentally kicking a knife across the floor... Adrenaline has spiked as I realize it wasn't a dream and throw on the lights to see no hole where my heart is. No cut, scar or anything in between. A wicked smile creeps across my face as I clean the blood off the floor and knife.
Deciding to make a surprise I arrive 5 minutes late to first lecture. I walk in and as you do everyone stops and turns around to see who's going to be rushing in like an idiot. Except there were some who were more shocked than other's.
Morning Clay. What's wrong? Someone walk over your grave? |
He has always been a very peaceful person which was often mistaken for being boring and uninteresting which lead to him getting left out. The only interaction he had with others in school was when his classmates would bully him with their outstanding powers. They were quite powerful and could possibly be used to kill others.
Gironimo had just transferred to this new school. Nero started to bully him because Gironimo seemed to be an easy target, seeing as his sigil only looked like a circle which indicated that he hadn’t formed an ability yet.
Nero possessed the ability to form deadly weapons from people’s iron, cutting up their insides and draining them of the ability to breathe properly because they couldn’t process the oxygen without iron in their blood. He knew, he could kill Gironimo but he never wanted to, seeing that he was sadistic but not a killer. Plus, he wanted to see what power Gironimo’s sigil could possibly have granted him, since it was just some circle.
Well, at least it looked like a circle if you didn’t pay attention. Everyone is born with a sigil but it has to develop and take shape over time. Gironimo’s sigil only modified ever so slightly to go from a circle to a zero. He even called his ability “Zero”, even though he himself didn’t know what it could do. The sigil’s abilities were always based on one’s personality, so it would not be surprising that a violent person like Nero had such a brutal ability while the selfless May who would do anything for others could heal others with the drawback of not being able to heal herself.
The day after Gironimo's transfer, Nero approached Gironimo. “Would you like to die?”, he said as if he just asked a normal question. “I mean, you can try”, he said confidently, even though he didn’t even know of Nero’s powers since he was always very careful with when he would use them. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Gironimo felt something cutting up the inside of his mouth and started to spew out razor blades along with alarming amounts of blood. He started to cry and shouted “Zero”. Immediately, the blood he coughed up went back into his mouth and the razor blades turned back into iron and re-entered his body. Meanwhile, Nero started to cough up razor blades and now he was the one crying and screaming. “You fucker”, Gironimo shouted. “Look what you’ve done. Look how badly I was bleeding. Why the fuuuuuucckkkk???”. He started kicking the still crying Nero and quickly left before the teachers could spot him. | 2020-02-26T08:04:31 | 2020-02-26T07:41:46 | 147 | 19 |
[WP] Some people; most often nobles are born with elemental powers. You were cast away and sent to the army as a magic-less dissapointment to your royal family, only to find as you cried for a friend to come back their corpse actually rises. You are the first necromancer. | For most families I would’ve been normal. After all, only ten percent of the population was gifted with the elemental powers known as the Abilities. The rest of us would make do with just normal human attributes and accept that the highest ranks of society would be forever barred from us. But for nobles it was different. For a noble like myself, you were considered a failure if your Abilities were weak; if you were a Flame but could barely make fire dance on your fingers, an Aqua but failed to make big enough waves, a Flora whose power was limited to making flowers grow, a Gale who could only conjure a slight breeze. Never mind being like me, who didn’t have an Ability at all.
When I reached the age of thirteen and still nothing happened my mother said, “Well maybe he’s a late bloomer. After all, he is quite small still, and the powers are said to be tied to growth. Maybe in a few years he’ll get them.” She looked at me then, all false bright smiles and sad blue eyes. I didn’t want to disappoint her.
When I turned fifteen and was still powerless, useless, my father looked at my mother with pain in his eyes and said, “Maybe we should accept that… you know.” My mother just said, “Give it more time.” My father looked at me then with his hard face and fiery hair, jaw clenched in disappointment. I didn’t want to fail him.
When I turned eighteen my parents both agreed I was a lost cause. “Such a shame,” I heard people whisper, “He was such a clever boy and dedicated too, but without Abilities… it would’ve never worked out.” When I heard people talk about me I just grit my teeth and clenched my fists. They made it sound like it was my fault when I never had a choice at all, and who were they to talk, most of them didn’t have powers! Then again, none of them would’ve been the future king either and as every child was taught in the crib, there was a reason only those with Abilities ascended to greatness.
My parents came to me one day and said, “We want to send you to the army” Of course what they actually said was much longer than that, full of ‘but we still love you’s and ‘we just think this is how you would reach your greatest potential.” They told me my sister would succeed me instead, as a powerful Flame she would be a worthy ruler, the subtext being of course that she was better than me. I knew I had failed my mother, disappointed my father, I didn’t deserve a second chance. I hid my tears and agreed to leave and that was that.
~~~~
The field was scarlet. My favorite color.
On the ground there were bodies. Oh gods so many bodies. I had fought in battles before but none that were this bloody, none that seemed to so clearly promise you pain and injury no matter if your side won or lost. I remembered when my mother used to read out loud to me, how my father used to pretend to sword fight me with wooden sticks in our courtyard. I just wanted to go home. But as I looked at the limbs strewn on bloodied grass and heard the wails of the dying, I knew that wasn’t possible.
And worst of all Taig, my dearest friend Taig, lay bleeding out next to me. “Please! Please speak to me!” I desperately implored. His dark skin looked so pale now, maybe in fright, or maybe because of the blood draining out of him, and his green eyes were clouded with tears and pain.
Taig, in his final moments, reached up and grabbed my hand, “It’ll be okay.” He said and well, that was clearly a lie. I would’ve said as much too if he wasn’t already gone. I held him against my chest, feeling the warmth that was still in his body, remembering his heartbeats so vividly they almost seemed real again. But that wasn’t possible. Taig was dead, and likely, soon I would be too. I cursed my parents for this moment, it was their fault I had been sent away, their fault I even met Taig and therefore had to feel the pain of his death, their fault I was even born in the first place. Fuck them. Fuck them all.
Taig opened his eyes and smiled at me.
“What the hell!” I screamed before slapping a hand over my mouth to stop it. Didn’t want to draw attention to myself on the battlefield. Had Taig… survived? No, that wasn’t possible. Even if he had survived a stab through the heart, he wouldn’t be able to stand up and smile. Then what had happened? W-was it me? Was I the cause of his miraculous recovery? Something inside me told me yes, and it seemed so right once I considered it. Wait… why was Taig just standing there motionless? As a test I moved my hand to the right a bit and willed him to move. Like a puppet on a string, he stepped to the side, smile never leaving his face. So he wasn’t truly back then. I felt disappointment tug at my heart again, I was still alone. But this new power… this new Ability could do so much for me, I ought to leave my sadness behind for now.
How far could this power reach anyway? I looked at a dead soldier maybe twenty, thirty yards from where I was and willed him to stand. He did. The girl next to him gasped in fear, though also relieved at her companion’s revival. I told him to stab her. He did that too. Gods… with all this power, with all the people I could control…
I was more than worthy of being king. | Great bursts of green and blue exploded with thunderous blasts above as the ground ruptured as a mixture of steel and energy rained around me. I sprint, running harder than I ever had in my entire life, towards the trench line.
"Sir! Sir!" I scream as I slide into the makeshift hole. "Sir the bombs are set! Radios fried!"
A large man, just under 7 feet tall and 350 pounds of pure muscle, turned to gauge me, the small 5 foot nothing with sweat streaming down his face.
Looking back at the radio operator beside him, the officer nodded. The radio chirpped and orders began to flow - artillery coordinates, followed by the command to detonate the magiwarheads I had placed in no man's land.
"Sir! Connor is still out there! We can't set them off yet!"
The commander steels his eyes against mine. "The magicless deserve to die. I am simply expediating the process."
My heart drops to my stomache and I leave with a hasty salute. Too late, as it was clear by the purple mushroom clouds erupting with cacophanous noise. The whole battlefield goes quiet as both sides attempt to figure out just exactly what happened.
Taking my opportunity, I leap back into no man's land towards the still hazy craters 200 metres away, running just as hard as I was before. I arrive, adrenaline pumping, fear choking me. A hand lay not far from the closest hole. The tattoo was unmistakable.
It doesn't take me long to find his body. Brick Connor, always joking about his reversed names. He was the first one in a world full of magic to give me, the magicless, a friend; he was the only one who accepted me for who I was. And here he was, body torn to shreds, head barely attached to his body. I fall to my knees beside him, or what is left of him, already numb to my surroundings.
I don't know how long I sit there for. Long enough for the smoke to dissipate enough that the fighting restarted. I could hear the sound of the diggers firing up their circles to create lines leading up to the new front. The grating sound, the chanting, the pips and pops of gun fire, the booms of cosmic artillery. I hated every single sound, and I knew that if I were still with my squadmates I'd probably lose my cool in a very undisciplined way.
A stray round of condensed ice clipped my shoulder, taking all feeling in my right hand with it. Jarred back to reality, the whole situation crashed into my conciousness, and I cry. I scream. I yell, and right when I think my chest is about to burst from the pain of my loss, it does.
History taught us that when a new line of magic is discovered, a huge pulse of energy - generally of that magic's type - explodes from the person. It's theorised to be a reaction, sort of like piercing the side of a water line, resulting from a large amount of energy that previously had no outlet.
I feel something touch my leg tenderly. Looking up from my hands, I see Connor reaching out with his one still connected hand, breathing a silent moan. Startled I fall back, only to cut my hands on a chunk of frozen mud. I look around, and realise that not only is that bit of mud frozen, but all of it is. The battlefield goes quiet a second time. It's quickly followed by the screams of the damned.
And the damned they will be. | 2019-07-04T14:39:03 | 2019-07-04T11:51:44 | 50 | 37 |
[WP] The aliens conquered earth swiftly and violently with little issue, but they're about to experience a type of resistance they've never seen before: peaceful protest | Zen'n glared out the window at the blue marble in space, now *his* blue marble. The war had been swift and with only the necessary bloodshed. Every facet of the government was under his control. As Londra, he was entitled to all of it's meager riches and slaves through right of conquest.
And yet, he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around what Al'wen, his chief advisor and second in command, was telling him.
"Explain it again." The frustration in Zen'n's voice becoming more apparent. "Slowly..."
"Well..." Al'wen hesitated for a moment. She hated to be the bearer of bad news, but it was her job to face The Londra's wrath. "The humans are resisting us in all of their capital cities."
"So then kill the resistors." Zen'n flared his secondary gills in exasperation.
"It's not that simple." Al'wen brushed a hand through her head tendrils to calm her nerves. "If we kill them, the optics will turn the rest of the Council against us, and our occupation could be rendered moot."
Al'wen fliched when she heard the sound of Londra Zen'n hitting the glass with his hardened fist. When she dared look back up, the glass has been cracked. She made a mental note to get it repaired as soon as she could.
When Zen'n spoke again, it was even and controlled. "We did everything right, though. A single envoy was sent in the name of 'peace' and the humans were baited into killing him. Step one complete. Then we declared war and began our occupation. Step two complete. Now, we are failing at the final step because of optics!?" By this point Zen'n was nearly shouting, still glaring in hatred at the planet below.
"Normally, species fight us. That's easy to spin as xenophobia and a justification for war, but the humans..." Al'wen stopped. She couldn't quite describe what was going on. It seemed impossible. "They are... Not fighting."
"Then what *are* they doing, Al'wen?"
"It looks like, from all reports, that they are letting themselves be beaten. They are starving themselves, sitting in city squares and chanting, some are even singing. One group managed to build a transmitter to reach out to the rest of the universe for aid. But instead of asking for weapons, they requested food and medical supplies. The longer this goes on, the more trouble we're having in justifying our occupation." As she spoke she brought up images on a view screen. A pointless effort, as Zen'n hadn't moved from the window.
"I'm order for our petition of rightful conquest to be accepted, we need to look like the injured party. And currently, we don't."
"We can't kill them because of political idiocy?" Zen'n was dumbfounded at this point. "How did this happen!?"
"There's more, though, Sir." Al'wen took a breath before she said the next part. "Our embassies are being assaulted in protest of our occupation. Nothing we can't protect against, but the will of the people is becoming clear. We either have to find a way to seem justified again or..." Al'wen trailed off.
Zen'n finally turned around, rising to his full two and a half meter stature. His angry focus now fully directed at his second in command. "Or what?"
"Or we have to leave Earth."
***
Note: please forgive any misspellings. I'm on mobile. :) | The humans are broken. Not like I wrote in my log a month after arriving at this beautiful bountiful planet where their spirit was broken and their will to fight dissolved and they began the arduous task of collecting resources to be sent back home, but they are now actually broken individual; they no longer work. It appears they are able to function, they are still breathing, but every one of them that remains is simply laying down, unwilling to move. We've attempting beatings to no avail and are at a loss. I have heard in some areas their humans are refusing to even consume sustenance, if they do this their unwillingness to work will become inability. I fear what that means for us and our mission. We did not brings drones of our species to do this work, oddly enough, we need functioning humans, perhaps they know this, perhaps they realized there is a reason they were not wiped out when we showed how easily we could. No....they can't be that intelligent, they can't be in contact with each other enough to have organized this across their entire planet, can they? I must find a solution fast, I will cease to exist if I return to the home world to tell of how I was defeated by....the opposite of action. | 2021-05-10T14:53:51 | 2021-05-10T12:00:48 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth, they are so far in technology we had no means of fighting back until we made a critical discovery, since they are so advanced they lack in interpersonal skills which makes them incredibly vulnerable to grade school level psychological attacks. those poopy heads are screwed | **DOCUMENT FOR AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY**
*Operation “Pale Wind”*
*Mission Report*
05/15/20██
Director: Max ███████
Handler: Lori ██████
Field Team: Lima-3
At approximately 0300, the forward operating base (FOB) responsible for maintaining the evacuation of the civilian population of Detroit, MI, was compromised. Primary communications were lost, and a distress signal was issued by the next in command. Special operations groups and field specialists normally capable for such a mission were either otherwise deployed or faced too many casualties, leaving High Command to draw from pools of volunteers from the standing Army, Marines, National Guard, and Reserves. A twelve man squad was assembled as Team Lima-3, prepped and briefed for a relief effort, and provided with the most recent intelligence on the extraterrestrial threat acquired by DARPA. After expressing concern at the unconventional tactics recommended by the DARPA advisors, team Lima-3 assented and was quickly deployed at 0330.
Approximately one kilometer from helicopter insertion, radar confirmed that an extraterrestrial flying vehicle, referred to by field teams as "hoovers", was detected on a hostile flight pattern towards Lima-3's position, out of their current field of view. Lima-3's helicopter crew proceeded to deploy the experimental High-Amplification Expletive Device. Activation of this device allows one to project their voice loud enough for the hostile extraterrestrials to hear inside of their vehicles. Lima-3's team leader, Lima-3-1, activated the device and proceeded to yell the following phrase:
***"You smell like a booger I ate and then pooped out."***
Some moments later, a large explosion was seen in the field below Lima-3's path, confirming effectiveness of the device. Having previous doubts put to rest, team Lima-3 celebrated the new found tactic. Shortly thereafter, team Lima-3 made successful insertion into the area of operations (AO). Navigating through debris and rubble to locate the FOB, Lima-3 received a short-wave radio frequency. The audio is transcribed as follows:
*\[BEGIN PLAYBACK\]*
*Woman's Voice: Hello, hello? Is anyone reading this?*
*Lima-3-3: Oh, shit, Sarge. Uh, someone's on. Hello, yeah? Who is--*
*W: Oh, thank God! This is Corporal Monica ████, with the 507th-- oh shit, quiet, quiet!*
*\[Audible sounds of movement and jostling are heard from Corporal Monica's radio\]*
*\[Brief arguing heard from Lima 3-1's end as radio is transferred.\]*
*Lima-3-1: Dammit, give it to me... Right, this is team Lima-3, can you repeat? Over.*
*Corporal Monica: \[whispering\] This is Corporal Monica ████, 507th Engineers, we've been attacked by aliens. Please advise, we have numerous casualties. They are outside right now.*
*L-3-1: Solid copy. How close are the enemy to your position?*
*CM: They... they're right outside, I think they're coming. I'm... they're gonna find me... \[audible sobbing\]*
*L-3-1: Okay, okay. Copy. I've got a plan, can you trust me on this?*
*CM: R-Repeat that?*
*L-3-1: Corporal, I need you to turn the volume on your radio up as loud as you can.*
*CM: Are you insane? They'll find me!*
*L-3-1: Let me explain, Corporal. I'm part of a special operations team and we have a frequency that only the aliens can hear. If you play it loud enough, they'll hear it and they'll be incapacitated.*
*[Lima-3-3 is heard briefly]: What the fuck are you taking about Sa-*
*CM: That... There's no way...*
*\[Audible voices speaking unfamiliar languages are heard\]*
*CM: Oh my God... oh God... okay, okay, do it, now, please!*
*\[A door is heard creaking open. A struggle is heard, with unknown voices commanding Corporal Monica, and others, in English to comply.\]*
*L-3-1: Team Lima hears you, beginning frequency.*
*Unknown voice: Lima? Team Lima, note that, Xen'java.*
*L-3-1: No, you heard me wrong, it's Ligma.*
*Unknown: Ligma? Xen'java, alternate. Ligma.*
*L-3-1: \[audible snickering\] Lick your what? Do you want to lick his butt?*
*Unknown: Wh-what? No, don't listen to that, Xen'java! Do not lick my butt! Identify yourself!*
*L-3-1: Yeah, you sound like my grandma, when she's doing a big diarrhea fart.*
*Unknown: That is irrelevant! Identify yourself immediately! Xen'java, I didn't mean it, please stop crying!*
*L-3-1: I thought aliens were supposed to be smart, but you sound stupider than my uncle when he broke his forehead on the ceiling.*
*Unknown: No, no no no no no, I am not stupid! \[Incoherent babble is heard\]*
*L-3-1: You know the best part? Your mom called me. She told me you were so ugly that she hit you with a frying pan to make you look better.*
*Unknown: Aaaaaaargh! Uuuuuurngh, stop it stop! You can't say that! You can't... You can't...*
*L-3-1: I win you lose, penis butt.*
*\[END PLAYBACK\]*
By circumstance, the entire local extraterrestrial force was on the same communication network as the apparent leader of this strike force, sending all units into an extremely stressed state. Team Lima-3 was able to join with remnants of the 507th Engineer Battalion and reclaim the FOB, and capturing the majority of the hostile element that had not accidentally destroyed themselves by crashing their vehicles. At 0807, team Lima-3 requested extraction from the AO, and medevac for injured civilians and personnel. | Korzhigs stormed into the feeding bay, away from the command centre of his ship and those...*inaccurate* humans. Shigvas looked up and *tch*'d disapprovingly at him.
"You are letting irrationality cloud your thoughts, Korzhigs. That display was quantum and you know it as well as I do. I've never seen you be this...unpredictable."
Korzhigs shuddered, snatching a pod of nourishing syrup from the dispenser and downing it in one gulp without even looking at the label. Stumping across to a seat, he dumped himself onto it with a pained grunt.
Negotiations had been...problematic. The humans that they had been so readily defeating in the war had decided to sue for peace earlier than their models had predicted. Of course, Korzhigs' army were not the only ones interested in the bounties that this planet offered -- the planet had been discovered by a scouting party who promptly put its location up for sale, and now not more than 4 different armies had come to take over the planet. Suing for peace was something the Higsons were only too happy to comply -- war was expensive and an earlier victory would only increase their margins and make for a happier subjugated race of incompetents. Additionally, the party who won this suit would then pool their efforts into protecting their bounty, making any future battles unprofitable and staving off needless money wasted if multiple armies got their hands on large tracts of land.
Unfortunately, it seemed as though the humans had changed their mind at the last moment. They had even gone so far as to call him some horrible, *horrible* things, like 'poopy head', 'bum boy', 'stinky pants' and 'slartibartfast'! He still had yet to figure out what the last one meant, but a part of him was afraid of what he would find. Nobody had ever called him those things before, and he had been forced to evaluate the reasons for them coming to such conclusions while in the midst of his negotiation attempts, a mental process he was wholly unfamilar with. Worse, they had told him that they 'weren't his friend anymore' and that 'nobody likes you anyway'. It hurt. Korzhigs had not even be aware he could hurt so deep inside without any physical wound, but right now, he just wanted to curl up into a ball and sing numbers at himself.
Shigvas broke his reverie. "You know what they are doing, right?"
"Yes" Korzhigs mumbled. "They wish to play us off against each other. I know Onihigs' theories on the matter and I've already sent the appropriate drafts to my scribes to finish and send to the other three armies in the area, as well as a fifth that I'll inevitably have to bring in at no great cost!"
"That is an incorrect conclusion." Korzhigs shot up and glared at Shigvas. That had been a grave insult to his analytic poweress.
"What! Surely you misspoke."
"No, they are trying to fluster you into making a mistake. Look at how you are acting. They have some subtle thinkers behind them, but still too heavy-handed in their execution."
Korzhigs stood up once Shigvas finished speaking. "What are you doing?" The second-in-command said.
"Thank you for your words. I have re-evaluated. This is indeed a dangerous strategy."
"Oh?" Shigvas smiled. "And what will you do now?" At this point, Korzhigs had already left the feeding bay and was making his way back to the command center.
"We could use it. We could call others 'snotty toes' and 'stinky winkies'. We could use this to win so much more than this useless planet!"
"I would claim that this planet is not useless, sir, but if that is your assess-"
"YES, it is! I will not let the others learn about this strategy. I'm blowing it all up right now!" Those last words echoed down the corridor.
Korzhigs gnashed his teeth, slamming in his entry code to get into the command centre.
"They deserve it anyways...." | 2019-07-30T02:56:19 | 2019-07-30T02:37:57 | 137 | 59 |
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