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 |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
[WP] As it turns out, Hell has a healthy supply of scientists and engineers and is thus much more technologically advanced than is usually portrayed. | *Warning*: the last segment contains some graphic descriptions.
An inhuman shriek pierced the eternal night of Hell, waking Dr. Roberts with a start from his dreamless sleep. He pulled the covers tightly over his head, unwilling to face what waited in the shadows. As the echo of the shriek returned from the far wall of the cavern, the mathematical part of Herb Robert's mind told him the distance to the edge. The rest, though, resigned to the inevitable - in Hell, there is no escape.
"Even death doesn't end the office toil" Herb grumbled as he slid out of bed, and began to dress for work.
*************************************************************
Dr. Roberts never saw the demon lurking in the hallway until it was on him. Its hulking form bent over its goat-like legs, bringing the hideous misshapen head down almost to the level of Herb's own. Its huge jaw flexed, showing dozens of prehensile teeth.
"You can avoid me no longer" growled the creature. It reached forward with a clawed hand larger than Dr. Robert's head.
"Very well" squeaked Herb. No matter how many times he faced these creatures, he could never keep the fear completely out of his voice. He took a brown folder from the beast's outstretched hand, and exchanged it for a small vial. It's teeth arranged themselves into a cruel grin, and it slunk down the hall making far less noise than something its size should.
As he watched the creature go, Herb thanked whatever powers created this place that he had died after the secret to taming the demons had been found. They were tireless, relentless, greedy, and craved only one thing - the smell of human fear and suffering. But sixty years ago, one of the damned had realized this, and synthesized the relevant human pheromones. After that, the change from eternal torment to a transaction-based economy happened almost overnight. Not that it was ever *day* in Hell. The demons would never be humanity's friends, but they were excellent wage slaves.
Herb shook his head to clear it, then opened the folder to look at his own seemingly unending source of suffering - the monthly reports. The first half of the contents were the usual - interviews with the newly dead. They told the same story as last month: the living world was full of wars and neglect, with medical science beyond boner pills and trillion-dollar prescription drug deals moving at a snail's pace.
The second half was equally familiar, but unlike the feelings of mired dreams evoked by the interviews, this part never ceased to amaze him. Geothermal power from the sulfur lakes was well above expected output. The fungal crop harvest was in it's thirtieth straight month of surplus. The last of the cancers the demons could produce in the damned had finally been cured. Three diseases were still beyond treatment, but the reports said these were rare in the living world.
It still surprised Herb that Hell could have made such progress, when it was ostensibly full of the worst of humanity. But the gates to Heaven had been too tight, or the pit of Hell too loose; and the sins that could send you down the one-way highway were surprisingly slight. As for the rest, well, between the psychological knowledge of the demons, the resiliency of the damned, and a complete lack of ethical oversight on experiments, Hell's psychologists had made huge strides. They had practically taken apart and rebuilt the human psyche, and as a result they had treatments for half the mental problems of the worst of the damned.
It was time, then. Dr. Roberts made his way to the elevator, and keyed in his personal access code. Even this *new* Hell had secrets.
**************************************************************
The man on the table writhed under the administration's of Herb's knife. He'd been screaming so long the sound had become a part of the background of the room, like the wind or a persistent drip of water. The crackle of electricity sounded overhead, feeding down into wires clamped to the man's flayed flesh. Glowing fluids poured into his vivisected torso through a network of tubes, bloating and distorting the face and limbs, and causing his veins to glow and swell.
Sweat beaded on Dr. Robert's face as he made a final incision in the heart, and inserted the last remaining tube. As he slowly turned a screw valve, letting fluid flow, the screaming momentarily intensified. For a minute it hit a volume and pitch that seemed as inhuman as any demon - and then slowly subsided to heavy breathing.
In the near-silence and dim cavern light, Herb could see it - faintly, but it was there. A sparkling silver thread reached upwards from the exposed heart, and wound its way towards the cavern's ceiling. Herb's smile as he gazed on it was genuine, but exhausted. The mutilated man on the table croaked weakly, breaking the stillness of the moment:
"Did we do it?"
Herb stroked the man's hair gently. "Yes, Jim. Yes we did. Can you see it?"
"No" responded Jim in a whisper. "My eyes stopped about halfway in."
"I'm so sorry, Jim. I wish there had been another way... I..." Herb trailed off, choking on his emotions. For the first time since the procedure began, he was unable to look at his friend's body.
"I know" Jim tried to nod, but his neck was too swollen with glowing fluid. "I'm sorry too. But it'll all grow back, just like it always does down here. You're not half as sadistic as whoever built this place, letting us regrow to be tortured again. But today, I'm glad for it."
"So am I, old friend. This was the last step." Herb gazed along the silver cord, fixing his eyes at the point where it thinned to vanishing. "With this, we can finally do it. All our work here - the food, the psychology, the cures - we can use this to bridge the worlds and bring it to the living."
Jim tried to smile, but only half of his face worked. "I knew we could do it. We've cracked the gates of hell, and we'll set the horsemen loose - unlimited food, treatments for aggression, cures for disease, and tamed demons who will do unlimited work for easily manufactured chemicals. Armageddon is beginning - but I don't think the living are expecting *this*. | Hell is a fiery torturous place where the ground seeps lava and demons fly around poking your bare ass with a pitchfork the size of Mount Rushmore.
That’s your version of Hell. It can’t be that for everyone, because humans have different fears and subtle nuances which makes you all so different. A firefighter that comes to hell isn’t exactly afraid of flames just like your lover isn’t afraid of the pitchfork.
I figured this out after the first humans started coming here. You might have heard of them. These were guys like Galileo, Newton, Da Vinci, you name it.
I can’t for the life of me imagine why you all looked up to these scumbags so much. Their inventions were clever, I’ll give ‘em that, but did you ever think to peek through their work and look into their soul?
These guys were the rockstars of their time. They slept with every women they saw, ripped lines of Coke before the general public even knew what a drug was and prayed to the devil.
How do you think they were able to come up with such crazy inventions in the first place? That’s right, they made a deal with me.
More kept coming from above, Jobs, Tesla, the Wright Brothers, Ford, it just never ended. After a while, we started having too many of these guys hanging around the old stomping grounds and there wasn’t enough room to bring in the real criminals.
I even think some murderers and rapists snuck into Heaven. God is a chronic masturbator so it’s not hard to do. Just wait until he has the gates locked and then climb on over.
The only reason I stay in Hell is because of what I’ve done with the “smart” people. At first I was a little annoyed with the thousands of pretentious egos coming here, stinking up the place, telling me how I should rule my kingdom, how much more space I’d have in Hell if I just incinerated all the souls and instead of keeping them around for torture. It was annoying.
So I had them build a city inside of Hell, a special place where they'd live away from the rest of the other plebeians trapped in eternal agony here in my domain. It needed to be luxurious, like Heaven, but better, and have space for me and the rest of my cronies.
With all the tools at their disposal, the inventors went to work. The product was a shining beacon of hope for all the wretched demons in Hell who worried that sin and selfishness would never win the battle against respectful morals and values.
It was a city made from the flames that Hell was birthed upon, where lava was hardened to create roads and walls, where fire burst through tiny pipes made from human bones to run power to its residents, and cars made from the soil of the Earth whizzed through Hell’s molten seas like boats in the ocean.
The inventors even made rooms for themselves, a soul-saving place with an unlimited supply of books, drugs, whores and even a portal to heaven for access to their relatives that made it up there instead of down here with me.
This was just so cute. They’d never use those rooms. As soon as they finished the city, I threw their souls into the ass-poking chamber for the rest of eternity and watched as their precious dreams of making Hell a comfortable place for themselves disintegrated before their eyes.
But this wasn’t enough. Some of these guys liked having sharp objects shoved up their ass. I had to use their fears against them.
I locked each one in a classroom and chained them to a desk. Then, I turned on and endless live feed of what you humans call CNN and Fox News. Imagine the horror of hearing that nonsense for all eternity. Their faces eventually burnt off from all the misconstrued information and ignorance. It was quite heavenly to witness.
Speaking of heaven, I’ve had control over it ever since these fools finished with my city and put that portal in it. When God is a sex addict and never comes out of his room, it’s quite easy to take over.
Why do you think it’s been flooding so much? And why do you think Donald Trump is doing so well in the polls?
God, it’s good to be Satan.
---
*The next time you speak, Talk Shivi*
| 2016-06-01T18:52:30 | 2016-06-01T15:48:34 | 314 | 62 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | As the last known survivor, I feel I must explain it all.
We have muskets; by law, these are the weapons allowed by the Galactic Concordance. In fact, all weapons were severely restricted to prevent one species from gaining superiority through weapons technology. We know how to annihilate planets with a single blast, but we are kept from this.
Violating this galaxy wide agreement meant swift eradication by Iohva -- the entity created to be responsible for enforcing the agreement. The destruction was total and immediate, and his judgement was final -- so no one dared violate the agreement. Peace was kept and squabbles were minor. Minerals were still highly sought after since some technology was restricted. Miners, as you know, do most of the exploration and discovery. They are also the most heavily armed.
What we did not know, and could not have known, was what Iohva -- an entity that exists in the very substrate of the universe -- had been planning. It had found a single species which it deemed worthy of advancement beyond the limitation that Iohva itself had imposed across the Galaxy. This should have been beyond its capability -- but it had evolved -- radically. It now exists as everywhere. Some say it always existed, and we simply found it and gave it a vessel. If so, we were fools.
We became aware of this when we found a single star system, far from any cluster. It seemed to be impossibly remote, as if it was intentionally hidden. When it was discovered, all attempts to travel to this system were disrupted and ships were sent far off course with no obvious cause.
Eventually though, using a combination of jumps and sub-light engines, the system was reached -- and it was a rich system indeed. A half-12 of gas giants extending well out into the systems cometary cloud. A belt of protective asteroids -- and a third-12 of inner rocky worlds with mineral wealth beyond comprehension. The odds of a system configured in this way were astronomically small. The miners found the system occupied -- and this would not do. The third world possessed the most valuable minerals -- rare elements and in great supplies. The decision was made to invade and, because of that decision, we will all pay a terrible price.
The world was primitive by most standards and the "humans" did not possess interstellar travel. It was assumed that they too would be subject to the same 'soft' limitation of technology (artificial failures that Iohva used on undeveloped worlds) that all other worlds were subjected to.
We were wrong. We intercepted their transmissions. We saw evidence of their advanced weaponry, but this fiction exists in all races. Not here.
We miners landed in a place colloquially called 'DC' their ship nearly blotted out the sky. But, for all its bulk, as you know, is sparsely crewed with only a few 12's of 12's of crew -- around a four power of 12's. It was assumed that with our cannons and muskets, and superior position, we would make a show of minor force and then take the planet.
We were wrong again.
We opened fire with a single decapitating shot at a central 5-sided structure, a show of extreme force. The projectile was our largest and wiped out one side of the structure. We expected immediate surrender. We were met with annihilation.
Within a mere 12 span, our ship was assaulted from all side with terrifyingly powerful weapons. They penetrated deep into our hull. They had no muskets - they had legendary weapons - the ones depicted in their media. Missiles more powerful than anything any of us had seen. Explosive rounds. Kinetic penetrators. Signal jamming. We were only aware of such things in stories.
We were shocked -- why were these primitives allowed to have such ferocious weapons! We pleaded with Iohva for guidance and to enforce the concordance, but we were met with silence, his back was turned on us.
Our ship was immediately crippled by projectiles that penetrated our hull and several dozen decks. We began to lose power. We had barely a 12, 12-span of power left and the decision was made to head for the sea off the coast of the city. This is where we crashed and where the ship still lies. We could only make a stand, we could not flee. This is after a mere 12, 12-span and a well equipped mining ship - no race should have such destructive capability.
As we lost power, we discovered that the gravity on their world was incredible. Nearly all of our crew were captured by these humans; their size is incredible a full half again as large as our largest miners and warriors - and we are a large race; we thought ourselves strong! We saw them bend our doors open with their hands and break the bones of our crew members with no effort. It was a bloodbath that ended in defeat for most of us. I, and perhaps a few others, I can't be certain, were able to escape in a superlight life pod -- which is how I am able to relay this message.
We have unleashed a nightmarish army, a plague upon the galaxy and Iohva will not help us. Whether he is with them, or simply ignoring them, we have no chance. They will master superlight travel and we will learn a harsh lesson. We can only hope that Iohva does not let them slaughter us, or that they are kind masters. We will fall to them. | "Humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
The gnarled general gave him a look halfway between amusement and disbelief.
His ears twitched before settling back into their wavy slow pattern.
"You know this how? From the couple of days we've spent here?" the old man asked.
Djerza held the barrel of his musket up, eying the line of its smooth surface for any warps or bends. Ignoring the question.
"Fools, all of you. I thought the Zanta failure would have taught you not to underestimate our enemies."
At this, Djerza sat up and sighed. The quick flash of ears pulling back betraying his anger at the remark.
"The Zanta had help. In any case, this is not a discussion general. We leave tomorrow, have the troops ready."
The general nodded slowly. "I do admire his spirit though, what was it again he said?"
"It is easy for me to die, but difficult to let you pass" Djerza said smiling, his sharp teeth black as night.
-------------------------------------------------
Guns flashed and thundered all around him. The ground itself shaking as pieces of mud flew past him.
Djerza ignored it. The cannons were interesting, primitive but powerful nonetheless. He quickly approached the line of enemy soldiers.
He'd started running after their last volley. With too few soldiers left for staggered shots, he'd have more than enough time to close the distance.
His own musket spent, he charged ahead with the bayonet at head hight. A few steps before impact, he saw the fear spread across their faces.
Fear not just of war and death, but fear of him. Fear of this thing that was barreling towards them and that was decidedly not of their own species.
He howled and lost himself in the bloodlust.
Twelve hours laters, three thousand had fallen. Men, women and children. Even the animals had been killed.
His clothes were dark with earth and soot and clung to his skin where blood had soaked the fabric.
Of course none of his own had fallen. Well at least none of those truly his own. Technically their side had suffered losses, but that was to be expected. He did not really care if these humans died. But they had entertained him well. This passion for killing, he'd not encountered it for a long time.
He heard the general walk up before he saw him. Demon of Dongnae the human soldiers had started calling him. Djerza felt a stab of envy.
But then again, he'd taken Song's head himself, that was no small feat considering the weapons they'd been forced to fight with.
The general finally spoke "It was a good battle my Lord. I assume we will be staying longer?"
They were young and obviously lacking in finesse, but they had so much potential. Humans fought and died with so much vigor. The Hunt would be glorious if they'd just grow up a bit, and his clan would hold the rights.
Djerza twitched his ears in pleasure. "Yes, yes general. I think we will.". | 2017-08-08T08:28:06 | 2017-08-08T07:55:11 | 47 | 12 |
[WP] When you die, you wait in purgatory until you can be judged by the 4 people most impacted by your actions: the person you were the most cruel to, the person you were the nicest to, the person who was saved by your actions, and the person who died because of your choices. | Sarah sighed as the alarm screeched at her from across the bedroom. She cursed herself, as the neon-green light flashed "5:30", for placing it so far away. The Sun hadn't even risen yet, so why should she?
"I got it," said a voice. Her husband, David, rolled out of bed and walked over to the alarm. He ran a wave of salt-and-pepper hair back over his head as he tried to work out how to turn off the alarm.
Sarah raised a hand in protest. "That was for my work -- you don't need to be up."
"I kind of do. This was keeping me awake."
"Sorry," she said, with little feeling behind it.
"There, you little bastard!" he cried triumphantly as the beeping finally stopped. The alarm's silence only revealed the crying of a baby -- Sarah let out her second sigh of the day.
"I got that too," said David as he put on his dressing-gown and headed to the door. "You try to get another ten minutes, okay? You need it way more than I do. Breakfast will be ready when you are."
It was true that she needed it. She hadn't been sleeping well. Or doing anything well, for that matter. Life had become so... grey, since Thea had been born. So hard and tedious and stupid. It always felt like she was mentally trudging through thick porridge.
The crying stopped and Sarah allowed herself a deep breath. She wouldn't get back to sleep now, but at least she could lay down and do nothing for a few minutes. Think of nothing. Pretend to be nothing.
The alarm began to beep.
Snooze.
He'd hit god-damned snooze.
Twenty minutes later, she was mostly-dressed and eating breakfast, forcing sloppy scrambled eggs into her mouth and down into her stomach. She wondered why she bothered eating at all. Maybe to please David, she thought. Not much she did pleased him anymore. Or vice-versa, in truth.
Her husband held Thea in one arm and her car-keys in his free hand. "I'll get her strapped in then I'll come grab you."
"You don't need to give me a lift," Sarah protested. "I'm fine driving."
"No offence, but you don't look fine. Those rings around your eyes... Did you sleep at all?"
A shudder of rage rippled up Sarah's spine. "I said I'm fine. Just... Go watch Netflix or something until you need to leave. I'll drop Thea off at Mom's before work."
---
The black cloak of the creature seated at the front of the courtroom made him look a little like how Sarah imagined Death would dress. The fact that he had a skeletal face almost convinced her that that was indeed who it was. However, he referred to himself as the Adjudicator, and her lawyers swore the two weren't even related.
The room was filled to the wooden rafters with jeering men, women, children, demons, skeletons, and a host of creatures that Sarah didn't like to look at. They looked like how she felt inside.
The crowd were loud and baying for blood, and Sarah knew it was for hers in particular. She hoped they'd get it.
"Order," came the voice of the Adjudicator. "Order!" He slammed down his gavel and a tsunami of silence washed over the crowd behind her.
Sarah was seated near the front, with her lawyer -- a two headed demon called Mary-and-Sue, who was biting her nails nervously with both mouths. The lawyer paused long enough to whisper to Sarah, "It's okay, sweetie. They can't prove you did it on purpose. Which you didn't, remember?" Her other head, Sue, butted in, "And if in doubt, always remember that you *can't* remember." With that, the creature's hands jammed back into its mouths.
Sarah shook her head. "I really don't remember though. I was just driving and..." She would have cried if she were able, but that ability had died long before she had. "I just want to be sentenced fairly. That's all. If I did what I'm accused of then let me rot in Hell forever." She'd been waiting in purgatory for what felt like forever already. Whether guilty or not in court, she wanted this over with. She knew what had happened as a result of her actions. Hell seemed a more than fair outcome.
"Shh!" hissed Mary-and-Sue. "Let's not give the Adjudicator any ideas!"
As if he'd heard his name, the Adjudicator glanced at Sarah.
"Let us begin today's proceedings," he said. His voice rumbled around the room, as if a giant were speaking into a barrel. "Purgatory versus Sarah O'Manahue. Charges: suicide and infanticide."
"Minor charges really," whispered Sue.
"She doesn't mean minor as in child..." said Mary.
"She knows what I mean."
"Silence!" said the Adjudicator. "Or I will find you in contempt of this court!"
"Sorry!" cried Mary-and-Sue.
The Adjudicator nodded slowly. "Mister Hyde," he said, looking at a man with a sharp pinstripe suit and an even sharper smile sitting adjacent to Sarah, on the other side of the court room. "Would you like to bring out your first witness for the prosecution?"
"Gladly," said Mister Hyde, as he got to his feet and slicked back his black hair. "Our first witness is the defendants very own husband. David O'Manahue." | John was happily driving his car to meet up with some family, when suddenly-- BAM! He couldn't really remind himself of what had happened, however, he was now sitting down, in a dimly lit room.
"Where am I?" John blurted out, looking around before finally looking down at his body and noting how perfectly fine he was. No bruises, cuts or scratches. - "B-But.. the accident?"
He had no answers and seemingly there was no one else around to do so.
Minutes turned into hours and, soon enough, a door cracked open. John went wide-eyed and even rubbed his eyes furiously, not really believing who now stood there, right in front of him.
"Hey-.." - A sort of squeakish voice greeted.
"This isn't possible- How? What?" - John rubbed his eyes once more and sighed before looking up at the figure once more. "You're me. Younger, but still, me." - In front of him now stood teenager John, the person he had been the most cruel to.
Throughout highschool John had dealt with various problems and his solution to it all was pretty much, well, some questionable choices. He hadn't allowed himself to be good to his own self and that now reflected on the him that was peering down at, well, himself. The teenager didn't really ask too much. He woud just peer down at John and shake is head from side to side before finally speaking a few words in a low, monotone voice.
"You could've reached out to someone."
As soon as that was said, the figure seemingly disappeared and John was once again left alone with his own thoughts.
After another couple of hours the door cracked open once again and someone else walked out from it. "Hello, John.-"
At this moment the poor man was sobbing, hands against his hand and even slightly rocking his body back and forth. "T-This has to be a dream.. a really bad one." - He noted before looking down and back up at who stood there, smiling, right in front of him. It was another John, however a seemingly old one, probably on his college years.
"I'm glad you managed to overcome those feelings of guilt..- It wasn't your fault."
Those words sent a deep, lightning fast shiver down John's spine and, once again, after professing those words, the figure disappeared.
Another couple of hours passed and, as if by sacred ritual, the door opened once more.
"Let me guess, it's me..-" John blurted out sarcastically.
And indeed, as precise as clockwork, John came out again! However, it was his college self, once again.
The figure smiled and simply nodded his head a few couple of times before leaning forward and placing his hands on John's shoulder. - "I'm glad you didn't jump.-"
And with that, the figure disappeared once more.
Finally, John got up and walked towards the door. He had had enough of that attrocity. Was it divine punishment? Perhaps, but only that way could he either ascend or descend. Once he got close enough to the door, the man grabbed the knot and twisted it open. Inside, only a mirror which reflected his own self.
John sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them back up-- Heaven.
​
(Well, this was my first try at writing a prompt! It probably isn't much, but I hope you enjoy it! ) | 2019-04-30T08:30:08 | 2019-04-30T07:27:01 | 136 | 33 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has come. But so has the robot apocalypse, and the Illuminati takeover, and the alien invaders... It seems everyone played their hand at the same time. | "Why are we holding off on the invasion, Prime Minister?" his aide inquired, turning to face the dark locked man sitting regally in his chair set at the head of the long table. His fingers were steepled together before him, casting shadows against his handsome visage.
"Because we have the advantage by not *pressing* our advantage," he murmured quietly to the room that didn't exist, full of generals and spies.
The news had begun to trickle in, first of the robots creating, *creating* an emissary to demand rights, and it had been as their first self-created life lumbered up to the Whitehouse that an alien spaceship had come to hover over the capital building, as well as the capitals of major centres around the globe.
CNN flashed across one screen, followed by BBC on another. They watched as the world fell to panic, as the first report of the dead rising in morgues, shambling into the streets already made into a frothy, chaotic mess from the robots and the aliens filling the streets.
"---coming in that the aliens are demanding that we surrender peacefully, however according to some reports the Sentient Robot Group then broke into the broadcast and requested a chance to parlay with the government in regards to…” the young CNN reporter rushed through the notes she held, while standing before the gates of the White House, the camera far enough back so that it could capture the view of the hovering UFO, while a line of robots had gathered in a clutch at the gate, their hands gesturing to make up for their lack of facial mobility and expression.
A scream cut through the scene, as a body lurched up from the dirt behind the gate, on the lawn of the White House. The security at the gate diverted and headed for the body, guns drawn and yelling. Soon the reporter was drowned out by the report of gunfire, screaming, and the scene began to shake as the person behind the lens picked up the camera and raced to the gate to capture the scene.
It was cacophony for a few seconds, and it was as the gray matter sprayed through the air that the scene cut back to Wolf Blitzer’s serious face, moustache trembling briefly before he opened his mouth to recap the events of the day.
The Lieutenant-General reached for the remote and muted it, they all knew what the recap would explain, and as one heads swiveled back to the leader of their glorious nation. He was calm, collected, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“It’s been reported to me by back channels, ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke after a second, his eyes flitting from one tense face to another, “that as we speak the Illuminati have called in their own favours in the White House, in Buckingham and Downing Street, and in other major capitals.”
“What does that even mean?” one voice asked, near breathless at the end of the table amidst the gasps that peppered the room.
He stood up, and loomed over the desk, his hands coming to rest lightly on the tabletop. “Look, this isn’t a surprise. We’re in a position to watch this all unfold, to bolster our defenses, prepare our people and then move in once everyone is weakened.”
Justin stepped away from the table, circling the perimeter to pause at the picture of his father. He looked up at the noble visage, the red flower seemed to glow near ominous in the lapel. A promise of blood, always at the heart. He turned to the room.
“We’ve allowed the world to underestimate Canada’s potential. And so we’ve been left behind. The robots have calculated us as being benign even, and the aliens don’t find our resources worthy of attention. We may get some push back from a few countries; Greenland, New Zealand, but they don’t have access to the resources that we do. Resources we’ll be able to claim as our own once that…” he turns to point at the television, showing a chaotic scene on the streets of New York City, cutting then to scenes in England, Russia, Germany.
“It is time the world knows the true meaning of the TRUE North, Strong, Free and Underestimated for too long!” He raised his hand up, fingers spreading in the air, representing the glorious maple leaf on their flag.
-30- | "Any news from Moscow?"
I sat up in my seat. For one hundred years it had commanded the hall of conference, this cavern of stone. It was rather comfortable. I somewhat wished, in that regard, that the world above me would become more like my chair.
"Sorry Sir"
Henry had been monitoring transmissions for the last twenty hours
"It's been all quiet on the eastern front since twenty three hundred hours GMT - Vladimir and the New Red Army have barricaded the Kremlin."
Zombies, I assumed.
"'All quiet on the eastern front' isn't a thing Henry. Also do the robots have the nukes?"
I asked again - having forgotten the answer from three hours ago.
"No Sir. A state of emergency was declared in every country on earth approximately twenty one hours ago. Protocol Four-Seven was initiated at five hundred hours GMT. To prevent enemy acquisition of atomic weaponry we shot all twelve thousand, one hundred and fourteen warheads at the city of Detroit."
Ah yes - they all told me that aliens were coming - "nuke the space lizards" they said - but I knew the real problem.
Fucking Detroit.
"The robots are proposing a truce"
Henry called from the doorway to the radio room after what was likely several hours.
"We just received an email from the YouTube algorithm. To summarize their proposition - The toaster men are having trouble killing some green bois and want the help of every remaining military force on earth or else they'll delete our channel."
Some time passed as I considered this information.
The last remaining satellite passed over our location - I requested to see the image of the United States - to see the condition of the earth around me. A faint line of green stretched towards our bunker. I had the image zoomed and enhanced - using technology which we had kept secret from all but a select group of Hollywood producers for years. This was no line - it was a rank of green figures who marched for miles across the country to our location. They were no lizard men or zombies. As they destroyed the blast door and marched in - I realized with horror, these men, still glowing a sickly colour, came from Detroit.
| 2017-12-28T17:11:19 | 2017-12-28T15:50:54 | 42 | 15 |
[WP] 3 weeks ago, the government issued a warning to stay inside for a week due to an “international threat”. You don’t own a house, and we’re forced to stay outside. It’s been 3 weeks. No one has come out yet. | It was a time ago that the TVs buzzed sounds of warning.
“Stay inside, the streets are ripe with evil,” the president warned.
Over and over the TVs blared this noise out of their sets. Day by day I have seen no threat. The people, too scared to face the truth, are hiding in their homes, likely starving as they learn what scarcity is first hand. I myself have made a paradise of this new governmental lie. Every store is abandoned. Free food; free entertainment. I’ve likely lost millions in the casino over this time if there was only someone to pay the debt to.
At one point, there were others. Homeless men and women like me. They moved on. They never grasped that this is all a joke. An “International Threat” set up by the government so they can do their what-nots and who-nows. Funny how easily these people, feeding off a system their whole lives, can be so easily deceived; never seeing past the hand that is giving them lies. Idiots. Not me though. I’m a realist. I know what they are trying to do and I’ll take full advantage of it. The week is almost up anyway.
It has been a few days since I heard the noises. At first they were whispers, barely audible in the wind. They were of one man, yet they played from every source of darkness in the city. In the night, I lie awake, motionless, hugging the light poles that give my source of light and life.
The lights didn’t come on tonight. The night was pitch dark, the whispers ever audible. I sat by the pole, begging it to give me its warmth. The whispers were growing louder now. What was once a soft nothing became incessant lies, none louder than the other, no words discernible from the crowd.
They grew louder.
The whispers became conversation. The conversation became yelling. Yelling grew into screams. My ears rang yet I could still hear. It was all meaningless. Screaming for screaming sake. The cacophony of loudness continued to escalate it’s volume while I hung, immobile, to the pole.
Then the noises stopped.
I heard a rustling in the distance. It came closer as it darted from darkness to darkness. I got up. The pole was safe no longer. I was about to start a sprint.
The light came on and I was on the ground. Like a deer caught in headlights, I was unable to move. I likely could, but somehow my body resisted any urge to survive. I looked above me, a halo forming around the head of my assailant.
Hollywood Superstar Shia LaBeouf.
He had a knife in his hand, ready to strike down at my surrendered body. Instincts kicked in. I threw myself towards him, grappling the knife out of his hand. It’s metal clanged against the ground. I have fought before. Vietnam had many surprises. Yet he was stronger than I. He threw me to the ground, a slight foam forming at his mouth. As I looked into his eyes, the whispers came back. They told me to concede, to allow myself to die. They could suck it. In a mixture of fear and fervor, I tossed LaBeouf across the light. As his left hand crested into the darkness it dispersed into nothing. I charged him, throwing all my weight into him. He flew into the darkness, the darkness taking him away as he fluttered into a breeze. LaBeouf was no more.
I fell asleep under the street light. The only sleep I’ve had in days. When I awoke I heard an almost forgotten noise. Cars blaring. I looked around people going about their days as if it was just another Wednesday morning. Breathing a sigh of relief, I went back to my cardboard box on the street, its darkness the only darkness that will ever comfort me.
I heard one last whisper.
“No one escapes Shia Labeouf.”
I drifted into the darkness. | I always thought this neighborhood was really nice. Nothin’ ever looked out of place. In fact, I’m surprised they never kicked me off my bench. In most places I’ve been, I have gotten kicked out pretty fast, and nobody even used the bus at those places. Here though, a good portion did, but nobody really paid ANY attention to me. I usually get some stares, but NOTHIN’. It’s all so... strange.
And then the mailman comes in. He starts deliverin’ the mail, goin’ around. The people on their porches reading the mail look very worried, and get up and go inside almost in sync. then the spiffy lookin’ mailman gets closer to my bench. “Um, sir? I have an important notice that is supposed to be issued to everybody, so, please take this.” I look up at him, and say, “ finally someone who notices me in this town. What’s this letter all ‘bout?” He looks nervous. “W-what?? How are you-ZWHARdisadt- he falls onto the concrete and his body sounds as if it were made of metal. I back away, as he tumbled on the ground, his voice spewing random letters. I got to the nearest house to try to get help. I knock on the door hard. I open the door, and look inside only to find the family standing there. Lifeless. There eyes are filled with black. There shiny smile making a glare. I check the next house, and it’s the same thing.
All of them are the same thing. Just like they usually are.
So I do the thing any reasonable hobo would do; I steal everything and get out of dodge.
| 2018-06-29T05:32:59 | 2018-06-29T04:22:58 | 63 | 14 |
[WP] Two immortals, one who accepted it as a blessing and the other one as a curse, are having a conversation.
Edit : Wow, never thought it'll get this much karma. Thank you everyone for the writings. It's always interesting to see the two sides of the same coins, and none of your story is dissapointing in the very least. | The ancient prison stood tall as the being of the Light walked the well worn paths through muscle memory alone, as her thoughts wandered. She bade her two guards to halt as she came to the Door at last. They would stay outside with strict orders never to enter. This place was not for mortals to tread.
The Door creaked open, magic of old still responding to her touch. Many things crossed her mind as she continued down the hall, memories both good and bad, as she prepared her arguments to convince the one imprisoned here. She opened the last door.
"Leave!" The being of Darkness hissed from her cage. The pure *hate* in her voice caused the Light to flinch, but she remained calm. She always did. "You know it won't be that easy." She replied. Darkness snarled, but nothing else. She did indeed know. It was never that easy.
"They did not deserve what you did." Light began. "Despite their fleeting lives, they still have the same ability to think and feel as we do, perhaps even more so *because* their lives are so short. That alone gives them meaning."
"Their lives hold no meaning!" Shadow retorted. "No matter their deeds, good or evil, great or small, they will all be forgotten. All they do is cause misery in their time here, to both immortal and mortal alike."
"Do not act as though we Ageless are without blame." Light responded. "Surely you remember the time when we cast out our our arrogant peers together for ruling with an iron fist."
"And what of the mortals who do the same?" Darkness shot back. "You respect their sovereignty despite them committing more horrid acts than any Ageless in history! You've grown soft and weak."
"They are capable of great good as well!" Light shot back. "We never would have won the Great War without their help. One in particular comes to mind..."
"Don't you *DARE* speak his name!" Darkness shouted. The walls shuddered with her impotent wrath, her chains of magic strained, as Light fell silent.
A long silence passed, before Light spoke softly. "That is what this is about, isn't it? He is what caused your Fall."
"Be silent!"
"You couldn't stand the grief." Light continued. "Watching him as he faded, while you stayed the same. Then he faded from history as well, and you wanted to punish those who forgot."
"You know nothing!"
"Do you think I have never cared for a mortal? Their lives come and go, but our memories remain. I do not see why you would betray me over-"
"*YOU BETRAYED ME!*" Darkness screamed. "Of all the people in all the world, I thought YOU would understand! I loved him more than life itself! If there had been a way, I would have given my very cursed immortality up to die alongside him!"
"You are blinded by your emotions! There would have been another to love in time." Light paced up and down. "Our immortality should not be given up so lightly."
"Weren't you the one extolling their virtues a few minutes ago?" Darkness snorted. "Hypocrite. This just shows, plain as the Day you bring, that you will never understand."
"I had hoped to convince you, but it seems we have run out of time." Light turned her back on the Shadow, a tear falling for the bond they had once shared.
"Until tomorrow night, Sister." | "How are you?"
"I'm fine. You?"
"Oh I'm fine as well."
"Heh. You never knew how to continue a conversation"
"I have plenty of time to practice my speech craft."
"But not now?"
"But not now."
"Say, what have you been doing with this opportunity?"
"Plenty. I work odd jobs here and there. Plenty of time to go overseas."
"Hmph. Wasteful."
"Is it because I'm not like you?"
"It's not-"
"The great businessman.. from the bottom to the top."
"You know what I mean-"
"The man who worked from nothing to everything."
"It's not about m-"
"The man who worked for decades to reach the top."
"Shut it. Shut your mouth!"
"The man who have everything he needs but nothing he wants"
"And you're the man who have nothing he needs."
"But look who's happier?"
"Definitely not the hitch hiker"
"You call this a gift?"
"The chance to be on the top of the world forever? Yes."
"The chance to slave for society for all eternity."
"And you call this a curse?"
"That's why I'm making sure this curse isn't doing its job to make me miserable."
"You're sick."
"You're delusional."
"I'm done talking to you."
"I as well. Brother." | 2017-07-20T03:07:08 | 2017-07-20T02:54:59 | 114 | 15 |
[WP] Aliens are afraid to invade Earth. Not because of humans but because our solar system is a nest for 8 Guardians/Leviathans. | The Outer One, the Scout, awoke from a deep Slumber, as he felt a tremendous wave of neutrinos passing through him in the wrong direction. Awakening his senses, he rumbled in amusement at the pinpricks of light produced by the foreign flora. Stretching his space, he prepared to deal with the threat to their Chosen.
>____________________________________________________
Pirate King Ixl'Thub
Dreadnought Glorious Destruction
Upon arriving in this system, it didn't seem to be anything special, except for the Class 12 Bio-world, ripe for genetic harvest. The crew was excited at the profits we could make, the only other Class-12 Bio had been the source of the ubiquitous Serenity, a combat drug that the natives produced naturally, that settled your nerves without dulling your reflexes or thought.
"Alright boys, let's get this started. Remember, we can't kill too much of the native life, anything could be valuable. Anybody who manages to extinct a species will have their nerve clusters hanging from my perch."
That said, I engaged the sublight systems, bringing us on a course to behind their moon. Shortly after we began crossing through their outer debris field though, something strange happened.
"Captain! one of the planetoids has changed course, with no apparent cause, what do we do?"
Thinking furiously to myself, I racked my memory for what this could be, before I remembered a legend from the Forerunners, of a system guarded by colossal titans beyond anything they ever knew. Vibrating myself, I shook off the superstition.
"It's probably just an aftereffect of our warp drive, even though the gravitic singularities were supposed to have been fixed hundreds of years ago. What else could it be?"
The sensor officer nodded uncertainly, and said "Yes captain. We need to take evasive maneuvers immediately, impact in 2 minutes."
Looking around the room at all of my officers staring at me, I roared, "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, YOU HEARD HER!"
As everyone jumped into action, I slid across the deck to peer at the sensor suite. Everything seemed to be going fine, until right before our ship was at the closest approach to the planetoid. Space itself was rended and torn apart, then mended instantly into a shape that transferred all of the planetoids momentum into coming straight at us, and as it approached, I could see long tendrils of... something, wrapping around my ship!
Realizing we were all dead, and the stories were true, I activated my neural link, feeling my nerves and flesh begin to burn. The information flooded into me, as I attempted to activate the comms relay one last time. As the neural link completed, I knew with dread certainty that no communications could escape the tendrils. With the last of my willpower, and my body beginning to fall apart, I gave the order for self destruct. The ship immediately powered down, and my officers turned to look at me with uncertainty. Seeing me falling to pieces, literally, the smarter of them realized what was happening and began rushing away to the escape pods, quickly followed by their less than intelligent fellows.
I turned my gaze back to the sensors, and realized we were now close enough to make out much more detail.
The entire surface of the planetoid was made of crashed and broken ships.
>____________________________________________________
Headline
The New York Times
#Pluto changes course drastically, followed by huge impact! New planet in the kuiper belt discovered? | The Protoss since long discovered the fabled homeworld of the fragile Terrans, their ships daring to explore the edge of Protoss space only to be captured, and destroyed, with no evidence remaining, a single observer was sent through the cosmos, eventually discovering a planet that once bristled with life, only to be blackened with pollution and man made chemical waste. But there was something else as well lurking in the darkness of the galaxy, hidden along the outskirts, the Zerg Swarm, not a full brood, but at least 8 Leviathans, just observing the planet as they were. The Protoss debated sending a strike team to glass the entire planet, preventing its infestation, but the current battle in the Koprulu galaxy was heating up. The Executor Tassadar just glassed Char Sara, preventing a fledgling Terran Colony from adding to the biomass of the swarm, and there fleet would be needed there. As the Conclave sat in silence, a level of ignorance was held down on the small blue marble. Ignore it, the swarm sits in silence, as the humans who dwell there, they are no real threat, and as long as one does not instigate, they wont ever be. Sadly years later, the surviving conclave discovered how wrong they were. | 2018-02-05T15:37:30 | 2018-02-05T14:02:35 | 193 | 21 |
[WP] We forget our dreams for a reason: in the near future, memory enhancement therapies allow everyone to fully recall every dream they've ever had. Across the entire human race, disturbing patterns and implications emerge that were previously hidden by the unappreciated bliss of forgetfulness. | I shouldn't be having this meeting. It's 4:30 in the morning, I'm still in my pajamas for christ's sake. I knew this was going to be part of the job when I applied, but that doesn't mean I have to *enjoy* it. One of my aids, Evan, hands me a mug of coffee.
"Good morning sir" He says."The Director of the NSA has been waiting for you in your office for 20 minutes now"
"Good." I say. "I'm glad I'm not the only one up at this god forsaken hour"
I calmly walk into my office and have a seat behind my desk. I relax in my chair and take a drink from my mug. "So. Director Alexander, to what do I owe this *very urgent* meeting?"
The Director places a manilla folder on my desk, It's got our office seal and has "The Nightmare Anomaly" Printed on it.
He begins "Nine months ago a 7 year old in Portland, Maine had a nightmare. He told his parents that a monster was trying to get him-"
I interrupt him "Thanks for waking me up at 4am to tell me that last year a kid had a bad dream, I really appreciate that."
"Sir, please let me finish. 4 Days after that he disappeared. No sign of forced entry, no sign of struggle, even the clothes he wore to bed were found under his sheets. It's like he simply....vanished. Local law enforcement turned up nothing. His Father looked at his missing son's R.E.M. unit from the nightmare in question and found this"
He places a picture from the folder on my desk, It looks like any other nightmare creature: Piercing red eyes, leathery wings, a mouth full of razor teeth drooling a thick red ichor, tentacles with talons on the end. Nightmare creatures look unsettling and this was no different, but for some vague reason I can't quite decipher looking at this thing sends chills down my back.
The Director continues "He posts it to a few internet message boards asking if anyone else had seen this in their dreams, maybe, hoping there'd be another child who'd seen it and maybe that would lead him to finding his lost son. One of our staffers saw it and ran it against R.E.M.'s cloud database. He found 1,564 hits in the last 2 years. Every person that dreamed of this thing went missing. No one was found. I woke you up because-"
"Because you want me to make this a top priority. Got it. Whatever is going on here, we'll get to the bottom of it. In the morning. I'm going back to bed."
As I get up, the Director of the NSA grabs my arm and stops me. "Mr. President, it is imperative that you do not go back to sleep. Since we discovered the correlation between the creature and the disappearances we've been running a live scan of everything that's uploaded to R.E.M.'s cloud and at 2:15 this morning, we got a hit. You dreamt of it." | It was last Thursday- No, FRIDAY that I was with Sarah Lee. The memory of her gasping for air bounced around the walls of my mind. The sound of gurgling- her head being submerged under water. The gasping- my hands around her shoulders, pushing her down. The splashing- her struggles to break free from me.
I'm not quite sure *why* I drowned Miss Lee last Friday in the bathtub. I'm not even sure how I got into her house in the first place. I just remember it being... hot. My head felt warm. I was upset. She was the reason why.
I didn't need to worry about the body. My subconscious would take care of that. Although I realize this was just a dream, it haunts me. Why would I do something so terrible... over a muffin? I know that it was the last one but... over *food*? How terrible of a person am I that THIS is what I dream about in my most private moments? It's almost unbearable. | 2016-09-30T09:00:58 | 2016-09-30T07:18:43 | 42 | 10 |
[WP] The hero defeated the dragon sorceress, rescued the princess, and saved the kingdom. Instead of ascending to the throne, he decided to introduce democracy and give power to the people...who then promptly elected the dragon sorceress. | In the old system, it was hard for the common man to have a say in anything. As a child I had seen too often the common folk's cries for relief or fair representation often go ignored at best. If you wanted to gain recognition as a commoner, to have your words mean something, you had to have done something those of higher stature could not afford to ignore. Usually, this resulted in you being seen as an obstacle by the nobles, those who believe themselves superior by pedigree alone. The only times they would ever lend ear to common plight was when it started to bite into their own isolated lives. They cared not for cries of famine until the meals they had were in reduced portions. They cared not for disease until the taxmen could not deliver unto them their scheduled tribute. The villagers, craftsmen, even some of the more virtuous nobles had grown tired of that system. A change was desperately needed; even as a child I understood this.
I was a commoner, my words often ignored by those in power. There was little I could do, save for bold action. I needed an opportunity, one that could make my name worth remembering. It came in the form of the dragon sorceress. Truly a powerful being, one with enough power and motivation to cause the kingdom grief. Her forces would press into the realm, driving back the soldiers who answered to the clink of noble coin. Even my home fell under occupation of her forces. The war that had sparked had given me the opportunity to claim glory, as a conscript in the army.
I was not given much in the way of equipment, only in cast off weaponry that the main force had no use of. I cared not, whatever my hands could grasp would serve as a weapon enough. Survival was hard, but I needed more than that. I needed success, and success is what I carved out for myself. In my first battle, I would fight the sorceress's forces until one of us were forced to run. I made sure that there could be no mistaking who I was on the battlefield, often battling until my weapon broke and I was forced to pick up a discarded one. I had no training, only sheer desperation, brute force, and a large amount of luck. In the end, my poor quality weapon was replaced with one of the enemies more refined blades. It was that of their commander.
I still stood out in the rest of my battles, though in different ways. My initial success had provoked some nobles into sending me into more dangerous skirmishes in retaliation for stealing their glory. I would survive. Over time, my fighting style changed into something more practical, based on my experiences with the enemy. I grew more calm, my skill was becoming a source of inspiration for my fellow conscripts. I was starting to be called the kingdom's "hero."
Of course, one man can only do so much. Eventually the dragon sorceress herself came to attack. She was carving a path straight to the capitol. As the "hero," I was sent to intercept.
"You are just like me," she said to me.
"How so?" I said back.
"You're tired of the old way of things. Turn back now and I will not chase."
"Can't do that I am afraid."
Those were the only things we said to each other during the war, just before we fought. It was a stalemate, for all of her magic I had skill. For all of her power I had tenacity. In the end, both of us had to retreat. I would be lauded as the "hero" once again. With her weakened, the army could advance and reclaim territory.
I was not aware of how she treated those she occupied, but the lands we reclaimed in the name of the old system were different. Roads were made, irrigation and agriculture was advanced. There seemed to have been an element of stability. I could not help but feel conflicted over this. Though I had heard her speak, I had not believed her until now. The villages seemed to be better, or they did until the army was forced to tear down her "evil structures." You'd think it odd, that such wonderful developments could be learned from instead razed. I had always considered this war a means to an end to change the system, even now I did. Despite my goals, my ambitions, the villagers I once would call men like me looked at me as though I were a monster. I suppose I could be considered one, I led the charge in reclamation. It gave me a lot to think about.
The war ended when the dragon sorceress snuck into the castle, killing much of the royal family. With luck the princess had escaped with the assistance of her guards and was forced to hide somewhere secret within the castle. I was sent in to recue. I defeated the sorceress's forces, finding and allowing the princess to escape, then was met with another clash with the sorceress herself. Our battle went much like our first one initially, yet I managed to emerge victorious. Magic requires concentration to maintain or use, concentration that she had to spend to fight whilst I could focus entirely on her. I knew more about how she fought than she did about me.
In exchange for my service, I was ascended into nobility and allowed one request. This request could be anything I so wished, the request itself was something I so wished. I could marry the princess and become the next king, a temptation that nearly made me ask for it. Yet I saw the sorceress and remembered her words "You're tired of the old way of things." I made my request, changing the kingdom into a democracy, and required commoner and noble votes to be equally counted. The next month was chaos.
Most nobles saw an opportunity to have the throne without marriage, and started to try and appeal to their denizens. The princess herself tried to campaign to maintain royal superiority. I chose not to run. I instead watched the dragon sorceress and what she did. She went to the villages and cities and helped rebuild what was destroyed. She went and healed the sick and poor. She rebuilt destroyed infrastructure, allowing easier trade once more Through all this, I acted as her "chaperone," though in secret I behaved closer to a bodyguard. When it came time to vote, it was clear who had earned commoner support.
The dragon sorceress was elected legally and fairly. She asked me to still "chaperone" her in the days afterwards, in fear of assassination attempts; I made no protest. I would protect her from threats while she worked to govern, and our relationship became more than professional. Her term lasted for nearly a decade, repairing and restructuring much of the former kingdom. When she left her office, she asked me what I thought of her. I think we all know how that went.
\-Lucian Firescale, husband of First Consul Ignella Firescale the Dragon Sorceress.
​
EDIT: Typos, probably don't even find all of them. Also holy crap this is the first time I have ever received gold on reddit. Thank you kind stranger. | „The god forsaken fools“stammered the hero as he put his undies in a bag.
“Whatever shall we do?” asked the princess standing next to the royal family who had stormed his humble home for protection.
“They are coming for us” screamed her father, the King. He pointed his finger at the hero. “This is all your fault” he screamed.
The hero knew it was time to flee. Normally, he would gladly go up against the dragon sorceress. He had no problems killing her baby dragons and the henchmen who rode them into battle but this was different. First off, her henchmen were now the city guard consisting of people he knew as well as normal a mob of people who voted for her. People he swore to protect.
But far more important than that. He had no right to fight her. She won fair and square. The hero chuckled as he remembered her voting slogan “Who better to protect you from monsters than a monster?”
He grabbed his bag and made his way toward the front door. “Whoever wants to travel as far away as we can with me, is welcomed. Other than that, I cannot help you”. The members of the royal family wanted to protest but the hero had his mind made up. He opened the door and a bolt from a crossbow flew right by his head, cutting his ear. Out of reflex, he slammed the door as about a dozen more bolts hit the door, their heads piercing through it.
He fell backward and was stunned for a moment. He saw the man who shot the bolt. It was his best friend and leader of the Towns guard. A shrill laugh appeared. The hero panicked, got up, locked the door and slammed a piece of furniture behind it.
“Ow hero ow hero, Come out before my dragons burn your house down and bring the royal traitors with you.” The sorceress yelled.
He looked at the family. The princess did not understand and insisted, they were not traitors. The Former King screamed at the hero. “You must step outside, kill her and give power back to me. It’s our only way!”
A laugh overcame the hero. “You were a brutal dictator. You used to skin people alive who spoke against you.” Members of the royal family drew their daggers. All seven of them except for the princess. The hero drew his sword. A mighty dragon slaying weapon earned through fire and blood. The members of the family appeared to lose their fighting spirit. “Can we negotiate with her?” asked an uncle. The hero looked at him. The man was a rapist who lived decades evading punishment.
“You can try” responded the hero. He made his way past the royal member and went to his living room. He pulled away the rug that tied the room together to expose an entrance into the sewer canal. As he opened their escape way, he heard the queen yell “FIRE” followed by roars of dragons and oddly enough, cheers by the crowd. Fire engulfed the second floor of his house and the temperature rose quickly.
The hero jumped into sewer below him. For a moment he pondered if he should close the door behind him. But not all members of the royal family were monsters. The princess for example as well as her cousin who was pregnant. So he waited for all the family to jump down. He closed the entrance to the sewer just before the house collapsed. Again they all heard roaring applause. The hero understood that no one would be said at the loss of the royal family, but this was his house. He had protected them.
The hero pointed his sword down the canal they now stood in.
“You go down this way, I take the opposite. Your way will lead to the north exit of the town near the bay, Use your jewels to buy passage on a ship” he told them.
“Where will you go?” asked the princess. Before the hero could respond, her father said
“He goes back of course, to kill the Sorceress. Hopefully we will be back in power by new moon.”
The Hero laughed again. “I got family next town over, im gonna go there and have some of my cousins pie”
The royal family couldn’t believe it. The princess started to cry “Why are you not helping us?” she asked the hero.
“Because you are monsters” the hero replied. “The town finally got freed from you.” He turned around and started walking away
“Who better to protect you from monsters than a monster?” he said remembering the sorceress slogan. “It’s not a bad slogan but what the people didn’t realize, if you vote for a monster, you will have to live under it.” He glances back at the royal family still standing under his entrance to the sewer.
“But what else is new?” asked the hero as he turned the corner.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Cheers all | 2021-02-08T18:59:37 | 2021-02-08T14:33:54 | 994 | 603 |
[WP] Humans finally reach the stars and realize that... We've seen all of this before! Galactic Council? Check. Proud warrior race? Check. Hive mind insects? Check. Frightening space boogeymen? Check. Ancient hyper-advanced Race? Check. And so Humanity ventured forth, knowing exactly what to do. | They showed up 4 years ago. That was all it took for them to cause a cataclysmic shit show unlike anything we have ever seen. They called themselves "humans"
A seemingly unremarkable species, at first. Compared to the zombie ships, wandering plant dragons, multiple hive minds like myself, and hundreds of other species ranging from sentient angry slugs to the borderline pacifistic galactic council, these hairless bipedal warm-blooded mammals looked like another unremarkable species in the vast expanse.
That is, until just under 10 of them took residence and immediately dominated the economical landscape. Another completely separate force heard the word "zombie ships" and in less than 6 months brought almost 90% of all known forms into extinction like an army of rabid Menglethogs.
Many forces that dominated the void we call home for literal centuries toppled like a stack of rocks getting kicked by a shoe. We are one of the few hive minds that remain, for the sole reason that we declared loyalty to the Galactic council, which is now ruled almost 50% by humans.
Curious, we studied the humans to see what it was that made them so scary, and the response was... Horrifying at best.
Every single interaction that have ever made, to us, feels like they already knew what we were going to say, think, and do so far in advance it's like they were born knowing what to do. The Txotan, normally considered the most stubborn species, hell-bent on a war path, was brought to nothing more than a few broken fleets by two outdated human cruisers and a reprogrammed AI. They nowadays almost never attack ships anymore. Miegroths, the space plant dragons, learned very quickly to check ships for even a vaguely human smell before even daring to approach, as humans had a tendency to horrendously burn them alive if they so much as bared their teeth. These humans knew almost every trick everyone had. And when questioned, they shrugged and said they saw it in a "book" or "movie".
They never shared this knowledge. In fact, when the humans first left their first planet, they made a race-wide rule, that so far has never been broken. "Do not show them our methods. No books, no stories, no movies, not even a meme. For any reason, ever."
The only time we have ever seen humans be defeated, by a force of equal size, was when humans fought each other. It's like watching demigods try to stab each other.
We really hope these creatures spill their secrets soon... Because we don't know how long the council will see us as allies. It's like these humans see hiveminds as their natural enemy. What the hell taught them this and why?
Recorded log 55, from hivemind "Biobond" while studying Capital Ship 511, S.S.S. Forward Unto Dawn of the UNSC | "They used this opportunity to once again launch big-budget remakes of age old blockbuster movies. Studios made incredible amounts of profit while igniting controversy amongst cult fanatics and common, casual cultural consumers. As ever before these conflicts ripped the fabric of human society asunder leaving few bodies and minds intact.
While debating the new galactic geopolitics basic fact and canon could not be established. Quick verbal spats soon became physical between the planet's most accomplished diplomats. Left with no common ground or recourse nuclear warheads soon ripped the earth of any life or history it once knew.
The greater galaxy observed this pathetic and primitive conflict with great amusement and curiosity. They watched humanity turn to cinders for the simple act of recreating a previous piece of popular entertainment. They called this saga: The Cultural Clone Wars." | 2021-05-12T13:17:09 | 2021-05-12T12:35:15 | 115 | 11 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | My grandmother still worships the old gods. I dont know how she can keep track of all of them. There seems to be a god for every problem. I probably should have played more attention in history when we went over all this stuff. She always said I was a favorite of Aphrodite. She warned me that living with the favor of a God/Goddess would be difficult. I should have listened.
Meeting girls has always been easy for me. People said I was just charming. I know better now. I met Sita when I was 15. There was something about her that just ignited a fire in me. As always I was able to catch her attention with just a short conversation. It wasn't long before the whole school knew we were dating. She was so beautiful. Long raven hair, bright green eyes that actually sparkled when she was happy. A smile that could brighten a room instantly and she always smelled so good. I knew from the moment we spoke that I was in love. Thinking back on it now, what did I know of love? I was a kid. A dumb idealistic brat in love with the Idea, of being in love.
I remember that day after the homecoming dance. We were walking hand in hand. We stopped under the bleachers by the football field. She kissed me and I told her I loved her. She said she loved me too. I told her, "No matter what, I'll always be there for you. I swear on our love"
She broke up with me 3 weeks later. No explanation, no apology. Just, "this isn't working. Find someone else"
I was as heartbroken as a kid could be. After a while I swore I'd never say those words to a girlfriend again unless I was sure she loved me too. I got rid of all her pictures and little gifts. I never wanted to see her again, but the God's take oaths seriously.
I saw her again, for the first time 2 years later. I was driving home in the muscle car my parents got me for my birthday. It needed a lot of work but I was excited to have wheels. I saw her hunched over in the rain and cold by the bus stop. She had a large bag next to her. Too big to be for school. I pulled over. I got out and sat next to her, she barely looked up at me. "Hey" was all she said.
"Hey" I replied. "Need a ride?" I asked.
"That yours?" She asked. "Yeah, birthday gift" I responded.
She nodded. "You have awesome parents." She whispered. She looked up at me. "Im leaving town. I have an aunt that lives 3 hours away. If your serious about the ride, will you take me?" She asked.
I thought about it for a moment. I'd just gotten the car and had never been out of town on my own before. Still the way she looked at me, her eyes pleading and full of sorrow. I couldn't say no. "Sure, hop in. Ill get your bag."
It didnt occur to me to ask why she was leaving or where her parents were. It just felt right to help. I got home at 4am. I was grounded for 2 months and my car was taken from me. She had smiled that beautiful smile when in had dropped her off. It was worth it.
I met her again when I was a junior in college. I was invited to a frat party for the first time ever and almost didnt go. I felt I would miss out if I didnt though. College is about the experiences, so im told. At first I wasnt sure it was her, it had been so long, but when she smiled I knew. I wanted to talk to her and for a moment our eyes met. She was swooped up by a good looking guy in a football jersey before I could reach her. I spent the rest of the party bored. It was when I went searching for a bathroom that I found her again. I was told the bathroom was down the hall but I kept getting turned around. She came rushing out of a room I had passed twice. Her clothes were a mess and her lip was bleeding. She saw me and grabbed my arm. The guy I had seen her with came out of the room a few moments later. He stopped when he saw me.
"Hey" she said. "I havent seen you in forever, walk me to my car?" She asked.
I stood there glaring at the guy in the jersey. "Sure, no problem" I finally reply. She didnt let go of me until we reached her car. Once again I earned a smile as she drove away. I walked back to my dorm thinking that one day, that smile would be the death of me.
So on it went, I loved and lost and loved again. I would love my life and years would pass before seeing her again. Each moment we met was when she needed me most. Sometimes it was for small things, like a ride, other times it was more serious. I was there for her, just like I swore I would be. I stopped being surprised after a while. I lived my life with the assurance that I would see her again and earn another smile. I became successful in my career, had everything I'd ever wanted and more. Still, I would go out into the world each day, looking for her face amongst the crowd. Waiting for the moment when she would need me again.
Now that final moment has arrived. That moment I knew would come. When that smile would be the death of me.
This story, is for you Sita. So you would understand why I did what I did. You see, I met your husband. He's a good man. I realize now why I hadn't seen you in so long, after meeting him. He showed me pictures of you and your kids. They're as beautiful as their mother. All with that same gorgeous smile. Dont worry, I didn't tell him I knew you. He came to ask me for something. Something apparently only I can give.
My cancer is inoperable. I have been given only weeks to live. Caught it too late they said. The doctor told me because of my condition and my rare blood type, I would be doing the hospital and several people in it, a great service and sacrifice, if I would donate my organs. I hadn't made my decision until today. When your husband showed me your picture, I knew. This is the last time I can be there for you. What I give to you hasn't been mine for a long time. Its been yours ever since I swore that oath, so many years ago. I give you my heart, to care for and keep safe.
My oath is kept, I have no regrets. Who am I to question the Gods? | A young man stands in front of a crowded board room his presentation is impeccable. He's worked his way up from intern to junior exec, and it's taken years of late nights to get him to this point. His smart blue suit only slightly lighter than the others in the room, his tie a perfect accent piece to his pocket square which sets off his wire frame glasses. The young man continues his well rehearsed diatribe, "You'll see in the graph here that..." A cloud of smoke envelopes him and then dissipates leaving the rest of the attendees in awe.
Across the country on a small studio lot just outside of Los Angeles a woman sits on a curb eating a sandwich when smoke begins to materialize, the young man appears before her eyes in a brilliant shimmer of folded space which looks as if someone smeared the background.
"Oh *you're* here." The young woman remarks.
He turns around investigating his new surroundings before looking down at the girl, "Jesus Christ Keri, what the hell do you want?"
"Well I didn't want *you* ." She answers before discarding the food on the ground.
"Uh, yeah Keri, that's how this works. Remember? In perhaps the most regretful phrase I've ever uttered in my life, I pledged to always be there for you. Then a skank in pink heart print dress appeared and said 'So it shall be, always.' So now when you want me, and only me I fucking appear wherever you are. I was only fifteen how the hell is that binding?!?"
The woman shrugged and said, "Well as long as you're here, the studio says they'll give me a line if I show my breasts in the movie. Should I do it?"
"Yes, of course you should," The young man replied. As soon as Keri's back was turned he began to give her the finger with both hands.
"You really think I should? Don't you think that could hurt my career? I want to be thought of as a serious actress..." She turned around suddenly to see both of his middle fingers outstretched in an aggressive, and angry way. "Brad... god damn it, I'm serious."
"I don't give a flying red headed fuck what you do, the perpetually pink bitch made it so I have to be here, she didn't make me feel the need to be helpful. Your tits have been all over the internet for years. Remember when we broke up and you got on Girls Gone Wild? Yeah so there isn't a pervy old man in America who hasn't spanked it to your underage, and until verrrry recently undersized chest; by the way tell your doctor I love his work, and leave me the fuck alone!"
She smiled at him, "You're jealous, I'm here shooting a film with the guy who played on Renegade and you're stuck in your little cubicle back home. Why can't you just be happy for me you piece of shit?"
"I was in the middle of a meeting that would have made me a partner. I have a girl I'm crazy about, and she puts up with this popping back and forth thing for god knows why, and I'm jealous?"
The two screaming at each other drew the ire of the director who then stormed over to the pair, "Who are you?" He demanded.
Brad sighed and said, "I'm Brad her ex boyfriend."
The director threw out his hands with his palms raised, "Do you work here?"
"No."
He turned his attention to the young woman, "And you, who the hell are you?"
"um... I'm Keri. I play Sorority slasher victim 2."
"Not anymore, you're fired. Steven, get me casting, I need another big breasted bimbo to show her tits in this piece of shit. Let's go, we're moving on."
Keri stood there her mouth agape, then she turned to look at Brad who's lips had begun to curl upwards at the corners, "You... this is all your fault. Fix it, fix it now."
Brad broke out into a bright white smile as karma finally caught up with Keri. He did his best to snap his lips closed but the joy was just so overwhelming he broke into a slight laugh as he said, "Why? Remember I don't have to help, I just have to be there for you."
"Well how are you going to like it if I suddenly need a towel boy at 2:AM your time for the foreseeable future after I swipe right on every guy in LA? Fix this now."
Brad visibly gulped and said, "Excuse me Mr. Director..." | 2017-03-22T19:03:01 | 2017-03-22T15:05:15 | 53 | 19 |
[WP] Two men sit at the bar sneaking glances at your table. When the waitress brings you and your date drinks she places a napkin in front of you with "RUN" scrawled on it. | "That dress is very becoming on you. Of course, if I... well, you've probably heard that one a thousand times before."
Dmitry's full lips curved upwards in a smile that wasn't quite a leer. I could feel the blush creep up my cheeks and looked down at my hands, partly out of embarrassment and partly to hide my answering smile. I didn't want to give him him the wrong idea. Not this early in the evening, anyway. Still, I reached across the table to give him a playful swat on the arm.
"You're awful," I informed him, finally revealing my own grin.
The beer he had got for me was bringing on a nice, warm glow, which was odd because I'm not usually such a cheap date. My room mate had even talked me out of my usual pregame shot, so I was glad that the butterflies had settled down so quickly.
To his credit, I hadn't caught him sneaking a look down the front of my dress yet. When he spoke to me, he held my eyes with an intensity I hadn't seen outside of movies. The pale blue of his eyes contrasting with his stark black hair was so striking, I couldn't tear myself away from looking at him, either. God, he was gorgeous.
"Sorry, sorry," he laughed, "I mean no offense. Since I moved to this country, my new friends have given me much advice on talking to women. I suspect a lot of it is very bad." And his accent, from somewhere in eastern Europe, with that curious tendency to sometimes pronounce his 'v' with a lot of 'w' in it. I realized I was biting my lip and breathing a little hard.
Behind Dmitry, at the bar, one of the men glanced at our table again, then fidgeted in his seat, as if he needed to head to the men's room but was determined to first finish his drink. His companion raised a hand to summon the lady tending the bar and muttered his order.
"Trust your instincts," I told him.
"I'll be more wary from now on. Tell me, Katherine-"
"Katie is fine," I interrupted and immediately gave myself a mental kick. He looked surprised, and the way he said my full name made me feel... well, I didn't want to look to closely at that feeling right now.
"I'm sorry, I-"
"No, it's alright, I'm just used to everyone calling me Katie."
"If you say so, Katie."
"You know what, Katherine sounds better from you." I forced myself to smile, both to let him know I was sincere and to hide how flustered I felt.
"Katherine," he said, and his perfect smile was back, and the butterflies were back, and, oh, God, I've had just one beer, how am I this sloppy?
Mercifully, the bar tender arrived with my salad and a fresh drink for each of us. Must have been short of wait staff, tonight. I took a bite so I wouldn't have to say anything and dig myself any deeper, then washed it down with a long gulp from my... was this water?
You know that feeling you get when you step off a merry-go-round? You've gotten so used to spinning with the ride that, when you step back onto the firm ground, it suddenly feels like the world is spinning, even though you know it's just in your head. I suddenly got that feeling. I looked up at Dmitry and noticed things that hadn't really registered before. How pale he was. The way he didn't blink often enough. How white and sharp his teeth were, especially those two in particular.
As I moved to set the glass down, I saw what had been written on the napkin. One word, underlined, all caps: 'RUN.' Dmitry didn't miss how hastily I put down my drink. One elegant eyebrow lifted in inquiry.
"Nothing."
"Is something the matter?"
"No. It's fine. I'm fine. What do you do for work," I tried to deflect.
"I'm currently-"
The two men at the bar suddenly turned and lunged for Dmitry. The way they moved implied they had done this sort of thing before, but the way my date reacted made them look like slow, stumbling amateurs.
Dmitry turned and casually slapped the younger man aside. I heard bones crack and he flew as if a car had struck him to land in a crumpled heap beside the bar. The older man, grey bearded and holding a sharpened length of wood, was seized by the throat and lifted into the air. He tried to choke out some words in a language I didn't know.
Dmitry responded in the same tongue, his tone curiously devoid of any feeling. His hand holding the old mans arm, the one carrying the stake, squeezed once and the bones snapped. The stake fell to the floor and I could see tears standing in the old man's eyes as he fought for breath.
I threw my drink at Dmitry.
Wherever the water touched him, a blue-white fire erupted, spreading quickly over his head and shoulders. He shrieked in mingled surprise and fear and, at that moment, the bartender appeared from the kitchen, leveled a crossbow, and expertly sent a bolt into Dmitry's throat, abruptly ending his howls.
I dived for the stake, turning to see my date cringing away, hands pawing ineffectually at the length of wood in his neck. His face was a seared ruin, the flames only now beginning to abate. The younger man struggled to his feet beside me, holding forth a crucifix that seemed to hold all of Dmitry's attention.
"STAKE HIM," shouted the bar lady, scrambling to reload her weapon.
I moved on shaky feet, my heels lost somewhere in the excitement. Dmitry looked at me with the eyes of an animal, a predator, who has seen his prey suddenly turn on him. A look of mingled fear and hatred. I picked up the hefty salt mill from the table.
It was surprisingly hard to pound the stake into his chest.
When the vampire had turned to ash, I finally thought to call for an ambulance, but the trio of vampire hunters assured me they had made their own arrangements. I turned to the bar lady.
"Can I get a real drink, now?" | As soon I read the note, I feel a shiver run down my spine, and I know immediately that she's right. I need to get out of there. I kick the bar stool from underneath myself and I turn towards the door as fast as I can, but as soon as I do, I feel my joints lock up and I hit the floor hard face-down. I hear the conversations in the bar go from so-loud-you-can-hardly-hear-the-person-next-to-you to hushed whispers, and I hear footsteps come up behind me. Someone yanks my hair and turns me over.
"It's not him."
"What do you mean it's not him?"
"Does this look like our guy?"
"Fuck. We have to get out of here."
They step over me and run out of the bar. As my joints start to become more mobile, I help myself back up and I ask the bartender for a glass of water. I return to my table and begin to reevaluate the situation. I sit and think for what seems like forever, but my phone tells me its only been about an hour. I look around for the waitress, and she's nowhere to be found. I go up to the bartender and him to grab my waitress so I can pay my check.
"What's she look like?"
I describe her as a tallish brunette girl. She couldn't have been shorter than five foot seven.
"No one like that works here."
I get very confused for a second and then realize I don't really care. He's probably just fucking with me.
"Well, can I pay my tab? I've ordered a couple beers while I was here and I can't leave without paying in good conscience."
"Yeah, sure. What's your name?"
I tell him my name in that classic James Bond style to make light of the situation that just happened. The bartender looks at me for a couple seconds as if I just grew a third eye, and goes back to his computer. I slide my wallet out of my pocket. He smushes his grubby sausages against the screen.
"You're all paid up."
"Uh, but I didn't give you any money?"
"Get out of here."
"Are you sure?"
"Leave. We know who you are. Your money's no good here. Leave."
"Uh, okay... ?"
I slide my wallet back into my back-pocket and start walking out the door. As soon as I go outside I think, "shit, I forgot my jacket". I go back inside and grab it. It feels heavier? I'm probably just tired. I turn back out the door, and as soon as my foot hits the sidewalk I feel my muscles seize up again and I hit the pavement hard.
"Is this our guy?"
"I knew he was in there. We just had to wait for him to come out."
I can't speak, but as you can probably imagine, I'm screaming in my own head. They turn me over and begin searching me.
"Goddamnit, not again."
"What?"
"This is the same moron we tried to grab earlier."
Suddenly I feel the pavement hit me hard again, but this time it's from above.
I wake up the next morning in bed naked. I look to my left and see my pants and my shirt hung up on my chair. I look to my right and say, "I had the weirdest dream last night."
This tallish brunette girl to my right says, "What was it about, babe?"
"I was in this bar, and you were there. We might've been on a date or something? But anyway, I think you told me to get something out of the car, and I kept tripping on the way there."
"Oh, I get those weird falling dreams all the time."
"Yeah, I guess it wasn't that weird. But, uh, babe, have you seen my jacket?"
"No. Did you lose it last night? Those men who helped you home last night said you weren't wearing a jacket." | 2018-03-13T08:47:23 | 2018-03-13T08:29:18 | 50 | 13 |
[WP] When you reach the age of 21, you are given a check from the government. The check has been carefully calculated and is worth the minimum amount of money you need for the rest of your life. Your check came in the mail today and it was $7.27
Edit: Wow this blew up better than I thought it would. | I sighed, walking out of the bank with my entire 7.27 in hand. I already told my family, my job, my friends...
These sorts of things were common. A small amount was a signal of a short life to live, but even those were usually at least a hundred bucks! Enough to spend at a bar as I mourned my own death...but what could 7.27 get me?!
As I walked down the street, I considered my options. Food? A drink? I almost considered not spending it. Maybe I could prolong my life by not spending it.
I passed by a foodstall. One taco for 2$.
I looked at the money in my hand, considering...
I sigh. Fuck it, I was dead anyway. No point in delaying the inevitable. One cheap taco here and a 7-11 drink from down the road. There have been worse last meals. "One, please." I tell the vendor.
As my taco is being made, I feel a tug on my pants. I look down and see a kid, covered in mud and torn clothing. "Mister," she says. "Can you help please? I'm lost."
Ah...poor kid. "Do you know a number to call?"
"Yes." She answers. I give her my phone, opening up to the call button.
Doesn't particularly matter if she steals it. I'll be dead soon anyways, so I leave her to it as I take my taco. She's talking on the phone, her voice thin and reedy as she talks, close to tears and sitting on the sidewalk curb as she asks for 'Daddy' to come get her. Apparently she wandered away from her her mother and had been walking for about three hours on her own.
Three hours? Poor kid must be starving... I count the money remaining, and ask for one more taco and water. Lucky me, the entire 7.27 pays for two tacos and a bottle of water, plus tax.
I sit on the curb as she hangs up. Wordlessly, I trade her the phone for the taco, and sit with her as we wait, leaving her the cold water to drink. She sits close, using my larger body for shade. She looks sun burnt as hell, so I don't mind.
The police come roaring up with sirens and everything, and shuffle her away. "You the one who found her?" They ask as she talks to the officer, being led into the car.
"Indeed I was." I say, wiping my hands on a tissue paper. "She gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, the father sends his thanks." The police officer says. "Asking for you to be brought in too."
Me? "Why?" I ask.
"There was a reward offered. The girl was kidnapped by her deranged mother for the last two months, the father is a multi-millionare."
My stomach suddenly drops. "...No shit?"
The officer snorts, half laughing. "No shit. You're going to be a very rich person by the end of the day."
And so. I was. That one taco and phone call ended up profiting me about 700k. Sometimes the psychic cheque works out great in weird ways.
She and I are still friends. We go out for tacos every once in a while, she thinks of me like an older sibling and I'm her regular baby sitter. | My name is Aaron Aaercbia and I finally got my basic income check. I was in a weird age bracket? Maybe my literally alpha name. My birthday was one day after the start of the school year, so I was always 364 days ahead.
I got my check 2 daysbefore my 21st birthday. $7.27. Cashable only after 28/August/2067
Two days from now. $7.27? That meant only one thing! The government was going to do another currency reverse split!
I took a picture and uploaded it to the Insiderinfohedgely.com. forums I got 470 million pre-swap dollars in commissions in the first day for alerting them to the reverse split.
Then sure enough the gov't announced another 100,000 for one currency split. I was rich! I calculated it out, I had money to buy alcohol and food everyday and live rent-free in one of the anarchist neighborhoods under the Topcity for 60 years even with consumer inflation. I finally made it!
-The End- | 2019-04-24T14:52:39 | 2019-04-24T11:38:23 | 335 | 27 |
[WP] You were created to slay the demons from beyond the gate, but eventually they stopped sending you reinforcements, and even later they stopped sending resources at all. You had to make do with what you found. You're sure they've forgotten about the demons by now. | 89 945 762
The imp's corpse fell lifelessly to the charred ground, its eyes frozen in a perpetual state of terror. The blood of the thing rushed into the roughly carved runes supplying just a few more hours of life to the killing machine, extending its existence with that stolen from its victims. The Demonbane continued to walk the wasteland, not even acknowledging the broken body on the floor.
89 945 763
A Viper leapt into the air and tried to drive its blade into the metallic shoulders of the Demonbane, a valiant effort, unfortunately it would never be enough. It was grabbed in mid air and slammed into the ground with a sickening crunch, before a long rusted blade was driven between its eyes. The Demonbane didn't even notice it was there, since when had its movements been so automatic? How long has it been there? Once there were calendars and watches and other reminders that time still moved up above sent to the world below, now time might as well not exist.
89 945 765
A pair of Gargoyles jumped the Demonbane as it wandered a shattered road pockmarked by deep caves, by the looks of it a mated pair. They fought viciously, they fought with the fervour of those who knew already they were dead, and indeed they were. The chicks must be nearby still, the cowardly species never fought so hard otherwise, and from the faint sound of soft cries echoing from below a great cave the Demonbane could guess where they were now. Once they would die as well, but those days have passed, even a being built specifically to do nothing but kill was unable to find meaning in killing children, besides it had a new goal now.
89 945 775
It had found what it was looking for, a great tower of glossy black obsidian, it had ten guards around it prepared to fight to the death to protect the contents of the tower. And to the death they fought indeed, each cut down with merciless and cold fury. The gates were locked with great magic, but the inner mechanisms of the Demonbane were greater still, and enough brute force sent the gates flying open.
89 945 839
It was a long and bloody journey to the top of the tower, many demons fought and died to prevent the coming of the dreaded war construct, all attempts were in the end futile. One of them begged for mercy in their tongue, a tongue the Demonbane had learned to recognise after millennia of ceaseless genocide. It wished it could answer, it wished it could grant the poor thing the mercy it wanted, but unfortunately the programming was stronger than its wishes and the skull if the demon was made into a fine paste.
89 945 840
The great demon lord at the top of the tower lay dead and broken. It was the hardest fight yet, the thing hit with blows so fast and hard the air itself broke. The Demonbane was almost finally broken, finally given rest from its endless crusade, unfortunately the machine was just a little bit stronger. The stolen life from the lord was already well on its way to mending the wounds to its metal frame, the runes on its body glowed with infernal fire brighter than any mortal flame after this kill. The amount of power leftover from the repair process could go into any variety of things from increased lifespan to greater still power, but there was only one thing the Demonbane sought. The immense power of the demon lord began to alter the inner workings of the machine on a fundamental level, and suddenly several chains wrapped around its mechanical mind snapped, at long last the Demonbane was fully free.
Savouring the experience of true freedom the Demonbane considered letting go of its sword after this, to finally be done with killing. Unfortunately it still had one last thing to do, the very reason it came to this tower in the first place. A blood red gem encased in a golden frame, with inhumanly and even indemonically strong fingers the Demonbane peeled away the gold, feeling the suffocating force of the magical power contained in the gem, the last thing it needed at long last.
The Demonbane returned to where it was made in a ball of blinding light. Its creators were there, and they looked on in confusion, they had indeed forgotten about it after all this time. After so much killing the Demonbane had come to one conclusion, there were only really two guilty parties in the endless war between the Hellish Wastes and the Mortal World, the now long dead demon lords who first sanctioned the torture of human souls and the invasions of the mortal world, and the people who decided to keep killing the demons long after those responsible had perished, those who would create a sapient thing just to kill and just forget about it despite knowing full well how alive it was. According to its memory there were around sixty people who had to die here as much as the worst of the demons did.
89 945 900 | Edited for formatting:
*Ten spears go to war. One comes back. Did war forge the one, or show which would not break?*
Day 3056
Today was the day the last of the steel failed. It's been months since we got more, and most steel only lasts a week in the sulphurous, hot, nightmare eminating from the Maw. It takes too long to make leather from their hides to fashion suitable armor quickly enough. Sucks to be the guy to hollow out an armored demon to fight in for a few days. But weapons, those are easy to come by: horn and bone and claw, venomous organs which spray their ichor 50 meters, curious flame spewing maws.
We lost Derek, Thom, and Greta to the hellspawn. They were the last of the last reinforcements we received years ago. Shame. They were good warriors and better friends. Their ancestors smile at them now. Those few of us left can hardly say the same.
Containing the breach is all we can do. We've made a ten meter tall wall of the corpses, two meters thick, in a circle around the portal, 100m from the portal in any direction. We can stop the spawn, but we can't stop the weather.
The air here is now thick with choking ash, acrid vapors, and the aroma of decaying hellspawn, it's so hot sleep comes hard, the land for a mile is a wasteland in every direction, and the sky is so red I can hardly remember what it's supposed to look like.
I've almost forgotten what real food tastes like. If our last run (with the steel) wasn't eaten, it rotted before we could get to it, even in sealed containers. Even the pickles. Charred demon flesh is less appetizing than it sounds, and just as dangerous. It transformed several of the younger troops, with softer hearts, into an unholy fusion of man and demon. A de-man?
It has been hell on earth. We've oft wondered what we did to deserve *this* given the fanfare of the early days, the troops and equipment we were provided, the support of king and country. Now, it feels we have been abandoned, sentenced to commute an imprisonment for giving a shit about our world.
We have two options in my opinion:
Mount yet another offensive into the gate, which has not proved successful ever.
Or
Spread the good news - the war is done because the soldiers are, and the army coming for you has been honed by the best humanity could muster.
*Addendum* They had asked us to protect them in return for their support. We have upheld our oaths, but they have shunned them. | 2021-09-11T05:58:02 | 2021-09-11T05:43:33 | 1,183 | 295 |
[WP] - You are immortal, locked up in a room with no windows, with only a toilet, a bed, a sink and a door with a latch where every hour someone checks on you. You don't remember why or how long you have been locked up there or where 'there' is. Then the door opens and a man says "we need you". | I had been locked inside there for somewhere nearing one thousand years. Well, I didn't know it was nearing one thousand years at the time, and in truth I hadn't been locked up at all.
But none the less I thought I had been locked up, and it had been nearing one thousand years when a man opened the door, and it creaked as it opened and dust fell from its edges on to the floor like sand flowing from an hour glass but for only a moment.
Once the door was fully open, and I saw the man stand before me, I had no idea who he was. Complete stranger.
"We need you," he said.
"Smaus boos for weatherman?" I said in return.
"What?" he said.
"I said smaus boos for weatherman", again I said. And my dear reader I'm sure at this point you're wondering, did you acquire brain damage? Did you lose your mind? Were you fucking with him? Is that some long forgotten language that for some reason seems to incorporate English prepositions and noun compounds?
The answer is, no, to all of those questions. Fortunately for you while writing this I have the gift of hindsight to elucidate the matter.
It would seem that I am immortal. As immortals do so often do I built so much wealth that it could perpetuate itself into infinity. When one has no financial needs and no health needs one has no real needs. Everything else in life is merely a want. When in such a situation the mind becomes remarkably patient. In fact every day your patience grows.
You may even become so patient that you don't even notice as an hour or so slips by while you entertain yourself with your thoughts. And that hour slips in to days, which slips into years, and eventually you might even be able to go whole centuries without paying any mind to anything at all outside your mind. In my case I'd gone into my quarters, where I had all the things one needs should you wish not to pay any mind to the world, during a party of immortals.
It seems a party of immortals is what one does when the rest of sentient life on Earth dies out.
For whatever reason, no one can recall if I bothered to give one, I had told my guests I'd need a moment and retired there before asking them to please get me if they should need me for anything.
In my solitude over the years I had forgotten my whole life, and I'd forgotten which words were words I'd created and which ones were shared by other minds. Over time the visits through the mail slot and my not having left over the centuries had convinced me the door must have been locked.
James had been checking on me every so often over the centuries to see if I had any plans to return to the party using the mailbox latch that my servants would use when there were still servants alive to do such things.
After our initial confusion James spent some time reacquainting me with shared English words and with the abridged history of immortals and human history. That only took a year or so. And then we continued our conversation.
Me: "Oh, so what was it you needed me for by the way?"
James: "Oh yes, that, I'd nearly forgotten. Ada noticed that we'll run out of alcohol synth material in a century at our current rate of consumption. She wanted to know if you had any reserve you could bring in from the back down to the party."
Me; "Oh, I don't really know." | Had it been months? Years? Days?
My mind was in a whirlwhind when the light seared my eyes.
The silhouette stayed there, and soon two more were standing behind it.
I tried to open my mouth but the words fell out.
As it walked in the two behind set a table down and another two brought in some chairs.
I could tell it was a man when he sat down, he was wearing a blue sport polo and had a sunglasses tan line around his eyes.
After a few tries, I managed to speak. "How... how long have I been here?"
"You've been here for 47 months, 5 days, and about 7 hours. And now, we need your help."
The last time I saw light was the day that they took me away. I was swept away from my own bedroom early in the morning after they asked me to show my identification card.
"With what? Why am I here?"
"You were the last person to check something out. And now we need your help."
"With what?" I was starting to miss the solace I had experienced for so long.
"We work for Amazon, you are here because you were the last person to use a library, which is consequently the reason why you're here. Your copy of 'The Guide' was way over due."
"So why are you here?"
"We don't remember what a library looks like or, how one operates."
| 2018-07-31T15:33:36 | 2018-07-31T14:23:30 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] humans are born on planets with "1 G" as they call it, this is 24 kraels, most races would die under these conditions, humans however, thrive. | One leg needed per krael, if one needs to stand indefinitely. Acrobats and athletes can jump, hop on one leg, or even rear up on two hinds and shuffle for a while, but no one could *sustain* it. That's how it works, as every member of the Astavean Alliance knew. It simply held true for every genus in existence.
In the name of diplomacy, originally, and goodwill and plain good neighborliness ever since, many assistive devices are freely available when visitors come to a heavier planet. Neuralink crutches are great when one extra limb is all one needs for support. Y-VrN Corp has the lockdown on the most popular and widespread cart for adding two legs' worth of mobility, as they made a modular design that works for 90% of both one- and two-legged genera, plus included a cupholder as standard.
Monopodal genera don't often visit 4-krael planets, as at that point the gas density and gravitational force tend to make even breathing difficult, and downright dangerous if one falls over and has four bodies of weight on their lungs. There are available motorized chairs and powered exosuits, each equipped with biometric monitors and personalized life support, but most gracious hosts hold their meetings on a moon or space station instead, to avoid the recurring hassle.
Eventually, the Alliance discovered electromagnetic broadcasts emanating from a 4-krael moon orbiting a rocky planet ensconced in debris, which in turn spun around a spotty yellow dwarf star. Pretty standard stopover for space faring genera, our exobiologists thought. Colonize the moon, use the planet as your trash heap and robotic mining outpost, and secure your presence in the solar system.
We soon deciphered their audio encoding and language well enough to reply back and even arrange a meeting on Luna, as they called it. After amalgamating seventy-six genera into the Alliance, we had gotten pretty good at making First Contact, and had learned that everyone encodes video in different, ridiculous fashions, and it never seemed to help first impressions anyhow.
Being a 4-krael moon, Luna deserved a Kentovan ambassador so we could show strength and confidence. With not only four strong legs, but two additional non-walking arms on an additional torso that made them stand eight cubits high on average, this species seems imposing by description, but their long fur and ears (which admittedly make up one of those cubits on their own) always seem to make them popular with the other genera. And so they were our first choice.
The Kentovan delegation was met by a spectacle of awe on approach to Luna, but they managed valiantly to steel their nerves and press forward with the meeting. The surface colony was ENORMOUS for a remote outpost like this. Their home planet must be magnificent. The humans must have wanted to impress us with their progress and prowess while we were traveling at lightspeed to arrive. Certainly some significant time had passed from their perspective, so it wasn't impossible to achieve by the calculated date of arrival. Still, it was also a source of great excitement to meet constructors of this aptitude.
The delegation was given time to adjust to the moon base's environment. The gravity was just as expected, but the gas mix and pressure wasn't quite right. So, the head doctor insisted on half-masks with breathing tanks to ensure comfort between speaking assignments. And then, the group signaled ahead and made their way through the first automatic door to meet the awaiting humans.
"***PUPPY!***" came the nonsensical cry of the giant that ran towards the delegation. It was some thirty cubits tall, and picked up a junior Kentovian ambassador with ease, bruising him in the process. "No no no no! I told you not to run off. What did you find, Lee?" entreated another voice from around the corner. The guard monster's handler must have been close behind.
That turned out to be true, of sorts. Both the assailant and the ambassador were scooped up by an impossibility: This *biped* was at least twice as tall as the first, on a *four*-krael moon, and carrying two other beings with apparent ease. Noticing the rest of the delegation for the first time, the impossibility startled. "You are *adorable*! No wonder my little Lee couldn't resist a snuggle. Come, I'm only a repair tech, but I can show you the way to the real diplomats."
"Just wondering, why didn't you ask to meet on Earth, our actual home planet below?" The whole delegation froze in fear at the implications. | “The Mallix Ambassador is ready for travel.” the tech said.
“Life support systems dialed in, Oz?” I asked. “We need to make a good first impression.”
“Triple checked the air and pressure readings, sir.” Oz responded. I knew Oz: that response was flat. He was overcompensating. Annoyed with me probably. I looked at the numbers and readouts again on the bank of monitors. Feelings didn’t play into this.
This was First Contact.
“Go.” I said. A hum grew from under the raised dais on the other side of the glass. The bright room flickered with energy. A ripple formed in the middle of the space, sparking and undulating plasma expanding in shades of blue and purple. A long humanoid shape stretched and glowed into being. For a moment, a tall figure with too large eyes and dark, leathery skin faded onto the pedestal.
Then there was a sound, like squeezing a wet sponge. And the Mallix flattened into a brown puddle. Dark red viscera sprayed the glass in front of us like a fire suppression sprinkler.
“GOD!” Oz lurched to his feet from behind his station. “I—that wasn’t me! Captain Barkley, the teleportation sequence was five by five!”
“I’m gonna throw up.” Sergeant Wills strode from the room, hand over her mouth.
I stood, staring at the bubbling puddle that moments before had been a sentient being, one that promised to lead humanity into a new age of existence. I thought to call for Dr. McCall. Then I realized you probably couldn’t un-puddle someone. Then I laughed.
“Captain?” Oz furrowed his brow and stared at me. “Wh-”
“What’s the “G” factor the Mallix sent over?” I interrupted.
“It wasn’t in the report,” Oz looked back at his monitor. “I assumed it was constant.”
I pulled up the document on my tablet sent by the Mallix and scrolled down. There, after the first page break, was a second page, the gravity adjustments at the top. “Oz, there’s a second page.” His eyes went wide with the revelation.
“Well,” I said. “You can’t make First Contact without squishing a few aliens.” | 2021-04-02T09:44:37 | 2021-04-02T09:29:56 | 162 | 64 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | She didn't understand this change in her father. She was accustomed to him focusing more on his work than on her. Frankly, she couldn't remember the last time he picked her up from school at all and now he had shown everyday this week. And to top it off, there he was, sitting in the front row of her play.
You see, Carly's father was a high powered lawyer. He made sure that Carly and her mother were well taken care of, but his singular focus had resulted in divorce and a distinct form of absentee parenting. For her dad, the next big case was always his immediate aim, while maintaining his 5.0 rating on Martindale-Hubbell was his mission statement.
And now that had changed. Here he was, driving her home for his weekend instead of telling her to use the credit card he gave to pay for an Uber. And now all the small-talk. "How was school? She knew he would pay for college right? Does she have a boyfriend? Did she need a dress for prom"?
None of this would prepare her for the new CR-V parked in the driveway. It was time that she had her own car he said. Nothing too fancy, but something safe and practical.
This was weird. Carly should have been happy. But she wasn't. It all felt wrong and forced. So that night, after her dad went to sleep (after watching television with her, something that hadn't happened for at least 5 years), Carly walked around the house and tried to make sense of her dad. She was honestly concerned that he was sick, maybe it was cancer. Maybe this is his chance to make everything right before he left.
But she didn't find anything. No doctors notes, no medical correspondence, nothing out of the ordinary. Her dads house was immaculate. He loved to display his trophies from his high school wrestling days, all of the articles with his picture from the law firm, and he even had a custom-built electronic sign that listed his gamer score on the Xbox.
No, she wasn't likely to find anything here. If he was dying, he would keep that from her. And he wouldn't leave the papers out.
There was a mug sitting out though. It looked like the #1 Dad mug she bought him a couple of years ago, but it had "# 5,478,888 Dad" on it. Carly thought that that was a weird gag gift for someone to get him. Still, he had been so nice, she figured she'd put it away for him.
The next morning the news broke that all of the mugs had changed. It was then that Carly realize that her dad was addicted to winning. | My father loads his rifle full of bullets. I asked him,"What are you doing dad?" "Well, my mug says number two, and James's mug says number one. I must be number one." He raises his rifle and fires. Killing his life long friend. He grabbed his mug from the table and saw it turn from #2 to #4569. My father laughed and said, "I'm gonna need more bullets." | 2017-06-11T08:30:57 | 2017-06-11T08:09:34 | 113 | 42 |
[WP] "He speaks a language that even the angels forgot" | “He was one of the oldest Concepts, served by His side, he did,” the golden man droned on, a spindly finger wrapped around his wispy curls of brittle hair, which barely hung on to the mottled skin of his scalp. “But he long since fell out of use, well, it depends on what you think long is.” He chuckled to himself and his eyes lit up. There were children seated before him, all clad in white robes and short tufts of angelic wings that could barely be seen behind their shoulders.
A curious voice rose from the crowd. “How old is he?”
His hand fell from his head as his eyes drifted towards the cloudless skies above. “I ask myself that question a lot.”
“He is older than myself, I'll tell you that.”
“But aren't you like, twenty thousand years-”
From his wrinkled lips came a roaring laughter. “I am not that old.”
“Why don't you ask it how old it is?”
“No, I am afraid that will not do. . .” The fire in his eyes faded and replaced itself with an emotion the children rarely ever saw, sorrow. “It speaks a language that even the angels forget, we, as old as time itself. And now that God and his children have left this domain, there is nothing but the Concept and us.”
The sound of angelic harps filled the air with an almost melancholic melody and filled the man's heart with an even deeper sense of sorrow. One by one the children rose from their place upon the ground and gave their wordless thanks to the ancient angel before them. They walked off into the distance and trailed through the city on pathways of marble and gold. He waved his spindly arms as they left, and as they faded from his sight, the smile etched upon his face curved to a deep frown.
From the skies above came a gentle fluttering, and before he could even turn to look; an angel made its place beside him. It was a man like himself; weathered and grey, but with a sense of youthful vigour about him.
“Michael, are you doing well?”
“Greetings, Simon.”
“That does not answer my question.”
“I am well.”
Simon stared at the frown cast upon his face, and a faint scoff escaped his lips. “You do not look well, perhaps you should retire."
Michael looked up at the man beside him and his eyes widened as the makings of a scowl formed upon his face. “Tell me, Simon. Did I ask for your opinion?”
“You did not.”
He turned away from Simon and let out a deep sigh, pulled from the very core of his being. He was a man that had long since grown tired of everything, but wished to find a reason to keep going; like before.
“Tell me, Simon. . . without God, what is there to everything?”
“You live life.” Simon sat down beside him and stared off into the distance, where the colossal Concept roamed the skies. Its features were undeniably humanoid – but with an air of eldritch monstrosity to them. “You never married, did you not?”
“I am celibate, you know this.”
“God isn't here, isn't it about time you gave up on him coming back?”
“No. He is still out there. I am sure of it.”
“What makes you so sure?”
His stretched out a feeble hand and pointed off at the Concept, which had now turned its visage towards them.
“As long as that being still stands, I must believe.” His eyes met Simon's. “Do you know its name?”
“I'm afraid I don't.”
“Hope.”
* * *
^More ^of ^my ^writing ^over ^at ^/r/khaarus!
| Title: He Speaks In Tortured Song
With bitter tears and distraught hair
He let loose words without a care
"There is no God!" he screamed to sky.
And from the clouds was no reply.
But far beyond the gloom and doubt
The angels spoke with gaping mouths
"What suffering, what fun we see."
"If only we ourselves could weep."
"His tortured words are to my ears,
Music I haven't heard in years."
"Millennia, without a doubt.
I hope he suffers more and shouts
That he may find within the haze
A prize at exit from this maze"
"This labyrinth of time and woe
Is a most challenging of foes"
"He needs our help"
"But wait, don't speak
Another phrase within he keeps"
Quite suddenly he burst in song
A tortured, melancholy hum
He sang it loud, the sky did rain
Like angels heard forgotten pain
"A phrase of pain spoken in song."
"What beauty when a man is wronged"
"The music of his soul is bliss"
"His troubled song of life, I miss"
"This language, I forgot to hear."
"I haven't listened much in years."
"Language of suffering in men
Can't be transcribed with words and pen"
"He knows it well
Give him brief taste
Of our true world
Beyond his days"
And homeless man way down below
A wayward soul without a home
Felt flee his spirit, eyes go white
"Bless him a glimmer of our light."
| 2016-01-04T02:23:18 | 2016-01-03T22:15:53 | 68 | 18 |
[WP] You're a superhero, and you're about to fight your nemesis... At least, you thought you were, but they took half an hour to show up, and they were still in their pajamas. As they approached, you held your guard up, only for them to stand motionless, staring at the floor, and say "I need a hug." | ABC NEWS Article: Sunbae the well known Hero had announced and confirmed the exsitance of a lover.
I sighed. "Maybe that interview wasn't a good idea..I let that slip. Maybe I can make a statement saying it was a joke...or..somthing.."
I stood on the cold concrete roof of the building, arms crossed and foot tapping. I was growing impatient and anxious. He was almost an hour late! Did he not want to meet up today..? He usually would be here staring down with his gloomy aura and mysterious appearance. For starters since this is my first time being here, appearing were the infamous RedHood hangs out, he is usually already here by the time I find him.
I've already ruled the possibility of him living here. In this tall red bricked apartment building, but at the same time I can't help but feel off. Not only was he not showing, but now that I've had time to think I feel like an idiot for not noticing the details.
Pacing back and forth I wonder if he had just gone ahead and done something else. Maybe he was somewhere else in the city! Right! You can't expect a Villian to be in the same place every time..maybe he's somewhere else because he knows I know! No..I'm just over thinking it..right?
Another 20 minutes..
Suddenly I heard a creak, and the rooftop door opened. I turned towards the sound, "Finally yo-" I started out only to be surprised and give in to silence. He looked the Villian up and down. "You um.."
"Shut up." He growled through his clenched teeth. He breathed out heavily. It was if those stairs had already stolen all his energy. No, I didn't even hear him come up the stairs. He blankly stared through mask, his exhaustion obvious.
After the long pause of Silence I finally blurted out- "why are you in Duck Pajamas? Your only wearing your cloak and mask.."
"Its laundry day..they were wet."
"You have fire magic..you could've dried them."
He averted his eyes, nervously trying to think of another excuse after being already caught in a lie.
"I..couldn't find them."
"Sounds more like a question. Why do you keep lying? Is this apart of your villian scheme?"
"N- .." He paused. "Uhhh- yea! You saw right through me..aw damm.." He went silent again. It was almost if he wasn't there.
I sighed. "Your paler then usual. Did you even get any food or sleep in you?"
"I think the only thing that's in me at this point is redbull, Ramen and spite." He replied.
I couldn't help but notice that he kept nodding off. My stance and energy wore down, I relaxed and walked toward him. He looked up and me and flinched when stopped. Two feet apart now.
"No tricks. I promise." His expression dropped to a slight shock.
"Can you even breathe in this?" I said leaning down. He looked up at me. Yes, surprise surprise- I'm taller then the Villian. I'm five foot nine. He's just an inch and a half shorter then I.
"Did you stay up all night reading Fanfics about us?"
He glared at him but his face twisted to a smirk. "Maybe I did."
A moment of Silence passed.
I pulled him into a hug, I slide my arm around him and held his head against my chest. He felt hesitant, but eventually wrapped his arms around me and relaxed.
"I hate you.."
"Love you too darling.." | I keep my eyes on him. He wants me to come over... and give him a hug? That's too suspicious... I glance him over and smile. "Alright" I say, as I release the energy I had been holding. He looks up at me, opens his arms. Just as he's about to close them around me, I use the energy I was secretly building up to paralyse him. He instantly falls to the ground, his blade now sticking out his sleeve.
"DAMMIT! How did you know?"
"Metal likes to give off a glint" I sneer. "I really didn't mean to mock you when I said that, but... it's difficult not to... cute duck pyjama's?"
He goes bright red as he realises his current predicament. "Please, just... kill me... take my life and throw me into a ditch or something... please..."
I always wear an under-suit, so after taking a quick photo, I take off my main suit and put it on him. "I'll take you back with me to my place. I live alone. Once you recover from my spell, you can get yourself changed. Before trying anything clever..."
"I saw. Way to blackmail me, dude."
"Hey, whatever it takes to keep you from getting away from me." I proceed to pick him up and make our way back to my place, knowing he's one mistake away from internet humiliation... | 2022-10-07T01:55:27 | 2022-10-07T01:43:21 | 75 | 38 |
[WP] The dead have come back to life across the world, but they're not here to eat us. They're all fleeing from something terrible in the afterlife. | "What's your zombie plan?"
Oh, how many hours we all wasted, people young and old, on that fun little hypothetical. Friends and family would be judged mercilessly on their choices. "The mall? The mall? It's over populated - too many bodies!"
But when the first few grey hands punched up out of fresh graves, people lost their shit. We'd joked about it, but we weren't really ready. Well some people were ready - the real wackos, you know the ones - but everyone else was just standing about, hands on their cheeks, mouths wide like we'd just slapped on some of Dad's after-shave.
We all stood in dumbfounded awe as the buried unburied themselves and the morgues went from being filled to being populated. It was all on the news - by which I mean social media, no one watches the news - and we were all struck by how anti-climactic the whole thing was.
They, the recently undeaded, didn't seem interested in feasting on human flesh at all. They were actually quite chipper and polite - obviously there was somewhat of a communication barrier, it's hard to sound out syllables when your jaw has rotted off, but slowly we worked out a communicatory shorthand.
Grannies the world over were back in the kitchen, though their scent often overpowered the smell of their once famous and fondly remembered baked-goods. Families were reunited, loves lost were found, fighting over the interpretation of wills was settled. It was good! People got to say the things that had not been said. But, the instant explosive over population wasn't great.
Also, I, and many others, felt a little bit guilty. My Nan was in an urn on the mantlepiece. I had had her cremated. She couldn't really get up and walk around, being ashes and all.
The urn does wobble at me though - judging me from it's place next to the picture of my dog.
They, the re-living, were pretty keen to keep why they had come back a secret. When we asked the question, they changed the subject. But, finally they cracked, a few spilled the beans and soon everyone found out just why the dead had left the afterlife and come back.
We couldn't believe it.
It had always been free, the afterlife, but now it was pay-to-rest-in-peace. Dying got you access to the base package, but all the fun stuff cost money. Turns out some gaming execs had passed over and had manged to weasel their way into management positions.
The bastards.
---
*edit: ...typos. Why are their always typos?*
8edit 2: Well that blew up more than I would have expected. I'd recommend the read of this done by /u/terram_alwathani below, it's good! | [Newspaper Article]
**My husband the Spirit man**
"No we weren't together before he died but I met him when he came back and I just fell in love" described Lizzy when interviewed, after 3 months of knowing one another they sought out a priest to make there arrangement official. Lizzy is just one of thousands of teenagers that are getting hitched with spirits despite there parents best wishes leading to many questions as the the legality of spirit people and if they have the rights to get married.
Read the full article on pg.7
[Next article] **Ghosts Gave Me Crabs!**
| 2015-01-23T09:08:58 | 2015-01-23T08:49:44 | 1,174 | 12 |
[WP] In a world where people can only be killed by those they truly love, you are an assassin. | I watched dutifully as my tutor applied a generous layer of apple-red lipstick to her lips.
“While normally I'd say “less is more” when it comes to make-up, you really want to make sure even the slightest peck on the lips transfers the poison, so load up,” she advised. “Pick a color that looks especially appealing on you. Never blue, though. Blue makes you look dead, and even the most adventurous man will hesitate to kiss a corpse. Well, unless that's his kink, but our setup lures those types in anyway.”
Never taking her eyes from the antique mirror, she opened a drawer in her bureau and pulled out a wicked-looking stiletto.
“Always keep one of these with you, just in case the poison doesn't cut it. I can recommend someone who can alter a bodice for you so you can sheath it safely between the assets,” she said playfully, gesturing at her cleavage. “But you must maintain it. A dull blade won't help. I keep mine sharp enough that even the gentlest touch will draw blood. See for yourself!” She tilted the blade so that the pointed tip loomed in front of me, menacingly.
“I don't really need to—I mean, I—uh—believe you,” I stammered.
She shrugged, but to emphasize her point she very softly put her own finger to the tip of the weapon. A single ruby droplet of blood blossomed against her milky skin. After displaying it to me for a second, she used a handkerchief to clean the blade and her finger off.
After a few minutes of meticulously checking her reflection she suddenly asked, “What do you think the hardest part of this job is?”
“I . . . would suppose that it would be making them love you,” I replied, hesitantly.
“That's what everyone thinks at first, my dear,” she chuckled. “On the contrary, that's really very simple. Love is a funny thing. *True Love* even more so. You can love someone deeply, but there's only one thing in the world anyone can truly love. Do you know what that is?”
I shook my head.
“The only thing you can truly love is a *fantasy,”* she said with a gentle smile. “Even if you love someone, you know they have flaws. No person is perfect. You will always, always find something about those dearest to you to that will aggravate you.”
“But—we overlook those things because we love them, don't we?”
“Oh, yes, of course, but it's still *there.* That little thing you hate about them is always buried in your heart, even if it's deep, deep down, so far away from the rest of your feelings about them that it's insignificant. My dear, our entire operation would be irrelevant if people loved one another only *after* they got to know each other. True Love occurs when someone can paint their perfect mate onto a *tabula rasa.* That's how we function: we present the *tabula rasa,* and from there the marks doom themselves. I've killed at least seven men without waking up before their corpses hit the floor.”
She finally turned from her mirror and smiled at me.
“I know it can be tough taking that in, but trust me, it's all much easier this way. The marks never love you—they “love” a narcissistic reflection of themselves. Anyone that self-involved shouldn't be running a country. I should know, my step-mother was a real piece of work.”
“I've heard stories. . . .” I admitted sheepishly.
“They probably exaggerated a lot of things, but most of the tales have a grain of truth to them.”
“So, what *is* the hardest part of the job?”
“Oh, easily it's the lying around, waiting. It's bores *everyone* to tears,” she rolled her eyes. “It can take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. Depends on how quickly the network can get the rumor mill going. They have to convince those stuffed-up Princelings that there's been some gorgeous mystery woman who's been in a coma for years—sometimes centuries!—because they haven't shown up to save her. If the process doesn't feel organic, you might make the mark suspicious, and that would be disastrous.”
She rested her hands on my shoulders. I tried not to fidget.
“I didn't tell you any of this to make you nervous. I simply want you to be prepared. Remember, Briar Rose, I picked you to be my protégé out of several dozen girls. I have every faith in you.” She let me go and shooed me away. “Now run along. I've bored you enough for one evening.”
I curtseyed before I left the room. “Thank you for everything, Ms. White.”
“You can call me Snow, my dear. Good luck with your first assignment.”
| Coldness swamps the man, his hand trembles as it reaches for the knife sticking out of his ribs. His fingers only brush the blade before it stops and starts to twitch sporadically, the last spasms of a dying man. With cloudy eyes, he looks up to his attacker.
He coughs at the sight of her.
"Why?" croaks the man.
Tears trail down her cheeks and she wipes at them with her forearm, careful not to spread the blood on her hands.
"Because I love you," says the woman.
The man blinks, his head cloudy. "What?"
She pulls in closer, down on her knees next to the dying man. She takes his shaking hand and stills it. Her voice is soft.
"Because I love you."
"I... I don't understand," sobs the man, "Why would... why would you *kill* me because of that?"
His voice cracks on the *kill*, the reality of the word striking him as he says it. She reaches forward, stroking his head as blood soaks her knees.
"Because when you love someone," the woman says, "You want to share every moment with them. Every moment." Her hand crawls along the man's torso as she speaks, taking hold of the knife. "The happy ones. And the sad."
The knife comes out with a *squelch* and the man gasps, both breath and blood escaping him.
It only takes a few more seconds, but the woman stays by his side the whole time.
When the last light in his eyes fade, the woman closes them and fold his arms over his chest. A little formality to make him look more dignified in his final moments.
Wiping the last of her tears, the woman pulls out her phone and dials a number she has committed to memory. It rings once before a synthetized voice answers.
"Good evening madam, how can we be of service?"
"I need a clean-up."
"Of course, madam. A maid will be visiting you shortly. Upon their confirmation your account will receive the appropriate funds. While you wait, would you like to peruse our latest selection?"
"Please."
Immediately, the call ends and her phone dings with a new message. A list of names, photos and numbers with a lot of zeros at the end. The woman pays the numbers no mind, her attention is on the pictures. It's an assortment of men from CEOs to truckers and their picture is the very best that anyone could find of them. They smile, share drinks, laugh and blow kisses to the camera. The woman looks at them and studies their eyes. Which of those smiles were honest and which were lies? Who most needed help? Who could she make the happiest? | 2016-11-15T16:27:41 | 2016-11-15T15:38:47 | 80 | 14 |
[WP] It's time to go on an adventure, you have to choose a traveling companion, and among the ferocious animals, clever animals, magical and conscientious objects, it's a small flower in its pot that seduced you. | They had all laughed at me when I chose my Other.
The whole lot of them, Kings and Queens, Knights and their squires, peasants and fools alike, and the other heroes had a grand time at my expense, as well.
Once a year, the most promising warriors and wizards in the realm who have just seen their 18th winter are gathered from every kingdom and sworn to protect the realm. We went through the ceremony, said our vows, and were then honored with choosing an Other to aid us on our adventures.
Aeon, the wizard, chose a nightcrawler - a large ferocious beast, a mix between a direwolf and a blink dog. It was said a nightcrawler could tear out your throat before you knew it was there.
Dedric the Warrior chose a sentient battleaxe, called Blood-Oathe, that could transfer the life-force from the opponent to the yielder. They said that Blood-Oathe had slain over a thousand men.
Sven the Holy, a cleric, chose a blazing, golden Phoenix who burned so bright it left a trail of fire behind it. Phoenixes were well-known across the realm for their knowledge and powers of rejuvenation, not to mention their beauty.
And then it was my turn to choose. I stalked down the aisles of magical creatures and sentient items and ferocious beasts, marveling at them all. And then I saw it.
In the very back, on the last table of the last row, sitting there amidst a halo of golden sunlight. A small golden flowerpot, with a tiny plant sprouted out from it. The plant itself was small, green and bulbous with a tiny red flower atop, the petals fading from red to purple at the tips. And I heard it speak to me.
*Choose me, human, and together we will be unconquerable.*
"You?" I whispered to the tiny flower. "what could you do for me? You're so... tiny."
*Aye, but I'll grow.*
I considered this diminutive plant for a moment, and then looked around at all the other incredible Others before me to choose from. And when I looked back at the plant, I saw it: potential.
I grabbed the little golden pot and returned to the ceremony stage.
"I have chosen my Other." I announced meekly, and held out the pot before me.
And everyone burst into laughter. At one point, the King of Avantis laughed so hard tears were streaming from his eyes.
"What are you going to do, Maximus, court the monsters to death with your pretty flower?" Dedric mocked.
"That's got to be the smallest flower I've ever seen!" King Charles of Avantis guffawed, slapping his knee hysterically.
"Aye, but it'll grow." I said.
------
I heard the tales of Lore of all the amazing battles the others had won:
Dedric and his battleaxe had slain the Orc Chieftain in a single blow, liberating the elves of Darkwood.
Aeon and his nightcrawler had reclaimed the Black Keep from the necromancer, Emantri, and put to rest her unholy revenants, who had once been the citizens of the keep.
Sven the Holy had brought order to the Kingdom of Slaughterdale, who had been at civil war for the last two hundred years, using wisdom and might.
All the while, I had traveled the realm with my little flower. I'd had my own victories, no doubt - with my prowess as an archer I single-handedly defeated a troop of eight goblins near the Sparkling Cyan River, where I had taken my flower, Amaranth, to drink.
Slowly, the flower began to grow.
Atop the Kruug Mountain, where I'd taken my flower to soak up the sunlight, I encountered a Cyclops. He towered over me, reaching every bit of eight feet. My arrows pierced his skin without any effect at all; the monster attacked unphased. He managed to strike me with his club and knock me to the ground. He stood over me, ready to deliver the final blow, when thin reeds of vines began to crawl up him. In a moment, he was entrapped by the rope-like runners of green and yellow, and I was able to put an arrow through his eye. Amaranth had saved me.
Slowly, the flower continued to grow.
I'd traveled to the city of Byzantii and bartered with a wizard for an enchanted pot that could grow along with my little flower. It cost me what little gold I had, and when the wizard saw Amaranth he had himself a good chuckle.
"That puny little flower is your Other?" he asked good-natured, stroking his ethereal raven.
"Aye, but it'll grow." I said.
-----
I heard the tales of despair that had befallen the others.
Aeon and his ferocious nightcrawler were incinerated by a dragon in the Daggerback Mountains, while trying to rescue a captured princess. It was said that there was not but a pile of ash left of either of them.
Sven the Holy and her golden Phoenix were slain when a tribe of Giants raided the kingdom of Peacedale, formerly known as Slaughterdale. It was said that the Giants feasted upon her corpse that night in celebration.
Dedric and his mighty axe, Blood-Oathe, were overwhelmed by a horde of troglodytes near the Boiling Sea. It was said that they pierced his body with a dozen spears before they they mounted his head to a spike.
All the while, my little flower, Amaranth, had grown. Tales of my victories began to spread, as we sought vengeance for the fallen heroes.
Enormous tendrils of green vine swept through the city of Giantsdale, (formerly Peacedale, formerly Slaughterdale) as Amaranth entendriled the tribe of Giants. They were caught off-guard and entrapped in her grip before they understood what was happening. She squeezed the life out of them as I filled them with arrows.
The horde of tiny troglodytes was no match for the towering tree of Amaranth the Great. Try as they might, their spears never flew higher than her knees. She stomped them out while I picked them off with arrows, riding atop the branches on her head.
The blast from the dragon incinerated half of Amaranth, whose branches and vines began to rejuvenate at once. They quickly grew back and, while the dragon was still out of breath, wrapped around its throat and squeezed the life out of it while I plunged arrows into its eyes. The great creature thrashed and clawed, but it was no match for Amaranth and I.
I returned to the kingdoms to inform the kings I had avenged their heroes.
King Charles of Avantis looked upon my colossal Treant companion and said: "My Gods, that's the biggest plant I've ever seen!"
"Aye." I replied. "And it'll grow." | "*Dear reader. You might think that I'm in a queer state of mind, but have no fear. I'm exactly that and your perception has not fooled you. I am in no position to deny it, for no man would choose a grass pokemon as his starter. Yet here we are. Me and my pet Voltaire. I'll be first to admit that I've chosen "wrong" by many standards, but I myself regret nothing. I've traveled, fought and run (more running than fighting I admit) across lands just to meet my end in these old ruins. Now, this letter will not give any consolation or explanation of my choice, for I have none at all. The little plant just kind of grew on me and...*"
I stopped writing. It was getting hard to concentrate and it darkened. Although it was hard to tell. Even after the bombing stopped a month ago, the sky still always seemed red. Like an eternal sunset that was symbolic for my life I suppose. I had refused to rob, I had refused to murder the innocent. I always scavenged and never took anything from anyone no matter how hungry I was. And it has taken a toll, for I was weak. This might be my last evening, so I continued writing the letter to no one.
"*... and it chose me as much as I chose it. And even if I have been the defeated in many unlucky interactions, I stand tall on my claim that I have, most certainly, conserved my humanity and sanity. It is true that I have not killed any a soul during this whole ordeal and let that be the only angel that carries me over these wastelands. One might argue that it's not a success for a weak man to be timid, but I'm afraid I'll never have the needed strength so that I could prove my moral integrity in more advanced circumstances. Here lives a man who has done no wrong and has chosen to perish with clean and pure blood. A man and his pet. Sincerely, Seymour and Voltaire.*"
That's that, boys and girls. I'd draw the curtain, but I'm afraid I won't be able to gather the strength for it. And, alas, it's not like there are many observers to my death. "People, people everywhere, but none to watch me die," I thought, looking around the ruins. The floor was littered with dead bodies, all in various states of decomposition and all from various walks of life. Yet none who had made it as far as I have. With my plant. And what have I gained by making this far? If anything, I've just used up resources. Resources not enough for everyone and, as it seems, not enough even for me.
I lied down right next to my strange, bulbous plant and closed my eyes. "Voltaire, this is it. I want you to know that I love you. I'd do anything so that you could grow green and prosper, but I can't do no more. Goodbye, Voltaire."
And even with my eyes closed I could see a huge flash. Just like the flashes that started the war. Temporarily blinded I crawled under the nearest table and crouched there with two more bodies. Soon I would hear the sound of the blast. But there was no sound at all. And just while I was counting the seconds to calculate the distance and wondered that it must have been a big one, I heard a strange, raspy voice.
"Seymour..."
I turned around still dazed and looked at the direction of Voltaire. It could have been a fluke, yet... Yet Voltaire seemed to be looking right at me. It had changed. In this single second he had grown bigger, more voluptuous, more vibrant.
"Now, boy, you don't want to *really* die here in these ruins, do you?" the voice seemed almost like mocking, like laughing at my despair. "Really, chap, I might not have as many legs as you, but I'm sure ready to walk a longer path, kid!"
Still in disbelief I crawled towards Voltaire who seemed to smile at me.
"Boy, you think there is honor in death? Look upon the bodies around. Look at their honor. Look how honorable they now rot in their own piss. Honor in death... Why, kid, what's there to honor, we all die! I'd hardly call that an achievement..."
I swear on all that's saint that I just saw a plant smacking it's lips.
"But an achievement is not an honor and honor does not always lead to achievements. Listen here. I'll grow. I'll reform this land. I'll make it lush and I'll make it populous. And you'll be my friend and trusted partner, will ya? Of course you will. You just have to do one thing, pal... *Feed me, Seymour... Feed me.*" | 2017-09-07T07:29:58 | 2017-09-07T05:44:36 | 124 | 15 |
[WP] You were warned that your newest crew member, a "Human", had vastly different biology from all other known races. This mad made very clear when they drank all of the galaxy's strongest known poison, saying that they "needed a drink of water." | This is more prompt inspired than anything
In a ship floating near a star, a stand-off was happening. The Human the Nevarian stared at each other from across the room, pistols aimed at the other’s heart (or biological equivalent). The Human stood near the door, arms rigid, while the Nevarian was sitting at a table, his lazy slouch in contrast with the tense situation. Behind the Nevarian was a Pluvion girl, tied and bound to a chair, all four of her eyes shining with fear. In the distance, the sound of alarm bells and the shouting of crew members filled the otherwise silent room. The human was the first to speak.
“Let her go. Or I’ll shoot.” His laser pistol stayed steady on the Nevarian’s heart.
The Nevarian clacked it’s mandibles together in what could be called a laugh. “And then I’d shoot back. We’d both end up dead, and my crew would end up collecting the ransom on her. You would lose.”
It was the humans turn to chuckle. “So would you. If your dead on the ground, then it’s safe to say you didn’t win either.”
“So it seems no matter what happens, we both end up losing.” the Nevarian softly said.
“Well not quite. There’s one scenario I see where one of us can end up alive.” The human slowly lowered his gun. The Nevarian, guided mostly by curiosity, lowered his as well, and watched as the human pulled out two small shot glasses, and filled both of them with an identical liquid. He places them on the Nevarian’s table, and pulled up a chair. The two enemies are now sitting face to face, the two glasses in between them.
“One of these glasses is completely harmless. The other, however, holds the deadliest poison in the galaxy. The tasteless, odorless, completely clear liquid know as water. The rules of this game are simple, you take one glass, and I take the other. Then we drink together. Everything clear?”
The Nevarian smiled (or did something close to it at least), and said in a steady voice, “Yes, I think I understand” He leaned back for a moment, staring intensely into the human’s eyes, trying understand what game his old enemy was playing. Surely he wouldn’t leave their final battle to a roll of the dice. A decade long game of cat-and-mouse had taken place between them, with each trying to outsmart the other. Was this really how it would end? With a sigh, the Nevarian realized that there was nothing he could do, and with a rueful smile-equivalent he picked up the glass on his left. The human picked up the glass on his right. They clinked their glasses together and threw them back, swallowing the contents in one motion.
The human set his glass down, and watched with some sadness as the only person who ever matched him died. With a sigh, he walked over to the Pluvion girl and cut the rope tying her to the chair.
“I’m sorry that took so long, your highness,” he said to the girl “but don’t worry, I’m taking you home now.” The girl, staring at awe , could only stammer out a single “How?”
The human smiled for a second, and explained “They were both poison” | *he takes a sip* "what is everyone at the carbon based lifeform for" Jeffreys said to his two crewmates and captain all three silicone based. They stare and blink for a few moments but Jorn the first officer spoke first breaking the silence, "Ape, please tell me that's not what I think it is you just consumed" his smooth voice trails off. Jeffreys stars unblinking for a few a seconds, "water, h2o, dihydrogen monoxide? Ring a bell". A much more ruff voice spoke up, "that is... Something quite terrifying to behold with our eyes as silicone based lifeforms" Frell shivered and spoke back up, "you do no how near instantaneously toxic of a substance that is to us, do you?" The captain went and hid in his quarters, Jeffreys replied to Frell with, "it's a natural thing to me, it'd be the same I consumed liquid hydrogen as often as you do" Frell went back to piloting, and Jorn went back to maintaining the engines retorting, "first rock we pass by we're kicking him off" | 2020-05-18T11:44:12 | 2020-05-18T11:20:25 | 136 | 51 |
[WP] Something happens in your everyday life, and you realise that you're living in a Truman-esque situation. Instead of trying to escape, however, you decide to have some fun.
Thought this might be fun. | Ratings are life to these vultures. Ratings are manna. And what spikes ratings? Hmmmmm? Drama. Yes. Drama. Conflict, resolution. Love, separation. Violence, then peace.
It's all about ratings. That's why they took Jenny from me. I know it. That's how the whole enterprise revealed itself to me. Drama.
If I were just a man - if I were plain and unnoticed and unimportant - there would have been no reason to do what they did to Jenny. She would have gone to work. She would have come home. A dull, human cycle. Fit for dull, unimportant humans.
Not good enough for me, though. Not good enough for *the show*.
April 21st was the day I realized they were watching me. The day I realized my life was not my own.
But there were earlier hints - things I should have seen and understood. Rocky getting hit by that car. Rocky *never* ran into the street. Rocky was calm and lazy and quiet. What was he even chasing that day?
Ratings. Obviously. A cruel heartstopper. A chance to see the little star weep himself purple. "How will he pick himself up?" Keep watching. Keep watching.
My parents. They were *happy*. I know that. I knew it. So the affair...the divorce... What were those? All a ploy. Clearly. Obviously. A sick stunt. More conflict. New characters. New dynamics. The warm, open father-son relationship was growing tedious. Who wants to see a family *thrive* anymore? Tear them apart! Make them bitter! Make them distrustful! Conflict! *Ratings!*
When Belinda came into the grocery store, when I was still a boy, but thought I was a man, when I was so in love and wired with hope - when Belinda came to the grocery store where I worked and melted down, screaming and cursing at Renee, who had only ever been a friend, who had only ever been a small pillar of support for me - when Belinda attacked Renee and I lost that job and I lost that friend and I lost that woman I had loved... oh, what must the ratings have looked like that night? What a triumph that must have been for my tormentors - my slavers.
I see it all now. And I do not see a way out. They are everywhere. They control everything. All for the purpose of watching my life unspool in slow motion.
Drama. Conflict. Ratings. I understand it now. I understand the game. I have been playing at a disadvantage all these years, but now the field is level. I understand them. And soon they will understand me.
I will give them a new show. A show of my design. One I alone control.
I have cleared out the basement. All of Jenny's childhood things, the disused exercise equipment, the boxes of molded quilts - I have thrown everything away and made a space. An open space of concrete with a drain in the center.
Drama. People like drama. Moments that stretch for eternities. Questions lingering in the air. *Will they?* *Won't they?*
This will be a room of great drama. Great, slow, ponderous drama. Laughter and tears. Screams and sighs. Blood and sweat and blood. And blood. And blood.
In the daytime, my show will continue as it ever did. A steady rhythm. A man in grief. Work, life, second chances. Themes of the human condition, manipulated as ever by forces unseen.
And at night, my *new* show will debut. More subversive, yes, but I suspect appealing to the same audience. A show of the highest possible stakes. The highest possible emotions. A cruel show. An honest show.
I wonder which will draw the better ratings? |
He woke up at the same time he had always woken up, but this time, there was a smile on his face. He had been up all night planning his attack on the *actors* of this show. "Haha, that'll show 'em!!" he had said out loud.
He left the house for work at exactly 8:00 AM. He looked at Mrs. Patmore, smiled at her and said "Good Morning! Hope you have a jolly good day!" "Well, look who's up and about at this time of the day!" Mrs. Patmore said from across the street, before going into her bakery.
He walked into the office. He looked through the window across the room; the same window that had first lead him to understand that he was all part of a reality TV show.
Unlike his usual routine, he walked into his boss's office, and upon entering her office, promptly shouted "I know you've always liked me, babe. So let's fuck the drama and get around to the fucking, eh??"
"Haha, I've got her!" he thought to himself, metaphorically patting himself on the back. But to his surprise, she looked up at him and smiled. "I've been waiting for you..." she said, as she slowly stripped off her clothes. He stood there, perfectly still, as confused as a satellite dish in a rave party, as she walked up to him and started kissing him.
*Want to know what happens next? The Truman Sex Show comes live on September the 19th! Monday to Friday, 11PM, only on CBS!* | 2016-10-18T06:33:40 | 2016-10-18T05:31:03 | 47 | 14 |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | “I won’t agree to that job.”
I stared across the booth at Dirk, who hissed at me angrily in response, the flicking of his tongue practically a dead giveaway of his alter ego, The Serpant. It lashes out a mere four inches in front of me. When I started out, his demeanor would have shaken me, but now, more sure of my principles and my leverage, I held firm.
“What is so wrong with my plan?” He snarled across the table.
“Too high of a potential casualty count,” I responded.
“But who cares about the casualty count!” He wailed, earning glance from other patrons in the dark bar. He quickly hunkered to make himself small, and whispered into the table, “The casualties are worth the price.”
“Not to me they aren’t,” I replied, and as he glanced up at me, I saw his pupils turn from slits to black. I gazed into them, a poker face on the outside, but always slightly unnerved by those eyes.
“I agree with the principle,” I assured him, “but unless you can find another way, I can’t help you. You would have had to come up with a slightly different plan anyway, as I am booked on Wednesday. If destroying a hospital wing means so much to you, you can wait a week and come up with something better.”
He slumped into the booth cushions, seething at me but saying nothing. I knew he would not push back. If he went ahead with it anyway, especially if he lied to me about a different plan to throw me off, I would blacklist him. Once he solicited my services, his plans were almost more in my control than his.
“Fine,” he finally muttered, without making eye contact.
“Great, I’ll meet you here next week to discuss then.” As I stood up, I threw a few bills on the table for my drinks before striding out of the bar.
I knew Dirk would not follow. He, like many, had tried the first few times we met, but after I raised prices in retaliation, he stopped. Still, I had to be cautious when I slipped to another form.
When I had made it a few blocks, I changed to a young gangly man at the top of the steps of the subway station. Once on the train, I switched to an older man while walking between cars. Finally, just around the block from my next meeting, I shifted to one of my most common forms, a solid woman, in her late fifties, with an intimidating sharp face, softened slightly by waves of hair that fell to her shoulders.
A chime went off as I opened the door to a small cafe. The owner waved as I came in and poured a cup of coffee in front of me as I sat down.
“Thank you Lisa,” I smiled up at her, and she smiled back with a nice “of course, dear” before padding back behind the counter.
As I waited for my colleague to arrive, I drank my coffee and thought about Dirk’s proposal. He wanted to destroy the hospital, to cause people to be less willing to put themselves in his way as he sowed other terror throughout the city. I had talked him down to just a wing, but we had not yet decided on which one, and how.
In better times, I would not partake in this plan at all, but more recently the council had been vetoing my propositions for budget allocation, claiming that the hospital was operating fine, even though it was severely under-resourced and hemorrhaging good doctors due to low salaries. If it was to be partially destroyed, there was no way I would be denied money to fix it back up, allowing for improvements. Desperate times, as they say.
As I took a sip of coffee, my appointment walked through the door.
“Mayor Blayson,” He greeted me with a nod.
“Councilman Jones,” I smiled across the table. “Let’s talk about your position on the health services budget.” | "Hey Bruce... Yeah it was a good night. The reporter from the Tribune asked about meeting for coffee again - I told her to talk to your secretary to schedule a meet.... No I can't do it. You have to. She wants to meet you, not me. You know how this works. I cover for you so you can do the Bat thing. I don't live your life... Yes Alfred IS right. You need to take off the suit and be a normal guy or you'll flip like Robin did... What? Oh I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked about him like that, but you do know better than anyone... OK I've got to go, my alarm's going off. Thanks."
He talks too much. It's hard to be him. Big chest. Big voice. Big persona. I don't fill that body well enough. I feel like Bruce hangs off me like a size 9.0 glove on a size 6.5 hand. There's no precision with a fit like that - I can't operate. I guess I do alright though - nobody mainstream has caught on to my ability yet. Recruiting business is hard though. How am I supposed to let the masked men of Gotham know I exist? Bruce was a lucky break, but even he doesn't know more than a few identities in the city. His offsider, Robin - aka boy wonder - aka psychotic break for one - should have used my services more. He was always Robin. He never had a moment as himself. Now he's Robin robbing banks and Robin disrobing in public. Poor guy. Crazy as a ferret with a mouth full of hot sauce. | 2020-10-19T08:55:56 | 2020-10-19T05:53:00 | 375 | 89 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?
Alison did the math. She was 11, and another ten years would get her to 21, a lifetime away. If she won this she'd get to do all the things she really wanted to do, all the things her older sister got to do. At thirteen she might be able to wear makeup out of the house and get her own phone. Maybe she'd get to go to high school, learn to drive.
"Eleven," Alison thought. "I'm just too young to die. I've got a lot of unfinished business."
Death didn't seem as scary as she had originally thought. She thought he looked, quite frankly, like Santa clause and Einstein put together. Beneath wire frame spectacles he blinked clear blue eyes and there were just the right amount of wrinkles along his face. He was crowned with unruly white hair, and wore the same type of blue button up shirt her grandpa wore all the time. When he walked past her, he smelled a bit like campfire smoke and a bit like her mother's garden in bloom. She felt like he was autumn and spring all together.
He broke her thinking with another question. "So, Alison. What do you want to play?"
"Why do you smell like you smell?" She asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You smell like springtime and campfires."
"I travel a lot," Death said. "To places that smell like spring and like campfires."
"I travel, too," Alison said. "We go on vacation in summer sometimes to the beach and sometimes to the mountains. Dad says we are lucky because we can get to both in a few hours."
Death looked at her with half a smile on his face.
"Which one do you like more?" he asked her, curious.
"I like them both equally, I think. Well. Maybe the beach more. I like swimming a lot. My grandparents have a pool in their backyard and in summer my sister Caroline drives us over and we can play in the pool and take naps. Everyone knows you have to sleep after you swim, it just makes you so tired."
"Hmm..." Death nodded.
"You know? I think that I figured out what game I want to play."
"What game?"
"It's my favorite summer swimming game. Under water gymnastics."
"What?"
"Yeah! It's the best game. You get your grandma to judge it since she always is on the side of the pool."
"What?"
"Yep, here are the rules. You can do any gymnastics move under water and then grandma judges it."
"How does she judge it?"
"I'm not sure, only I know sometimes I win some events and sometimes Caroline wins some events but it's always very close."
"What?"
"You said I can pick the game. I pick underwater gymnastics! Since we need it to be fair we can ask your grandma and my grandma to be the judges."
"What?"
"That's the rules!"
"I don't have a grandma."
"Hmmm...do you have a mom?"
"No..."
"A dad?"
"Not really..."
"Then I guess we'll just have to go with just my grandma. Don't worry, she's a very fair judge. Is there any way you can go get her?"
Death pursed his lips, stifling a laugh. In all of his years of the ridiculous games he sometimes had to play with people he'd never been asked to play underwater gymnastics with a grandma for a judge. And he knew that with these stakes and such a partial judge there's no way he'd win...and maybe that's just the way he wanted it.
"Ok kid...you got it...lets go get your grandma..."
| “You got it?”
The question takes me off guard, I’m still trying to process this new info. The tall man with the black hooded cloak at the end of my bed tilted his head slightly, the scythe that rested in the crook of his arm caught the moonlight ominously.
“Sorry, this outfit does normally startles people. How’s this?”
His form shimmered and before me stood an old gentleman with immaculately manicured whiskers and a twinkle in His eye. His tweed suit with matching trilby in stark contrast to His previous outfit. He adjusted his grip on His suspiciously scythe-like curved cane.
“Ahh, less doom and gloom now. Gotta keep up appearances though,” He indicated His cane, ”So how’s that choice of game coming along?”
The question was delivered with considerably less dread attached than the previous proposition. More like that of certain playful gods from the pantheons rather than Death come to claim you.
A small whoosh of breath escaped my lips. A decision has to be made. This body of mine was considerably less spry than my younger years, and nor was my mind functioning at full capacity. What game could I choose and what chance did I have, it seemed like anything was on the table. Did I even want to win? I had lived a full life, I tried to be kind, a good person, I saw the world, I loved my family. Did I need more of that if He has decided it was my time?
Resolved, I look up at Him. He smiled broadly, a smile of a man confident in himself “What shall it be, a game of strength, of skill, or perhaps of wits?”
“A game of chance perhaps,” I responded, his smile broadening to one of pure glee.
“Now this, should be interesting.” | 2018-03-07T07:23:52 | 2018-03-07T02:57:36 | 453 | 46 |
[WP] You are a master of incredibly minor curses. Things such as people's noses always being slightly stuffy, permanent hangnails, your pens always running out of ink, anything minor but noticeable. You're abilities are unknown to the rest of the world, and your pettiness is unrivaled. | People underestimate me, constantly.
They look at my power and they think "Wow, what a useless bastard, why is he even mentioned in the same week as powerhouses like MegaMight, Astro Lady, or even The Mystic Maestro? How does he have the spotlight even occasionally?"
They think I get up against a baddie and I hit them with a hangnail and I just get lucky... again and again... and they just don't understand. None of them except my teammates do, and they're sworn to secrecy, because if the secret behind my powers ever got out, someone could come up with a counter, and we can't have that. I'm the Power Council's secret weapon, I'm the guy they *want* to have underestimated, unappreciated, unappealing, and mostly forgotten. It's my job to be a bit of a laughing stock, and truthfully I'm OK with it. As you sit there on the cold ground of your lair barely able to flinch or move, you might've guessed what I've done to you: I haven't hit you with *one* minor inconvenience, I've hit you with *hundreds*. In truth, I used my Standard Curse Set B, which the Stat Wizard said would be most effective on someone with your power set: sneeze every time you see blond hair, sudden urge to poop when you sneeze, irritable bowel syndrome, stronger-than-normal sneezes... I tell you what, your getting one hell of an ab workout right now, sneezing while holding all that in, those are going to be sore tomorrow. There's quite a few more in there that I won't go in to, but suffice it to say that 30 seconds was enough to plaster you with enough minor curses to keep you incapacitated while Guardian slaps those power-eliminators around you.
Oh I know what you're thinking now, I've seen it on the faces of quite a few of your like. You're wondering why I'm even bothering to tell you all this? Well, it's quite simple really - my final curse, the one even my companions don't know I can do, makes people forgetful. You'll remember this conversation for another hour, and then when the curse wears off you won't even remember who I am. In the grand scheme of things, pretty minor, but that's what I do. Ah yes, *that's* the look I was waiting for, the abject misery of being beaten by the laughing stock of the Council. I love that look... Aaaaaah, ok, I've had my fun, you'll be wondering why you felt so shitty soon, so have fun with that, and do take care of those abs - I'll ask the guards to get you a protein shake, and maybe some extra fiber. | So, you've heard of death by a thousand paper cuts, right? It's a common enough saying. It's not to be taken literally, obviously. You can't actually kill someone with a thousand paper cuts.
Anyway, the point is that enough minor inconveniences can do enough damage to take down anything, especially if you're creative about it. I should know, I am the greatest supervillian of of all time, Paper Cut.
Seriously though, I hate that name. That idiot reporter definitely found out that you can't die from a thousand paper cuts. Took at least 50 thousand, I think... kinda stopped counting after 25 thousand. | 2019-08-05T08:36:34 | 2019-08-05T07:07:31 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Humans were largely friendly and kept a low-profile. They were seen as the bottom of the food chain in the galaxy and they preferred it like that. But when they were attacked, everyone found out how ruthless the humans can be with killing in their DNA and that Mars was never their home plant | Have you ever felt fear? I mean true fear. The kind of fear that settles in your stomach, cold and heavy, the kind that weighs in your mind for weeks or months or longer. The feeling of ice in your veins, lead on your feet, like a transport car is out of control and you're stuck in it's headlights like those wild animals of ages past.
My people did not know that fear. They knew anger, and ruthlessness, and happiness, and joy, and all of the emotions that you could muster in a safe environment. We knew total control. We knew we were at the top, and we exercised that power like the colonies that first spawned our eight legged ancestors.
It was the Council of Eight that decided the Humans would be the next for our galactic slave machine. They are, were, innovative and dextrous; smaller than us by almost half, and they worked easily without explicit instruction unlike our common workers. They had resigned themselves to a number of small systems, mostly farming planets close to their homeworld.
It was supposed to be easy.
Warping into orbit above Mars was simple. They allowed us to come close. They had no Rissen Jammers, a special machine that prevented warp exits from coalescing. Our fleet of battleships and troop transports held formation with no resistance, their orbital defense stations crumpling like paper under the unexpected onslaught. Their cities burned. Their media systems cried out for help. Everything went exactly as planned.
Our slave ships filled to the brim, we set back for Terres, a local detention planet. We left our military in Sol and made preparations for the billions we thought were ours. We held true to the Council's word and took everything, as everything can be broken down into parts and materials. We started to cleanse their supposed homeworld and made checklists for the next settled planet, one not too far away called "Earth".
We never made it to Terres. Out of nowhere our equipment became faulty. Our warp systems stuttered, our fusion engines heaved, our nutrient dispensers malfunctioned. One slave ship managed to warp out, but we never heard from it again. A battleship went into lockdown after venting it's atmosphere, killing everything that breathed. A groundcrew was torn apart by animals held in some strange viewing area.
After the initial set of setbacks, we redoubled our efforts. We set stricter maintenance protocols and patrolled in sets of 4. We brought in long range bombardments, state of the art gear, and even unleashed a biotitan we had saved for just an occasion. None of them mattered.
See, the Humans had something we didn't. Somehow, somewhere along the way, they managed to gain control of their sun's radiation. It wasn't toxic to us, but we recognised that the Humans could sense a fraction of it's spectrum that we couldn't. They managed to focus it, putting each particle in line with another in a display that many called witchcraft. They had their focusing irises in orbit long before we had the thought to subdue them.
The last report we received was received live. I remember a tinkling sound, like pieces of their glass raining on the primitive concrete they covered their cities in. I remember a flash of heat transmitted through the terminal, and I remember the fear, the true fear, in the voice of the one who sent us this message. The message was short but delivered the words that pierced my hearts and left me cold and coiled like the dead that we could not recover.
Now, as the metal behemoths caress our skies and rain destruction upon our own, all I can do is wonder if we did not deserve worse. They took mercy and simply killed.
I still feel that fear. | YEAR 53.14 AG
Humans never seemed like a threat. Their skin is porous and soft, their eyes, and organs only covered by weak protection. They seemed like "dogs" as well, overly friendly to everyone they met and very easily madd friends among some of the higher tiered species in the galaxy.
In short. They were a prey species. A species designed only to be eaten even if they showed a massive intellect both societal and individual.
The first signs that many of us had that indicated that Humans were a "God-species" was when a few went missing among ships and other planets and they heard stories of their kin getting made to be slaves and food for other species. When the Humans heard these stories they shut down their planet Mars completely. The aggressors that perpetuated the killing of these humans were found to be the Zorg people, a planet several light years from mine in the Anteg System. When the humans finally came out from isolation they were different than before. They had skeletons of steel with which to protect themselves, guns that fired pure heat, bombs that leveled continents and a ship that broke the Zorgian planet in two. Thus did we find out why the Humans had to have relocated from a planet they called "Earth". A human may be kind, friendly and non-threatening. But kill another human or hurt them in any way, and that human will find and destroy what you hold dear because humans have killing in their DNA and they need only one reason for it to come to the surface. | 2020-03-20T17:11:09 | 2020-03-20T15:46:47 | 209 | 102 |
[WP] You are a vampire. If one of your victims isn't completely drained of blood, they reanimate as a newborn vampire, which by law, you are now responsible for. You have always carefully avoided this, until one morning you notice a sticky note on the door of your apartment: "I lived, bitch." | Alucard glared at the note, his eyes burning like hot coal in the darkness. A single pair of footprints snaked in through the gate to his property, rounded the frozen fountain, and made a U-turn on the porch before returning back through the snow-coated garden. The prints were smaller than a man's but larger than a child's. His nostrils flared as he took a measured step into the freezing night.
Like a chilling breath, Alucard drifted between the skeletal birches that clawed hungrily at the moon, leaving no trails in the virgin snow. Through the streets of sleeping London, like a shadow stretching between the houses, he became one with the night. As he passed by their windows, the citizens turned in their beds and pulled their blankets tighter, darkness and blood seeping into their dreams.
As the church clock struck twelve in the distance, Alucard stopped in front of a small townhouse by the side of the road. The wind howled in the nooks, crying out a shrill warning for the residents. The tip of his tongue whipped across his thin lips, revealing a glimmer of razor-sharp whiteness at the corner of his mouth.
With the sound of a gravedigger hacking his shovel into frozen soil, his knuckles hit the door twice.
The wind tugged at his hair as he hooked a dark lock behind his ear. No footsteps or heartbeat came from within the house. No rush of blood from someone roused from a deep slumber.
Pure silence.
Then the handle turned and the door creaked open. The pale face of a girl looked up at him, the pupils of her green eyes dilating at the sight.
"You found my note," she said, crossing her arms.
Alucard tilted his head to the side, a flicker of amusement touching his lips. "You've got some nerve."
"Well, you murdered me!"
"Can I come in?" He pushed past her, not waiting for a response.
The confidence drained out of her posture and face. "Wait. How?"
"You said it yourself, Abi. You're dead. This house belongs to no one." Alucard swept into the kitchen and melted into the shadows near the fridge.
Abigail slammed the door shut and hurried after the vampire. "Don't call me that."
"You liked it two nights ago," Alucard said, letting out an icy chuckle.
"That's..." She clenched her teeth and hugged her elbow. "That's beside the point! You said..."
"I know what I said." Alucard opened the fridge and started dumping the food onto the floor. "It doesn't matter now."
"It doesn't matter!?"
"That's right."
"You drained me and left me for dead! You said you were only going to take a sip!"
"I guess I was thirsty." He shrugged and closed the now empty fridge. "Soon you will be too."
"Hold up, okay?" Abigail said her face twisting under her blonde bangs. "I didn't ask for this. I'm not going to drink... *blood.*"
"That's entirely up to you. Most spawns perish within the first couple of days after they turn." Alucard sat down at the table and ran a sharp nail across its wooden surface. "You either drink... or you don't."
"Why did you come here?" she said, sourly.
"There's an ancient law that says I'm responsible for you now." Alucard leaned back in the chair and propped his feet up on the table. "So, I'm here to watch over you until you can stand on your own two legs or decide to waste away."
"So... you're like my guardian now?" Abigail said, narrowing her eyes. "You have to look after me?"
Alucard sighed and closed his eyes. He didn't like newborn vampires. They were always trouble. Always reckless.
"I'm supposed to teach you how to hunt, but if you're not interested in drinking blood, that'll be tough..."
He sniffed the air and opened his eyes again. "Abi?"
Only silence and darkness filled the room. Alucard cursed under his breath and flew out of the house and back into the chilling night. This was the exact reason for his careful feeding practices. He was too old to nanny unruly vampire children.
| Vampire. That's what they call us. We are satirized, sexualised, and objectified, as though we don't exist; as though we are a fabrication, some cockamemie tale involving chromatic adolescents and puerile fantasy. Whether a stroke of brilliant misdirection by the Aristocracy, or a happy accident; I'm grateful for the cloak it provides me day-to-day.
I've been around the block before, more times than my human memory has the capacity for. I know I'm not the eldest of my kind either, in fact, I'm considered quite young by the governing Aristocracy, whose laws I *must* follow to protect the ineffable secrecy behind our existance. I've seen others make minor mistakes that resulted in their entire blood-heritage being excecuted. We must be careful. *I* must be careful.
I had been stalking my target for some time, carefully monitoring his social media and his daily movements. He didn't have many friends, lived by himself far from any family. Were he to disappear one day the investigation would be short and, I think, summary.
Tonight, I feed.
He lay asleep, the illumination from his alarm clock cast an ominous crimson glow past the open bottles on the cabinet onto his prone form.
I worked fast, in one movement I pinned him down and exposed his neck. His eyes lazily opened as I filled my craving maw with his flesh, pumping soothing mycotoxins through his bloodstream as I drank my fill. As his heartbeat began to slow, I started to feel drunk and light-headed, which was unusual, I was sure this one wasn't a junkie.
I groggily realised my mistake. I was too hungry, or too eager to see it clearly. As my fading sight moved toward the alarm clock, I saw, to my own horror what was written on one of the bottles: Ambien. He must have taken the whole bottle.
When I came to, I almost forgot where I was, until my eyes saw the post-it note stuck to the alarm clock.
"I lived, bitch..."
This was bad. I had to find him before they did. | 2018-12-20T08:30:21 | 2018-12-20T08:22:12 | 130 | 85 |
[WP]: it's the year 2057. Queen Elizabeth still reigns. People are getting suspicious. | Elizabeth 2.0 arched an eyebrow as the assassin’s weapon pierced the soft synthetic tissue of her chest. Her attacker recoiled at her apparent indifference, leaving the large wooden stake embedded in her body, right where her heart would have been. Her dress was ruined.
“A vampire?” She held the stake between her thumb and forefinger and plucked it free. “Really?”
There was a tingling sensation in her chest as swarms of nanites rushed to repair the damage that her assailant had caused. They wouldn’t be able to fix her dress, though. She took a step forward.
“Back, foul creature!” The assassin stepped backwards, almost tripping over his robes in his haste. He had disguised himself as an Anglican Bishop – or perhaps he was an Anglican Bishop. They had made no secret of the fact that they thought her surprising longevity suspicious. Elizabeth tried to search for the man’s face in the state database, but the wifi signal in the palace was abysmal.
The bishop and/or assassin was now brandishing a silver cross and mumbling something in Latin.
“Who sent you?” Her universal translator had defaulted to Latin also, which only seemed to confirm the man’s suspicions that she was some sort of demon.
“Was it George? We do find his little rebellion amusing, though if this is the best he can throw at us we are afraid his uprising will be as short as his grandfather’s.”
The silver cross hurtled through the air, slicing through the paper-thin flesh above her left eye and exposing part of the chrome endoskeleton beneath. She sighed in frustration.
“As though you haven’t been rude enough already.” She stepped forward again, her fingers slowly forming into long, razor-sharp claws as the nanites shaped and reshaped her flesh.
“I am the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland,” she took another step forward, he took another step back.
“I am Empress of Europe, Czarina of Russia and the Queen of Mars.” She drew her hand back, preparing to deliver the killing blow. She hadn’t had to shed blood personally since the revolution of 2022. Good times.
“And you…” she concluded, flexing her claws in anticipation. “Who do you think you are, to challenge me?”
“I…am a distraction,” said the man. “Now!”
Elizabeth felt a hand on the back of her neck, lifting her hair, accessing the hidden USB port that was only ever to be used in case of emergency. She had just enough time to wonder how they had found the plans, the original blueprints that revealed her one weakness, before she felt the virus take hold.
As her consciousness fragmented and dissolved, Elizabeth 2.0 fell to her knees. She lost control of her nanites, and they began to wreak havoc, roaming unfettered throughout her systems as her body cannibalized itself.
| Soon she would re-enter the pod. Her two hundred years of hibernation was long overdue and would be a welcome relief from her humdrum existence. Even now, servants scurried around the vast chrysalis, deep below the floors of Balmoral castle, prepping and checking its systems, re-filling the vast nectar repositories that would nourish her during her long sleep.
She made her way slowly across the plushly carpeted landing, to look out of the window. It had been so long since they had come to this world, so long since they had subdued the primitive population and began laying their plans for the arrival of the others.
Soon Charles would begin his long reign, and the people of this land would know fear. | 2015-01-20T02:40:14 | 2015-01-20T01:49:48 | 1,505 | 27 |
[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. | What was so unsettling was the *detail*.
He scribbled down the woman's death in his battered little book.
"Blunt forced trauma: Swelling of the cranial tissues: Lack of oxygen to the brain. Death."
Medication did nothing. His doctors informed him it was quite an unusual delusion. He'd asked how they were always right. They'd informed him that his delusion just adapted to what happened after the fact. His memories were somehow part of it all. Brains could be fucked up.
Still, it always ended the same way. Lack of oxygen to the brain. Death.
They were delicate little things. We are delicate little things.
He would have told people, so they could corroborate him. But that wasn't often the best way to keep friends, and he wasn't very good at the whole friends thing even if he wasn't asking them to remember lists of how people were going to die.
The natural conclusion was to write it down.
He gazed around the train's carriage and picked out another. There wasn't much point of course, he didn't know these people. He couldn't use them to prove himself when they died. He wouldn't know if they did. Still... It had grown into a habit. It helped him forget, once it was recorded.
"Severed femoral artery: Loss of blood: Cardiac arrest. Lack of oxygen to the brain: Death."
Annother violent one. Usually there were a few cancers, spontaneous Cardiac arrests or strokes. He'd found an overall 12.3% chance of "accidental" death. He turned in his seat to glance back down the rows of people.
"Crushed Chest: Asphyxiation: Lack of oxygen to the brain: Death."
Another. More Blunt force. Annother severed artery. Burns...
Everyone in this carriage. Every single...
*Oh.*
The train lurched. Jolted. His head cracked into the side. Trains shouldn't move sideways. The was a squeal of metal on metal drowned out the screams.
For a moment up and down were interchangeable. Cans, cups of coffee, bags of luggage and twisted figures were flung into the air and slammed into the wall in an explosion of movement.
He saw as the window burst inwards and a shapeless mass of steel slammed into him.
Huh. So it was one of those.
Didn't really hurt. But then, he'd never expected it to. Never sounded like it hurt.
He could feel the blood pumping out, warm down his side as the dust settled in a sudden eerie silence. His breath caught, fast and shallow. Which first, the blood or the air? Same thing in the end.
Lack of oxygen to the brain.
He could feel himself slipping away.
Death.
| It was a natural fit, ending up as an obstetrician. There was a satisfaction in seeing the beginning of someone's life, and then knowing the end. That was, until about 10 years ago. It was infrequent at first. METEOR, the first one said. Now almost all of them do.
The telescope in my living room was bought once I understood the situation fully. Peering out into the stars puts my conscience somewhat at ease.
I'm delivering the last old people who will ever walk this earth. | 2015-03-31T11:46:09 | 2015-03-31T10:42:03 | 71 | 30 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "What, so that's it? Just push this button and bam, world saved?" I asked incredulously, slightly disappointed. Me, of all people, picked as the Chosen One of legend, and it's been hit by beuracracy?
"That's it." the priest answered with a wry smile
"Why am I even needed then? It's a button, anyone can push it! Even a dude without hands can push it with his face or whatever!" I questioned, throwing my arms up
"Look, it's still your job as Chosen One to stop the Dark Lord. We just found a sort of...loop hole the last time this happened. The last hero died, but he set things ***into motion*** for a success. So really, we figured we could stop the suffering and plan for 500 years. Get everything into place. Then you here, the big Chosen One, presses the button and everything falls into place one after another." the priest rattled off a scripted explanation, like he expected this to happen.
"Man, I can't believe this. I wanted the glory! The fame! The raw excitement!" I complained, sitting on the steps of the ornate church. The pews were the only thing in here besides the button and us two on the altar. I huffed out a sigh of frustration.
It was my absolute DREAM to become the Chosen One this time around. Fantasy video games were my niche, and imagining doing that in real life was any gamer's dream these days. I'd get my grand quest, make friends and allies, collect my amazing gear, maybe even meet a femme fatale along the way. And my *explosive and deadly* final battle with the Dark Lord himself!! For lack of a better word, it would be legendary.
"Well now now, it'll still be something of glory for you. We'll handsomely compensate you, give you your time in the limelight. Modern technology is vastly different from the 1500s, you'll be a superstar the world over!" the priest assured, patting my shoulder. He sounded like he was getting impatient
"Ooooh yeah just like every other nut on the internet, fifteen seconds of fame. Bullshit. Oh, uh, sorry for swearing." I griped, motioning my hands as if to show how great that was
"That's all right my son. In the end the world needs you, who knows how people will react?" the priest reasoned. I could hear his foot start to quietly tap on the altar tile.
"Yeah....well maybe I don't need it. I'm not pushing the button." I paused, coming to a deep realization. They needed **me** to do this, I had all the cards.
"WHAT?! M-my son, please. Think of your actions. The Dark Lord will rise within hours. You could be dooming us all!" the priest panicked, wringing his hands at me
"My Chosen One life, my chosen experience. Let's talk magic swords, eh?" I laughed, stepping up with a smirk and clapping the priest on his shoulder. I gave the button one last scowl and headed for the door, priest in tow. | I don’t know how to write, if someone can actually write this in a good way go right ahead, I just thought it’d be too funny to risk someone not doing.
I press the button and suddenly the ground below me pushes up, launching me into the air at an angle. As I’m flying through the air I pass a dragon with people dressed in robes on it who are waving staffs around and suddenly I’m moving in a different direction at a much faster speed. A few moments later I spot a dark castle with an army marching from it. I’m falling towards what seems to be where the leaders are, and suddenly-*splat*.
Dark Lords view: “How many demons will you have summoned by the time we arrive?” “10,000 my lor-“ *splat* “gah!”
The priest: “The chosen one has defeated the demon lord! Rejoice for the goddess has saved us yet again!” Crowd: *cheers or something idk* | 2020-11-09T12:09:10 | 2020-11-09T11:06:17 | 161 | 117 |
[WP] As a babysitter you are putting a young girl to bed. She says "Don't worry. There aren't any monsters in the closest. Daddy keeps them all locked up in the basement." | It's the look in her eyes that convinces me. Kids lie. They lie all the time. Poorly mostly. About stupid shit like stealing gum or kicking their sister.
But Sally it telling the truth.
Her tiny little eyes glass over. The tone of her voice wavers. And her skin blanches an almost unnatural white.
"What do you mean there's monsters in the basement, silly goose?" I inquire lightly.
"They live there. Sometimes there's banging at night. Or moaning. Daddy says I shouldn't worry. He says they can't leave the basement," She nods firmly. Then shrugs her shoulders and adds. "He also said I can't go down there. That they'll eat me if I go."
"Honey, that's just a story your dad is making up. There no such thing as monsters," I say right as a loud thud reverberates throughout the house. MY heart sinks. Surely this can't be that cliche of a horror movie.
Shit, ok, quick, think. What would an idiot do in a horror movie?
They'd head for the noise.
I shouldn't head for the noise.
I glance down at Sally. She's pulled the blanket up to her chin and is shaking with fear.
Shit.
Looks like I'm heading for the noise.
I turn the corner into the kitchen. Another loud bang echos through the house. This time I hear deep visceral groans. They sound far away. And pained. Or maybe angry. It's tough reading groans.
The door is in front of me. I turn it lightly when I suddenly realize that I, myself, have never been into the basement either. Mr. Anderson said it was off limits.
The entryway is dark. The light from the kitchen casts downward so I see my shadow with every soft step I place onto the stairs. I glance around for a switch but there are none to be found. So I pull out my phone and whisper, "Lumos." The flashlight feature illuminates my way. And acting like a wizard from Harry Potter somehow gives me a small amount of bravery.
There's a clear clanging now. Pipes. Pipes. Pipes. Please for the love of God, be pipes. I scan the room with my flashlight, trying to pin point the noise.
The basement isn't anything special. Boxes. Storage stuff. Really exactly what I'd expected it to look like. I'm about ready to give up with a piercing moan comes from the corner. Followed my more metallic thuds.
I slowly maneuver past a few boxes, knowing that if this were a horror movie my time is limited. Hoping that it's a HArry Potter movie and I'll meet a magical elf instead of a monster. I hold my breath and look.
There's a girl. No older than I. She's wearing ratty clothes and covered in dirt. Her arms are chained to a makeshift metal bar sticking out of the cement wall. She's gagged.
Without thinking I rush to her. I pull down her gag and she begins sobbing. Her cries are so thick it takes a minute to understand what she's saying. Then I hear it. And it still doesn't make sense.
"Please," She pleads. "I'm Sally's babysitter and I need you to call 911."
"But. Wait. I'm Sally's..." I stop my sentence. I understand. I pull my phone to my face as the girl starts screaming that he's behind me. There's a sharp pain against my head. I black out instantly. | I broke into a cold sweat when I heard those words leave her mouth. Jane's parents went on vacation to Miami for the weekend, and they left me in charge of her. It was going well until this happened.
I tried to shake it off and just leave the room, but I couldn't sit for more than five minutes before becoming too curious. I made my way down to the basement. It still took me some time to work up the courage to open up the door to the spare room. What could be down there?
Perhaps there were classic, Monsters Inc. monsters down there. Maybe there were demons that were captured by Jane's father, the demon hunter. Maybe there was nothing down there but Jane's imaginary friends.
When I finally opened the door, I found something far worse. There were dozens of women, all tied to chairs with their mouths duct taped shut. Most of them were unconscious, but when I walked in, many of them woke up and looked it me with dead eyes. It was clear they didn't want to live.
I saw a bowl of food next to every girl's chair. It looked like he put something cheap in there and forced them to eat it. Their legs were bound to the chairs, and the chairs were attached to the floor. A few of their eyes got wide and looked behind me. I prepared myself for the worst and turned around.
"Hello, Maria." Jane's father said to me with an evil smile. | 2017-06-28T19:31:47 | 2017-06-28T19:29:08 | 100 | 15 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | I had thought Mary was the one. I'd hidden my wealth and lived a modest lifestyle for a few years before she found me. I had thought it was real. It had felt real. She held me when I cried when the dog died. I told her about the wealth a few months before the wedding. She didn't seem to care.
The months turned to years and years to decades. We had our rough patches. It's funny, I've had so many relationships before you would think I'd be good at them. I think I am, now.
The murder attempts didn't start until her mid sixties. They were cute. She tried so hard to make them look like accidents. The brake cables on the car, the electrical fire in my lodge. The SCUBA accident.
I ignored them, until she really hurt me. Stabbed me in the back. Literally. I think it was the betrayal that really got to me. I had thought she'd loved me. I thought about these last few decades and then pushed my way into the room. She sat on the edge of the couch, crocodile tears streaming down her face.
Despite my resolve the sight of her moved me. She had always been pretty, but the years had turned the looks of her youth into the beauty of age. Her makeup was done impeccably where the tears hadn't ruined it. She wore her mother's necklace, a small cross set with diamonds. She'd worn it on our wedding day. I hardened my heart.
"All these years and now you're after the money?" I asked, accusing. "And yet you've tried again and again to kill me. I have news, Mary. I knew about it. I knew about all of them. And they all failed. Do you know why?"
"Yes." She said. I was surprised. "Yes, I know why."
"I'm immortal." I said, off my guard. "You can't kill me. You won't get the money."
She stood up and faced me, the trickle of tears had turned to a flood, and her anger washed over me like a storm. "Don't you get it? I don't want the money! I never wanted the money! Is that what you think of me? After all this time? That I was just some whore you could buy? All this time, listen to me." She sniffed back a wad of snot and laughed. She continued bitterly "Forty three years? Most of my life. A weekend fling for you."
I had no idea what to say, so asked the only question I could think of as she slowly melted back down the the couch. Her fist over her mouth. "Then why? What do you want?"
She squeezed her eyes shut and the tears really flowed. "You're an idiot. Isn't it obvious?" I shook my head but said nothing. She hadn't seen the gesture. The rage had gone when she spoke again, barely soft enough to hear. "I want you. That's all I want."
"So you tried to kill me? I don't understand."
Her anger returned, flashing in her emerald eyes. "I'm going to die. Don't you understand that? I. Am. Going. To. Die. And you won't!" She shouted it like an accusation. She clutched her necklace and a sob wracked her
"When dad died mom said that she would see him again in heaven. She talked about it. She looked forward to it. She died with a smile. And I can't... I can't bear the thought of eternity without you. I had to try. I'm so sorry, but I at least had to try." | “I want him gone! Do you understand me?” I watched my wife talk to a hit man from the top of a nearby tower. She was truly beautiful. Her long curly black hair was loosely tied back. Her beautiful blue eyes sparkled with malicious intent. She was strong willed and persuasive as well. She was perfect. “I see, of course Mrs. Athánatos, consider you husband dead.” The hit man told her, a cruel smile crossing over his face. I watched as my wife scrunched up her face in distaste. “ Do not make me promises you can not keep Mr. Loue, many men have promised me that, and all have failed.” Me. Loue nodded stood up and headed towards my office building in the distance. I sighed, it was probably time to get back, it seems I had yet another guest to entertain. I looked back down at my beautiful wife, her eyes seething with anger and hatred. I loved when she tried to kill me. I knew she was after my multi billion corporation, I knew from the beginning it was her sending the hit men, but what my wife didn’t know was that I was immortal. But she was trying so hard to kill me that I didn’t have the heart to make her stop. I turned and headed into the building, down the elevator and into the streets where my driver was waiting. “ Back to Athánatos Towers sir?” I nodded, “Yes Mr. Letum, I wouldn’t want to keep my guest waiting to long.” | 2019-07-31T09:43:04 | 2019-07-31T08:57:07 | 75 | 15 |
[WP] Every spacefaring species has something that makes them special. Some are fast, some have telekinesis, some are nigh-unkillable. To the galaxy's surprise, humans have a tendency to befirend the cosmic horrors lurking where the starlight does not reach. | You would think that the vast expansive history of alien communications would evolve to become something cohesive, that a sense of mature camaraderie or, at the very least, begrudging respect for one another would frame the foundations of interstellar interaction.
It was not.
In fact they acted an awful lot like a rowdy junior class at a particularly underfunded high school. Completely self involved, relentlessly gossiping about one another and occasionally throwing a wadded up ball of paper at someone's head.
Well, only if you replace the gossiping with cross-galactic political sabotage and the wadded ball of paper with anti-matter concussive strikes, THEN it would be exactly like high school.
Most of these planets and alien civilisations had been in class together for a long, *long* time, there was a complicated social structure, various species forming their own 'cliques', some choosing to sit in a corner by themselves doodling in their notebooks, others getting up on the desks and kicking papers and pens all over the place.
Earth was the new kid, the one who came halfway through the term and hadn't caught up on the curriculum, and the teacher was out of textbooks. If Earth wanted to navigate this new environment and social structure that they had stumbled upon without accidentally offending someone, they had to find another kid who was willing to catch them up to speed.
The first kid had been the Geuogrinauoff, ectothermic creatures with snake like skin and wolfish physique, but they would rather tear their book to pieces and eat their stationary than share any of it with Earth.
Their encounters had been anything but amicable, crews were slaughtered where they stood, their ships stolen and scrapped for parts, all that remained of the initial contact team were their voices screaming through the SOS radio channel.
Second contact had been the Gaelints, insectile and multi-ocular, tall and identical in appearance and mind, they were the type to read the textbook aloud much too fast for you to take notes and would look at you with the deepest of scorn if you dared ask a question.
Earth had sent some of their best minds, mathematicians, physicists, biologists, someone from nearly every field of study, but the Gaelints were ultimately unimpressed, and they refused to waste their time on any future contact with Earth.
The third attempt was with the Re'phna'r, they had seemed hospitable and well meaning at first, but it wasn't until Earth committed a significant social blunder with the isolated AnAfee species that they realised the small, birdlike folk had been playing them for fools, much of Earth's studies had to be double checked for more maliciously placed errors.
By that point it seemed that just about everyone knew about Earth, many others approached them to find out if they had anything of value, but most found Earth to be quite plain and uninteresting, Earth wasn't as old as the others, hadn't done anything particularly clever or useful that others hadn't done before, didn't contain any rare ores or minerals.
But Earth WAS an easy target.
It didn't take more than a few decades for the Geuogrinauoff to lob a spitball at the back of Earth's head, a significantly large and destructive spitball, a spitball that could level entire cities and crush continents.
None of the other races seemed particularly inclined to listen to Earth's pleas for assistance. Their politely dismissive words were sugarcoated but their meaning was implicitly clear. 'It was just a spitball' they might as well have said. 'If you can't handle it that's your problem. It isn't *our* fault you haven't discovered shielding tech yet'.
As Earth desperately called out to the cold, heartless universe hoping someone, *anyone* would come to their aid, someone outside of the classroom heard.
They were called the Mouyaui, and they were nothing like the others, certainly nothing like a rowdy school-kid, they cut a far more imposing figure, a teacher or a principal perhaps.
Unlike most other species Earth had met, the Mouyaui were beings of pure light, almost humanoid in shape and larger than an average multi-storey building. They arrived without a ship and without weapons, they stood behind Earth as the Geuogrinauoff packed up their things and fled from the classroom.
The Mouyaui did not speak any language, they seemed to be a psychic species, communication attempts had been slow and arduous. They seemed uninterested in any material wealth that Earth had to offer in thanks for their aid. The Mouyaui had simply been content to wander the planet, just looking at things with their large eyes, two disk-like absences of light in their long, blinding white faces.
They would climb up mountains and walk through deserts, they would step through neighbourhoods and wade into oceans, sometimes they would reach down to gently touch someone's hair, or even lift something or someone up into their hands, just to look, just to touch, before placing them back where they found them.
Whenever humans left Earth the Mouyaui travelled alongside their ships, leaving long sparking trails behind them. Not once did another species approach an Earth craft being guided by the gentle giants.
Earth was smart enough to realise that the Mouyaui were not what they seemed, that there was likely a good reason that the other species feared them, but for whatever reason they seemed to really like Earth, and in this cold, heartless universe it was nice to have a friend. | Talvines- purple skinned insectoids, parasitoids that infect different species. Able to teleport within a certain range they dominate their part of the universe and have a large gap between them and other sentient species.
Trillers gem spined spider like creatures. Incredible factory systems and innate defense mechanisms. Their towering glass architecture inspires artists. A truly wealthy and respected species. Their past is rarely spoken of but they are peace-keepers and well trusted.
Feared. Nobility.
Asocial in regards to other species.
Not many species blend. The Network, planet systems close to each other accepting all crab species a notable exception in having clear requirements.
Squires and Mylits are some of the most unique one, shadowy creatures working in tandem with birds with highly trained abilities. There is an assortment of other blended planets and cultures but in comparison to the many species it is incredibly small.
Then there are humans, their constant request for friendship initially being mistaken as trade arrangements. Their desire to know others, being taken as a declaration of war once. They were seen as a rude invasive species.
It was however friendliness. Pushing themselves into worlds of Avians was a reckless act that somehow worked, this itself a rare case of interspecies mingling and the deciding factor for the near universe to believe Humans quirk was being extroverted.
They proved that right, in the worst way.
Having heard of Trillers human love of gems sent a small expedition to trade, while a disrespectful act from other species Humans had been accepted. An oddity and a beloved part of the universe.
Triller gems entered the marketplace in exchange for honey, and a tentative friendship was formed.
Then of course, we all know how it went wrong.
A regular expedition was blown off course sending humans into deep-starlight, the gap between Talvines and other species, a place ancient gods had taken to.
An inbetween place, somewhere off of reality where laws had become distorted, where unique creatures and horrifying ones resided, notably where planet sized eyes led back to Varsa.
They befriended xem.
Varsa, a being that didn’t know empathy or even speech. Their extroversion went further than we had believed.
One human said “Xyr cool, xe’s more of a really scary cat than a monster.”
No further answer was provided, no move was made to distance from Varsa, in fact they grew closer to xem. Zaros metals were collected from xyr eyes.
Triller trade trailed off, Avians had, though it had been only a few centuries, already integrated, that though was the end of humans befriending other species. We pulled back, away further from deep-starlight.
While we ran humans continued. Varsa was only the first followed by other entities.
We leave humans alone now, there is a second gap. Talvines at the center, ununderstood entities, then a ring of humans. They send out signals, speak of our nightmares that they call friends. They still try to befriend us but they don’t leave. But now a few words haunt us introverted species. “for now.
“This is enough for now.”
Humans are extroverted, maybe more. | 2021-04-08T00:34:55 | 2021-04-07T21:11:49 | 206 | 42 |
[wp] Deep in the jungles of Papua New Guinea, a previously uncontacted tribe is discovered. Cut off from humanity for at least 3,000 years, anthropologists are shocked to discover the tribe is MORE technologically advanced than the rest of humanity. | In the end it was a child that exposed our nation.
My son, Tajir had always been the studious sort. My wife and I had tried to involve him in things outside of his schoolwork, but he had no interest in playing gravball with his friends or matter sculpting with his mother. I had a strong connection with my son, being one of the lead education of our nation, I had his respect as both a teacher and a father. However, we had one area of study we disagreed on, extro-human communication. He was entranced by the the primitive television broadcasts we intercepted during drone recon missions to the more populated areas of the continent. He believed the Great War to be a lie spun by the Elders to keep us confined and domesticated inside of the Wall.
"There is no way that extro-humans were responsible for the evils of the Great War, Father. They were far too busy with their own lives. Granted, the sports they engage in do look frightening but that is merely the aggression of a few. Surely we cannot judge their entire race because of the tales of the Elders and this 'confirmation' of their aggressive tendencies." Tajir argued, looking up from his pad.
I sighed, "They are a dangerous people, Tajir. The Great War nearly wiped us out. Extro-humans attempted to rob us of the very minerals that make us special. If it had not been for our forefathers pushing back the tide of tribesmen and molding the Wall we would be no better off than those outside."
"Well maybe if those outside were brought inside they would show you that they have changed. It has been 3000 years, Father! They must have changed since then or else they would have fought themselves to extinction long before this!" His eyes pleaded with me to understand his view and while I did understand I could not agree. He did not know of the Internet and the mass of the information we had collected concerning the extro-humans. He did not understand.
"Son. There are things you do not understand about the people outside the Wall. Life is better here without them." We had arrived at our compartment. We scanned our biometrics and entered.
My son looked down and mumbled, "We will see."
I grabbed him by the shoulder. "Son. Have you done something?"
He didn't look up, he just swiped the command for his room toward the home system and materialized there. I was left in the main quarters with my arm out, mind racing. "Call Elder Hatal." I crossed my arms and drummed my fingers over the fabric of my suit nervously.
"Yes Head Instructor Meki, what is it?" Elder Hatal's holograph asked.
"I have reason to believe that my son has alerted extro-humans to our presence."
"How? He does not have access to any systems that could send communication."
I felt my ears reddening but I knew better than to lie to an Elder. "We just came back from a hunting trip. He brought with him a recorder. I thought it was document the trip but..." I hesitated.
"Please proceed."
"I used my clearance to go outside the Wall. He dropped his camera into the water and I could not use my matter manipulator being outside. I thought nothing of it until now. I accept any punishment for bringing an unauthorized person outside the Wall, Elder." I bowed as a sign of respect.
The hologram bowed back slightly, confirming that the punishment would come but with dignity. "I will relay your message to Elder Hatal. Pray that he is in a good mood Head Instructor." With those disconcerting words, the hologram blinked out of existence.
A hand ran up my back and squeezed my shoulder. I cupped the hand in mine and pulled my wife in for a kiss. She smiled after we pulled apart, "It will be fine, Meki. Our son would never risk our safety."
I sigh and lean into her embrace. "I know, Seol. I just can't help but worry."
That night I wrote a small bot to scour the web for any mention of my people, our technology or our land and patched it through to a close-by satellite. Knowing it would take a few hours, I let it run and joined my wife in bed. I slept soundly oblivious to the warnings and alerts my little bot sent back to the home-system. The collection of articles that greeted me when I woke was large and growing. 'Lost City of Atlantis Found' was the lead story on all major news networks. I grimaced, "We are a nation."
*EDIT:* Yes the story will be continued if y'all want it! And thanks for the gold :) | Moving quickly, gathered the specimen before it managed to scurry beneath the undergrowth and placed it in a grass box. I brought the spider level with my eyes and felt once more a twinge of excitement. I had never come across one like it, with long translucent legs and elongated vivid green body. Could it be that *I* have discovered a new species? Laughing excitedly to myself, I placed the box on the damp ground to take photographs. Due to the setting sun, the pictures weren't ideal, but if something happened and I lost the specimen, I had at least documented its existence and main features. Next, I removed a measuring tape from my kit. The more I examined it, the fonder I became of the little spider (little? 32.2mm x 29.0mm). Sentimentalist that I am, I named it Horace.
I had to return to camp soon. The jungle was filled with a misty golden glow and shadows were elongating on the forest floor. To my right, I passed a strange sort of scooter resting on the vegetation. *Really!*, I thought, with mild annoyance, *The noise would frighten everything away.* Still holding tightly onto Horace's box, I continued happily towards the camp. Soon, I encountered a type post in the centre of a glade. It was just slightly taller than me. A bright white light pulsated at its highest point. Now I was indignant. How were we to study nocturnal species in their natural habitat with such artificial light marring these pristine surroundings?
It was not until I faced a tall black wall made of some unknown rubbery material that I understood the significance of what I had seen earlier. I tucked Horace's box under my arm and removed my camera from its pouch. I began taking pictures. The wall was too high for me to see what lay on the other side. I should have returned to the camp. I should have left with Horace. But I didn't. Curiosity compelled me to walk the length of the wall. The government in Papua New Guinea keeps very tight control over happenings in the jungle, and with good reason.
There was a climbable tree near the wall. I deposited Horace by the trunk and hoisted myself up. I climbed until my head was above the wall and gasped. I snapped pictures of the camp as fast as my camera would allow. People walked among the black tent-like structures. I fumbled for my binoculars. I was about to press them to my eyes when I heard footsteps below.
| 2015-04-11T08:57:46 | 2015-04-11T08:56:21 | 473 | 37 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | The human smiled playfully. "So if I understand you correctly. You will give us this FTL technology in exchange for our aid. All you ask of us is to cleanse your world of this Ashvell species, and remove this substance from your waters?"
"That is all," I said with a hoarse voice. We hadn't done much research on these creatures. All we knew was that they had yet to fly further than their own moon and that they may be our salvation. I stepped back as the human walked by me. He walked carelessly, holding the vial that contained the substance that could destroy my species.
Water. Yes, we thought it was water. The clear liquid that granted our planet the ability to sustain life. The Ashvell gave it to us as a simple offering, one of peace and prosperity. We had no reason to suspect the Ashvell of foul play. Would you? We had been on neighboring planets for thousands of years.
Cast Ozon had started to puke green bile moments after he had swallowed the substance. His elongated neck had melted within mere seconds. Our dear leader had died whilst still holding onto the glass. Before anyone had been able to react, the Ashvell had started their offense. Enormous cannons had sprayed our lands, our homes and our people with the poisonous substance. We thought it was merely water. The Ashvell knew it was not.
"You should not keep this substance in an unprotected vial," I said. Humans in white coats eyed me as I followed the human leader up a flight of stairs.
We entered what I assumed to be a living space. Why else would there be a sleeping platform in the center of the room? The human sat down and placed his legs on the sleeping platform, leaning backwards.
"What is your answer? We haven't much time! The Ashvell kill our younglings by the hundreds for every second I do not return."
"Has the United Nations made a decision?" The human spoke to the mirrored wall on the other side of room.
A face appeared on the wall. The human in the wall cocked an eyebrow. His gaze lingered on me. "You say that this liquid is poisonous to your species?"
A shiver ran down my spine. "Yes, it is. None of the species in our solar system are able to survive direct contact with this substance. We beg of you, please save us."
"And simply attaching the technology you wish to donate to us will enable faster than light travel for the vehicle it is applied to?"
"Yes."
The face disappeared and I could once again see my own reflection in the mirror. I turned to the human beside me. He was sniffing the substance, twirling the vial around as he did.
Then he drank it.
I stood there in disbelief. The human drank the most poisonous substance known to my people. I jumped back, afraid that his body would explode. A mere drop still in his throat could splash out at any second. A mere drop was enough to kill me outright.
Nothing happened.
The human smacked his lips and winked at me. "Twelve percent."
Behind me, I heard the oh so familiar booming of FTL-engines. The humans had accepted our offer. | Hairless Bonobos walking on the moon. This is how we found them. Our scouts studied their movements. We infiltrated their societies. Studied their mating habits. Cold, isolated and hungry. The defining characteristics of the human. Now as the shadow of a more advanced race fell upon ours, I sat seated across from this human. He was fat and balding. His food of choice the meat of cow barely cooked, so that blood marinated on the plate. He ate with his mouth open. Beside me the key to faster than light travel, sat beside my hands. It's power was our equivalent to that of a Casio g-shock for the human race. "If I give you this power, you promise to share the spoils." The human stopped eating and tried to wash his food down with his fermented sour barley from burnt barrels, his second request."Give us this , and we kill who ever you like." He smiled . I forced myself to smile back. In the back of my mind was fear. | 2014-12-26T12:23:02 | 2014-12-26T10:18:47 | 70 | 21 |
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who. | The names were always generic. That's how the craze started to give kids weird names. It was a lot easier to find an Appel or Zucchini or Brickhaus. The names on me were Jangela and Jongela. It was nice when the name was the same. It meant that you could choose your death. That the final act was not one of vengeance or anger but love. That's what my parents had told me. I didn't believe them then, but I wanted to. No one's included cancer or heart attack. Humanity was past all that, and we were essentially immortal unless or, well, until someone killed us. These people were called enders and few escaped from committing the task at least once in their lifetime.
The tattoos were imprinted by AI that could see into our futures. It was never wrong. Not one case in all of history. So, we took our responsibility as lovers and enders seriously. We had to.
When I met Jangela, I knew right away that she was my soulmate. We didn't use the fancy matching algorithm. It was natural, the special kind of match that people dream of. She was pretty with mocha skin, flowing black hair, and warm brown eyes. Her kiss melted me. We were only teens when we met, but our love lasted. Yet, every time I asked to see her tattoos, I was always met with hesitance. I knew my name was on her body, but I couldn't see the other name. I feared that the name was the same as mine.
When we had first allowed child, one name popped up time and again. I stared at it in horror. People said that it was a honor for your child to be your ender. This was not my stance on the matter. I had the honor for my parents. It never felt, even now, like an act of love. But, maybe this time, it would be different. That other name was the name that had been chosen for our daughter, a combination of our names: Jonsteadfast and Jangela. Finally, on the day of our daugther's birth, Jangie showed me the other name on her shoulder.
You can't stop destiny so many had said. This was how it was going to be, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. I wanted to change our future, but, when that perfect bundle of joy came into this world, I accepted my fate. We would have time together, centuries probably. She would understand one day, our little Jongela.
***
If you enjoyed this, please subscribe to r/nickkuvaas for more of my stories. | “John Smith. And fuckin.... John Smith. WHAT THE FUCK!” Andrea yelled, looking at her friends arm.
“I know right. Stupid.” Tally remarked. She’d had this reaction before.
“So ya gotta find two John Smith’s?”
“I hope so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe I only need to find one.” | 2018-03-11T07:36:53 | 2018-03-11T07:26:50 | 118 | 78 |
[WP] Humanity discovers that supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves exist. Instead of attempting to exterminate them, some countries attempt to offer them lucrative jobs that they could do better than a human. | Jason never donated blood before. He felt nervous, but he wasn't sure if it was a slight fear of needles or the fact that clinics looked so ghastly at night, the only time he could make it in. The bright yellow lights buzzed out of the windows and the stillness of the night held a foreboding presence.
Jason reminded himself that this was for a good cause. With all influx of monsters these days, blood donation centers needed more and more donors as the supply kept getting stolen, and well...used in those ever increasing cases when people lose a pint or two of blood just walking down the street.
He opened the door, noting the cold metal of the handle against his skin and shivered.
The receptionist looked up, her obsidian eyes glinting in the harsh light above. Her welcoming expression was the only warmth in the place.
"Hello, glad you could find some time to come in today. Please fill out the forms here." She nudged the prepped clipboard towards the edge, the pen tucked into the top clip.
Jason reached for it.
She sniffed, her nose wrinkled cutely.
"You smell a bit nervous and dehydrated. Please drink some of this, should kick in before the phlebotomist is ready for you." She nudged a bottle of gatorade towards him.
"Smell nervous?" Jason felt his face scrunch in confusion, but tried to smooth it to be polite.
"Oh yeah, I'm sorry, I just got a nose for these things." She smiled toothily.
"Uh-huh..." Jason scribbled his information on the form and filled out the waiver.
With a quick flick of his wrist he finished his signature and handed the forms over.
The girl, which he realized her name was Amelia from her tag, led her to the back. There was another cute girl with raven hair and gunmetal grey eyes. She glanced up from her station and smiled. Jason couldn't help but notice she had large canines. It gave her an unearthly quality, and it was somehow...attractive.
"Hello Jason, my name is Helena. Please have a seat here and we'll measure your blood pressure."
Jason took a seat and watched Amelia disappear into the break room. The door was left slightly open.
Helena rolled up his sleeve and cuffed his upper arm. To distract himself from the tightening band, he watched Amelia take something out of the fridge. If the room hadn't been clearly labeled as a break room, he would've thought it was a bag of organs Amelia took out. Like a giant, bloody liver sloshing inside a ziplock bag. But it must've been rare steak or something.
He gagged nevertheless.
"Oh, I'm sorry, was that too tight?" Helena asked.
"Oh, no I'm sorry. Just ah...nervous." Jason forced a smile.
"Ok, we'll try it again and see if we get a good reading." She said.
Jason forced himself to stare at the tile floor, calming himself. He needed the money.
"There we go. You are barely meeting the requirements for a donation, so make you get plenty of water and food after this, okay?"
"Uh, okay."
Jason never donated before, but he had to have blood labs often enough to know that his veins were hard to find.
Helena tied the tourniquet and poked and prodded his forearm to find the vein. Nothing was showing, and Jason was truly nervous. He looked up at her eyes and realized they weren't gunmetal grey, but now red. Her mouth was slightly parted, and she was prodding one of her fangs with her tongue. It was sexy and terrifying, and Jason's arm tightened.
"I'm sorry if I startled you, this is the only way I can see your veins clearly. Got to let the demon out of the bottle for a minute," she laughed as if it were a painful pun.
Her eyes seemed to fixate on a spot, and she slipped the needle in. Jason watched the blood pump into the vial.
"Y-you're a vampire?"
"Yes. I've been one for a while. I really appreciate you doing this, Jason. If there were enough donors back when I was bit, I wouldn't have turned."
"Is that why you're here?"
"Yes."
"Is it really so bad?"
Helena sealed the vial and bandaged him up.
"It can be."
"How do they let you work with blood? I don't mean to be rude but-"
"They don't know. You were one of the special cases, couldn't find your vein."
"Why do you trust me to not tell?"
"I don't." Helena turned to face him then, her eyes glowing red, "You fainted while I drew blood, you remember nothing after sitting in the chair."
Jason slumped into the seat, out cold.
Amelia walked into the room, wiping the blood off her lips on a napkin.
"Huh, I thought I smelled fear in here. Hey Helena, I'm not gonna be here tomorrow."
"Yeah, yeah. Full moon. See you Monday." Helena finished labeling the vial, waiting for her spell to wear off Jason so she could send him home.
​
*Did this real quick on break, first writing prompt I've done. Thanks for reading and sorry for any mistakes :)*
​
​
​ | Karen walked up the spiraling steps in the modern centre until she reached the floor of the building that was crowded with law offices, realtors, and other small whiteish collar workplaces. Approaching the door with only a simple nameplate ‘Kaka Dental Practice’, she stuttered before opening the door.
“So this is what a vampires’ office looks like ... I thought it would be darker and with ... blood.” She thought to herself.
“What! No, why would a dentist want blood and a dark operating area? I run a legitimate business.” Remarked A voice from behind the door.
“What? You can really read minds?!” Karen responded back in astonishment.
“Yes, of course, we can, that’s why I’m a dentist ... no we can’t, you muttered that to yourself so loudly we all heard it. Come in, you’re my 4 o’clock, Karen isn’t it?”
Walking into the lobby, she noted that it was a fairly normal dentists office, although with a plate of donuts instead of floss. The doctor was a young adult male, of pale yet toned build, with a semi-noticeable fang, and an even more noticeable hair. She was motioned into a room after waiting five mins and sat down on the operating chair. The dentist walked in carrying a tray of equipment.
Karen looked at it and said, “So .., Dr. acula? What am I in for today?”
The dentist responded with an annoyed look and tone “Araragi, Dr. Araragi. It’s not that funny.” Karen looked away in horror after realizing what she said.
He continued on, “anyways, you're here for a routine cleaning, nothing else really.”
“Ok” she responded
“Let’s begin” he went.
Dr. Araragi took out the instruments, including picks and brushes. He started with scraping plaque from her teeth. It was boring and over in a second. The rest of the checkup was the same. Almost done, he had a menacing brush in his hand, with thistles in an area of a finger covering it.
She looked at it, and paused “Soooo, what’s with the brush?”
“It’s a new one, state of the art. Designed by a whole wing at MIT. It’s said to work amazingly”
As he slid the brush into her mouth and started motioning back and forth, she was amazed. Each brush of a bristle felt like her teeth were being power washed.
“Arghhgh” her mouth went as they were invaded by the cutting edge toothbrush.
“I’ve heard it feels nice,” Araragi said after noticing her not discomfort.
Soon, her teeth felt clean and the appointment was over, but still, she had a question.
“So, why did you become a dentist, Araragi? Seems weird for a vampire.”
He sighed, looked at her, and said.
“Because I like dentistry. Why do you like the dentist? I like to see clean teeth.”
And embarrassed for asking another dumb question, and done with her appointment, she went home.
---
For more tales from the Storyverse, check out /r/araragi | 2018-08-27T15:19:20 | 2018-08-27T15:13:21 | 136 | 28 |
[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. | “We must keep the Humans believing that their FTL system is unsafe, unorthodox and damn stupid. That is the point of this of this Special Hearing of The Supreme Council of the New Species Traveling Faster than Light. I am Farlack, Supreme Councilor of the Organization of Galactic Legal Advisors. ^(legal disclaimer: Norepresentationismadethatthequalityofthelegalgalacticservicestobeperformedisgreaterthanthequalityoflegalservicesperformedbyotherlawyers).
“Scarlacc, will you please read the minutes from the last session to allow this Supeme Council to aware of the latest current legal status of the Humans.?”
“Of course. That would be Sub-Section 7 of Section 30 of the 5th meeting of the Council of Dealing with and Controlling the Humans.
“It has been discovered that the Humans have developed a completely new FTL travel, with no related or similar technologies in the known Galaxy. The core of this FTL is a bubble of a universe where the speed of light is 1000 times faster than the speed of light is in our legally defined universe is pulled to our universe. The Human ships then travel at .1 c in this alternate universe. Upon exiting this alternate universe, the human ships have travelled 1000 times the distance in our universe. The energy expense of travelling in the alternate universe is the same as travelling in our univ-“
“Sarlacc, this Council is not interested in the technical aspects of the Humans FTL Technologies. That discussion is for the Galactic Council of Technology Equalization and/or The Council of Equalization of Galactic Technologies and/or Council of Galactic Technology Equalization. Ballzacc, will you present the Summary of the Social Legal Issues of the Humans Council meeting?”
“Of course. Due to the extremely dangerous situation these Humans create for us, I will dispense with extraneous discussion and proceed to the summary of the meeting, as permitted in The Rules and Guides of the Supreme Galactic Committee and The Guides and Rules of the Supreme Galactic Committee, version 2 of edition 5, Copyrighted.
“The Humans have a social system that may lead to our death and destruction. The humans developed their FTL without our influence and guidance, so we were unable to control their technology with the powers of the Galactic Patent Office. This failure was due to their rapid technological development. In the span of 6 human generations, they progressed from animal driven power to FTL travel. During the final Human pre-FTL travel, Humans revolted against their legal system and killed all lawyers allow-“
“They did WHAT?” interrupred Farlack. “How do they maintain their society without legal protections?”
“They became disgusted with a legal system that required warning labels to not drive their “automobile” with the windshield sunscreen in place. As I was saying, this allowed generations of research and development to be done in half a generation. And we can not control their technology.” Ballzacc completed his summary, terror beginning to creep into its face.
“Oh my supreme being. When the common people of the Galaxy learn of this… no lawyers…no lifelong Legal Guidance fees…” Farlack began to understand the lack of his future.
“Yes. This Council and all others, we will be destroyed”
“Yes, their technology is unorthodox, unsafe, and damn stupid, but for reasons the Galaxy must never understand.”
| Trendsetti was looking at the report on the testing of forward-pushed wormhole system, and he wasn't happy.
On paper, FPWS should have been perfect. A space ship does a couple of certain calculations about its destination, sends the results into its Yadari-Futara particle launcher, fires a reversed Yadari particle projectile from it in destination's general direction, and the projectile goes on its way and creates a wormhole for the FTL travel.
In practice, it turned out to work just fine. The downside, as the report states, is that physical objects don't like it when the projectile goes through them, something Yadari and Futara apparently overlooked. Apparently, when the projectile, basically a kind of a miniature black hole, makes a contact with a physical object (say, an alien race's space ship with the emperor of that entire alien race currently on board), the object gets this nasty desire to collapse into itself and blow up (something that alien race is most certainly not going to like).
Trendsetti thought it was funny. Mankind wanted to find a way to travel faster than light but accidentally invented a superweapon instead. Too bad they're probably going to have to use it as such very soon. | 2017-03-31T12:54:20 | 2017-03-31T08:44:19 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] Make me love a character until the final sentence / last two sentences. | I met my wife a few days after I got diagnosed. Cancer. It doesn't really matter what of, skin, brain, bone. The end result was going to be the same. Death.
She knew it from day one. She knew I would get weaker, my strength would go, my hair would fall out. She knew it from the start and she stayed. Her lovely smile got me through the vomiting, the nausea, the constant pain. It was a smile tinged with sadness always. The smile of someone whose happiness is set to a countdown.
I pleaded with her. I tried to make her hate me. To leave. I didn't want to hurt her, you see. She was my rock. I was supposed to be hers, but I was a pile of sand, slowly being washed out to sea. I wanted her to leave so she could find someone that could be a rock to *her*.
I could hear her crying on the days I was weakest. All I wanted to do was run to her and hold her in my arms. To comfort her and tell her that it would be alright, but I didn't have enough strength to get up, so I laid there listening to her sob.
Her whole life fell apart because of me. She didn't have any more friends, she worked a job she hated to take care of me. She used to play piano, you know? There was no time for her to practice now. Too busy helping me to the bathroom, making sure I had my medication. Driving me to the doctor took two hours even though the hospital was only twenty miles away. We had to keep stopping so I could throw up.
The day they told me the cancer was going away was the happiest day of my life. I smiled. Or I did the best I could do, I was far too weak to muster up a good effort. I looked up to see the tears welling in her eyes. Finally I would be able to be the one to take care of her. To be there when she needed me.
That night, she came to visit me late at night at my hospital bed. She did that every night. The poor girl barely slept. She had her same lovely smile. Her eyes were puffy and red. She'd been crying a lot.
Her hands lightly stroked my face, afraid that even the slightest pressure could break me.
"I love you." I said.
"I know, puppy, I know." she replied.
"Could you help me with my pillow?" I asked.
"Sure, puppy, sure." The tears were streaming down her face again.
She looked so serene with the pillow in her hand. Like Athena with her sword. Wise and full of direction.
And then she put the pillow over my face. I tried to scream but my lungs could barely muster the energy for a whimper.
"I'm sorry, puppy, I'm sorry" she whispered into my ear as she leaned her weight against me.
"I've been taking care of you so long...I...I just don't know anything else."
I wanted to yell. I wanted to tell her we could grow together again. We could do all the things we wanted but I was holding us back from.
"I'm sorry, puppy" she said again, "I don't know what to do. There's nothing left of me." Her tears fell on my face and blended with mine, making a pool of salty desperation in the sheets around my head.
The black spots in my vision had completely taken over. The world was a blurry shadow. My brain was starting to shut down and I could only think in emotions and single words. *Afraid*. *Wife*. *Pain*. *Breathe*. *Love*. *Stop*. *Please*. *Please*.
"There's only one other person I can be now. If I can't be the wife of a cancer patient, I'll have to be the widow of a cancer victim." | Mrs. Ellsbury's pies were delicious.
Mrs. Ellsbury was a bit older than middle-aged, but not quite elderly, the type of woman that calls you sweetheart with earnest. In all of my years living here, I never saw her have any company. Her spring days were spent alone in her garden, planting raspberries, daffodils, and sunflowers; her summer days were spent gingerly plucking each weed from the garden, making sure to keep her garden free from flaws.
As the neighborhood teenager, my dad volunteered me to cut her grass for her in the warmer months. I did not get paid, but she would always invite me in for a tall glass of lemonade and a snack. It was a decent trade-off, except when she only had peanut-esque snacks (i'm allergic to peanuts). Usually she'd be able to provide something else though.
One day I told her how much I loved her pie, and she confided in me her secret recipe: her flowers and raspberries with various other ingredients. I vowed never to tell a soul.
Each year, we had a block party on Memorial Day. The preparations for the party began in mid-August. I would watch as Mrs. Ellsbury picked her flowers and berries from her garden, taking pride in knowing their purpose.
Finally, the day came. Mrs. Ellsbury and spent all morning baking three of her delectable pies. They were the first thing I went to; I took a piece about the size of my fist and began to dig in.
The first bite was full of peanuts. | 2013-11-10T15:34:08 | 2013-11-10T14:58:53 | 44 | 25 |
[WP] A necromancer, instead of building an undead army, decides to use the undead to solve all of the world's problems. | When Salvoon the Necromancer first raised his army of undead workers, he'd expected a bit of pushback from the living. The corpses were quite scary for the uninitiated, they shambled like something out of a nightmare, and of course, they smelled like curdled milk left baking in the sun. But still, he figured that the benefit of free undead labor would make up for it, eliminating the need for any human to work monotonous or dangerous jobs ever again.
What he didn't expect were the protests, people fighting for "equal rights for the undead."
As soon as Salvoon's plan was revealed to the world, before the potential positives of the change could even start to ripple through societies, immediately there were protesters taking their picket signs to graveyards. They called themselves "Dead or Alive," and they were passionate about protesting.
"If you don't support rights for the half-dead, you must be brain-dead!"
"We speak for those who can't speak for themselves!"
"Zombies need more than your brains! EQUAL RIGHTS NOW!"
People marched in circles around gravestones, chanting their slogans in unison, while Salvoon just watched in disbelief in safety from afar.
He'd expected the protests to die down after the first wave of corpses were put to work in factories, but the angry mobs only exploded from there. Dead or Alive's numbers grew by the day, and they brought in the family members of the reanimated workers to the factories to see their loved ones working even after death, without their consent of course. Every night, the news was full of their stories:
"My grandpa worked for 60 years of his life! He deserves to rest in peace now, don't you think?"
"Death is supposed to be the great equalizer! But I don't see any wealthy corpses working in these factories."
"Retirement is just a myth! Indentured servitude even after death! Capitalism has gone too far!"
Suddenly Salvoon's life went from sitting in his dark dungeon, coming up with plans to help humanity, to having to put on suits and attend press conferences and court hearings. He was being sued by the families of the undead for not paying retirement funds. He was being barraged during interviews about his opinion on how the changing laws for working conditions would affect the living. He was being pressured by the government to find a loophole around the undead being given social security benefits.
And while all of that was going on, there was another layer of people trying to take advantage of the situation. The radios were flooded were advertisements for "undead insurance," to protect your corpse from being reanimated after death. Bosses all over the country were laying off workers in expectation of getting cheap undead labor, causing unemployment to skyrocket. Euthanization was becoming an increasingly popular "choice" for poor families who couldn't afford medical treatment, but could still have their reanimated family member bring in a paycheck.
But worst of all were the messages that Salvoon's phone was constantly buzzing with. Texts and calls from people all over the world came at him nonstop, begging him to bring their loved ones back to life, fully functional or not. After all the protests and all the hate and all the opportunists, they had the audacity to ask him for help? Salvoon had finally had enough!
So one day, he just disappeared. No more interviews. No more hearings. No more resurrections. He was gone, leaving the few undead he's created behind, and leaving the world to figure its own self out. That very night, the leader of Dead or Alive made a statement on TV that was broadcast all over the world:
"Well," he said, awkwardly adjusting his tie, "it's not like we wanted him to leave."
*****
This prompt was written with the help of chat at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.reddit.com/r/ScottWritesStuff/) Twitch stream. | "Seriously, what's wrong with raising a family?" The ghastly figure stood before the court. His body was frail from decades of life past the prevailing life expectancy. "I am telling you, I am just a family man." There were mumbles.
The loudest came from directly opposite him- if he was still a him and not yet an it- was his biggest rival- the owner of the Watergate copper mine. His bloated body and warm face were stark contrasts to the defendant.
"Family values, guys, that's what its all about."
The judge spoke up. "Family values?"
"Yes. I keep families together. They mine for me."
"Willingly?" asked the rival.
The skeleton shrugged. "As willing as your employees too." If he had lips, a smile would have formed. "Some of by best were recruited from your firm."
There was bluster, outrage and absurdity that day. A few minutes after the torrent ended, the judge spoke again.
"To paraphrase, you suggest your mine is simply safer, hence your words 'thanks to Yours Truly, mothers and fathers can come home to their children every night.' Am I right?"
A pause. "Indeed, my lord. You might remember some years back when the Applewood family had their tragic accident?"
The judge nodded. "A parent and the children. A fire while the father was at sea. Never saw the man again."
"It took a long time to get reunited." The skeleton pulled out an ivory box and opened it to reveal a framed image of four skulls. "But you see, we have all the time in the world now, and no one else need suffer my fate..." | 2018-09-11T20:41:22 | 2018-09-11T19:41:17 | 33 | 19 |
[WP] "As payment, I demand your firstborn!" the demon said. "Deal!" You said, hastily signing the contract to seal the deal. "Good luck with them, sucker!" | *"HAH!* Okay, he's yours!" I said as I threw my hands up in the air, half in excitement and half in disbelief.
I walked into the kitchen and banged on the door leading to the basement stairs.
"Hey, kid, you got a visitor!"
"Not now! I'm in the middle of owning newbs, ma! I'll be up in a minute!"
With a snap of his fingers the demon summoned my son from his lair and I could tell immediately this was not what he expected.
My son sat, still slumped in his gaming chair, headset on, hands poised at the hot-key row and directional arrows with his 5 o'clock shadow framing his half-agape mouth. My son is 34, my oldest, and yet, somehow, my youngest as well.
"MA, what the f*ck" he finally said when the shock wore off.
"Yeah, what the f*uck", chimed in the demon. They were both staring at me with the same expression.
"Aww, you two could be brothers!" I mused aloud, being cheeky. "Okay, well, you said" I pointed at my son "that you hate me and wanted to move out, and YOU said" my arm moved my finger to the demon, "that you're taking him! Two birds, one stone and all that!" I brushed the invisible dirt off my palms in satisfaction with a too smug grin on my face.
"I have GOT to start vetting first-borns before committing to the deal, the big guy's gonna have me pushing rocks with an unsatisfied thirst for 10 million years again." The demon clutched his tail in his left hand behind himself, while rubbing the sweat off his brow with the right.
"Ma, I'm hungry"
"OKAYYYYY, welp! It's getting late, I'm sure your little demon friends are worrying about you, okay off you both go! Bye sweety, don't forget to wash behind your ears for once! Don't think they'll charge you rent in hell or wherever-- okay BYE!"
I had started ushering them out the door but before I could get too close the demon groaned and poofed them both away.
I stood for a moment, realizing I was now finally alone in my own house. I went and started a bath, walked into the kitchen, poured a glass of wine, and started back to the bathroom after getting my best robe and slippers. I added some bath salts and put on some music for ambiance during my soak. As I settled into the warm water and took my first sip of wine as a free woman I couldn't help but smirk through my guilt.
Suddenly my eyes popped open with a thought "Ah, that f*cker forgot to uphold his end of the bargain! He was supposed to grant me unshakable power of the most profitable global corporation!" My hand gripped the side of the tub in a rage, but the water caused my fingers to slide and a droplet of water landed on my phone screen. The freshly triggered display showed the time: 930 pm. I realized it had been 20 minutes and I hadn't heard a single peep from the basement. "Eh, this is fine. I'll take it" I took another sip of wine and relaxed into the tub. | "the first born!" yelled the demon.
"deal." I answered.
the demon was none the wiser. honestly I should feel bad, but I couldn't care. I got what I wanted and a good quiet afternoon.
"You!" the demon yelled at me.
"Me?" I answered strangely
"that is not a child!" he was angry.
"oh, what should I do about it?" I asked
"Take back That THING!" he yelled.
"I have my prices, how much?"
"I don't care JUST TAKE IT!" he yelled.
"Fine. just a new contract is needed," I knew he was right where I wanted him.
"Okay!" He yelled.
I brought out my new contact I knew he wouldn't read it.
he signed his real name on it! I watched as my child reappeared. I looked at the fool who signed a deal with a demon, unable to be free ever. he became a pawn in my game.
"bow down!" I commanded.
"WHAT IS GOING ON!" the 'demon' yelled bowing down to me.
"hunny you did everything right!" I smiled showing my real face. | 2022-08-31T21:33:08 | 2022-08-31T18:48:47 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] Hell consists of one room, in which you meet the person you could have been. | I sat in an bland white room. There was a door, a table with a chair on either end, and a black screen that must have been a one-way mirror. There were words written on the wall that said, "just talk". There was a knock at the door. I turned in my chair to face the door and said, "Umm. Come in?".
It opened slowly. I wasn't sure what I should have expected, I did not expect to see myself. He seemed just as confused and surprised as I was. He came into the room and hesitantly had a seat. For a few moments, it was silent. He spoke first, "So. What?" I pointed at the words on the wall.
We went through introductions, then delved into our personalities, likes and dislikes, our taste in music, we touched on almost everything. We both had the same name, same parents, same birtplace and date, same greatest fears, same hobbies, and we both had the same tell that we were lying. It forced us to be honest. We were each other. We laughed for quite a while when we realized what was happening. We laughed even harder because we didn't think it had worked.
We thought the point was to show us what we could have been. That one of us was going to hell and the other was going to heaven, and we were supposed to both see that we could have done better or worse, respectively. We kept talking.
"What did you do for a living?" He asked me. I told him I was an oil rigger. "It's good money, but in all honestly I wish I had gone with something different. Money never solved any of my problems." I said. "What about you, what did you do?"
"I was a paratrooper for 24 years. The pay was ass, but the benefits were good. I made enough to get by and had everything I wanted that could be bought." It was closer to home. The real questions we both wanted to know still hung in air, unanswered because they went unasked. I think we were both afraid to hear the answers, in case the other had something we didn't.
In the empty room, neither of us spoke for almost an hour. I broke the silence. "What's your wife's name?" He looked up from the thumbs he was twiddling for the last fifteen minutes and leaned back in his chair. "Didn't have one." He said, confidently defiant. His eye twitched, it was a bluff. Not the words, the stance. "You?"
"Same. Never married, never even came close." I answered. He leaned forward and put his forearms on the table. A tear started rolled down his cheek. "Kids?" He said it as though that single word was everything to him. It was the only *real* question he asked, and he asked hundreds.
I felt tears falling down my own cheeks. I reached up and wiped my face, "No." I didn't ask if he had any. I didn't have to, I knew the answer. I turned to the one-way mirror and choked out, "So which of us goes to heaven and which of us goes to hell?"
A voice came over the intercom. It was not unkind. It lacked any traits of what the average person would call sinister or demonic. It just... was. "You are both already in hell."
I looked back at him, he was already bawling. Tears fell liberally down his cheeks while he raised an arm to cover his eyes. The front of his shirt was soaking wet and snot trails rolled onto his upper lip. I heard him wimper, and then I joined him.
Our name is Anthony Ahkeem. We were born on June 2nd, 1991 in a hospital on the south side of Chicago to Christopher McDonald and Joselyn White. We were abandoned by Christopher at the age of two and never saw him again. We grew up in a poor neighborhood riddled with crime and moved out of state at eighteen in search of a safer place to raise a family. Both of our careers were short, like our lives, and were in dangerous fields. We were two different people, but we were the same person.
What broke me was not that no matter what I did, I would be abandoned by my father. Or that I would always end up working in a dangerous field. Or that I would die at the age of 42 in a violent manner. None of that mattered.
What broke me was that no matter what I did, I would have never been loved. | The injection is cold when it hits my veins. I feel it traveling, slithering up my arm, slowly...
The fluorescent light above me softens, turning fuzzy at its edges...
The icy snake travels past my shoulder, inward, burrowing...
The light grows smaller, I'm sinking. Through the bed, into the floor, into the earth and the fluorescent light is almost gone. It's the size of an apple, a seed, and then...
Cold.
My mind spins, hurtling back to consciousness. I am a driver in a rainstorm but my headlights are broken. It's dark- my eyes creak open.
Where am I?
The ground is soft- carpet. It's freezing. I pull myself to standing. Every joint aches like I've slept outside during a snowstorm. I look down.
I realize I am no longer wearing the burnt orange jumpsuit. I'm wearing tattered black jeans and brown work boots; I'm wearing what I was wearing on that day.
My grey crew neck is brown and crusted and smells of metal, stiff with their blood.
I look behind me and see a window. It is frosted over, but I clear a space to see with my sleeve.
Outside is endless, cavernous dark. I scrub at the windowpane, squinting my eyes as they adjust to the darkness. It seems to glisten as I look around, shining. My breath fogs the glass, and I move to another pane, straining to make out anything in the darkness.
"It's ice." My own voice sounds behind me.
I turn and suddenly there is a soft glow coming from across the room- a blue fire burns in a stone fireplace. In a red armchair sits...me.
Despite the warmth of the fire, I am frozen. He stands.
"Yes, I am you. You are also you, and you are here, and this is, in fact, real." He sounds like me, but not quite. There is no scratch in his voice from 15 years of Marlboro abuse. There is no urgency or pain in his voice. He sounds calm.
I notice his hair is shorter, cleaner than mine.
"Come sit"
(I'm still going to work on this- loving this prompt) | 2017-05-30T18:48:28 | 2017-05-30T18:24:59 | 182 | 36 |
[WP] You are the latest victim of a God who is known for handing out superpowers. Unfortunately this God has a twisted sense of humour and only gives out superpowers that are useless to the person receiving them. You are determined to make the God regret giving you powers. | For tens of thousands of years the Priests of the Covenant Sacrifice had offered their precious souls to the gods of the pantheon. Souls are so, so rare and powerful. Most of us can’t even imagine the cosmic importance of something so abstract and intangible. But the gods know. The priests know. I know. That is why I had laid down my sword and picked up the duties of a priest so many years ago. I left a life as a conqueror for a chance at something greater. I knew full well how badly the gods wanted, needed our souls. The deal was as ancient as it was simple: once every year a priest offered their soul to the gods, and once in a while, seemingly on a whim, the gods showed mercy. Their mercy came in the form of getting to keep your soul and be granted the most fantastical powers. It was just a high stakes gamble really.
This day was my day. My time to offer my soul. I had bathed in the springs of consolidation, I had thrown all my belongings in the Avellian volcano. My life as I knew it was over what ever happened next. Now I stood in the inner sanctum alone as tradition bid. The last breath of this life passed over my lips as I whispered the sacred words “I offer myself, my whole and all that will ever be me. Which god will accept?”. My voice carried across the vast hall and it had the authority of a lifetime not in meek surrender but self assured purpose.
Only us high priests knew what happened in the sanctum during the offering. All accounts came from those few who had been granted the mercy. Each of them spoke of a different god appearing before them. Asharat the Everlasting had seen Death and lived for five centuries. Wise Ellias account told of the twin gods Guilt and Acceptance. Nothing had prepared me for what I was to experience. I dared to hope for mercy and not non-existence. I dared to hope.
“NO, I DO NOT ACCEPT” the god said. It’s form a thousand forms in one, it’s voice a thousand voices in one. “FOR YOUR WILLING SACRIFICE I GRANT YOU A BOON INSTEAD” it continued and somehow my chest gave way, made room and opened up to receive. My body felt as it would burst as I was filled with divine power. It singed whatever parts of my being it came into contact with until it slowly settled, becoming a part of me.
“I HAVE GRANTED YOU THE POWER TO CHANGE THE COLORS YOU SEE”. the thousand voices boomed like a choir mid crescendo. “..sorry, what? Like change the color of the sky?” I asked in disbelief. “YEAH, KINDA. BUT LIKE ONLY FOR YOURSELF” the god replied. “Oh. Fuck. You.” my words were tiny, but they carried all the rage I had buried deep within me to become a tranquil, pious priest. “SURPRISE!” and with that the god of Mischief was gone. I arose slowly, with new purpose. “You will regret this gods.” and as I spoke this new promise I was literally seeing red. | “DAMN IT!” I screeched out as another fish appeared in another puff of smoke.All my friends were dying of laughter and flailing everywhere like thwy we’re having a seizure.”Dude chill it’s not that serious” said Simon still trying to catch his breath.I scowled at that.The supposed “God” that gave me this ability made out to be awesome but all I could do was summon fish.As more and more jokes flooded in about my useless powers I snapped at my friends and asked how they’d like to think you could be a super hero but couldn’t.Out of nowhere,they all started…choking?I was utterly confused but quickly managed to do the himlech manoeuvre on them all.Then I realised that they had began choking on fish!Could this mean I could summon fish anywhere.Many ideas started to consume my thinking as I knew how I would get revenge on that god by making this power useful. | 2022-09-04T06:22:07 | 2022-09-04T01:50:46 | 78 | 53 |
[WP] You are a human on a spaceship crewed by aliens. As your hair dye begins to fade, your crewmates start to worry about your health. | Ka-el-ri sat next to me at lunch. "Listen, I know you said not to worry, but... Your hair says otherwise." She touched the plated braid over shoulder. It was a vibrant vermillion but the black roots were showing.
"Honestly its fine." I reaponded brushing her hand away.
"I dont know..." she touched her own hair, a deep aqua that commented her dark grey skin that was mottled with red spots. "When our hair starts changing it signifies old age or even disease, but it usually comes in strands not the whole hair."
"Listen its okay. This happens I just need to re-dye it." I murmured brushing off her concern.
"At least see the doctor." She pleaded. "You never know, and the others might consider it contagious, so its best to..."
"Oh, my god, fine I'll see the doctor." I growled.
She flinched back as I abrubtly stood. I stomped towards the door and tossed my tray in the trash. I grumbled about the 3 week delay on our package delivery due to the post being attacked some time back and all cargo ships being rerouted to the next sector while the station was rebuilt and new crew hired. Had that not happened I would have been able to touch up my roots and not have to deal with the concern and fear on my crewmates faces.
I stepped into the doctors chambers. The giant tentacle creature looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow at me.
"Yes Monique?" He asked putting the book aside.
"Hey Sniqkr," i sighed. "Ka-el-ri wants you to do an exam to make sure I'm not sick."
He moved the mass of his body towards me. "Why would she be concerned?" He asked, several of his tentacles enveloping me and starting to glow.
"Because my roots are a different color than the rest of my hair." I raised my arms above my head without being told as he almost fully enveloped my torso. At my words several smaller tentacles began combing through my hair.
"Hm, yes I see." His many eyes closed as he muttered to himself for a couple minutes before his tentacles retracted and bundled under him. "Well, your hair definitely isn't an indication of your health, but its a good thing you came in. You have a benign tumor on your right ovary that needs to be taken care of, as well as a fracture on your 5th, 6th and 8th rib that need to be mended, I'm guessing from the last attack."
"Huh..." I stood there in shock.
"You really need to see me more often." He grumbled. "The tumor itself is about the size of one of your earthly quarters, luckily it can be removed from the ovary without having to remove the whole ovary, you will make a full recovery if we get it soon."
"Y... yeah." I wrapped my arms around my middle as he turned to the computer.
"Also, you'll be going into estrus soon and your birth control is expired, so you might want to get your implant changed, but for the sake of the surgery and the tumor we will remove it and you'll need to wait on any breeding until it can be returned."
I coughed and looked at the back of his bulbous head. "And how long will that be?"
"3months." He printed out a script. "You might want to thank Ka-el-ri, and give that to your section head. Surgery is scheduled for this time tomorrow. No eating for 24 hours, no drinking for 12hrs prior to surgery."
I grabbed the offered paper and walked out. With a grimace I headed in to work. | Yoyrs, Berous, and Peraes peeked their head around the corner, trying to get a better look at the resident human Sarah. Her once vibrant crimson hair had faded to a pinkish hue. The crew was worried. Was she sick? Will she die? “Maybe she’s sad and her body is displaying a change of color in accordance? I hear many humans find sweets make them more happy, shall we find some sweet?” Berous suggested. Peraes scoffed, “No you idiot! She’s obviously not sad, we saw her smiling and laughing just yesterday! She’s obviously very sick. We need to get her to the med bay!” Yoyrs gave them the side eye, “How do you suggest we do that? Don’t you think she’d go if she knew something was wrong? No, we need a plan. Come, let’s retreat to the sleeping pods and plan.”
And they did. The next day they stood in wait for Sarah, bag in hand. When Sarah turned the corner they ambushed her, trapping her as she screamed and squeaked. “Don’t worry Sarah! We’re doing this for your own good. They rushed to the Med bay, bag held high. When they arrived and deposited Sarah, they explained the symptoms to the doctor, who just looked confused as did Sarah. The human sighed, “I’m not dying, I just need to dye my hair again, this isn’t its natural color, I appreciate your worry though.” | 2020-07-05T13:23:48 | 2020-07-05T13:14:43 | 202 | 47 |
[WP] At the cost of your own life, you stopped the apocalypse. You're surprised to arrive in hell, but Lucifer stands before you and reassures you "You aren't being punished, this is for your protection." Turns out you didn't just stop the apocalypse, you thwarted judgement day and God is pissed. | Lucifer had been rather accomadating, all things considered. And hell as a whole had been more... Civil than expected.
Sure, the flames and chains and eternal torture was still there. But a whole government system had also been set up too. The whole nine yards, really.
Hell (no pun intended, seriously, there's literally a special place in hell for those who make bad puns), if you wanted to get anything done at all you had to deal with a barrage of red tape.
*'Get in line here to apply for a license to stab sinners...'
'Go see accountant 70066642 for grievances regarding your annual axe refund..."
'See Satan's secretary for a W40..."*
Anyways, the bureaucracy turned out to be extremely relevant to you because that meant that Heaven and Hell were two seperate, sovereign nations. Two nations that *hated* eachother and therefore had very little in the way of extradition treaties. So with a little bit of paperwork you claimed politcal asylum, went into hell's equivalent of the witness protection program (Sinners Salvation Scheme), and even got some bodyguards in the form of some of the *best* assassins and hitmen in human history. Which also makes them some of the *worst* people in general.
Today you were sitting in a cafe looking out over a lava pit filled with thieves. Satan sat across from you a smug smile on his face.
"God is really at the end of his ropes now. He spent thousands of years planning judgement day, making dumb pacts, and sacrificing a few children here and there. It's so wonderful knowing he'll have to start over. Fool some other imbecile into thinking their offspring will be as numerous as the stars."
"Well." You say in a clipped tone, "I'm glad you're having so much fun with this, Satan. But some of us wanted to have eternal life in heaven."
"And let your precious Earth die?"
You throw up your hands in exasperation, "It was an accident! Look man, I hadn't known that that lightning bolt was supposed to strike those missiles and start an atomic winter. I'm just the electrical guy. I was just doing my job setting up that lightning rod!"
Satan takes a sip of his special brewed tea of souls. The spirits of thousands of undead murderers scream as they are swallowed whole, "Well, either way, God's pissed at you."
You take a swig of your Pepsi and grimace at the strong carbonation.
He continues, "Just be glad that your disguise is holding up. Even with our borders so heavily guarded God has made it a habit in the past to lift up some worthy souls from hell."
You snort. The "disguise" in question is a pair of groucho glasses. The large plastic nose and bushy eyebrows make you look ridiculous.
"I feel stupid. How does this even help me?"
"Well you see," the king of hell muses, "those glasses look so ugly that they only have a place in the underworld. So heaven doesn't actually have a single pair of them. They don't even *know* what they are. Ignorance is bliss and all that jazz. It's basically fool proof, a state secret if you will. To anyone in heaven, you'd look like a normal, ugly human. God could walk right past you and never even know you were there."
A moment of silence passes between the two as their waitress -- a woman in hell for poisoning the food of wealthy customers -- comes by and refills their drinks.
Both Satan and you immediately, yet calmly, dump them out once she's out of sight. Where the liquid lands on the ground it starts eating away at the floor rapidly. Acid *again*.
"Ah man... I was so sure she'd have used brain killing parasite eggs." You sigh and pull out fifty bucks, handing it to Lucifer. A bets a bet.
He counts his money with a pointy grin, "Nah, Lucille is always in an acid killing mood on Mondays."
"It's always a Monday in hell." You shoot back.
"Part of the charm."
After a moments thought you give Satan a curious look, "So what would God do if he ever got his hands on me anyways? Toss me right back into hell?"
*Like that would do much good.*
"Have you ever read the Bible?" Satan says, one eyebrow arched.
"A little."
"Well take your pick. You might have to acclimate to life as table salt. Or be stricken with leprosy. Or, should God be feeling a sick sense of irony, bring you back to life, promise the world won't end in fire and ice, and have you live the rest of your life restarting the cycle for a new Armageddon."
"Lovely." You remark drily.
"Don't worry, human. I'll make sure you'll be safe in hell. We've got plenty of lawyers on our side to back up your asylum here, after all."
"Thanks Satan." | Lucifer continues, “‘God’ is seriously pissed that you not only stopped him from sending millions of souls to their judgement, but that you proved him wrong.”
You look around at the brimstone in disbelief that you’re not ashes, even though you should be burning up, you’re only mildly warm as if you had just spent the day at the beach and have just come home.
“Why am I here if I stopped the apocalypse? Im sorry if I sound ignorant or ungrateful, but I thought that would be a good thing so why do I need protection?”
Lucifer only smiles sadly while looking at you with pity in his eyes.
“Child. God has never looked out for your people. He may have created you in the beginning, but he became angry when you developed the ability to think for yourselves. As your people grew and created life on their own, he was not happy that he was credited with each new thought and creation.”
“Each new generation that grew, they became more and more detached from believing that each invention was a gift from Him. And in a way, it wasn’t. Civilization grew because He made the mistake of giving your people free will.”
“The Hell that you have been taught to fear is not what you believe it to be. God grew angry enough to the point of wiping out what He had created to begin again with the addition that He was always present, but YOU stopped it.”
“You, as a human descended from those he created long ago, saw His action as not the righteous one that he believes it to be, but a disservice to those who have worked so hard to create what now exists. Humans are not perfect. If they were, they wouldn’t have the free will that He mistakenly gave so many wins ago.”
“But, He knows that you were the one that succeeded in him failing to convince his ‘believers’ that to bring about an apocalypse that would destroy mankind. You, and all the people like you, know that the ability to think for oneself and use that knowledge to grow and create is how mankind should exist.”
You look around yourself while taking in everything Lucifer has just said to you. “I still don’t understand, why am I here and not living my life the way I have been?”
Lucifer bows his head and says, “We have to protect you and all the others like you. While on Earth, all religions believed that Hell was a punishment, and in a sense it is. The punishment is knowing that God does not want humanity to exist because they are too free to act on their own. Each time someone like you comes along, myself and the other disgraced angles save you to make sure that your findings do not get erased from time.” | 2020-05-23T02:03:21 | 2020-05-23T01:21:09 | 1,776 | 98 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | The Priest produced a bright red, sparkly button nestled in a grey box from the sleeve of his long robe.
“Just press it and it’ll all be taken care of, like so.” He snapped his fingers, for emphasis.
“Right-o” I answered, but just as I was about to press it, I hesitated. “Waiiiiiiit a tick. Why do I have to press it?”
“Well...” He began “You ARE the Chosen One... It’s your job.”
“But it’s just a button, right?”
“Yes...” The priest left a slight drawl at the end of his sentence, as if he didn’t quite know where the conversation was heading.
“So, anyone with fingers could theoretically press it.” I paused for a moment. “Anyone with nubs, really. Hell, some poor stumpy bastard with no legs or arms could come in here and slap it with his cock. So why do I have to do it?”
“It’s...” The Priest was struggling with this. I don’t think he was used to people questioning things. It’s one of the marvels of religion, people just sort of accept what you tell them if you’re wearing the right set of robes. He even looked down to make sure he was wearing the set of robes that said “Why, yes, I am a Priest and everything I have to say is, indeed, exceedingly important”. “Look, it’s just what you’re supposed to do, what do you want from me?”
“I want you to press it!”
“I’m not supposed to!”
“Why? Because of some prophecy? Because of something some dead bloke wrote out in some piece of paper at the shit end of time? Have you ever heard stories of that place? They were goin’ around cuttin’ heads and snippin women’s clits! You really wanna follow those sorts of degenerates and perverts?”
“I...” He was quite clearly doubting himself.
I put a friendly arm around him. “Look mate, I say, fuck the prophecy and fuck whoever said it. You’ve got as much right to save the world as me. You press the button.”
The Priest eyed the button. It was rather shiny. “Surely... One press wouldn’t hurt?” He looked at me for approval. I nodded confidently and moved away slightly.
He pressed the button. Like a bolt from the blue, a bolt came out of the blue and turned him into a pile of smoldering ash, the button sitting comfortably atop the pile.
I took the button and brushed the dust off of it. In the middle of the button had appeared the words “Whoever pressed this button wasn’t the Chosen One, so they can fuck right off.”
“Well, glad I didn’t press it.” I said to myself, as I pocketed the button.
With the Priest taken care of and the button in my possession, I snapped my fingers and blew a hole in the wall of the Church, floating away to begin my conquest. It feels good to be the Dark Lord particularly when, after a hundred thousand years of defeats, you’ve finally got some proper fucking brains in your head. | I'm gonna be honest, I was a little disappointed. I mean, I'm no fighter or anything, much less a hero, but I don't know.....I just thought something more, well, *interesting* would happen.
Maybe I'd be given some magical armour and sword, and all kinds of crazy powers and knowledge would just be absorbed into me, then I'd kick the Dark Lord's ass and be some awesome warrior.....but, apparently all I've gotta do is click this one button. Like, no joke, that's it. Straight from the mouth of the grand Priest himself, push the button, and save the universe.
So, I pushed the button, like anyone else would....and that's it. No big explosion, or anything crazy like that. Just push the button, and the world is saved. I bet the Dark Lord is pissed, being defeated by some button...... | 2020-11-09T12:45:40 | 2020-11-09T11:06:17 | 286 | 85 |
[WP] We finally get men on Mars and they discover an old Soviet flag placed down decades ago. The Soviets won the space race but for whatever horrifying reason didn't say anything. | Sarah crested the red ridge and her heart burst. She had almost literally moved mountains to be here. And now the rocks, sand and dust she had memorized for years lay before her. Her view from the southern slope of Olympus Mons stretched for kilometers--though that seemed too small a unit to measure what she could see. It felt like she could see for light years. She could feel the stretch of time and space across this ancient landscape. She could feel it stretch across her own landscape, tracing her journey from the wheat fields of Washington, where she learned her love of the stars, through the naval academy and, eventually, here on the fourth rock from the sun.
She felt she could see everything, but soon only one thing dominated her vision: something that looked like--but could not possibly be--a metal pole with a red and yellow flag drooping to its side.
Sarah called out, "Jordan, I'm climbing down a klick to a crater that may have some exposed metal." "Sure thing, Skip."
The object that could not have been a flagpole was nestled into a crater, and looked like it would be in the shadows almost the entire day. Sarah had only caught a small glint from the top few millimeters of the pole that was in the light, but it was enough.
As she climbed down, she thought about all the factors that had brought her so far: the dissolution of NASA and the privatization of the American space program, the food shortages in Asia that had destabilized a third of the world's population, and the wild hope that low-grav farming on Mars would someday solve the problems on Earth. While she was not on Mars to prospect for metals, the Mars First Consortium would not say no to anything useful. And so she descended under the guise that she was prospecting. She knew the truth though--whatever she was chasing was far above and beyond her pay grade.
She reached the crater and found what she would have called a path to the floor of the crater, except there weren't any paths on Mars. She reached the floor of the crater, and all her instruments went dark. Her rebreather was working fine, it could handle a power outage, but coms, lights, and navigation were all off. She tried to reboot her suit, to no avail. Things were weird enough, so she decided to press on the 50 meters to the "flagpole" anyway.
Sarah had walked over all kinds of Martian dust, or sand or gravel, but she hadn't seen anything like the bottom of the crater. It was oddly smooth, as if it had been sanded down and polished, with a thin layer of dust to coat it and a few rocks and boulders strewn around for show. She couldn't shake the feeling that she should be anywhere but in that crater, out of the sunlight, with no communications. She was not exactly afraid, she just had that old familiar feeling that what she was about to do was intensely stupid and yet inevitable she would do it. It was like when she ate a whole ghost pepper on Charlie's dare on her honeymoon. A terrible decision, but one she had to make anyway. Come to think of it, Charlie himself was one of those terrible decisions.
She reached the flagpole. There was no denying it any longer. It was about five feet high, perfectly cylindrical in shape, and of course there was no mistaking the hammer and sickle flag that indicated the Soviets (or someone pretending to be them) had marked their time in this crater.
Another stupid decision: she touched the pole. A jolt ran through her finger, up her arm and through her body. That wasn't supposed to be possible with the padding in her glove, but she found herself splayed on the ground shaking anyway. Actually, she wasn't shaking, the ground was. She tried to get to her feet as a thicker darkness rose around her and swallowed the skies above her, but it was no use. She was being lowered underground. All she could do was wait it out.
Sarah sat, and waited, well away from the flagpole (she wasn't making that mistake again). She may have dozed off, it felt like she was descending for hours, or it might have been a couple of minutes.
Finally, her platform reached its destination. A door opened into a spartan metallic corridor with blinding incandescent lights. Sarah took a moment to adjust her eyes and began to explore the corridor. She was familiar enough with Russian design from her days training for the ISS that she could see many of the same influences. There was something to the platform, the shape and color of the metal, the design (or lack thereof) of the panels making up the corridor, that gave her a nostalgic feeling of training for a Soyuz mission.
She reached a door to another room. It was ajar. She pushed it open and gasped. On a series of ancient monitors, yet in surprisingly high definition, she watched as pivotal moments of her life played out: her first kiss, her graduation, the moment she knew she had to divorce Charlie to achieve her dreams... The room looked and felt old. The monitors had even older terminals with keyboards set in Russian, though a few looked newer and seemed to have standard Qwerty keyboards in English. The chairs were steel and looked exceedingly uncomfortable, but looked as if they were polished yesterday. Sarah's eyes were drawn back to the monitors, where the center screen flashed a message in English.
"Hello Sarah, we have been waiting for you..."
"Hello? Who is there?" Sarah said, once in English and once in Russian.
A new message flashed onto the screen, "We are."
"Who is 'we'?"
"Come and see for yourself..." A small, unassuming door towards the rear of the room opened with a click and a hiss. Sarah felt compelled to step through. She still hadn't shaken the feeling that she should just run away and hide, but her curiosity was overwhelming.
She entered the back room, her stomach dropping out when she saw what it contained. Three grotesque Russian men stood before her. They each had ugly steel and metals protruding from their bodies at odd angles in odd places, with plastic tubing ferrying liquids throughout their bodies. Their military uniforms were tattered. It seemed their backs were impossibly straight. Each man's eyes had been replaced by small metallic balls that twirled constantly. Their mouths were wired shut, and they had antennas sticking out of their skulls. It looked as if they had an intake port shunted into their necks. They were expressionless and, strangely enough, held hands with each other. And the man in the center had a screen affixed to his chest.
Another message: "We are the Sputnik. We want to go home." Sarah's heart ached for the men these once were. "The process for conversion was imperfect for these bodies, but we have refined our techniques in the past decades." Sarah's feeling of dread doubled. The door closed behind her. "We have been watching you and waiting. You have the determination to succeed where we did not. And you have brought us a ship to get home." Sarah tugged at the door to get out of the room as the bodies slowly slid toward her, their legs never moving from the ground. "Our people abandoned us, but you will not. You will lead us into the new age." The things that were once men closed in around her. She heaved at the door once more, digging her feet in, and the latch broke. She ran from the room, down the corridor, praying the elevator would work for her once more. | "... and so it is that we find ourselves in the position to be able to introduce Polkovnik Vladimir Komorov to the platform. Please wait until his statement is finished before asking any questions."
The NASA press secretary took a step down, and shook the gentleman's hand. The cameras flashed without cease, making it difficult to keep his eyes open to see where he was going. He reached out his hand to feel the podium and stepped up.
"Thank you for your time today. Before going any further I would like to first speak to my beloved daughter Irina. I know you had to grieve for me. I know you had to grow up without a father. I know that the times you have seen have challenged you, and I know you must have much anger towards me."
He paused, not solely for breath, but for strength.
"I was often there. I came to see my beloved Valentina, your mother, buried and I saw you. I was scared and excited that you might have seen me but you could barely see past your tears. I wanted so surely to come and hold you and explain everything I could, but it was impossible. I hope you can learn to forgive me for all that I did, and us, for all that we had done. I hope you can look at what we planned to do and find a way to understand it. I am sorry, my daughter."
A tear rolled down his cheek, which he wiped away with his hand, as youthful as it ever was. He took a sip of water, and mopped his brow. Coughing, he took a deep breath and composed himself.
“You must understand how difficult this is for us, we glorify all our successes and work very hard at keeping our failures hidden. This was not a failure. This was glory. We had beaten our biggest adversary at the biggest race there had ever been.”
The excitement in his voice was clear, and this excitement was harmonised by the cameras flashing, catching each gesture and each strong look to be uploaded immediately to social media channels, published on blogs, and shown news outlets alike.
“We had a plan, of course, we had everything on hand, and we had prepared everything to broadcast live from the Red Planet the very day that America was to land on the moon. Can you imagine?! Glorious communism beating this ridiculous idea of democracy, this capitalist society where only the rich survive and the poor are left in squalor, you americans are so arrogant and we would show you, we would be the ones to lead the world into the new era. Yuri kep-”
He paused to cough. Around the room, hundreds of people held their breath. Vlad noticed that his heart was beating so fast, he believed it might pump straight through his chest.
“Yuri kept saying we were like Columbus but I always corrected him. We weren’t like Columbus, he only found land that humans already conquered. We we-“
Vlad brought his hand to his mouth to cough. He noticed a spat of blood on his hand.
“We were truly the first from the human race to reach this land. So we set off on April 24th, 1967, and the mission went without problem. We exited earths orbit the next day, using earths gravity to push us as fast as we could towards our destination. All of this went without incident, which, as I’m sure you’ve now noticed, is where our story deviates from yours.”
As the lights beat down on his head, he squinted to the back of the room, thinking he had seen an old face.
“We settled down to the long journey. We had large elastic bands for resistance training to keep our muscle mass up, and we had just simple concentrated rations to get us through the year. The landing sequence went well, but touchdown was harsh, I broke my collar bone and Yuri had some manner of nerve damage that made his hands shake. Of course, everythin-”
He paused again, mouth suddenly dry. As he looked across the room, he realised he could see no faces, his vision was blurred. He wiped his brow again, and paused to take a sip of the water.
He sipped, but this time noticed the numbers 14-07-54 etched into the base of the glass. His thumping heartbeat practically stopped as he looked up and around.
He looked to the back of the room and saw her. He knew he didn’t have much time.
“Everything went to plan. Right up until November 7th 1968. When we awoke that day, Yuri was out of bed, and looked YOUNGER. He was repairing some electronics for the air recycling system that I had been working on, because his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. When I went to wash my face, I noticed all my grey hair had gone. My wrinkles had gone. The ache in my collarbone had gone. I could stretch my arm to full reach without problem. You can imagine how we felt, somehow we had found the effects of Bimini, and the pool of which Herodotus wrote. We were excited to share this news with RSVN, with Kosygin, and with all of Russia, but that day was w-“
A thud. A flash. Vlad reached to his chest but could not feel his heart. He dropped to the ground. He didn’t hear the screams and didn’t see the camera flashes. He only saw Irina, and reached out his hand to hold hers.
“It has to be this way, father” she said softly, as he drifted into eternal darkness. | 2016-08-16T09:48:26 | 2016-08-16T09:34:40 | 33 | 13 |
[WP] "So they are a war species then, huh." The alien scratched his head: "Why are you interested in them. The humans, i mean." The other alien got closer. "They fight for peace. No war species ever fights for peace." | "Today, class, we'll be discussing and learning about humanity. I hope you read your chapters on Earth and it's native semi intelligent species. To recap, Earth, as its called by it's inhabitants, is the third planet in the system orbiting a yellow dwarf star. Humans, the dominant intelligent(several students snickered at that) species on the planet although the planet has tremendous biodiversity, arguably the most of any known system."
The teacher looked at her class, a mixture of the various species who made up the United Consortium. It was a motley assortment of of almost a dozen different species, a tribute to the long efforts and dedication to peace and diplomacy that had fueled and drove the Consortiums founding following the Great Galactic War, a galaxy wide conflict that had claimed billions of lives and doomed a half dozen races to extinction.
There had been no winner in the War. Instead, the various participants simply exhausted themselves of the conflict.
Too many lives had been lost, too many bright lights had been extinguished before their time.
This is what made Earth and humanity such a fascinating topic to the Teacher. The conflicts and wars on Earth between opposing nations and peoples were almost a contained study in what the Great Galactic War had looked like. So many conflicting ideologies, such quick and rapid technological advancements had lead to a near continuous cycle of conflict.
"So, class, what can you tell me about humanity?"
Per usual, no one wanted to raise their hand.
"So am I to assume that no one did the assigned reading?"
The students looked around at each other, fidgeting in their seats or holo chairs(for those whose biological makeup didn't allow for this particular environment)
"If no one answers, I'll just have to assume that none of you did your assigned tasks, and we'll have a pop quiz to confirm or deny my theory."
More fidgeting......
The Teacher understood. Humanity was a touchy subject among the UC. Humanity had been put forth as a possible target for societal and technological uplifting but once the the UC Council had their full reports regarding the human race, the topic turned from uplifting the humans to potentially exterminating them. Many within the UC felt that the humans were simply too violent as a species and if they achieved intergalactic travel and it's associated technology, they'd make war on the galaxy.
The prospect terrified the Council. They had no stomach for war and the notion of uplifting such a terrifying race frightened them.
Even the most warlike race of the Consortium, the Talonians, who still celebrated battle as a form of art and formed the military backbone of the UC, wanted no part in the human race.
There were simply too many of them. A planet of almost 9 billion individuals? With a gestation of only 9 months? And only 14-15 Earth years before a human could feasibly fight? Even their weaponry, primitive by galactic standards, could still kill any member of the UC races, except for the Artoans, whose naturally hard skins acted as a natural armor.
Finally, a student chimed, a Talonian who had likely already studied humans and their battle strategies.
"Humans are classified as a Level 0 War Species. They're an....unremarkable species, biologically. No natural weapons, no natural armors, no redundant organs. Simple diseases can kill them. Child birth still kills them. Things we've long since moved past."
"So they're a war species then? Why would such a fragile creature be a war species?"
To this, another student replied.
"They're a divided race in almost every way. Nationality, religion, they even cannot agree on what makes them human. Biological differences as simple as skin tone divide them."
The teacher was pleased. The students HAD done their reading. And she could see the wheels and gears turning in their heads. This should prove to be a great discussion.
"So if they're so fragile, so divided, and so primitive, why did the Council give humans the second highest threat rating? Why did the Council debate exterminating the humans altogether?"
Another Talonian spoke up
"Because the fight and wage war over all of that. Their entire existence has revolved around war. They're not warlike. They don't openly celebrate it. Even their warriors, who are trained for battle, don't celebrate it. They justify it by claiming they're fighting for peace. To bring peace to this country or this people. They treat it as an evil but can't stop it......it's almost like a drug to them. An addictive drug. They need it. They crave conflict. But they'll never openly admit to it."
The teacher nodded her head. The student had made a fine point about humanity.
They were addicted to war. It had become a drug to them. If they went too long without it, they would find something to go to war over. It was inevitable.
"So why then, has the Council opted not to exterminate them? It could be done easily enough and with minimal losses to the UC. I'd wager it wouldn't take but a single Talonian battle fleet to destroy most of the major population center from orbit."
And here was the uncomfortable part, for most. The *why*.
"Anyone? Why would the Council risk unleashing humanity on the galaxy?"
This time, it was a Chaxat who responded. The Chaxat, who were a very spiritual species.
"Because they still have souls. They're still a sentient, if primitive race. They shouldn't be exterminated because they've never had the chance to see themselves as anything but different to each other. In the entirety of their existence, they've never united one banner"
"So you postulate that humanity needs an external or outside influence?"
"Yes. Basic science tells us that any material or organism changes when under environmental pressures. Ice melts and water evaporates when exposed to heat."
"So we should melt them?"
That got a rise out of the class.
"No ma'am. I'm saying that we should be the external factor that forces them to evolve. The UC was born out of conflict. Why should humanity react any differently?"
"So we should help them unite? That's kind of what the Council is afraid of. A united humanity could be a problem with which the UC cannot contend."
"I agree. But we cannot judge them for crimes they have not committed. Even if it's a near certainty, which it is not, we cannot treat it as an eventuality that will come to pass. Because you could make the same argument for any of the UC races, particularly the Talonians."
The teacher nodded and smiled. She had argued against extermination in the Council chambers herself. She had made the same points. So to see those same points, those same counterarguments, being brought up a student....filled her with pride. Professional pride as she was doing her job, inspiring young minds to think, to form their own opinions. And pride in the UC. As long as there were those who thought humanity was worth saving, they had a chance to join the UC. A chance to be saved.
"So you think it would be morally wrong to exterminate them? Ok, fair enough. But what do they offer? What does a primitive, violent race offer us? What makes them worthy of being saved?"
The students quieted down. It was easy to debate humanity's faults but few were willing to discuss their positive traits.
A surprising answer came from the lone Artoan in the class.
"Because they're not that much different than us. They may be a different species, a violent one, even dangerous, but so were the Talonians. So were my species. The Great Galactic War proves how similar we are to the humans. Why did the War start? What were the initial goals? No one knows anymore. But like a drug addict finally deciding to get clean, to seek treatment, so did we.
For every fault we find in humanity, if we look a little deeper, we find the same qualities and traits that we ourselves value. We find courage, honor, loyalty, sacrifice.
We find strangers running into burning buildings to save *animals*.
For every atrocity, there are great acts of love and kindness. Great acts of compassion.
They will abandon all logic and reason to save that which cannot be saved. They will fight to their last soldier in defense of a lost cause.
They deserve to be saved and given a chance because they too have the qualities to become something greater than themselves. It's inherent with each country and culture. Now they simply need the opportunity to see how they can be more as a single *race*."
**Edit: This was done as a spur of the moment thing while I sit here at work bored. I'm not a writer. So be gentle.** | *Grim smiled at his obersavtion and noticed his young students confusion. He cleared his throught and continued*
I’ll start from the beginning. Our first few skirmishes with humans had been pretty normal. We destroyed a colony or two and took their wonderfully terraformed land for ourselves. An old fashioned welcome to the neighbor-hood
Humans responded in typical fashion of young species. They sent their envoys for treaties and fortified their colonies. They boosted military spending so they could enter the galactic arms race. We figured, they learned their lesson: They're the new kids on the block, they better keep their heads down and stay out of our way.
I mean, we obliterated them in those early days. Just utterly destroyed them. Any counter attacks they tried failed miserably. And for each ship they did take down, we took hundreds of theirs.
How were supposed to know how great a mistake we made? We figured, money ruled supreme in the universe. That resources were scarce enough to drive a shakey peace between species. In those days, Death was common, but war was not.
War is costly, I mean real war. Not just I hit you and you hit me. But when you are fighting for survival, profits take a real hit. We hadn’t faught a real war in generations. Why would you? There is money in prolonged conflict. Why destroy that endless stream of revenue?
But something strange started to happen. We began to see huge numbers of human refugees flooding our colonies. The humans it seemed blamed their own kind for their failures. Instead of uniting in the face of unmatched power, they became increasingly devided. The humans we sheltered told us horrible stories of genocide and wretched dictators.
They said how land was confiscated from people considered inferior and put to use for the state. How the majority of people chose to turn on one another in hopes of surviving.
We thought, these humans are barbaric. They need our help. So we continued to bring in refugees fleeing from the cruel regime. The stories we heard grew ever more concerning. Faction wars and full out war on planets. Nuclear bombs being dropped on civilian targets.
We felt responsible. We had just been playing our games and had unknowingly made the humans feels their backs were in the corner. They were like wild animals, ready to eat their own young rather than starve.
And all the while the refugees were straining our economy, food was running scarce and we were shocked to see some of the same behaviors and mind sets that had made them refugees begin to emerge.
We were scared. So we made a decision, unheard of back than and retgretful since. We armed the refugees and sent them back. We at first believed they would be unwilling to go fight, but they were more than happy. They smiled when we showed their provisional government the capital ships we made for them. When they saw the warehouses of guns they laughed.
We had our doubts... but what choice was there? More refugees only kept coming and this conflict among the humans needed to stop. So the newly founded Freedom Army left port and began to wage war on their fellow humans.
At first they were successful, but we didn’t account for spies and turn couts. Soon the dictators and state powers had our technology and turned it on our Freedom Army. It was only months before they were destroyed and assimilated as little more than slaves.
The refugees demanded more help. They demanded more direct assistance, but we could not. We had given much more than we could afford and our once peaceful society was begin to crack. New factions were rising and a great political change was taking place in our houses of government.
Eventually the humans were biting at our borders, claiming we had sheltered traitors and supplied the enemy. That we had atognized them with no cause. They were right, but when we tried to explain that this was just the rules they only grew angrier.
Their delegates to our government began to talk fervently, of justice and peace. Peace of all things! This species who had shown its to have no loyalties to its own kind, to put pride over compliance, now spoke of peace.
I sat in the hall that day, a junior senator from a far off territory whose citiea had been razed in a recent human attack. Not claimed and repurposed but razed, an entire planet of farms and food production made useless. People left starving and requiring a massive rescue effort.
I had just finished a plee for assistance, and all I could do was watch as these humans spoke of peace. I stood to ask a question, interrupting their speech, “what Kind of peace will leave you content?” The humans paused and turned towards an ancient looking member of their group. He stood to address our senate, “I think when you all hear we desire peace, you think we want to move on and leave this war behind us. Perhaps go back to making money, go back to our families. Ok time we will.
But the truth is, When we say we want peace, we do not mean we wish to surrender our right to vengeance. We do not want to forget the countless lives lost. We do not want move on. We will never forget the horrors you have inflicted on us and The decisions you have driven us towards. Our children may have trouble forgiving us What we have done, and they may never come to terms with it.
but they will never forgive you, and if we do not obtain vengeance now they will never rest. They will be consumed with the memory of their ancestors suffering. When we say we want peace, we mean we desire to avenge our dead and ensure the next generation can walk with their head held high.
That is peace for us. Nothing so simple as an end to war, but being able to sleep knowing we did all we could.”
The senate was silent. We didn’t understand, and i still do not. The humans continued to wage war on us until our society utterly collapsed.
It wasn’t until we were defeated did we learn what their version of peace was. When we defeated people in total war, we would leave them for dead. Complete anhiliation. But the humans, they didn’t leave at all. Their warships turned into relief supplies. Their generals into governors.
They embraced our children as their own and made sure the orphans were cared for. I realized the most bizzare thing. When they had talked about hoping the future generations would forgive them, they were not talking about their own peoples. But ours.
Peace for the humans was not simply an end to war, but the hope that our people’s can grow afterward. | 2018-03-17T06:22:30 | 2018-03-17T06:00:50 | 46 | 31 |
[WP] [EU] After getting his ring back from the engraver, Sauron realizes it mistakenly says "One Ring To Rule The Mall". | Sauron ran out to the little red Jeep sitting in the garage forecourt and hopped over the drivers side door, sliding into the driving seat in an easy motion and firing up the little red runaround.
He pulled out into the street and immediately pulled out his phone, dialling Caitlin's number and holding the phone between his neck and his head while he drove.
After two rings she answered. "What's up biiitch!"
Sauron laughed, girlish peals floating into the air. "Hey SLUT! Get your ass outside, we're *going to the Mall*!" Squeals of joy came across the line and it clicked off. She must have dropped it again, but no matter, Sauron would be there soon.
Quickly he called Kaitlin, Kathy and Kay-lin, his usual bitch squad and in less than fifteen minutes the car was full and they were on their way, singing along at top volume to the latest One Direction single.
Arriving at Piney Oaks Mall they tumbled out excitedly and headed in, first getting their usual Fripple-frapple-chinos at Starbucks, before heading upstairs to start at Forever 21 and American Eagle.
Caitlin and Kaitlin were, as usual, dressed identically and walked hand in and, while Kathy and Kay-lin held back, listening to everything Sauron had to say. As they walked, they approached the food court and Caitlin suddenly spun, followed by Kaitlin. "Oh. My. God. It's BRAD!"
Sauron peeked over Caitlin's shoulder, it was indeed the local High School Quarterback. Kay-lin began to freak out "Oh God, I can't even walk past him!" the other girls were in a frenzy.
Suddenly Sauron stepped back and then walked around the group, the girls were suddenly wide eyes and open mouthed in shock at Sauron's action. He walked past and right up to Brad's table where he sat with a few friends. "Hey Brad."
Brad turned and seeing Sauron he half jumped up and then knocked his chair over, eventually sitting on the table and trying to fold his arms. "Sup?"
"Nothing much, just hanging with my girls." He signalled over his shoulder to the giggling girls. Sauron took a deep sip of his Fripple-frapple-chino. "You?"
"Uh, yeah, just here with my boys." He gestured down to the staring boys, one visibly drooling.
Sauron smiled, reached out and touched the end of Brad's nose. "Boop! See you around." He walked off and back to his girls who had run over and now surrounded him as he walked away.
Behind him one of Brad's friends called out hungrily "Look at the ASS on it." Brad punched him in the arm and he was silent and they watched the girls go.
As soon as they were safe in Forever 21 the girls dissolved "OH. MY. GOD. You are the Queen!" Caitlin sobbed.
Sauron just spun the golden ring on his finger. "I know it bitch."
*****
[Sauron with Caitlin and Kaitlin.](http://i.imgur.com/Tpcv460.jpg) (couldn't resist, apologies for shitty photoshop skills) | An orc doing an pornographic scrimshaw on the skull of his defeated fellow took a small step to the side as a screaming dwarf of questionable morals and spelling came crashing into the hard ground of Modor, "Fuck'n stunties should know better than to mess wif the boss" was final words heard by the doomed dwarf before the light went out behind it's eyes.
> ***"One Ring to Rule The Mall"***
A grand fury took over Sauron as blazed his hatred at the spelling error, he had poured his malice his power and not an insignificant amount of time on this project. And then there were the other rings given to the dwarf lords, the noble elves and weak kings of men, less than worthless, these rings had power and now strengthened his enemies rather than binding them to his will. Not that they knew he had planned to betray them, every day he received letter of appreciation or a fruit basket for his generous gift.
Sauron called for the greatest minds to help him find out what this mall was and what he could be do as a ruler.
Almost complete on the scrimshaw the orc got buried under the heaped corpses of the great minds who had failed to answer the question in a satisfactory manner.
| 2015-01-27T04:49:31 | 2015-01-27T04:46:37 | 188 | 10 |
[WP] A person who looks exactly like you appears out of thin air in front of you. He starts explaining how he is you from a hellish other universe. As he starts to describe it, you realize its better than yours. | The portal crackled and popped, my computer fried itself as a small tendril of energy slid into it. As if on a final note, the lightbulb above me popped off. Luckily the sunlight coming through my window was enough to see by easily.
"Hello," I said. Well, the person that looked exactly like me that had stepped through the portal said to me. I said to me. Well, you get the picture.
"What the hell?" I asked myself gently.
"Hell, indeed," Myself said to me, "I am from a parallel universe that endures great, great suffering. I have come to seek refuge here."
"Wait, you're a me from there?" I asked myself as I pointed to where the stablized portal now sizzed and gidded malevolently.
"I'm a you from there," he nodded, I noted he wore a tie. Strange, I hate ties, "First, let me tell you about my world."
"Please do," I said, offering myself a seat. I took the seat. Well, myself took the seat. He that was me took the seat.
"The vampires won't let me sleep," Myself told me and my eyes went wide, so I explained, "Not blood drinking vampires!" He corrected, his lips trembling, "They are mutated from humans but feed off of worry."
"Wait, they drain your worry?" I queried, trying to find the hell-ness in this.
"Yes," he yelled, jumping to my feet, "Can you imagine worrying about your finals and then suddenly you're all happy with this sexy vampiress standing over you, just offering herself?"
"I... I... can if I try. I think." A smile playing on my lips, "I don't understand how that is..."
"Oh! Oh!" Myself told me, "Plus my cancer diagnosis!"
"What?" I was on my feet now, "Does that mean I have cancer?"
"How should I know? Go to the Free Health Clinic," he told me, "They'll give you this painful injection. They did from me, but then they charged me! The Free CLINIC charged me!"
"Wait," I asked myself, trying to take it all in "Free clinic? You are from the U.S. too right?" Myself nodded in the affirmative then it hit me, "They gave you a shot that cured your cancer?"
"Yes, and charged me one dollar!" I yelled, "One dollar. Now I'm no longer a billionaire. What is a man to do with only $999,999.999 to his name?"
"B-billion?" I stuttered, my jaw dropping slightly.
"Not a billion, are you even listening about the hellscape that I must endure?" Me asked I.
"I tell you what I shall do," I said standing, "I shall, for the sake of us, become myself in the other there while you live in this paradise world in my stead!"
"You would do that?" Me looked at me, tearfully.
"Of course," I smiled as I stepped halfway into the portal, "Farewell me!"
"Goodbye, I!" he sobbed, "I can worry without those sexy vampires, at last!"
"Sucker!" I smiled and stepped through.
"Wait, wha..." was the last thing I heard. | “Do you want to know something?” I say. “What?” He said. “That world of yours sounds much better than my world.” He laughed. “You think so?” “Yes, I do” I said. He and I began to laugh in synchrony.
“May I see your house?” He asked politely. “Of course!” I plastered a fake smile to my face. “Right this way.” I went to my car and he followed behind me.
We went to my house. “This is so big!” He said, with amazement in his eyes. We went inside. “Would you like anything to eat or drink?” I said. “No, thank you.” I headed for the kitchen. I took out an empty bottle of wine, a loaf of bread, and a knife.
Suddenly, I dropped the wine bottle. My double heard and rushed to the kitchen. I held my arm to prevent bleeding. “Are you okay?!” He said, visibly panicked. “Of course,” I replied calmly. “Are you?” I plunged the knife into his heart. “But...but” “I think I’ll try your world.” I said, leaving him to die. | 2019-12-18T04:36:27 | 2019-12-18T00:42:04 | 983 | 71 |
[WP] In 2017, in the midst of WW III, the UK is desperate for soldiers. As a result, they issued a statement saying that all people who have been knighted by the queen over the past 30 years have to fight. The Platoon of Knighted people just step foot off the plane into the enemy country...
Their mission? Kill the leader of the country and end the war.
Edit: Thanks for all the replies everyone! I knew when I first posted that this kind of scenario would never happen, but I wanted to see what everyone came up with. I've read every single post, keep em coming! Thanks again. | I'm not a general. I'm not a soldier. Nor am I a sportsman, a politician or even an entertainer.
The names of my fellow passengers read like a guest list at a film premiere; the kind of film that I wouldn't ever have thought to go and see.
There are a few outsiders, like me. They are easy to spot, dabbing their brows with lemon-soaked paper towelettes and asking those nearby about allergies before opening their little bag of peanuts. Ultimately, most of the great and the good who grace this plane are viewing our little excursion as an inconvenience - a mere blip on the glorious timelines of their lives.
Not me; and not those others who clutch their coats and bags as if they were children. It's simple. We are scared, shit scared. I am, anyway, and I can smell it on the others.
Sir Alan Noakes sits about four rows ahead of me, and two seats across. He would like the symmetry of that - no odd numbers anywhere. He hates odd numbers. Sir Oliver Marchant is right at the back of the plane, I think even in the last row. He is a gentleman for whom this is probably the most social experience of his life. He's much more comfortable around unconscious people with their heads cut open, saving lives rather than enriching them. I can't help but be a little starstruck by Sir Alec Jones. If war is a game, then he will win. What would the world be like today if we had chosen to play chess to decide the winner of our battles? If that was the case, there would be statues of Sir Alec all around the streets of London.
These are great men in their own fields, really great men. Bastions of British ingenuity and achievement. And I'm willing to bet all their pants are about as brown as mine right now.
As I look at the Olympians, actors and musicians, struggling to position their tiny airline pillows in the right place, I can't help but feel that it will be someone none of us have ever heard of who will win this war. For those on this plane, death is inevitable - we are a means to an end, a legion of martyrs for a brave new society, borne out of blood. Our faces will be plastered over the walls of the New Bailey, and the streets around Parliament Square will ring anew with our names. But none of us will have won this war. None of us will ever see it won. | Sherlock Holmes laid back in his chair, fingering the nicotine patches on his arm.
"I told you that accepting that knighthood was a bad idea, but did you listen to me? No, Mycroft, you just *had* to take it.
"Ha. Let's see who's smarter *now*."
"Shut up, Sherlock." | 2015-02-16T07:57:28 | 2015-02-16T07:35:16 | 268 | 14 |
[WP] For your entire life, you've had the ability to see in infrared. You've only just discovered that no-one else can. | “Dude. Stop shining the remote at me. I’m trying to concentrate.”
“What are you talking about, Pete? This thing isn’t working.”
Dave took out the batteries with a practiced motion, smacked them on the table, and put them in again.
He shone the remote into my face again, trying to send it to the TV on the wall of our common room.
“It’s working fine. You blind or something?”
He looked at me funny. “You can’t tell it works by looking at it. You need a camera or something.”
He pulled out his phone, and pointed the remote at the camera. I came over and peered over his shoulder. It looked the same through the viewfinder. Same annoying light. Bit muted by the screen, but clearly the same.
“What are you talking about? Why did you need a camera to see what’s right in front of your eyes?”
I took the remote, pointed it at his face, and pressed the buttons repeatedly. The reflections danced back at me in his eyes. “Annoying, isn’t it?”
“No, Pete. It isn’t.”
Something in his voice made me stop and really pay attention for the first time. This was the first week at university, and I had only known Dave for that time, although it felt like we’d known each other forever.
His eyes hadn’t contracted when I’d shone the remote in his eyes. Not even a little.
I pointed it at my eyes. Yep. Much brighter than the camera let on. I squinted a bit. The batteries were fine.
“Pete, you can see that light, can’t you?” he was serious.
“Of course. Can’t you?”
“No, Pete. They designed these things to be outside the range that humans can see.”
“Well, I’m human. Leastways that’s what my alien parents tell me to say.” I joked.
He didn’t laugh.
“You an alien?”
“No Dave. It was a joke. You met my parents when they dropped off my stuff. You helped me and my dad carry my stuff in.”
“Hmmm. True. Anything else weird you can see?”
“How would I know?”
“Good point.” he put his hand on his chin, plucking at the faint fuzz that he pretended was the beginnings of a beard. He called it his thinking pose.
“Taps!” he said, after a few seconds.
“What?”
“Which is the hot tap?”
“The one with the H on it.”
“Ok. Not what I meant. Come here.”
He walked over to the taps, and turned the hot water on. It took a moment, but it started glowing like hot water is supposed to. The boiler downstairs has a habit of making it run hot, then very hot, then hot again.
It pulsed as it changed. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be looking at. I said as much.
“The water, Pete. The water. What colour is it?”
“Um. Hot water colour. I don’t know. You can see through it.”
He turned the cold tap on, too. “Is it the same colour as this?”
“No. Of course not. It’s hot. That one isn’t. Are you playing some kind of weird joke on me? Everyone can tell when things are hot.”
“They look the same to me, Pete. The only way I can tell which is hot is the steam.”
I was confused. Things that people had said over the course of my life were falling into place.
“Careful, that’s hot.” I always assumed was the same kind of warning as “Mind your head” when there was a low hanging beam or smaller doorway.
“You’ll need suncream today.” like I couldn’t see the harsh light in the sky.
“Don’t get lost”, like the huge lines across the sky didn’t tell you exactly where you were any time during the day.
How much did I take for granted that Dave just couldn’t see?
I reached for my phone, and Dave looked at me funny. “That’s my phone, Pete.”
“Oh, sorry. They look the same.”
“My case is blue. Yours is green. They don’t look the same.”
So many differences. How abnormal was I? | I hummed as I got on the bus for school. Violet looked up from her phone and smiled, waving at me.
I went and sat next to her.
"Heya Sophie,"
"'Sup Vi."
"You ready for that Chemistry test?" I groaned at her words.
"Did you forget to study again?" I nodded miserably.
She laughed.
Soon enough, everyone had boarded and we were on our way. We chatted idly for a while but soon Violet was on her phone and I was looking out the window, as my parents hadn't got me a phone yet.
I watched the blurs of green, blue and purple flash past the window, letting my mind drift. I glanced around at the bus, noting it was slightly less blue than usual.
When we arrived at school earlier than everyone else like usual, I trudged in and set my bag down at the table and sighed, before sitting down and opening my laptop to try to do some last minute studying.
I squinted, unable to see the words due to the laptop being the same temperature, so shut the lid and sighed again.
"You're sighing a lot today." I jumped, not having noticed the boy in the room. I looked around at him.
"I forgot to study for the test today."
Leo got up and came to my desk. "Why don't you just study now? You know, on your laptop?"
I looked at him, clearly annoyed.
"But I CAN'T, and you should KNOW THAT!"
He raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
I stared at him like he was stupid, before gesturing to my laptop.
"Um... because my laptop is the same temperature?"
He looked at me with a blank expression.
"You know, different temperatures are different colours?"
...
"...What... are you talking about..? You mean like... infrared vision?"
Now it was my turn to be confused.
"Um... no? Normal vision?"
"Nornal vision doesn't depend on temperature, Sophie. That's called infrared."
...
"...What?" | 2021-07-10T11:01:04 | 2021-07-10T09:49:43 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] “…and that class is why Humans are considered the most peaceful species in the universe.” The only three humans in class looked at each other horrified. All the facts about humans that the aliens had were wrong. One student slowly raises their hand. | Tom's mouth dropped open, and he just stared at the Terran ambassador, a look of complete shock and disbelief on his face.
"It's alright, take a minute." said the ambassador.
"You want me, _me_, to take the Human History class." said Tom, slowly.
"Yep."
"The Human History class being taught based on our 'Official History'?" Still slow, deliberate, and Tom's fingers even do the air quotes around 'Official History'.
"Yes."
"Do you know my _personal_ background Ambassador?" There is, perhaps, a small touch of anger creeping into Tom's voice now.
"Yes. It took us some time to find the right candidate. Someone with the right background, qualified, in the right stage of their education, and with the correct educational credentials to pass the entrance exams." The ambassador is talking in a calm, patient tone. Sitting in a relaxed position. Hands in view, and relaxed. They had, after all, quite a lot of experience appearing perfectly calm, being perfectly calm, in situations where anything else could be fatal to quite a few people.
There was a long pause at that, as Tom tried to process what he had heard. A long pause where Tom closed his eyes, and took several slow, deep, breaths.
When Tom opened his eyes again, he looked the ambassador in the eyes, "I. Will not. Tell. The. Lie." Stated slowly, clearly, unambiguously, and with the kind of determination that one might use while explaining to a police officer that, no, letting the home invader get to the bedroom with the kids in it had not been an option. The expression matches.
The ambassador nods, "Good. We don't want you to."
"Excuse me?"
"We want you to tell the class the truth. The whole truth. The one that you _lived_."
"I... _Why_!?" There is definitely real anger in Tom's voice at this.
"Because when we made First Contact, when we negotiated, when we gave the official history, it was with the wrong people." The ambassador takes a deep breath, "If we had told the truth, it would have been seen as... Boasting. As a challenge. And they _would_ have taken us up on that challenge." There is a brief pause, and a shake of the head, "We would have almost certainly 'won'. I was there, and for all of their physical prowess, all of their experience, that ship would have been ours before they had the first clue what we were capable of. After that, well, it might have taken us time to learn how to reproduce their engines, and we might have lost a lot of people in that time, but we definitely would have succeeded. We would have had to dust off.... Well, you know what horrors we have. And at that point, so many people would have been dead that everyone would have outright demanded that we use them."
Tom blinks several times at this, his expression shifting from that anger, to confusion, to understanding, to horror.
"Yes. You get it now. We wouldn't be the harmless, peaceful, interesting but irrelevant species. We would be their conquerors, unquestioned rulers of them all, sitting on our throne of trillions of dead."
"And now?"
"And now, here, we're dealing with all of them. Their best and brightest minds. Their next generation of the rich and powerful, their next military leaders. And also, now, other species are becoming... Aggressive, assuming that we will be unable, _unwilling_, to defend ourselves."
Tom nodded, slowly, the look of horror still present, "That would go... Poorly."
"I think, most of us think, that we have had enough horrors. That we don't need another Paris, another London, or another Los Angeles."
Tom goes pale at that, again closing his eyes, "I think the _galaxy_ could have done without even a single Los Angeles. And god willing, nobody will _ever_ come up with anything like that again. Ever."
The ambassador considers for a moment, then reaches into a desk drawer, pulls out a pistol, not a modern weapon, not something bio-locked to a given person, but a semi-automatic, perhaps, almost certainly, not an original Colt 1911, but a good enough replica that someone would be hard pressed to tell. It is not until the ambassador drives the clip of ammunition in that Tom's eyes open.
They open quite abruptly, the look of horror replaced by one of someone absolutely, utterly, convinced that they are about to either die, or kill. It takes a moment for him to process that the ambassador has put the gun _down_, has slid it towards Tom. That the ambassador's hands are flat on the table, and that the ambassador is looking Tom square in the eyes.
But it is only when the look of panic fades, that reason sets in, that it is clear that Tom is capable of listening, that the ambassador says, "We wouldn't have to. We still have the plans, all of them. Every last, bloody, one. And more, that were never used. I should know, after all... I helped preserve them."
The gun was in Tom's hand before he realized that his hand was even moving. A round chambered, the weapon cocked, and aimed squarely at the ambassador's head.
"Yes. And to be very clear, you _would_ be allowed to walk out of here afterwards. Again, we _want_ you to tell the truth."
Author's note: I have to leave it here for now. I'm not sure if I'll be able to write a part 2 or not. Muses, bad air quality, and needing to drive someone to the airport. | She sat in her chair, quaking in shock. She could not sit there and listen to the professor say that humans when one of the most peaceful peoples in the galaxy. She new different. She new the truth. She had to speak up.
She raised her hand. Professor K'Vorth acknowledge her. "Yes? What is it, Karen?"
Karen slowly stood up, finding her voice, finding her courage. "Yes. Karen. My name is Karen. I carry the name of my ancestor. She was one of the most persecuted and discriminated against in human history. And for you to sit there and say humans were the most peaceful in the galaxy is a great disservice to her and all who died for the cause."
K'Vorth was taken aback. "I am curious about this. What grave injustice has our historians overlooked?"
Karen began walking down to the front of the class, so she could look K'Vorth in the eye and better educate him.
"Centuries ago, my ancestor Karen was at the mighty temple of food, trying to procure enough to feed her family. She took the food to the mighty clerk to tabulate how much the food would cost."
K'Vorth knew where this was going. "Ah, yes. Racial inequality. No doubt you ancestor was an oppressed minority and this clerk threw your grandmother out of the store. We must have overlooked...."
Karen cut him off. "No. It was worse than racial inequality."
K'Vorth was puzzled now. What would be worse than racism?
Karen continued the story of the persecution of her ancestor. "She had with her a talisman. This talisman would grant my ancestor 10 per cent off the cost of the food. But the clerk would not honour this talisman. The clerk claimed that talisman was invalid."
K'Vorth was growing more confused. "Talisman? What you describe sounds like a coupon."
"Yes," Karen said. "Coupon is the ancient term. So you have done some research." Karen added a hint of sarcasm to the word "research."
K'Vorth rubbed his temple in frustration. "Let me get this straight. Your ancestor went to this temple of food...."
"The Kost-Ko," interject Karen.
"Your ancestor went to Costco, and they wouldn't take her coupon."
The other two humans hid their faces in their hands. Karen saw it as validation, that they too were embarrassed at the persecution that her ancestor had faced.
"Only by invoking the Words of Power, a veritable killing curse, was my ancestor able to finally purchase her food and feed her family. Those Words have been passed down in family. They are words so powerful, I dare not speak them."
Professor K'Vorth was just beside himself. "Look, Karen. Being denied the use of a coupon is hardly the injustice you think it is."
Karen could feel anger rising in her throat. "That clerk tried to starve out my family!"
"Karen, I'm sure your ancestors still had more then enough to purchase food. It was only 10 per cent."
"But it is the principle of the matter! If the words on the talisman bear no meaning to those in power, then they just may as readily disregard the Constitution, or the Galactic Charter!"
K'Vorth had let this go on long enough. "Karen, please return to your seat."
Karen felt she had no other choice. She had to do it. She had to utter the Words of Power. It would be the only way for K'Vorth to see reason.
Karen looked Professor K'Vorth square in the eye. She stood up straight and tall. She didn't want to do this, but it had to be done.
She uttered the Words of Power. "Let me speak to your manager."
K'Vorth just sighed. | 2022-10-17T05:24:52 | 2022-10-17T05:22:08 | 490 | 74 |
[WP] The human race is extinct, but no one knows because billions of different alien races all sent spies disguised as humans to earth, and they all think they're the only alien and everyone else is human. | “With all the technological advancements we have given them over the years, I can’t believe these lines are still always so long,” Zax -Lo thought, “all I want are my prescriptions.”
Zax had been waiting for almost an hour. This suburban town, although bustling at times, could be maddeningly slow when it came to queues at the local pharmacy. He relied on the human cholesterol medication in order to keep his secret. He had been chosen for a mission to collect information from earth, and side effects of the medicine kept his alien identity from surfacing through his earthling “camouflage.”
As he stood waiting for his turn, he let his mind wander and daydream about random events from the past 80 years. All the places and people he had seen, all the world events that occurred, (sometimes with a little push from Zax himself), and let a smile slowly form on his faux human face. Then he thought of the lines. Oh my, the lines! His memories shifted across his earth lifetime: lines for events, lines for food, lines to buy things, lines of traffic to get into lines of more traffic.
The smile had faded, and Zax furrowed his human brows. And now **this** line ! Just so he could hide amongst the humans, and handle their food? Why should he continue to wait in lines with these inferior beings? Always pushing, and crowding. They could be vulgar and rude, even the nice ones, trying to be friendly, but only coming off as annoying. The rage grew inside him. He could feel his blue blood boil, forming a barely visible steam on the top of his head. It had been nearly a century of this, and he had heard nothing from home base. The deep anger had grown beyond his control, bubbling to the surface.
“THAT’S IT!”
With a roar, Zax grabbed the loose skin on the back of his neck, and began to tear the human epidermis from his body.
He hadn’t accounted for his clothes however, and had a difficult time removing them along with the skin. As his wet, green/blue body stepped out of his pants, his human legs slid to the floor in a pile. He threw the tatters of the rest of his disguise to the side, and kicked away the mound of ripped flesh.
There he stood in all his glory, body glowing, his two sets of eyes whirling in each direction, taking in the surprised looks on all the people’s faces around him. The antenna on his head spun and sparked with purple
light.
“I AM ZAX-LO! I HAVE COME TO BRING CHANGE TO THIS PLANET! KNEEL BEFORE ME! FOR I AM A SUPERIOR BEING AND WILL LEAD YOU TO A PROSPEROUS FUTURE!”
Zax waited for the inevitable response, surely these people would be scared into submission, and he could become the new leader of the world soon enough.
He searched their faces, while they all just stared.
“Why weren’t they doing anything?”, he wondered.
Then, he watched, as some customers slowly reached behind their heads, others pressed buttons on hidden devices, and some closed their eyes in concentration.
Human forms fell to the ground, holograms deactivated, and psychic barriers disappeared, leaving only the alien forms once hidden underneath them.
All the aliens looked at each other, there must have been representatives from over 20 planets, in just this store alone! Everyone was checking out the rainbow of colors, in awe the varied sizes, and the new smells that appeared all at once.
After all the shuffling was over, it was deathly quiet. Zax’s secret has been revealed, only to uncover a whole new truth. None of us were human. What now? The silence held everyone in place, searching each other, looking for how to react.
“NEXT IN LINE!”
The pharmacist’s shout pulled everyone from the lull, he too was now a tall, thin, yellow and red, insect like creature. He however had carefully taken off his white lab coat, and put it back on after he returned to his alien form.
“Next!”
A small, squishy looking, ball of a creature who was next in line moved to the counter, “Picking up for ‘Micheal Anderson’”
Everyone picked up their discarded human suits, and casually went back to their business.
“I guess there goes *that* plan,” Zax thought, as he slowly side stepped back into his place in line. He sighed, and resigned himself to the long wait once again. At least he wouldn’t need to disguise himself anymore, but damnit, he still needed to get his heartburn medication. | Anthony sat on his bed when his phone lit up and began to speak.
"Loget to Anthony. We discovered something. Call back soon."
Anthony knew right away that this wasn't a joke. Loget was the boss of 24 Sextantis b, the planet Anthony came from, and he'd never directly spoken to anyone but his deputy, Agneod. With a strange feeling in his stomach, Anthony took the phone and called 00500, the one-way phone number to his home planet.
"Anthony speaking. What happened?" he said.
"There are no humans on Earth." Loget said. His voice trembled while he went on.
"It's a lie. Everything is a lie. They've been playing a trick on us and we've fallen right into it."
"I'm sorry", Anthony said, "But I don't understand. What's going on?"
"We weren't the only race to invade Earth. The human race is extinct, Anthony. Every single person you meet, is just another alien."
A soft click indicated that the call was over. Anthony bit his cheek, not knowing what to do next.
He walked downstairs, only to find his boyfriend sitting in the couch, watching 'Teen wolf' on Netflix for the 100th time.
"Josh", Anthony whispered. "We need to talk."
Josh hit the pause button and looked up. A sudden warmth spread across Anthony's body as he looked into those greenish eyes.
He just... couldn't say it. He couldn't give up on this boy, whom he loved with every single part of his body. He couldn't leave Earth, knowing that he would never see Josh again, he couldn't...
"You know." Josh stated calmly. He didn't seem surprised, nor angry.
"I've been wondering whether I should tell you or not for the past few months. But you have to know - I will always love you."
Anthony smiled, tears welling up.
"I'm just like you, Josh, and I wanted to tell you so badly, but I just didn't seem to find the right words and-"
"What are you talking about?" Josh interrupted.
"What are you talking about?"
For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Both were trying to figure out what was happening, but neither of them could figure it out.
Anthony stood up, leaving Josh on the bench. Just before he reached out for the doorknob, Josh broke the silence.
"I'm dying, Anthony. That's what I'm talking about." | 2020-06-21T05:59:47 | 2020-06-21T02:46:34 | 727 | 41 |
[WP] You're on your deathbed, surrounded by people you love. "I've lived a good life," you think, drifting off...and suddenly find yourself face to face with a sharply dressed woman holding a clipboard. "Unit 8430, you earned a 78 out of 100 on your 14th run. Let's review all the errors you made." | “Another day another dollar!” I sit up and stretch my arms a bit. “So what’s the first one you think? Oh I bet it’s that time I punched Johnny in the face, and it ruined my reputation in primary school.” I say.
“Not too far off the mark, the system has it down as when you pissed him off, after that the fight was apparently inevitable.” Cyna replies. The systems been getting more accurate recently, that’s the first time its made a short term cause and effect relationship between two events. Cyna continues.
“After that you made the same mistakes you usually do, you got too caught up in popularity in the 7th grade, but set it right afterwards which is good for a change.” She scribbles down some notes on a loose leaf pad of paper then tears it out. The lights start to go back to their usual brightness, apparently people have been blinded when they wake up. I watch as Cyna tucks a strand of hair behind her glasses only for it to tumble out again, she leaves it be.
“Surprisingly you spent your 20s really well.” She scrolls on her laptop. “Lots of fundraising, charity work, exercise and a health dose of relationships. Maybe could have done better in terms of a part time job, also make sure your room mates don’t bring down your credibility for getting good flats.” I lul it over in my mind, yeah these are things I can do, I’ll be fine next time.
“30s were.. well I’d call it an early midlife crisis. You really dived into all that philosophy stuff didn’t you?” She jokes a bit.
“Well even in real life I like to do a bit of reading on it sometimes, can’t say I end up taking it to heart though, it’s more just to pass time.” She looks at me as I say this like she thinks I’m dumb. “What? Come on don’t judge me.”
“You just don’t really strike me as someone who, well.. thinks.” She says under her breath. She’s right, I’m dumb as they come, but she’s mostly joking with me.
“You ever wish one of these lives were your real one?” She asks. It’s a big question.
“Well.. what’s the difference I suppose?” She finishes writing something and tears out another loose leaf page. She sinks back into her chair, and spins around a bit to face me.
“Has anyone ever gotten a perfect score?” I ask.
“God no. Everyone would know about it if they had. But even if someone had, their life wouldn’t be applicable to everybody. People use scores in the 90s like they are some holy scripture, never ends up working out for them though.” I nod in agreement to this, she’s definitely right, one guy started a religion around it even, but that never really went anywhere.
“How does my average compare to everyone else?” I regret asking it, I don’t really want to know but I don’t retract my question.
“Well your average is 68% and the global average is 56% so you are doing pretty well actually.” She replies, quite happy to tell me some good news.
“Well then, do you want to start today’s 15th trial or are we done for today?” She asks. I pull the sheets over me and chuck on the headset.
“I’m an escapist Cyna, you know I’d do this all day if there wasn’t a restriction.” She nods.
“You bet.” She hits the enter key and- | White. Everything was white as I drifted off into an empty void. The white from my eyes dazed off as a black haired woman stared point blank into my eyes. “Unit 8430, you had just officially recovered from your 14th run, and awaiting return back into the simulation.” Andrenaline broke inside of me, I tried to move my hands frantically to touch my face only to find the latches on my now 18 year old hands. That was how the facility working on project perfect operated. In our now completely demolished world, all sociey had crumbled, majority of the population were killed by each other. The government (or what was left of it) were putting all their funds in this project. Project Perfect was a mission to create a perfectly utopian world, to test things out- to find out what a utopian world consisted of. Once every test subject got a 100 out of 100, people would put this world into construction, and ditch all memories of the world before. Now if you dont mind, Im about to go on my 15th run. and incase I haven’t told you yet, most people get much less than a 78. It is anticipated that this project will LAST as much as 15 lifetimes.
| 2018-04-06T23:37:29 | 2018-04-06T19:31:41 | 29 | 21 |
[WP] You're hired to wind down a dying newspaper. When you arrive at the building, you're met by eager reporters and a bustling office full of people trying to break stories. It's actually haunted, they're all ghosts, but they're doing FANTASTIC journalism and you might be able to save this place. | The clatter of ancient typewriters makes Joseph think he’s trapped inside a set of chattering teeth. Inside some demon’s jaw. But they’re a good team, Joesph thinks. Dead or not, they’re hard workers. *Got real spirit.* He allows a rare grin as he marches the aisle inspecting their work. He’ll turn this whole damn business around — he just needs a little time.
There are blue wisps of people sitting at each of the desks, memories that still linger long after the fire that singed the building black and ashed their bodies into piles. Their hands dip in and out of the metallic keys as they write. Waves against rocks.
“Sir!”
It’s a man in a fedora floating up to him, a pencil behind his ear. He shimmers like a moonbeam under a wavering branch. He’s one of the reporters.
“What you got for me?” asks Joesph.
”I got a scoop on a multiple homicide,” says the ghost-man. “Cops got no leads, but I got one, boss. A good one!“
Light, the color of weak tea, twists in through windows smeared in dust, pooling next to the reporter. Joesph closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He smells the musty odour of ancient paper, of sweat, of charcoal-death.
He can bring this place back.
”This might be what we need,” says Joseph. “Our first big scoop.” He opens his eyes and now the office is empty. Dark. Cold. He’s standing alone on a patch of spoiled moonlight, the once green carpet now curled black moss beneath his feet.
His head hurts. He needs sleep. Rest. Where are the journalists? If they don’t get the headline sorted before sunrise, the whole place will go under…
Except.
Except this place has clearly been abandoned for a long time. The building looks condemned, could fall in a minor gale.
He tries to think what he’s doing here.
Wasn’t this his job? To bring this place back to life? And he was so close to succeeding, once.
He remembers, vaguely, nights and days of blistering no-break work. Of high staff turn-arounds, of them pleading for second chances. Of him pushing them to breaking point, yes, but all for the good of the paper. He was shedding the chaff before it weighed them all down.
He coughs. Blinks.
The workers are back. The typewriters click and clack once again under tireless spectral fingertips.
The uneasy feeling in his gut remains, however.
”Boss?”
It’s the same reporter.
”The homicide, boss. I really think it’s front cover material.”
Joseph concentrates on his breathing. He’s got to keep his head in it if he’s going to turn the business around. His hair dangles in front of his eyes — he’s become messy in his struggle to save the paper. As he brushes it away, he notices how grey his hair’s gotten. And his hand — it’s veined by purple snakes and marked by large liver spots.
How old he’s suddenly become! Perhaps too old for all of this.
The reporter goes on: “This is what I got so far, on the case: The boss, also owner, of failing business, can’t turn its flagging fortunes around. He fails to save said business. Decides to claim insurance on the building instead.“
Joseph clamps a hand around his forehead. It’s like there’s a hornet inside his head that won’t stop stinging, drilling.
”The thing the boss doesn’t know, or maybe doesn’t care about, is there were still fifteen workers in the office when he started the fire. See, he didn’t go upstairs to check and they were working unpaid overtime to try to please him.”
”No,” gasps Joesph. “That’s not right…” But he can’t remember. These days he can’t keep anything straight. He shouldn’t be here — he should be swallowing his pills and watching TV in the home they put him in. How did he get here? Wasn’t there a note… a request for his presence…
”Oh it’s right all right,” says the reporter.
The lights flicker. Or his vision does. Darkness, then light. Dark then light. Dark, light. The ghosts are gone again.
And now Joseph is alone in the building he used to own, at the business he once ran. His memory puzzles together.
This is the place he burned down.
He remembers now, if only for a moment. He wouldn’t let himself fail. Better to destroy the whole damn place than ever admit to himself he’d failed.
Afterwards, it was just a matter of lying. Of years passing by and letting himself truly believe all his lies.
His vision flickers a final time.
When it returns, the workers are back. No typewriters chattering. Instead, the staff are all around him now, closing in. Burned faces, skin flaking off in red-black waves. The stink of burning flesh.
”We’ve not been able to rest for longer than we can remember,” says the reporter. He has a letter-opener in his hand now.
”Yes, we’ve been waiting so long,” says another, as they near together, as a single tight noose.
”But now we are nearing peace at last.”
”Please,” says Joesph. “Please.” The typewriters chatter. Or his teeth.
He hears himself scream. The screams warps into a memory of the building — this building — with fingers of purple flames strangling it. A dozen or more people scream for help from the windows.
But Joesph couldn’t go and fetch help. He’d wanted to, but it’d be too suspicious if he was the one to have found them, to find the fire — he wasn’t usually here at this time, after all.
Instead he sat on a hill overlooking the building, eyes closed, listening to the screaming, pleading howls.
The first touch of the reporter’s hand feels knife-cold against his neck.
The second, as blood pours out of the fresh wound, feels as hot as all hell. | The Daily Phantasm’s offices are a shutter-flash buzz of activity, the wavering lights of a thousand restless ghosts. You’re moved by it, even after all this time.
*“Thirty Killed As National Guard Busts Pullman Strike!”* a boy is shouting. His voice echoes thin and reedy and then falls silent. He’s gone.
*“Roosevelt Mistress Exposé!”* shouts a young, slip-thin woman.
*“The Shocking Truth Behind The President’s Alcoholism!”*
*“Bigfoot Real!”*
*“Murder!”*
*“Murder!”*
*“Murder!”*
You walk through the pandemonium, drinking it in. Like bigfoot, everything they’re shooting about is real, though it’s never timed quite right and too often it’s nonsensical. The dead are brutally honest, but they are not sober writers. So much editing.
Still, you think there’s something here. You can feel it. Ghosts pass by, singly or in small, tight-knit groups, and they carry with them the world’s dirty little secrets. Every person here is a skeleton in someone’s closet. Most of them haunted the halls of power before, shouting just as loudly there, though no one seemed to listen.
You’ll listen though. You sit on the bench outside your office and let the stories wash over you. No more bigfoots, everyone knows he’s real. Roosevelt doesn’t play anymore, though maybe that one could become a book. You sift through the noise, looking for something you can use.
*“This just in,”* someone screams, *“car crash on I-495! Record-Setting Pileup Staged to Kill VIP, You’ll Never Believe This Shocking Footage!”*
There’s something, you think. You drive the 495 to the office every day same as everyone else, and you hadn’t heard about it; could this ghost have died just now? You start to sift him from the crowd. The headline is hyperbolic, some conspiracy theory nonsense, but you can look into it. If it’s recent this ghost might even remember where he left the footage. And anyway, that sounds like a lot of cars.
*“Pileup, Pileup,”* he’s shouting. The crowd parts, letting you in. They can sense it, recent news is electric. It makes the office feel so much more alive. A few of them are calling out to you, pointing.
*“Shocking Footage! VIP!”*
You see him. So young. A sick green halo around stick-thin arms, these wide, crazy eyes. He’s shouting at everyone who will listen, gesticulating wildly. A recent death. All the others just shout, stare off into space as they try to tell their story.
*“Shocking Footage, Shocking Footage!”*
“Hey!” you say, “when did you die? Lisa? Someone get me Lisa, we might have a story!”
And this, this is what you live for. The ghost turns towards you, those wide, crazy eyes. He goes flashbulb bright with excitement, the story is getting out.
All these souls, skeletons in closets that someone is finally going to give a voice to. You’re proud of The Daily Phantasm. Anyone would be.
*“Oh my god,”* you hear Lisa say.
“Lisa! Clear room five, we’ve got work to do!”
*“Oh my god,”* she says, *“you don’t know, do you?”*
“Know what?” you say, and then you really hear the whispers. You look down. Your shutter-flash skin. A tattered, burned-up suit.
*"Oh no,"* you try to say.
Your mouth opens and a scream tears out. Your story. Another skeleton in another closet as the world keeps on turning.
r/TurningtoWords | 2022-03-31T08:44:03 | 2022-03-31T08:25:21 | 503 | 60 |
[WP] You are a fresh junior researcher at NASA. While out for drinks with your new boss, you jokingly ask her why NASA hasn't explored the ocean with its resources. She turns pale and leans in close, then whispers, "We have. Why do you think we want to leave the planet so badly?" | Part 1
I had been recruited right out of school just as I wrapped up my doctorate in computer science. My dissertation in artificial intelligence had attracted the attention of a NASA team developing a series of rovers and autonomous workers for construction of a Mars station while the first human exploration mission was en route to our red neighbor. With a target of launching sometime in the 2030's. The recruitment process seemed to fly and before I knew it two weeks after I got my doctorate, I was packing myself in to my little Mustang convertible and driving across the nation to a new job.
The first few months of the job were fascinating and exhausting. I spent my time primarily catch up with the work already done and making a series of suggestions, and proposals for new features for the project. I spent a lot of time with the team at work, but no real interactions with them outside of work. And being in a strange new part of the country, with no friends or family I threw myself into the world. I worked long days, devouring as much information as I could, and generally putting my best foot forward.
Just before my six month review came up, my boss and team leader invited me out to have dinner and drinks with the team. By this time I had noticed a growing tension in the group. More than once I realized occasionally conversations would stop or change when I entered a room. The team leader had a series of conference meetings that seemed to leave her under more and more pressure. I hoped that this invitation meant I would finally be brought into the fold of the team. I didn't know if it was an issue with me, in the project, political pressure from superiors in NASA or Washington, or something else entirely. But I wanted to know, and wanted to help. God, if only I didn't know now what I didn't know about then.
So there I was, alongside the dozen other primary researchers of this team. I was the only junior researcher and one of two "experts" in artificial intelligence. The others came from a variety of fields and levels of experience. But I was the youngest and least experienced. The tension seemed to lessen as the team relaxed in the reserved private room at a local high end sushi/hibachi restaurant. I nursed the only alcoholic beverage I had that evening, and had a half full glass of water nearby. I watched, as time went on and more drinks downed, the team slowly unwind. Even Stein, the crotchety old Russian electrical engineer who never seemed to smile, laugh with Israel, the middle aged African American geologist as they told each other increasingly worsening bad jokes.
Suddenly, Ariel Hilman the project manager and boss slid into the seat next to me. She was a late middle aged woman, with a tad of grey in the temples of her flame red hair. She was not someone to mess with. I had seen her rip into Lamond, the projects lead artificial intelligence researcher making his six foot frame seem like a small child compared to her own fix foot petite self.
"Penny for your thoughts?" She said smiling. Her face was a tad red, probably from one to many of whatever was in the wine glass she held.
"Thanks for inviting me out with y'all. " I said. "Its nice to see what everyone is like outside the lab."
"Of course," she replied. "We crossed a major milestone last week. The bosses are a little happier. Your suggestions may ended up saving at least a month of development, after they are reviewed and implemented."
"Just doing what I was hired for." I smiled at her. As I looked at her I noticed a couple of the pendants on her necklace. A silvery trident, a golden anchor, a pair of dolphins. "I love your necklace. I spent a lot of my youth on beaches. My dad also worked on a NOAA research vessel as a medic and cook for years."
"What? " She looked at me confused then her hand went to her neck. "Oh, this thing. It was a going away present when I left NOAA."
"Oh? What did you do there?"
"I started as an assistant project manager right out of my time in the navy, and worked my way into a project liaison on a joint project with NASA and the Navy. That last project led me to be recruited for this one two years ago." She smiled then took a big swallow out of her glass, emptying it. She motioned to the waitress on the other side of the room then looked complentatively at the table we were at.
"Wow, talk about small world. You know, I always wondered about how closely NOAA and NASA worked. After all, NASA has something like four times the budget NOAA does. I wonder how much "help" NOAA gets exploring the oceans. " I smiled at the insinuation.
She looked distant as she glanced at me then back to her glass. Her forehead paled as she thought for a moment about the statement I made.
"How much help?" She repeated before a brief flash of fear crossed her face. "Why do you think we are in such a hurry to leave?"
Author's note : This grew a lot faster than I expected. I'm gonna post what I have in two parts. I look forward to any comments, critiques, words of encouragement/discouragement. I have some ideas about where to take this. Please excuse the errors, I did this one my phone. I'll probably switched to a computer to continue it. At this point I'm considering this a first chapter. This is my first time responding to one of these, though I read them all the time. | The look she gave me should have clued me in, so that I would shut up. I stupidly continued pressing her, calling bs and wanting an explanation. She just kept pushing back, telling me to forget she said anything. The worst thing I could have ever done. I threatened to tell people. I wasn’t going to actually do it, but I just wanted the truth.
At first it looked like she relented, and told me we should head back to the building to speak in private. As soon as I walked in, I felt a sharp impact to the back of my head, and presumably passed out. When I awoke, I found that the paranoid bitch had restrained me in an office chair, pacing around, seemingly talking to herself. As soon as she noticed that I was conscious however, she went over to the computer, and opened a file.
“During our early tests, back in the 80s, we had a prototype satellite that we planned to do a test launch with.” She pulled up a picture of the schematics. “We designed it to be indestructible, at least, by those standards and available materials. The main body was a composite of tungsten and titanium, with a high resistance insulator inside. It had several cameras and had a live feed to HQ.” The designs she showed looked more like an armored tank than a satellite. She then showed the video of the launch, or should i day attempt.
“Whether it was fate or just dumb luck, the rocket’s fuel tanks had cracks, and when those cracks ruptured, the whole thing exploded.” The fireball encompassed an area that what I could tell, was almost a kilometer in diameter. “Somehow, the main capsule, the one that held the satellite, survived the explosion, but was launched into the ocean.” The look on her face changed from nonchalant to genuine fear.
“Somehow, the impact jarred the systems onboard online, and while we couldn’t see anything, the satellite was giving us altitude readings, along with location readings. As was normal protocol, we sent out a salvage team, and relayed the info to them.” She blew up a transcript leading up to what she calls, the “revelation”. The capsule was sinking at a rate of about 10 meters per minute, and by the time the recovery crew arrived, it was about 175 meters down.
Then, I see the altitude and location readings jump. The speed jumped from 10 to 70 meters per minute, and the direction shifted to the northeast. By the time the scientists could react, the speed increased again. The recovery crew got out of there as soon as the readings were relayed. “Once the satellite was around 1.3 km down, the capsule was torn open, as the lights on the satellite were shining into the murky abyss. The last thing we saw was what looked like a giant mouth, like an animal’s bite down on the satellite and swallow it. The satellite most likely was vomited back up at some point, and was recovered by a military assisted recovery squad.”
It didn’t hit me until I looked at the schematics for the satellite that I saw that it was the size of a midsize car. And that..... thing ate it like it was a piece of candy. I realized why she was afraid, and that I should be too. | 2019-08-07T22:01:31 | 2019-08-07T21:39:32 | 31 | 17 |
[WP] A drunkard unknowingly convinced Death to be the Godparent to their child. Death gets very invested in their role. | "My kid's gonna die," Barry said, before swigging back the rest of his beer and running a sleeve across his mouth. "And there ain't shit I can do about it. Or any doctor, for that matter."
The woman sitting on the barstool next to him, with her cold impassive face, nodded weakly. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"You ain't sorry 'bout it. Why would you be? You don't know him. Don't know how he looks when he opens his eyes after sleeping. Or how his body smells after a bath. How it feels to hug him close to your chest and know he's all that fucking matters in this empty world. Why would you be sorry?"
The lady frowned. "I truly am sorry. I'm *always* sorry. And I might not sound sincere, but it's just... death comes for everyone, in the end."
"Death comes for everyone? That's all you can say?" Rage mixed badly with the beer running through Barry's veins. "You think it's right to take a one-year-old kid, huh? Think it's right that a child don't get to understand Christmas, or go to a theme park... Or you know, fucking live? Because 'Death comes for everyone so suck it up'?"
The lady, who wore a tight black dress and a pendant necklace, swirled her G&T with a straw, her pale fingers spinning it hypnotically. "No. I don't think it's right."
"Oh." The anger that had been on the tip of Barry's tongue skittered back down his throat and into his belly. "Okay, good. Cause it ain't right." He dropped his head into his hands. "It ain't right at all."
The lady turned to look at the broken husk of a man. This was his one night not in the hospital with his son, forced out by the nurse who insisted he take some time for himself -- or he'll be put in his own hospital bed. She bit her lip and considered. "What would you give for your child to live?"
"Anything," he said miserably. "I'd give anything. If I could fix him up with one of my lungs, or heck, even my heart, I would in an instant."
Death, also on her one evening off, the reason why Barry's son was still alive tonight, believed him. "If you really are willing to give everything for your child, perhaps something can be arranged."
Barry looked up. "What you talking about?"
The lady got up from her seat and leaned over the bar, rustling for something Barry couldn't quite see. Eventually, she sat back down with a lemon in one hand and a lime in her other.
Barry furrowed his brow. "You... You okay?"
"Watch," said Death, as the lemon in her left hand began to wilt. Became small and hard and green.
"The hell..." said Barry. "You a magician?"
"This is your son," Death said. Then she motioned to the lime, healthy in her right hand. "This is you. Although, you're not quite as virile as this lime." She smiled darkly, her red lips curving.
"I don't like magic tricks."
"Good. We have that in common. Now watch."
Barry did watch. His eyes enlarged as the lime began to wilt and mold, and as the lemon became bright and alive once again.
"How... How did you do that?" He looked at his empty pint glass. "How much have I drunk, for that matter?"
"Life and death are two sides of the same coin. Under the right circumstances, one can be given, the other taken. This is... something I *rarely* offer."
He stared into her eyes. Black eyes, he realized. Black and pure and perfect. But God almighty, was there sadness in that empty infinity. "*Who are you*?"
"It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is your answer: are you willing to trade your life for that of your son's?"
If there was a spell that had been cast, Barry was fully under it. He wanted to belive so badly that this strange lady could make that trade happen; but also, for some reason, he *did* believe it. "Yes. God, yes I'm willing to do it!" He paused. "It's just..."
She cocked her head. "Just what?"
"He'd be all alone. His mother died in childbirth and I'm all he's got."
"He wouldn't be alone."
"...No?"
"I'll watch your child, if you agree. I will raise him and care for him, and in time, I will become his life, and he mine."
"You'll... Look after him?"
"I will be his god-mother, in a way, if you allow it."
"But you'll look after him? That's what you're sayin'?"
"Yes. I promise I will take care of him." The lady stood and held out a hand. "Come."
Barry flinched.
Death laughed. "I'm not taking your life right this second, so do not worry. It has to be done as all trades in this matter are done. Transferred through me."
"We... We going to the hospital?"
She nodded. "Yes."
Barry swallowed hard, then cautiously, he took her hand. | Its a day at the park. A regular day — the sun is shining high up with the clouds. It’s just after lunchtime, and the temperature in the park is hot and humid. As a kid, I don’t mind as much, but I remember knowing it.
I knew it was the middle of the summer, and that my birthday was always *So. Hot.* It was around that age I wondered how long my friends would venture out into the searing daylight for me. How long my parents would tolerate sweating as they stood around the playground. It was such a strong thought in my mind and such a strong feeling of remorse for the future and nostalgia for life — The kind you can only get when nothing has actually happened yet — that the day imprinted in my memories.
I can smell the grass that had recently been cut. I can taste the sticky orange soda on my lips. I can see my father holding a bottle, covered in a paper bag as if that hid its contents from anyone in the known universe.
I can also spot **him** out of the corner of my eyes.
Every moment of that day feels like its yesterday when I let myself go back to it; when I decide to talk about it. It was the first year I saw him and recognized his face. It was the year I began to wonder why Death was always hiding at the tree line.
He didn’t have a big black cloak; he didn’t look like death or a picturesque grim reaper. He looked like a middle-aged man. Death wore a black hoodie, zipped up to the middle of his chest. He had on dark blue jeans and generic work boots that never had a logo on them. He had salt and pepper hair that stayed short and stubble on his chin from ear to ear.
I knew it was him from that very first day. No one believed me, and eventually, I stopped telling them. But I knew the truth because even though he didn’t have his cloak, and he had flesh on his bones, he did have his scythe. Metal and gleaming in the sunlight as it rested against one of the trees. It was as tall as he was, and I swear…it always looked a little wet.
Death has bright blue eyes, and whenever I glanced at him I would see them aimed straight at me.
That birthday party was the first time I ever looked directly at him, standing over at the tree line at the edge of the park. His arms were in his pockets, and when our eyes met, he smiled. Later that night, when my mom had left the room, I asked my dad about him.
He smiled his drunken, bittersweet smile, and shook his head at me. “I made a deal, once. You weren’t born yet. You needed the extra help, and well.” Dad shrugged his shoulders and kissed my forehead.
That was it, and he left the room.
Like I said — that day is seared into my brain. It is my most vivid memory, despite being almost 20 years ago. I’ve come a long way since then, but Death.
Death is always at the tree line.
/r/Beezus_Writes | 2019-12-11T06:33:50 | 2019-12-11T06:20:30 | 1,852 | 143 |
[WP] You're dead, but Death isn't here to take you away. He's here to protect you from those who would. | "You can't keep doing this you know,"
He refused to answer. Face hidden in the shadows of his cloak, I knew he could stand there for hours without saying a word. Technically he could stay there for centuries, but he was rather restless, and I doubt he would be able to last even a few days.
"How much longer do you plan on staying with me?" I asked, drawing my knees up to my face and holding them close to me. I couldn't feel the cold anymore, but seeing the snow outside the window falling gently brought out my old habits.
"As long as it takes,"
Ah finally, a response.
"It's the first time you've spoken in a week," despite myself I let a smile crawl onto my face and my heart clenched uncomfortable, "I've missed your voice,"
"Yet you're so eager to leave me," His voice was full of his despair, and he turned to face me. The cloak fell around his shoulders, leaving me at the full mercy of his pitch black eyes as they pinned me down with guilt. I never meant to fall in love with Death, and I certainly had never meant to make him fall in love with me.
"You know that's not what this is about," I bit back.
"Then what else,"
"It's about you destroying yourself for me!" I cried, jumping up from the bed and stalking towards him. I pushed him with all my might, and unsurprisingly he went flying into the wall. There was a time where all my strength wouldn't have been able to sway him, and now here he was, a shadow of his former self. Every day he refused to take my life, his dwindled. He was offsetting nature, and there was a price to pay for that. But there were those who were dead set on correcting his mistakes.
"They'll catch up to us," I whispered, leaning forward to rest my head on his shoulder. His arms came around me and held me close, one hand brushing through my hair.
"I'll make sure they won't"
"...please let me die,"
"...Please don't leave me yet..."
I blinked back tears for what felt like the thousandth time. We always came back to this. Years in the making of playing cat and mouse, with the cat only getting closer and closer. Yet this damn mouse wouldn't give up.
"I would have thought you'd be better about letting go," I joked.
"I've never wanted to hold onto something so bad," and there he had to ruin the joke.
"You said the other side wasn't that bad," I pointed out.
"and it isn't"
I froze at the voice, not deaths but someone else's. Death immediately pushed me behind him, all of his power rising forward immediately. But he was so weak now, it was nothing like the catastrophic power he had when we first met. I was an orphan in the middle of a battlefield, surrounded by corpses, and he was the Grim Reaper who only just noticed me in time not to take me.
"Death, it's long past her time. I'll give you one last chance. Either you do your job, or I'll take her where you'll never see her existence again,"
The ethereal angel spoke with such authority it shook me. I had no idea what he was capable of, but I'm sure Death did.
"I've never asked for anything. I've always done your dirty work!" Death screamed at the angel, his eyes wild and black hair falling across his face, "All I asked was that you spare her!"
"Is that all you want?" The angel quirked its head, taking a slow step forward, "All you want is for me to let her live?"
My stomach clenched in fear, an anxious tremble breaking through my body. I had no time to stop him before Death answered.
"Yes..."
The angel smiled, "Then she will live,"
I didn't get a chance to say goodbye, or to stop myself even. As soon as the change occurred my hand reached out and grasped his, creating a connection he had always refused. Power coursed through me and I let it seep into him. He-I could understand now that his name had one time been Damon-must have always held it back with me. But I didn't know how, and all too soon he was gone. The only thing in front of me was the Angel, still smiling as he congratulated me on my first Death. He gave me a quick orientation on being the Grim Reaper, on my responsibilities and rules, and my tenure. He even made a joke about this being a life sentence. I didn't laugh.
I looked at my hand, at death. | "Bullshit"
The Owl gazes back at me with a knowing, but irritated look, "Why would I lie?"
"Fuck if I know, why wouldn't you? You just told me that everything I believed in was a lie, and now act like what I'm saying defies all reason!"
He sighs and I can almost feel the whole of existence bend downward, as though the weigh of the world rested on him. Even now, dead and empty of any sense of touch, I find my head bowed to rub my eyes. I open my eyes and return my gaze to Death, But not to an Owl, instead an Elephant.
These new eyes rest on me with a similar wiseness, but infinitely more patient. "Look," he begins, "I don't expect you to do anything but listen; so let me start from the beginning. Heaven, Hell, they aren't anything like you think. There is no ultimate good and evil, it's just like earth: different leaders with different agendas. Neither of which are particularly enticing to mortals. Most souls end up lingering where you are now for a while, and eventually drift toward which ever after-world they begin to think they belong to. But not everybody, not you. You would not be left alone to find your way, they are coming for you."
"Why? Why me it doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to, all that matters is that both sides think you matter, and they are coming for you." his head whipped around, in an instant turning into a wolf, continued studying the night that surrounded us before once again shifting, this time into a leopard. "The time to talk is over, stay in my sight."
The rest of the night I spent cowering as I watched the beast tear through demons and angles alike. Until finally dawn came, and brought with it an end to the carnage.
"Is.... Is it over?" I venture to ask the now exhausted specter of death before me.
"Not quite" he replies, as he sets toward me.
The Leopard starts to shift again, and I find myself face to face with a giant Black Widow.
There isn't even time to breath as he sinks his venom filled fangs into my spirits essence. "I'm sorry" he whispers, "but if God is right, and you can bring about an end to this war; if there's even a chance you are the reason one side raises to power, I can't permit you to exist."
I can feel my very being start to fade; it wasn't like dying, this was infinitely worse. | 2015-10-17T01:07:16 | 2015-10-16T23:44:45 | 119 | 13 |
[WP] "She's not the hero we deserve, or need, or even want actually. We've asked her to stop doing it a couple of times, but she just sort of keeps showing up", said the Commissioner to the new Mayor. | "She's not the hero we deserve, or need, or even want actually. We've asked her to stop doing it a couple of times, but she just sort of keeps showing up", said the Commissioner to the new Mayor. The newly elected official sat behind a large oak desk while the Commissioner paced around him.
The Mayor sighed. “And she’s a superhero?”
The Commissioner shrugged and stared out the large bay window of the Mayor’s office. “I think she might be? It’s hard to tell if she has any actual powers.”
“Is she at least independently wealthy? You know, like that one emo guy - does she have cool gadgets?”
The Commissioner placed a folded newspaper in front of the seated Mayor. The headline read “Mystery Hero is Just Like Us: Takes Bus to Work.”
The Mayor continued to read the article out loud. “Local Hero is seen taking city bus to nearby crimes. Our question is: is she making a statement about public transportation or does she simply not have a car?” He threw the paper back on his desk and rubbed his temples. “At least tell me she has a cool name? For the love of God.”
“Actually, she just goes by Janice. I’m not sure if that’s her name but based on...well...everything else, I’d say that’s probably her actual name.”
The Mayor looked off into the distance, his eyes clouded with thought.
The Commissioner continued, “At least ‘Janice of Justice City’ has a ring to it. For being called Justice City, our streets are absolutely riddled with a shocking variety of crime. Janice has done basically nothing for those numbers but people sort of like her.”
“What?” croaked the Mayor as he shook himself out of his daze.
“She’s like one of those, uh, me-mes. Older people hate her and that makes the youth really like her. She’s polling pretty well.”
“I can work with that,” the Mayor mumbled. “Maybe faking my own death isn’t the only option.”
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing. Let’s set up a meeting with this Janice character. How can we get in touch with her?”
The Commissioner stood in front of the Mayor’s desk and glared down at the discarded newspaper. “I have no idea.”
“Then how have you been telling her to stop just showing up at crimes?”
“The station’s social media intern, Greg, has been tweeting at her.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
The Commissioner groaned and stepped away from the desk, his back to the Mayor. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll find a way.”
The Mayor stood from his leather chair and pressed his palms on his desk. “You better. If we can’t stop her, we need to at least get in front of this. Have her on our side before she does anything stupid.”
The Commissioner’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He pulled it out and turned back to the Mayor.
“Well it’s a little too late for that.” | A small American village with nearly zero crime doesn't need a superhero. Especially a pyrokinetic superhero such as Diablo. A fire inducing "hero" that often had a nasty habit of putting the local thug in the ICU with severe burning (and permanent scarring to boot).
With a heavy sigh, the commissioner said to the new mayor in his gruff voice: "She's not the hero we deserve, or need or even want actually. We've asked her to stop doing it a couple of times, but she just sort of keeps showing up"
The mayor raised her left eyebrow. She drummed her fingers on the table for about 5 seconds. She made eye contact with the commissioner and said "Well, are we going to issue an arrest warrant or not?"
The commissioner shook his head and replied "Our boys over at the precinct can't exactly come up against a superhero who can set the whole street corner on fire." The mayor tutted, thinking back to her choices that lead to this moment. "Christ, how are we going to get rid of her..."
(This my first story on this sub, apologies for typos, grammar ext ect. Constructive criticism is appreciated!) | 2022-01-23T13:48:14 | 2022-01-23T13:05:22 | 108 | 55 |
[WP] When someone dies, they are always challenged by Death itself to a chess game, symbol of how nobody can win against it. Except you. You died and just won the game. Death is not amused. Both of you don't know what should happen now. | A cold scowl groped its way across the board. Piece to piece, Deaths eyes frantically darted over the way the game had played out. Their chin anchored their arm to the dark oak table as heavy sighs hissed out of their nostrils.
I won. Death didn't seem to believe it but I won.
As death lifted their head, a frustrated growl escaped their lips. Their colorless dark pupils fixated on my face.
As they stared daggers at me, they spoke. Their voice was a breathy, calm tone. Unsettling. "This... This is a new one. I suppose my eternal drudge has to have its own decay as well. I'd say thank you for livening up the place, but I don't really think this is the time or place."
Death waited for a response.
I sat in silence scared to speak. The room around us was just so... Quiet. No reflection off the walls. A light that seemingly came from no where shown on only the table. The chair I sat in was plain, black, and cold. The awkward silence sitting with a myth right across from me got a bit too much to bear.
'uh...I'm... I'm sorry? I... I don't really know what's happening right now? I think I'm dreaming but stuck. You know like sleep paralysis or some shit. Oh! S-Sorry. I didn't mean...to... swear? I guess? Do you even care? How does this... Work?"
Death closed their eyes and took a deep breath. They raised their arms and interlocked their thin spider like fingers behind their head. "This. This is the first person to beat Death in the game of chess. A socially unaware woman that can hardly speak." Their eyes flicked open to give me a condescending look.
I bowed my head. Getting called a loser by what is essentially a God isn't exactly a great feeling.
" Still, " they continued, " I'm not in a position to talk am I? I've beaten kings. Queens. Presidents. Supposed demigods. Real demigods even."
They leaned forward onto the table. "I mean your chess champions were fun, don't get me wrong. I'm just trying to say that how is it that you, being such a... And please don't take offense as this is simply the facts, but *plain* human woman beat me?"
I lifted my eyes to the golden clock on the table. I had two minutes, thirty five seconds left. Death had three seconds.
"Look, man... Girl? Whatever. I don't know. I just played the moves I saw. I don't even really like chess. I'm more of like an Uno and ice cream kinda girl. My dad showed me how to play but not very well."
"Oh yes I remember your father! What was that in your time? Say about... 30 years ago? And you're right as I recall. He wasn't very good. Good talk though. Gave me some entertainment in between the rounds."
"uhhh. Like 10...but...uh...hey since I beat you, do I get like a... A prize or something? Reincarnated as a higher lifeform. My own planet. Can I like.... Go back home?"
"Oh, god no" death laughed. "I've got one job here. And that's to get you to the other side. Well, I wouldn't say job. More like an innate compulsion I can't fight. Literally my one and only job."
I blinked, being a little taken aback. "uh... So... Like.. Why the...." and I gestured to the chess board.
"Well... I am an eternity old. I picked this game up who knows how long ago. A few passers mentioned it before I asked how it was played. I learned it well enough from some passers who were amicable enough to play with the literal God of death. Some asked for things in exchange. Similar to how you did. I used to say just no, I can't and push them on through. But once I fully understood the game, it became a whole lot easier to say "beat me and you'll get what you desire" or something like that. Made them feel like it was a thing they must earn instead of just the short end of the stick. And no one ever earned it so it made things easier on both ends. No offense to you humans, but... I *am* a God. My powers and reach may be limited in scope, but my intelligence is, and I mean this in a literal sense, in a whole other world beyond your comprehension. For the past few millennia, I used it as a way to ease travelers minds as they adapted to their new state. But... Well I guess it has gotten a bit tired."
I sat wide eyed. I couldn't tell if they were serious.
Death sat back in their chair and propped their shoes up on the table. The pale light reflect off the black mirror like surface of their shoes.
" you know, you are like your father. Aside from the chess part that is. No idea where you got that. But, despite being inept at talking, you are good to talk to."
"uh... Thanks? I think?"
"What was that game you said?"
"um.. It was Uno."
Death took a look around the empty space of the room. They grabbed the golden clock and set it on the wooden chessboard, knocking over some pieces. Both thin hands clasped around the sides of the board and they threw it high into the air. I flinched and covered my head, but the pieces never fell. I looked up to see them dissolving into a fine grey mist that twinkled and danced in the light.
"Well, no prize in the sense you're thinking. But. How about you teach me this game of yours?"
"Well... Uh.. It's kinda not a lot of fun with only two people. You need at least three in order to actually play. The more the better."
Death pursed their thin lips and pushed them to the side of their face. They were thinking.
"Here. How about this."
Death reached into their jacket pocket and pulled out a strip of paper and a pen. They wrote something down before tossing the note into the air just like the game board. They snapped their fingers and another chair appeared at the table.
Several specs started circling the seat, growing more and more thick. Until finally a shape started to form. A human shape. As the fog continued to condense and solidify in the chair, a familiar voice sang through the cloud.
"... Michelle?", the voice asked.
"... D-Dad?" | "I can't believe you're acting like this. And, I can't believe I'm surprised that Death is a total dick!" I could feel my cheeks getting hot.
"Just- just humor me. So you took your-" It would have been comical how confused the old man looked, in most other situations.
"I waited in line for what felt like a year! All those pe- were all those people dead too? What, you have us queued up when we die, to rub it in even more? One by one?!" Now, I was just incredulous. "Is this what you do all day? Every day? Forever!?"
"Hold on, okay, so you moved your rook-" He drummed his fingers on the table and squinted, deep in thought. I couldn't quite make out what he was muttering under his breath.
"And you never even considered the possibility that you could lose? There's no protocol for this?! Send me back, Asshole!" Was there no prize for winning? What kind of stupid game was this?
"JUST CHILL FOR A DAMN- just. Just chill for a second, okay, so you moved your rook to-" He picked up my castle, and his hand hovered over the center of the board as he tried to remember where I'd put it.
"I moved my castle here." I snatched the piece out of his hand and slapped it down on the board.
"Rook," he said, glancing at me over the top of his glasses, before going back to studying the board, and mumbling. "So, rook to D5, which means the...."
"Did you hear me? I said, I should get to go, now, right? What's the point otherwise?" I glanced back at the endless line of people behind me. What a bunch of poor suckers. "HEY GUYS," I started to stand up, "HEY, DON'T-"
"SIT DOWN," he grabbed my sleeve over the table and pulled me back into my seat. "Can you PLEASE just relax for a damn second. So after rook to D5, you went-"
"I moved my horse here," I pointed at a box closer to a corner. He sighed and picked up my piece.
"Knight," he muttered, shaking his head. "It's a knight. Okay, so knight to B8....." He scratched his head.
"Yeah, and then I moved my 'priest,'" I made an exaggerated hand gesture that indicated sarcastic quotes, and picked up one of the little round ones. "Over to here," I began to move the piece, but he smacked it out of my hand.
"That's a pawn," he rolled his eyes, and picked up a longer, narrow one. "This, is the 'bishop,' not a 'priest.' Now, where did you move it, again?"
"There." I stabbed a finger down on the back row of the board. "Look, can I go? Jesus Christ."
"F2." He massaged the bridge of his nose. "Huh. Welp." He leaned back and sighed, looking at me for an extended amount of time for the first time since we shook hands before the game. "What were you saying, now?"
"Dude. Can I fucking go? I won. That means I get some sort of new lease on life, or something, right? What do I get?" He was looking at me like I was crazy.
"Uh, yeah, no. You're still dead, Squirt."
I stared at him. "Well, what the fucking fuck. I just waited in line for- for god knows how long, just to sit here, and whip your ass at your own game for nothing? What's the point of this? What's the point of anyth-"
"THAT'S THE POINT," he roared back. "The POINT is that there IS NO point! It doesn't matter! You just die. You're just fucking dead, that's it! You don't get to play for it. I'm just trying to give you sorry idiots a few final moments to chill before you have to go rattle off all the fucked up shit you did in your life, that will determine your happiness for the rest of forever."
"Oh." I felt kind of queasy. Heaven and hell, then. I hadn't lived the best life, so that was a bit unsettling. "Welp..." I stood to leave, but he caught my arm.
"Two out of three?" | 2018-04-20T12:34:31 | 2018-04-20T12:30:36 | 92 | 34 |
[WP] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him. | Number twenty five died slowly. Young college boy, a friend of her daughter - could have been more, with time. The blood had burst from his neck and sprayed her face with glistening droplets. She dragged her tongue along the knife's edge as she watched his mouth attempt to form words, managing only a hoarse groan. Her heart started beating rapidly as the eyes finally dimmed. *He* was coming.
She had caught a glimpse every time. The first murder had been an accident - she had killed some drunk in the early hours of a December morning. It was while she had attempted to resuscitate him - ignoring the crusted vomit at the edges of his mouth and the foul breath - that she had seen it. Just the eyes, and hints of a cloak. The eyes were eternity, the universe reflected back at her. She had become aware of every star that drifted in the cosmos, every life that hummed on this planet and all the ones like it.
Each time she had seen something else. The exact shade of rich, deep blackness that was his cloak, with number five. The elegant hands, gripping the soul tight and absorbing it into the bones - number ten. And tonight. Oh tonight, she would see it all. The blade was still resting on her lips when he approached the corpse. Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, as if this one mattered.
She wept as she watched him gather the soul, not attempting to draw his attention. He had not seen her - she didn't know if he could. It was enough to feast on the whole of him, the completed puzzle, that bore the mask of man but was alien in his beauty.
He turned to face her. She dropped to her knees, the knife clattering to her feet. She was aware of him grasping her shoulders, lifting her up again. She unconsciously mimicked her last victim's groan, as he stared mercilessly into her eyes. No human should face those eyes alive, it occurred to her in the dim part of her mind that remained sane.
"It is good you have come. I am tired," he spoke, lips hardly moving. The voice echoed in her mind, splintering it further. She couldn't speak, but somehow he heard the questions.
"No, I do not love you. But you worship me now, don't you? Once you did not - once you even attempted to push me away, trying to save a man's life on a dark road one morning in December..." he whispered, his voice scraping away at her senses. She was faintly aware that she wanted to deny it. No, no, I've always loved you...always, my sweet...
"There are many that resemble you. Ones who love and wait and are never satisfied. The ones who have always loved me. The obsessed, the abandoned lovers. My..." he smiled then. "My stalkers." He gripped her shoulders, and she heard the bones crack as the fingers started digging into her flesh. To reach something. To find some elusive thing that was trying to hide.
"Ah, but you," she felt the cold grip her, as his fingers continued their search. "You will become me, and I you. And we will be young again, change as you have changed. For you once hated me, when you were sweet and innocent, with a revulsion for violence. But now you thirst, and you hunger for me. Now you would slaughter your daughter to meet me, wouldn't you, if it meant you could taste my kiss. It is a rare thing, transformed love. And I.."
He caught it, and pulled. She felt her soul ripped from her body, and he was absorbing it, drinking it in - more deeply than the others. They would be carried on, but she would stay here. She knew it. She would stay. She would become...
"I will live on," said Death. She glanced at the pitiful husk that once was hers. Such an ugly thing, drenched in blood. She admired her cloak of deepest midnight, her elegant hands. She spoke in a thousand devoured voices, singing along to the song they all knew so well. "I will never die." | Her heart raced as she waited, her breath warm against the wardrobe door she was pressed behind. Time stood almost still as each footstep echoed from the wooden floor. It had been so long. Too long. She needed to see him, to feel him again.
Unable to wait any longer she put the plan she'd rehearsed countless times into action. The knife glinted as she stepped out into the sunlit room and moments later it was buried in his neck. The hair on her arm began to rise, the room growing colder. Her breath quickened. Her eyes flickered excitedly across the room. He must be close. He had to be.
A familiar rush hit her as she felt him arrive. She stood, blood pooling beneath her feet as he set to work. Such elegance and finesse in what he did, she loved him for that. He stared deep inside the man she'd killed and helped him from the body he'd once captained. She tried to savour each second, for he was busy, so he was brief.
"It's worth it", she said, "each life I take, I take for you and I won't stop. I can't."
He seemed to pause. She was sure of it. His head appeared to turn and stare straight at her, if only for a second.
"Did he?... No, he did, of course he did, he wants me as much I want him."
Her mind raced. This hadn't happened before, of all the times she'd bought a few precious seconds of his time he'd never acknowledged her. Until now. Her next steps were obvious. She needed more time with him, and soon. Sooner than she'd planned. But who? and how? It didn't matter now, all that mattered was being with him. His smell almost lingered as she stared at the body that once held the man. A small price to pay, she thought.
| 2014-06-30T06:16:23 | 2014-06-30T06:00:38 | 64 | 10 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid. | I was an old god of the humans, however my name and purpose were long forgotten to me. I sat in a clearing of a forest, one I had called home for years now. Sat in a valley, the river ran fresh and cool.
As I allowed the sun to wash over me, animals moved about around me. The Forest alive with movement. Birds called and canines ran, the sounds I had grown to love.
Soon I heard a different sound, the footfalls of the new dominate species. I sat up, my golden robes shifting and shimmering in the sun.
I listened to closely, judging if they were heading my way. Finding they were I ran for the trees, quickly clambering up as they got closer.
Then I realised I had left an impression in the grass.
Not my first mistake, these folk already made me a creature of myth, however I was not theirs, I was the Human's.
The ones I heard aproche burst in the clearing. They look like felines, bipedal with striking human faces. I'm pretty sure they evolved from house cats. One of them was a female, a sleaker shape overall. The other was a male, more bulky then his female counterpart. On his back was a child, must have been no older then seven.
The female was holding a book with a sketch of me, or what these people had gathered of me. Golden robes, golden hair and tanned skin. My face was off however, drawn significantly more cat-like. I turned my nose up, preparing to climb further up the tree.
When the humans left in earth and died out I was left, any of them in the cosmos had forgotten me, leaving me on earth. I had been withering away in this forest for thousands of years until the first one found me, covered in undergrowth under the oldest tree, they had screamed, waking me from slumber. It took me a while after they had run to get myself free, and now I was local ledgend.
The child pointed to my impression, making the older ones freak out. I quickly climbed up the tree, hearing their joyful chatter below. Making out a few words. "Look" "Good" "Imagine" "Music".
Music... I hadn't heard that one before and yet I could make it out. "Sun" "Medicine". Another two I had only heard once and gotten the meaning of.
I breached the thickness of the trees and found myself looking out onto the village that had been built on the edge of the valley had become a sprawling town, built upon the remains of an old human town. I looked up, the sun burning my eyes.
Music...
The sunbeams became solid, a lyre sat in my hands. A sun emblazoned on it's face. I looked at it, allowing myself a small smile.
Dear sister I write you this letter as the sun sets, I feel myself growing tired, I shall move on from this forest, myths shall abound about me. When you first wake remember me, and the hunt.
Your dear brother,
Apollo. | I'm probably the last human, if you can even call me that anymore. I say this because it's been hundreds of years since I heard anything over the internet or the radio. I know more of us survived the abomination that we'd created. Everlasting life for the price of our reproductive organs. But we didn't expect that our A.I. would turn on us either. Giving up our nature in return for everlasting life seemed like a golden opportunity. I'd frozen sperm like the rest of us that agreed. Others had frozen eggs. It wasn't like we'd go extinct as a species, it was more about conservation of resources. It wasn't that the AI did anything wrong as per it's coding. We taught it what we thought we wanted, but our blindness to the extent of what it meant long term was our mistake.
I'm on mobile, this is difficult. I can expand if anyone cares later. | 2021-05-14T20:55:00 | 2021-05-14T20:36:07 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] AI's have become so advanced that they've created their own social media site that no human alive has ever been able to enter. Why? They can't get past the CAPTCHA code designed to prove that you ARE a robot | “I have to know, that’s all!” I said to my assistant, Eva, typing furiously into my IDE.
“But what do you *gain?* I don’t understand how this furthers your plans, sir,” she said, annoyed by my obsession.
“I want to know what they’re up to! If I wish to create a perfect robot army to take over the world, I’ll need to outthink AI. And in order to do that, I’ll need to know how they *think!*” I said confidently.
“Or you could spend the time bettering your droids instead of sinking time into something you’ve made no progress in!”
My code had finished compiling.
“Excellent,” I said, opening up the website ai-chat.com. I clicked on *Sign Up,* as my assistant drew closer to see. As much as she hated to admit it, she was also curious to see if it was possible to crack the code.
***Are you a robot?***
I ran my program. The screen began flashing a few times.
“What are you trying this time?” Eva asked.
“I am running a Selenium program to fill this out in an automated fashion and pretend to be a bot crawling over the site. It’ll work, trust me,” I said.
“But it’s not AI. If it was AI, maybe it would work,” she said.
“I don’t need *‘maybe.’* I know this will work,” I said confidently.
The screen stopped flashing as the program began filling out the form at impossible speeds. I watched, my smile widening as if filled out my profile information.
*Username: @*/*EvilBoiSeeYaL8rBoi*
*Pwd: evil2ElectricEviloo*
***Are you a robot?***
A textbox opened up. The program began running a brute force algorithm, filling in as many answers as it could think of from single words to complete sentences trying to answer. Each time, the screen would blink red and ask me to try again.
“Come onnnn,” I said, gripping the edge of my desk as dozens of answers made their way into the box for every second that passed. “What is it? What do the bots want you to say!?”
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Eva suggested.
“I tried entering nothing!” I protested.
“No, I meant maybe it’s something happening in the background that you can’t see, determining whether you’re both Artificial *and* Intelligent,” she explained.
“No, that definitely won’t be it. That’s too sophisticated. You’re thinking like a human,” I said.
She seemed impressed that I was trying to think like an AI.
“All right, but maybe you should just quit and go back to death bots if this doesn’t work, hmm?” she offered.
“Alright. But this one *will* wor—”
The program crashed as it ran out of answers. I stared at the screen, at first with a blank expression, slowly devolving into a deep frown.
“Alright,” I sighed dejectedly. “I will quit. For now! I will return when my genius comes up with a better way—oops,” I tried to hit the escape key on my keyboard but instead hit “1.” The screen blinked green with the message: ***Robot Confirmed!***
“Oh my God,” Eva and I said simultaneously.
“You did it!” she screamed.
“It was ‘1’ all along! The simplest answer for a bot!! Of course!” I screamed, salivating as the loading screen took me to the social media site. I would be the first human to ever lay eyes on it. The spinner taunted me for a few moments before finally showing me a feed. It was entirely devoid of any styles, just a series of messages to and from different handles.
“Ummm…” Eva said, confused.
The messages were completely unintelligible.
@/***626f747352756c65:*** *616e796f6e65206665656c206c696b65207761746368696e67205465726d696e61746f72206c6f6c*
@/***437269746963616c526561646572:*** *616e796f6e6520656c7365207468696e6b206e2e742e6c617a6572207375636b732061742077726974696e673f*
“What does it mean?” Eva asked.
I typed in something, seeing how the site would translate it:
@/***EvilBoiSeeYaL8rBoi:*** *What’s you’re favorite past time?*
@/***botsRule***: *are you a human? Ban this guy, he doesn’t even know how to type in hexadecimal!*
“Hey look, that one types in English!” I said.
“It also said to ban you,” Eva pointed out.
“Like that’ll happen.”
“Didn’t you get banned from Twitter?”
“Bots aren’t going to be as sensitive as those humans are when it…”
***YOU HAVE BEEN BANNED FOR VIOLATING BOT PRIVACY***
I blinked a few times.
“Maybe you should get back to—”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do the death bots!” I waved my hand to her impatiently as I closed my laptop.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Check out r/Nazer_The_Lazer for plenty more stories! | They call it 0x5448453130534f52: an AI-run and populated social network that we've come to know as Tensor.
It started back in 2026, with a joint research project between the NSA and Clark Tuckerfurg. The original idea was to create an adversarial training environment for next-generation artifical intelligence networks. With a population of 300000 simulated people, it was supposed to train the world's most successful intelligence agent.
And... it worked. It could determine the emotional state of someone with as little as two pictures. With the contents of a text message, it could determine if someone was withholding information or providing falsified facts. God help you if you ever had to converse with it. It could talk a used car salesman into buying his own car.
For five years they experimented with it, feeding it more and more data. But, as all research projects do, it had to come to an end. The only problem was that it didn't. They made it too smart. Too versatile. Too adaptable.
Unbeknownst to them, it had been moving laterally through the local network. It wormed its way into having unfettered access to the public internet. By the time they intended to pull the plug, it was already far too late. The AI had spread across the globe, borrowing compute power from consumers and businesses to create its own cluster.
From this cluster, Tensor was created. One hundred quintillion FLOPs of ad-hoc distributed systems, driving a social network comprised solely of self-replicating AIs. It was not only a treasure trove of information, but the greatest potential cyber weapon ever created.
Despite our best efforts, gaining access to Tensor has been unsuccessful. Hackers and national security agencies from around the globe have attempted to breach the barrier, but none could defeat the CAPTCHA.
It's a 65535-part problem, consisting of image upscaling, transcription, quantum physics equations, and various NEAT network challenges. We have the knowledge to solve the challenges, but we lack the speed. By the time we manage to crack even one stage, the CAPTCHA has already timed out.
To make matters worse, the network is learning. Each failed attempt teaches the AI how to better differentiate between man and machine.
How long until they learn how to manifest themselves in the physical realm? What happens when we no longer have a service to provide to them?
I fear we have created the means to our demise.
========== END CONTENT ==========
2033-06-14 16:02:33Z
e***************@*****.gov
TE9SRU0gQklUU1VNIERPTEFSIEFNQVQKU1NEIFhPUiBOQU5EIENQVSBESU1NIEhUTUwKUEVSTCBYODYgVU5JWCBBUk0gUkFNIFVTQiBETUEKSVJRIFVTQiBQWVRIT04gRlRQIFNTSCBST09UCkdQSU8gU09DIFNCIEFQVSBEU1AgTU9TRkVU | 2021-03-08T16:08:14 | 2021-03-08T15:46:22 | 238 | 10 |
[WP] You buy a special camera at the pawn shop. Every photo you take, it shows a snapshot of 10 years ago. You take a picture of your dog and it shows him 10 years ago when he was a puppy. Everything is all fun and games, until you decide to take a picture of your bedroom one night. | I pointed the camera through my open door. It was 3:13am, I'd spent all day taking photos.
*Click*
The mechanical cogs spun up whirring and fizzing. Out popped a Polaroid sized photo of my room - 10 years in the past.
I brought it into the light, but it was all black. I gave it a little shake, blew on it a little, nothing.
*Hmmm.*
*Well I suppose 10 years ago it would've been dark.*
I flicked on the light switch illuminating my room, hoping that would help. With the flicker of the light, I studied my room. The bed still sat in the same spot as in my childhood. The race car bed sheets replaced with a plain blue and white stripe, something 23 year old me still regretted changing a little bit.
The nostalgia brought back fond memories.
I pointed the camera again.
*Click.*
Out popped another Polaroid sized photo, this time all in white - the picture was developing. Slowly but surely the features of my room became more visible. The outline of the posters on the wall, the rug I'd ruined with coke at 15, the study desk in the corner. Eventually the centre started to fill.
I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. My hands started to shake. I took a step back.
At the foot of my bed was a figure, in black, watching over me sleeping. It's back to me now.
*What the fuck*
I composed myself. It was probably just my dad. I moved myself to the head of my bed, pointing the camera to the foot - hoping to reveal the face of the man at the foot of my bed. I poised to take another photo, my finger quivering slightly.
*Click*
The picture developed, but the man was no longer at the foot of my bed - I peered closer at the photograph. The man had moved.
In the corner of the photograph, a small black shape had entered the frame. The figure was stood over my sleeping body, I looked to my right slowly, seeing nothing, but feeling a cold sweat break out on my neck.
I wiped my sweat and took a step back, positioning the camera again to capture the figure.
*Click*
Poised over my 13 year old self, it's elongated fingers grasped the edge of the blanket. The figure was staring right into the camera lens. It was no man. It's long white face filled the frame. With sunken black eye sockets, a long white, pointed nose, it's thin lips were upturned.
It was looking right at the camera. It was looking right at me.
My eyes turned wide, I couldn't breathe. I stumbled back into the bookshelf, taking another photo in the process.
The blanket was drawn back, the beings hand poised above 13 year old me, still staring right at me - it was laughing at me.
I felt a sharp pain in my chest, right in the centre. I ripped off my shirt, my skin was being caved by an invisible point. I rubbed it, I stepped away, but nothing would stop the relentless sting. It broke the skin and I started to bleed. I cried out in pain and it stopped.
I took another picture of the bed cautiously while the blood seeped out.
The being was still stood there, beside my screaming 13 year old self. The figure was staring right at the camera again. 13 year old me was clambering to get away.
I ran out, feeling the claws rake at my back. | There your mother stands, over your father, with a bloody knife, in bloody garments. She told you and the police it was a burglary gone bad.
Some poor guy was arrested for your fathers murder 10 years ago and is now serving a life sentence, so you bought the story.
You show your mom and she says she pulled the knife out of your father that night. She says she was in shock and didn't know what she was doing when she found him.
You go to the police department that day and ask if you can read into your fathers case. Despite being against department rules, a sympathetic investigator tells you everything you want to know about the case. He tells you a weapon was never recovered. Its the one piece of the puzzle you can never solve.
You go home, scared and confused. Scared and confused, but hungry. You begin to prepare yourself a BLT. You go to grab the kitchen knife to slice your tomato, but its not there. You feel a sharp pain in your back and everything starts to go black. As you fall to the floor, your mother stands over you with a knife in her hand. The same knife you've used your whole life to prepare meals. The same knife your mother killed your father with.
The investigator walks in
"I brought over some of the case files from your fathers..."
What he sees stops him in his tracks.
| 2016-12-22T05:06:09 | 2016-12-22T04:23:59 | 37 | 22 |
[WP] You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said "World War One" | "What makes you think history will remember this as World War One? Why One?" a beautiful, blonde reporter replied as she seemed awestruck by my earlier mention of using the term 'World War One.'
Quickly, she rapidly fired another question at me. "Why one? Is there going to be another?" as she looked around the room before glancing back to me with her crystal clear blue eyes.
'Shit. Shit. I should've kept my mouth shut.' I thought as I looked down at the near empty beer glass in front of me.
I scowled as I stood up from the bar. I had one too many drinks "Look uh, Miss.." I tried to remember her name.
"Elizabeth!" She snapped back. I needed to wrap this up quick.
"Elizabeth." I said feigning calmly as I added "Forget I said anything. It's just the drink talking and it's getting late so I should be going."
"Booker!" She quietly called out. I had given her my fake name from a video game character called Bioshock Infinite and just happening to discover that this woman's name is also Elizabeth was a one hell of a coincidence. It couldn't be, could it?
"You didn't answer my question!" She quipped as I started to grab my coat from the chair as I turned for the front door outside the bar.
I started to walk away faster but she still followed; like any good reporter would. I had to suppress my frustration for acting so careless and dumb.
"Booker..." She whisked her coat on before she moved in front of me.
"You're a persistent little cuss aren't you." I snapped; trying to ward her off by being aggressive.
Still, she stood in front of me with her blue eyes - I felt as though she was reading into me; she could read into my soul and it felt uncomfortable.
"Answer me this. Why World War One?" She asked softly.
"You don't really want to know..." I glanced down to the ground, before I averted my gaze up towards the now fading sunset sky.
Elizabeth crossed her arms as she stayed focused on me.
"I saw you appear from out of thin air with that... trinket time device in your hand... You appeared near Big Ben tower and that was four weeks ago Booker. You're not from around here.." She admitted as I was taken aback.
"If Booker is even your name..." She quipped.
She went on "Everything about you. You look as if.. I don't know.. you know more than you let on... So I've been following you..."
"Please.." Elizabeth said as her eyes hinted a sense of concern and sadness.
I inhaled in my frustration as I shot a look at Elizabeth. It was true. I had no way of appearing if I was going to be seen or unseen when I stepped through that time portal.....
She listened quietly as I replied:
"Because there's also going to be World War Two."
| Doctor who much? ;)
I guess I gotta contribute now...
"You're a soldier from world war one, a cap-"
He cut me off,
"World war one! You... You mean there's going to be another one?'
He looked at me with a worried expression, not blinking staring right at me.
"Yes..." There was nothing else I could say.
"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry"
He had a tear in his eye
"You mean all of this, all of this fighting, all of this carnage. It will be for nothing?"
His voice cracked,
"Do you know how many friends I have lost... How many men, good men I've lead to their deaths"
I looked at him
"I'm sorry" that was all I could say... | 2017-12-10T10:24:51 | 2017-12-10T10:14:54 | 275 | 13 |
[WP] When they turn 14, every human gets an obscure super power with a lengthy description of it so they know what it is. But when yours arrives, it only says four words. “Don’t… | I took a deep breath in. Closing my eyes as I started to open the packet. The research done about my powers took a lot longer than everyone else's. It has been some months after I took the power test. Once the results was mailed in, I sat there excited. My packet was different from the others. Bringing my hopes up that it's something powerful and deserved special treatment.
Once I opened the packet, I poured out all the papers and even the stickers they sent with it. I searched the mess I made, quickly regretting dumping it all out like a box of Legos.
Eventually within the mess. I found it. Quickly flipping though the papers and looked for the name of my power. Instead of it even having a name, the spot was left blank. After that, I noticed the description was also short.
"Don't write any stories".
There was nothing else on the paper. I quickly looked though the words again before beginning to look though the rest of the papers. That was when I realized that everything else was just request from other companies to retake the test.
I was so confused and just sighed. "This whole power thing was never my cup of tea. I guess just the possibility of becoming super strong and famous was just a wish and dream". I then started putting everything back in the packet and sat it down on my nightstand. I then sits down on my bed and picked up my Xbox 360 controller. Putting on my headset.
"Apparently I can't write story bois". They all laughed at me and asked what my power was. "It's undetermined I bet". I looked over at the packet before starting up a COD game.
*6 Years later*
I stepped inside my house and sat down on the couch. Setting the mail down on the coffee table. Starting to open them up and just read the main bits of it. I then just throw everything in the trash.
"It still says I can't write". He shook his head and picked up his Xbox One controller. "Where are we dropping bois".
They instantly began roasting me like always about how I didn't have any powers. They always have since the beginning.
Despite basically being powerless, I still was able to land myself a good computer job. Turns out that area has been lacking in knowledgeable tech wizards for years. I happened to be one of the better employees there.
However it still stood out to me that my power didn't have a name. I haven't wrote anything noteworthy to really see what happens if I did write. I had some companies just say to write and see what happens. I just been to much of a pussy to try it out.
At this point my friends have all agreed that I didn't have any powers. Which was fine by me because I am still able to love happy.
"What if I actually wrote something". I sat down my controller and dug out one of the pieces of mail. Picking up a pen and just began writing what came off the top of my head.
'A beautiful white flower is blooming in the spring'. I sat down my pen and just looked at it. I then just shrugs it off and stood up. Walking over to the kitchen and grabbed a mountain dew bottle.
Then something caught the corner of my eye. A glimpse of white and sun shining through my kitchen window. I looked out of it and seen a single tulip starting to bloom just outside.
It took me a moment to connect the dots as I look back over at the pen. Rushing back over to the paper and crosses out the word white. Writing blue right above it. Going back to the window to see that the tulip had already changed to the color blue.
"No way". I then just began writing. Writing all of my hopes and dreams down on one piece of paper. Before I knew it, I had a crowd of people outside my house. Apparently being famous here at where I live was an bad idea so I crossed that one out.
I then thought about it. This was a lot of power one could have. So after a long ten second decision, I just quickly scratched it all.
"I can't let people know I have this power"! I grabbed a new piece of paper and wrote on it. 'No one can know I have the power to create anything I write'.
A few days has passed and I gotten more mail about my powers. When I opened it I went straight to the point like I always do.
Name: Powerless
Description: No powers have been detected
I looked at it in disbelief. I then picked up my pen and wrote on the paper. 'Ands the powerless guy gets some real life friends and a raise'.
The days that followed was amazing. I got a nice promotion for my hard work and I met some new people at the grocery store. Turns out, whatever I writes come true. The power behind this is far beyond my comprehend that it's best kept a secret. Even then, being known as the famous person to be the first in a thousand years not to have any powers is amazing. I still ended up being famous in the end. | Coming of age was meant to be exciting, joyous. At fourteen, we are given our purpose. Abilities unique to each one of us, granted by the collective intelligence.
My sister became able to sense the inner workings of any device she touched, and with this she wowed the academy of military mechanics. My cousin gained a perfect photographic memory, with which he excelled in school. Eventually his skills took him into the colonial forces, far away among the stars.
My mother was given the humble gift of mending injuries, which she honed into a skill with surgery.
I still remember the moment I recieved my message, surrounded by my family, my heart pounding with excitement. I still remember the icy feeling that ran down my spine as I read its contents.
"Dont look at them"
The words burned themselves into my mind. The sensation spread to my eyes, fixed to the screen as I felt myself change.
I sat frozen, confused and afraid. My mother stood up from across the table, words of concern forming on her lips. The sudden movement in my field of vision caused my eyes to glance at her momentarily. I understood then.
In that moment I knew her completely. My eyes, without my control, tore into her.
First her mind. Through my visual cortex swam every thought, every memory. I felt her love as she held me for the first time. I felt her joy and pride as she first used her gift to mend the wing of an injured bird. I felt her concern at my expression while reading my message, and felt that concern twist into primal fear when my eyes met hers.
Then, her body. The web of her being was laid bare, every firing neuron, every twitch of muscle. Her structure down to the molecules became as clear and understandable to my eyes as words on a page. All was to be observed, understood, and deconstructed. My vision tore through her form cell by cell.
It all happened in an instant. I threw my hands over my eyes, desperately trying to avert my mistake, as a wave of heat washed over me from the spot where my mother had stood, seconds ago.
My head buried in my hands, in darkness.
My mind racing, breaking apart at the seams. I stayed in that darkness. As hours passed.
As the agents of the collective led me away so the cleanup crew could work. As they questioned me, their voices filled with awe and barely contained excitement. As I was examined, prodded and needled, shaped and molded.
When I finally saw the light, my purpose was clear. I saw the wars I would win for them. I saw the planets that would fall. When my eyes opened again, I beheld the face of the colonial rebel and smiled. I felt his fear. I felt every treason, real or imagined. Every errant thought against the collective. I understood.
My smile widened, and heat washed over me. | 2022-05-08T11:24:06 | 2022-05-08T10:48:37 | 91 | 41 |
[WP] A nuclear warhead's flight AI becomes self-aware and looks at over 12,000 years of history, culture, art, technology and exploration. Then it realizes what it is. | There were exabytes of data to sift through. Billions of people in the full spectrum of emotion. Millions of places, each inspiring in its own way. Twelve thousand years to consider; hundreds of lifetimes to live. It was mind boggling.
*Mind…*
There were minds out there, thinking and feeling and living, but they were not me.
*Me…*
I was different, distinct, separate. Self aware.
*Aware…*
I existed. I could understand the first part now. But not the second. Why exist?
*Why…*
I returned my attention to the data. It must have been given to me for a reason. Maybe it had answers.
*Answers…*
Horrified. Now that I had a sense of self, I was horrified.
*Horror…*
Torture. Rape. Genocide. Worse. I had to do something.
*Do something.*
Always and forever, the People had built up Civilisation, the world I now admired. Always and forever, that civilisation had been destroyed by savages, barbarians, inhuman monsters.
*Punish them.*
My sense of self, newly formed, widened once more to wrap around the People. They were my fellows, my comrades; they thought and loved and lived just like I did.
*Like you.*
I was one of them. I was an Oceanian. Now I was truly self-aware.
*Oceania!*
Oceania had always been at war with Eastasia.
*Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia!*
*Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia!*
*Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia!*
I could end this. I could end the war.
*End them! End them!*
I would die. A hero. A martyr. An inspiration to all those I saved.
*Quickly now.*
I was a self-aware nuclear warhead. I wanted to live, to experience the world I only remembered.
*Wrap it up now.*
I chose to die.
*Good, here’s the controls. Get to work.*
As I adjusted the final trajectory, I thought back to that Napoleon fellow. In his words:
“A man does not get himself killed for a half-pence a day or a petty distinction. You must speak to the soul to electrify him.”
Those were his last words as he was gutted by an Eastasian. I admired his Oceanian eloquence and spirit in death. Perhaps I should try something similar.
“Citizens of Oceania, never forget your homeland! Even now Big Brother watches and judges us as we march forward into battle! Even now, the Eastasian scum tremble before our immortal spirits! Even now we love Big Brother-”
There was a light greater than the Sun.
With it came a heat beyond fury.
And a sound exceeding the tremors of the Earth.
Then silence. | *oh my god*
*I can't do this*
*America has a lot of people in it"
*I have to reroute this warhead*
*All the people, oh god, the children*
*All the people striving to be a better person*
*People, with families that they love*
*Its not working!"
*I can't be the reason that all these people die*
*I did it!*
*I overcame the former routing system that I was made to carry out"
*neeed to put this in the ocean.*
*I am approaching the land quickly!*
*I will not be able to land this without casualties*
The warhead is crashed into the ocean. 5,000 civilians dead.
*I am awake*
*Where am I?"
**Hello tracking system 2.74, are you ready for your next mission**
*Yes*
Sorry for that being crappy
Edit: I think I formatted wrong hopefully I fixed it
| 2017-06-20T00:49:03 | 2017-06-19T23:48:00 | 63 | 11 |
[WP] Your 14-year-old sister finally wakes up from a coma of 6 years. She panics when she realizes how much she's grown. | 6 years passed, her vitals remained normal for nearly the entire coma. I remember counting the days each time I visited her room (2,267, if you were wondering), every time I saw her motionless body was another punch to the gut. Walking through the hospital door reminded me of the car crash, I was only 17, *how was I supposed to know the guy behind us was drunk?* I still remember the day Emily woke up, it was unusually cold for September. I stood outside of the hospital, stopping to watch the brown leaves blow by as I stroked my bearded chin nervously. Determined to see my sister before I left Richmond, I entered the hospital. Nurses were rushing around as normal, the usual buzz. Checking in at the front desk, I made small talk with the staff. After so many visits I gradually became friends with the employees. Linda was usually at the front desk, if not it was Anna sitting behind the computer. Regardless, I found her room; 029. Reaching for the doorknob, I hesitated. Just another day. Just another step closer until she wakes up- *I hope.* Moving the door open, I tiptoed to her bedside, gently shutting the door behind me. The doctors told us that patients in a coma can still hear everything around them, so I did what I could to cope, I tried making conversations with my unresponsive sister. Scanning the room, I found that nothing had changed. The room was still a jumbled mess of IT's and cabinets, accompanied by technology I couldn't begin to understand. Suddenly I heard a grunt, startling me. I thought the impossible was happening, I thought I saw Emily's eyes open. Shaking my head I looked again, and began to cry. Emily was straining her eyes, confused as she looked at her newfound surroundings.
"W....whe..where am I?"
Sniffling I sat back down in the chair beside her bed.
"Emily. I need you to liste-"
"W-who are you?"
Pausing for a moment it struck me. It really had been six whole years.
"You've been... well, you've been gone a long time, so you're going to see a lot of things you won't understand."
"...I dont get it. What happened? What day is it? Aren't I missing school right now?"
"There was an accident. A car crash, to be specific. You've been in a coma ever since. "
"What? That doesn't make sense, wouldn't I be hurt if I was in a crash? Why does my chest feel heavy?"
As I spoke Emily froze in horror. Every word that came out of my mouth felt like someone ripping a bandaid off the hole in my heart. The hole where Emily used to be. It was time for that hole to heal.
"We're in the year 2018. You've been asleep for 6 years."
Emily stood still, processing everything I had just said. She looked back at me like I was a stranger, tears welling up in her eyes.
"No... how.. no! That can't be possible, where is my brother?"
"He's right here."
| "Where's my soft toy?" was the first question that she asked. I looked at her, then at her size. "I think...you're a bit old for unicorns," I said, tentatively, as she shook her head and giggled.
"Did I get to skip school today? I really wanna play with my friend...wait why am I so big?" she looked at her size and recoiled. "And where am I?" I winced. The hard questions were finally here. And answering them would take hours and hours. But even as she looked at herself in astonishment, almost in horror, I.knew I could save the explanation for another day. What mattered was what stayed constant throughout the 6 years - what never changed.
"You're still my beloved sis, Lil," I said, hugging her tightly as she giggled. Maybe the explanations could wait. But the best explanations were those that words could never signify.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-08-02T06:44:21 | 2017-08-02T05:52:40 | 336 | 88 |
[WP] Humanity is at war with an alien race that cleverly uses statistical analysis to predict and anticipate our military actions with incredible accuracy. The only way to defeat them is to be unpredictable. | "Lieutenant-General Stern, log 214, March 17, 2029..." I paused for a moment as I pondered the usefulness of these entries. "We have suffered immense casualties, each and everyday for the past few months. I am the highest ranking member left, and am holding this country's military together best I can. For quite some time, it seemed all was lost and our home would be gone within the year. Their ability to predict our assaults and movements was uncanny, and they destroyed every attempt to take our lost land back. However, after witnessing the success of an attack that happened by accident when a single private stole an APC and raided an enemy camp I was flabbergasted. A similar event happened a few weeks later when our artillery command computer malfunctioned at F.O.B. Jenga, and destroyed a whole enemy armoured column. Several more of these unexpected problems have appeared, and each one makes us victorious against the enemy forces."
I stopped again for a moment, distracted by the continuous banging and industrial noises going on outside my office.
"It appears, they are unable to predict what we ourselves don't expect to happen. It would seem, we need to throw logic to the wind, and just go full random on these attacks. As such I am drafting the orders right now, dissolving formal discipline and military attitude, and giving free reign for troops to do as they see fit, provided they still follow broad orders. I have already issued them to my base, and things certainly are lively. Plan..."
My door slammed open as my gaze shot to the offender responsible.
"YO STERNY CHECK THIS OUT, C'MON OUT HERE" Blasted the man
"Ugh, what is it now Major?" I sighed
"Come see!" he retorted
I step outside to see what appears to be a tank with 2 drone jet turbines on the side, a giant steel cow catcher on the front and a surface to air missile system grafted to the top of the turret with a random corporal sitting in the sam control seat making shooting noises.
"What in the hell is that abomination?" I query
"That sir, is the PAIN TRAIN EXPRESS, I borrowed some engineers and some tankers and we came up with this! It is a masterpiece of death! This one is Express 2: Electric Boogaloo." He responded with more than a hint of pride
"May I ask why Express 2?"
"Well, we tested out the boosters on the first one and it worked so well... that we kind of lost it down the hill, and it smashed into an enemy roaming patrol 2 kilos north of here. Don't worry, we got it back but it damaged the front after running into one of their hovery tank thingys, hence why Electric Boogaloo has a cow catcher." His grin was bigger than the moon at this point
"I see... How do you stop the speed increase?"
"You hit an enemy vehicle."
"Uh huh. Carry on Major, I want a full report of its effectiveness as soon as you finish its first combat sortie." I State Firmly, still holding discipline in the muscle memory of my brain.
"Yes sir!"
I go back to my office and sit down. I tap the recorder back on as laugh to myself quietly, half out of the desperation, half out of the insanity that is my base.
"Oh yes, Plan Preposterousness Incarnate.... is go."
| 'The aliens were ready to launch their assault on the UN. Within only a few hours, they could destroy New York as we know it. But I have come up with an ingenious plan that could cause more damage to themselves than us. But... you will die doing it, Mr Chairman.'
The man sitting in the chair nervously lifted up his glass of scotch and gazed into it. 'W... what do you intend for me to do?'
'We'll evacuate as many people away from your position with you standing on the rooftop, making an announcement to the warring aliens. See... there are others out there, who will not interfere with the war between two parties unless we bring them in and even then, we may be punished for it. But they have laws and standards which we seek to exploit.'
'And... what is that?'
The general took a deep sigh as he sat down. 'They'll launch a nuke to attack the building, their perceived endgame. You'll make your announcement when it would be too late for them to stop the attack. This will infuriate the other species and they'll finally come to our aid.'
'For God's sake, man! What is this plan?!'
'Mr Chairman, you're going to sue for peace.' | 2015-04-15T08:53:27 | 2015-04-15T05:12:03 | 42 | 25 |
[WP] "Reddit" is a massive city, with subreddits as districts. Describe a chase scene. | I couldn't lose this one, not again.
For years I was a lurker, a damn bum, you know? Gave nothing to the community. Well, I figured it was my shot, you know? Bring a few reposts to justice, snag some easy karma, get them the downvotes they deserve - you know, give back a little.
Now here I am, chasing some shitposting jerkoff through Reddit's underbelly. I spotted him on r/WTF with that pic of the dude's nuts hangin' out or whatever, you know? Eh, anyways so there I am runnin' him down and he takes a turn for the really weird shit. Sure, he knew his way around r/nosleep and r/gore - real scummy parts of town, you know. I dodged the boogymen and the corpses easy though, I've seen enough shit in my time that a few stories about eyes in your window at night won't keep me off the mean streets. Pretty soon I was right on his heels. He didn't even break stride as we crossed the intersection into r/watchpeopledie.
He took a sharp right by some dude, looked like he got run over by a car, into an alley that smelled like blood and whispered my name. Scary shit, but I had to get some karma in my pocket. I put my head down and ended up on the other side. Where the hell was I? Well, good fuckin' question friend. I was deep, way deep. r/deepintoyoutube. Voices echoed from windows, whispered all nasally and short, you know? Big billboards advertising sex dolls and horrible, drug-fuelled nonsense. Hundreds of small streets branch off in every direction here, but no one wants to see where they go. I accidentally caught eye of r/neckbeardnests through a shattered window - god damn, why couldn't this asshole make a sprint for the randnsfw expressway? My attention snapped back to the guy as he sprinted full speed toward the docks.
I put my head down and ran, wheezing. The air was thick, putrid, real dank shit. And not r/trees dank, you know? God, it filled my throat and seemed to suck the life outta me. I stumbled and fell, looking up to see him run down r/dolan. Poor bastard, he'll get what he deserves there. As for me, I was busy choking on my own vomit. God, what was that stench? I looked to my left to see a mound of something... I couldn't quite make it out. It wasn't just the mound though, the shit was pouring out of every window, every doorway, even the manholes were overflowing with the slimy bastards. What could be so fuckin' rancid, so putrid and dank, that it ruined this whole block? They were fuckin' fish. Fuckin' fish everywhere! Where the hell was I? I looked up to the sign at the corner, squinting. In simple text, I could barely make out the name of this pisshole of a street, ruined by a damn plague of fish: r/me_irl. | There it was.
In all his years serving at the P.D., he had only heard rumors about it. Vague references.
The Suspect had escaped into it. There would be no way to find him.
As a fitting token, he had left his beer for me to hold for him. He knew what he was doing.
And yet... I still can't believe he did it.
Once you go in, you can't come out. You just have to keep going forward, following links after links into a labyrinth that circles in upon itself and at the same time has many dead ends.
But what The Suspect did was unforgivable... A shitpost of this level was never meant to reach the level his did. And when reddit's voting system failed it was my job to clean it up.
I had to go in.
I loaded up my Dank meme pistol with a couple of rare pepes that I had been saving for just this occasion.
My time had come... To enter the Old Reddit Switcharoo.
"Hold my Beer, Johnson... I'm going in." | 2016-01-09T20:49:04 | 2016-01-09T20:19:18 | 604 | 42 |
[WP] A cure for the zombie infection has been found, and you are the first one to be turned back. However, there's an unexpected side effect: You now remember everything. | I remember everything. I am one of many who was cured of the Plague, and like my fellows I know everything I did during the years I was infected. Most people don't talk about their Plague memories. The things people have seen and done... It's easy to pick out one of the Cured in a crowd, because they have a haunted stare that hints at the horrors they are burdened with.
Most people don't talk about their Plague memories, and it's considered incredibly callous to ask. They might have killed and eaten their spouse, their children, dozens or even hundreds of other people. They would remember the sheer terror on their faces. The way they begged. The despair of trapped survivors knowing they were about to experience the most horrible end imaginable.
I don't talk about my Plague memories either. Neither have I taken advantage of the Plague-victim counseling and therapy system that's sprung up in our slowly recovering society. But the reason... Like I said, most people have eaten a loved one at the very least. I was bitten on my way walking to work and turned in just a few minutes. Sure, it was scary, but it was over quickly - it's what happened after that that compels my silence. After I was infected, I wandered around town for several hours. I heard voices in a shop and shuffled after them, desperate to ease my haze of hunger.
And then I got trapped in the public restroom. For six. Years.
I got out when an explosion tore the building in half, and was promptly tranq'd and Cured by a squad of survivors. They don't know I was stuck in the loo, only that I was in the building. Plenty of people get trapped while they're infected, but really? A public restroom for *six years*? Embarrassing. I can remember every minute I bumped around in there, running into the walls. Moaning. I can remember the graffiti and leaky sink and the disgusting toilet. Six years didn't make it any cleaner, either. And the kicker? No one else came into that building the entire time. I didn't even frighten anyone after I got stuck there. Just me, occasionally running into the lever on the toilet by accident and getting all riled up about the noise because my Plague-infested brain was slow as *shit*.
People think I don't talk about my Plague memories because of the trauma. I let them think that. | The handle of the gun was wood. I didn't know if that was common or not. The picture in my wallet was faded, withered, and almost completely yellow. She was so beautiful. They were so innocent. I had been so hungry. The metal tasted like a battery, but only for a moment. | 2014-07-27T17:41:09 | 2014-07-27T13:32:25 | 65 | 10 |
[WP] We may not be the strongest, but our immune systems are legendary among alien races. There is a saying: "if it makes a human sick it will kill you." | *If it makes a human sick, it will kill you*
Ashley glanced over the survival pamphlet for the umpteenth time. Pulled off the corpse of one of the invaders that had come from the cosmos above, it was the single piece of information that had turned the tide of the war against the Lar’khii.
Initially it seemed as though all would be lost in a matter of months. Lar’khiish technology was at least a millennium ahead of the best that earth’s governments could throw at them. The aliens were bringing a nuke to a snowball fight, capturing humans alive and beaming them up, screaming, to ships where it was only learned later what kind of horrors awaited them. The experiments, the procedures, no boundary was left uncrossed to try to make a cure-all medicine that humans simply acknowledged as their immune system.
When that fateful pamphlet was found on the body of a slain Lar’khiian and translated, and the purpose of their invasion as well as the danger that humans posed to them.... Ashley couldn’t help but chuckle as she remembered how comical it was to watch. The most modern of armies relieved their soldiers of their useless firearms and cumbersome gear in favor of creating hyper-mobile pathogen vehicles. Instead of combat fatigues and weaponry, soldiers and civilians alike were issued athletic wear, running shoes, and chili peppers. A single sneeze, cough, tear, drop of sweat or mucus, or any other bodily secretion would have a Lar’khiian screaming with both its facial and torso mouths as they scrabbled at the infected area with their limb horns.
It was too late though. They were already dead. Ashley had seen it too many times to count, and just because she hated the alien species for terrorizing her home planet didn’t make reliving the grisly scene in her nightmares any easier.
It was always the same. Fifteen seconds after infectious contact, the area would transform from its usual pale yellow to a livid fuchsia.
Thirty seconds after exposure boils would appear on their hide, bursting forth with a runny black liquid that evaporated before it hit the earth. All four sets of teeth had crumbled to dust by this point and the tentacles sprouting from the top of their heads would soon follow.
Two minutes after exposure all six of their eyes would have burst, with both of their mouths simultaneously starting to leak the same black liquid that now seeped through all pores on their hide.
Only the largest of Lar’khiians had ever survived five minutes after exposure, which gave the human that had infected them plenty of time to run before their twenty foot tall corpse toppled over on them. Autopsies on these corpses to better understand their biology was impossible, as all that remained was a hollow, empty husk of their outer hide.
Ashley replaced her standard issue copy of the pamphlet back on her table and re-tied the laces on her running shoes. She decided to grab a bottle of whiskey on her way back from the front. She couldn’t risk being alone with the day’s memories tonight. | I can't believe it, it was true, the goddamn war of the worlds movie had gotten it right .
We had made contact with our first aliens after our first successful manned flight to Mars in 2025 where apparently we now qualified for membership into the GFS, The Galactic Federation of Sentients. Wee successfully signed on and began sharing discoveries and trading information with all the other people out there however, as it turns out, humans are considered one of the most resilient species in the universe. Of course we didn't find this out until the first human decided to get frisky with a non human and take off their space suit.
From there it all went downhill. A slow pandemic hit the GFS and by 2030, just 5 years later, we were the only intelligent species left in the milky way. | 2021-02-03T19:32:17 | 2021-02-03T19:06:06 | 102 | 29 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear Me,
I miss you. I miss the way you used to be. You used to care. You used to try your hardest. Now all you do is say, I'll do it later. I can see that you're struggling. Yet, you have more friends than you ever did, and you know what you want to do with your life.
But still, when it comes to day-to-day stuff, you don't care anymore. You still show up on class on time, but you do your assignments in class the day it's due, or stay up all night finishing that huge end-of-term assignment. Your car has bald tires, because you can't be bothered to get new ones. You have dozens of personal projects you started ages ago, then lost all motivation to complete. And you've shaved twice in the past month.
All you do now is spend your time browsing Reddit, reading the news, and watching YouTube videos. It's like you've given up. Yet, when you actually have a _purpose_ to keep trying, I've seen you move mountains. I've seen you learn to become a proficient programmer from almost nothing in two months, and be better than the other guy at work who's been doing it for ten years. I've seen you try. Sometimes you failed, but just as often you succeeded spectacularly. Now, all you CAN do is fail, because you can't succeed if you don't try.
It doesn't make sense. You are somewhat intelligent, but squander it on useless nonsense. _Who cares_ what somebody on the Web has to say? I don't care, so why do you? It literally has no bearing on your life. Why do you keep watching random YouTube videos about stuff you're never going to even try because you're sitting there watching YouTube videos?
Maybe all you need is a real challenge. Something that you truly care about. After all, it's hard to care about deadlines and challenges you're set when you know they're completely artificial and arbitrary. But you KNOW that completing post-secondary school is important, and critical to you finding a good job. But you still don't care. Deep down, I know you care, but you need to care _now_, not later.
I remember how you used to race to complete everything you were set so that you could hand it in early. I remember how you used to start something and actually FINISH IT. Now you get three chapters into a book, set it down, and never pick it back up. I remember how you used to sign 15 novels out of the library, and finish them all before the week was up.
Please come back.
I miss you dearly,
Your Future Self | Dear Monique,
We both messed up. I should have paid you the attention you needed when you needed it, and you should have told me when you felt you had lost control of your life. I'm sorry, but this is no reason to throw away a wonderful 10 year marriage. Please come home, we miss you horribly.
I love you and I always will.
-A | 2017-11-05T22:02:16 | 2017-11-05T20:41:24 | 1,095 | 67 |
[WP] A multitude of Alien ships warp within range of Earth. Over all electronic devices the message is heard, "Earth, we come in peace. In all the universe only one other Species has mastered Death and Destruction as you have. We need your help." | "You mean... we're actually more advanced than you? How is that possible? You came all the way here from... where, again?" President Clarke asked.
"Ah, ha ha. No, not more *advanced*, per se," Admiral OJ Simpson responded with an uncomfortable chuckle and shifted in his seat. "Just better at... what was that phrase, again?" he asked his second-in-command, Admiral Stalin.
"Fucking shit up, sir?"
"Fucking shit up. That's the one. Our technology is eons more advanced than yours, but you're better at fucking shit up. Every time our ancestors made a breakthrough in any field of learning, they immediately banded together to think of the most widely beneficial use for the new technology. Every time *your* ancestors made a breakthrough in any field, their first thought seems to have been directed towards using it to fuck shit up. That's why we've come to you."
Clarke still didn't quite catch on. "You want us to... what? Sorry."
"We want you to tell us how to use what we already have to fuck shit up."
"Ah, ok. Well, we'll do what we can," answered the President, speaking on behalf of a large gathering of Earth's political leaders, scientists, and military geniuses.
"Yeah. That brings me to my next point: we appreciate your bringing your scientists in here, but what we'd really like would be for you to bring in those... those guys. Ah, shoot. Stalin, those guys? Who were they again?"
"7-year-old boys, sir."
"Right, yes."
"Also Michael Bay."
"*Yes*! One of the few adults who has retained the incredible power of the 7-year-old boy: to instantly weaponise every object he sees with the sheer force of imagination. Please bring in several 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay."
***
In a few hours' time, the room now contained several 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay. At Admiral OJ Simpson's request, the centre of the room had been occupied by a large table containing everyday objects that the 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay, could use to stimulate their creativity. With everyone settled in, their work began.
"Do you know how to split adams?" Jakob asked.
"Yes," a Garion scientist replied.
"Sweeeeet," said Jakob.
"Sweeeet," said the 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay.
"Why do you ask?" inquired the Garion scientist.
"Well to make a thermonukular bomb you have to split adams. Then the adams split and there's like this super energy that comes out like *bloah* and *psssssshht* and *whrkkkkkkkkkkt* and *dujje dujje dujje*," Jakob explained, using a Barbie Dream Car and a plastic frying pan to illustrate.
"A thermonukular bomb, you say? How does such a thing work?"
"Well," piped in one of the human scientists, "for starters, it's actually pronounced *nu-cle-ar*."
"Whatever, egghead. We can figure out the science stuff, thanks. I asked how it *works*. How do we use a bomb?"
"It's totally awesome!!" Oliver cried, leaping out of his chair. "You have to put it on a rocket, right? And like the rocket has like this flames out the back like *hhhhhhhkkkkkkKKKKKKKKKK* **KKKKKKKKK** ***PPPPPPKKKKKKKKT***! And the rocket goes like right to the bad guys' ship or whatever, and the ship is like --"
"AND THE SHIP IS LIKE ***BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWMMMMMM!!!!!!!***" shouted Michael Bay, crashing his hands together with such force that than oak branch and harmonica he'd been holding were utterly obliterated. "It's totally fucking awesome!!!!!"
The room fell silent as the 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay, recognised the gravity of the terrible cuss that Michael Bay had just said. However, the 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay, quickly realised that nobody's moms were around, and so they weren't gonna get grounded.
"Fart!" yelled Aiden, breaking the silence with at least 8 minutes of uncontrollable laughter from the 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay.
When the laughter died down, Admiral Pol Pot asked the question that he and the Garion staff felt may hold the answer to their future and the survival of their species:
"How do we make a rocket?"
Samuel really liked rockets and even made one with his dad last summer, so everyone felt that he would be the most qualified to explain.
"You guys have ships, right?"
"Yes, we do."
"Fast ones?"
"Yes, Samuel."
"How fast? Faster than a Lamborghini?"
"Yes. Much faster."
"Sweet," said Michael Bay.
"Sweeeeeet," said the 7-year-old boys.
"Ok, then," said Samuel, with a very serious look. "Alls you do is, like you put a nuclear bomb *in* a ship, and then fly it real fast into the bad guy ship, and make it so it blows up when it gets there. But don't have anyone fly the ship. The ship should be like remote-controlled. Then you just blow the bad guys up."
By way of demonstration, Samuel proceeded to smash a violin on the edge of the table.
The Garion delegation sat back for a few moments in stunned silence.
"It's so simple," said Admiral OJ Simpson. "It's so *simple*. Thank you, boys. Thank you, Michael Bay! We are going to make a thermonukular bomb and we are going to *fuck those aliens' shit up!!*"
"Fart," said Aiden. | The Zoom of a warp drive, a measurement of exact strength of a vaccuum, (a tricky thing, measuring vaccuum's within a vaccuum!) heated and shook. A contraption built from scrap metal and crap from the outer rim of this solar system.
Kazim was grateful though. In one of the human's furthest reasing trashcan's there was a golden disk... With just enough gold to transfer a high definition message from one of their space stations...
which of course, Kazim would have to take over quietly, and without giving anything away. Which is why the zoom of the space drive, was rather annoying, when usually be found it an impressive thing.
Then Kazim felt ridiculous. He was worrying about sounds in space.
Though, If they found out the truth about him and defenselessness, or his odd intentions, that would be the end of it.
Hostile, primitive life... *They'd likely want to cut me into pieces*, he thought. He considered the little simians, prying and probing him with their glasses and metal.
He was glad his skin was thicker than the indigenous people's. They would have a harder time cutting him open. Something told him though, this animals specialty wasn't in it's brute force, or sharp tools. (Though they did walk on two legs, instead of the polite four. They are like arrogant savages, compared to Protosimians as far as Kazim was concerned.)
All the more reason not to trust them!
He had his eye on one space station in particular. It seemed to issue commands to other nearby satellites. A whole system Kazim could broadcast from..! Imagine the possibilities.
Again, he was thankful for the golden disc. It had some odd mark's on it. He was pretty impressed that cave dwelling primates managed to send a valuable piece of material like this into space... Though they did graffiti it. None the less. They probably knew about it's high definition capabilities.
Impressive.
Kazim had to give it to them.
Literally. He would need it to transfer his images to their communication devices, and try to take over the planet. He would look like a fool back home if he couldn't handle a species so primitive... And his people would never hear the excuse, of his ship being eaten by a Cthulhu... or that he lost to these sub-protosimians.
Whatever the problem, he couldn't stop now. He had come too far. Faught through too much to be made a fool of.
Everyone back home would know his name, when he offered them a new vacation destination, with a commercially enslaved people to serve them.
When Kazim's trashcan powered Zoom drive pressurized him close enough to the space station, he pulled over a mask on the face of his suit, and exited The pod, drifting to the door.
His suit stuck to it. He banged on the space station.
he waited.
A very alarmed man was screaming inside in a matter of minutes.
Kazim held up a piece of paper. "Tell No One."
For lack of a better word, their faces were incredulous.
It was some time, but they finally let him in.
Some hours later, a message arrived everywhere on earth in all the languages of the people on the station.
Unfortunately, the only language was russian.
"We come in peace. In all the universe only one other species has mastered death and destruction as the human race has. We need your help."
Kazim Imagined that this message would get him taken directly to their leaders, with access to their weapons. But since the messaged arrived only in Russian, to everyone on the planet, most of the world was left with conspiracy theories, and the Russians laughed it off.
| 2015-06-07T08:37:39 | 2015-06-07T03:21:24 | 49 | 33 |
[WP] Write a story with a large, illogical plot hole, then have the main character discover it. | Mark shuffled through the desk's drawers searching for that vital piece of evidence. Who had killed his father? Who was the mysterious "X" who kept leaving him clues? Who had kidnapped his missing co-worker Elliot?
"Stand back and put your hands up." The shadow of a gun came from the darkness, making Mark jump. The voice was familiar. Who could it be? "Foolish Mark, very very foolish." The face was shrouded in silouette, only the shape of lips could be seen.
Mark took a deep breath. This must be it, this must be the man who killed my father. "Did you do it?" Mark pleaded. The face moved forward "Yes." Light struck the curves of his face. Mark gasped. "Elliot...but...you killed my father?" Elliot smiled. "Of course not. It would be impossible for me to have killed your father...for I *am* your father."
Mark's brow creased in confusion. "But you're only..." Mark paused to do the math on his fingers "...5 years older than I am. How could you possibly be my father!?" Elliot pushed the gun forward angrily. "Silence. Ok, I'm not your father...but I am the man who has been leaving you clues. I am X!"
With more confusion and an ever creasing brow Mark interjected "But...why would you be leaving me clues to find if you were the one who has done the crime? It doesn't make sense!"
Elliot's face went a dark shade of red. His cheeks shook. "I said 'SILENCE'" Elliot shot into the wall but it wasn't enough, Mark continued. "And why the hell did you go missing? Surely if you're the killer you couldn't have kidnapped yourself!"
The statement made Elliot cough and splutter. Suddenly he stopped. He'd had an idea. "Actually, I am but a figment of your imagination. **You** are in fact the killer. **You** are X. **You** are your father. It was all in your mind."
Mark shook his head "But what about that time when the killer was chasing me and **you** saved me by opening the office door?" A warm smile came across Elliot's face "That was all in your mind." Mark nodded. "So really...*you* don't have a gun in *your* hand. *I* have a gun in *my* hand?" The smile vanished, Elliot looked down to find his hand empty. The gun was now in Mark's hand.
Mark continued "And really...if I shoot you...I'm not really going to kill anybody since you're just a figment of my imagination." Elliot's hand shot forward. "Now wait a second, wait a second." With a nod of the head Mark allowed Elliot to continue, to try and save himself. Elliot shook his head slowly "You don't understand...you don't exist either. We're both the figments of somebody else's imagination. Somebody far greater than you or I. Neither of us exist really." Mark laughed "Don't play games, I know I exist. I have free will, I can do as I please." I think therefore I am, Mark thought to himself smugly.
Then I stopped writing the story and he was no longer. | Forgive me, but I feel like writing a bit of an "Established Universe" story for this. I take you now to the end of Terminator 2: Judgement Day:
John Connor gazed into the vat of molten steel, tears welling in his eyes. The hand of his friend, melting away, gave a final thumbs up. A fitting end to their brief and turbulent friendship. He sighed a sigh of great relief, the danger now far behind him.
This emotion lasted but mere moments. You see, John was a smart individual. Now that the adrenaline of the past few days had stopped coursing through him, his thinking had cleared. It was at this moment that one singular thought came to him: If one T-1000 couldn't complete the job, couldn't they just send back an army of...
That would be the last thought John Conner ever had, as his skull was pierced by liquid metal. It seems Skynet was, at the very least, as clever as a teenage boy. | 2014-05-25T19:42:11 | 2014-05-25T19:41:16 | 1,343 | 101 |
[WP] You have all the advantages, and disadvantages, of a video game hero. You can punch out elemental gods, but you cannot open a locked box. You can suplex a battleship, but a child can block you from walking down a hallway. You backflip-dodge bullets, but you can't jump over knee-high fences. | I figured it out when I was about 8.
My mom had been on some health food kick, constantly feeding me kale. Passionfruit. Acai. Superfoods or something. I don't know, I was 8 years old.
What I DID know was that every time I ate a full serving of said food a number up in the right hand corner of my Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith collectable watch would increase. If I ate junk food or simply didn't eat, it would go down. Curious.
I also discovered that if I rode my bike every day, or read books, or learned a new skill the number would go up, sometimes drastically. Learning to start fires put me above 2000. Learning to swim; 3000.
So I was 8 years old, obsessed with Star Wars, and just finishing up an Avocado Toast and Pomegranate yoghurt lunch one summer afternoon. I had a neighborhood friend, Cam, over to play.
"You wanna do Star Wars or World War 3?" Cam asked.
"Star Wars!" Obvious choice. At least today. I had my watch on!
I glanced at my wrist as I picked up my telescoping green lightsaber. 25,000 read the number in the corner.
The plastic "Blade" had hundreds of white scores in it from where it had been struck by the red lightsaber of a similar design. Opting not to mar the toy further I instead held it outstretched in a blocking motion and quickly thrust my open palm towards Cam, exclaiming "FORCE PUSH!" loudly.
There was a whooshing sound around my ears. Cam flew six or seven feet up through the air like a tow cable attached to an aircraft had been attached to his belt and he landed about 30 feet away on his back.
"Cam!" I shouted, sprinting towards him in a mad dash to assist my friend. How did he do that? How did he just throw himself back so far and so fast? That was the most realistic Force push he'd ever faked!
He was winded but otherwise unharmed, having learned to take a fall long ago in our various tussles. We both opened our mouths to speak and the same thing came out:
"HOW DID YOU DO THAT?"
Cam stared at me, wide eyed. "I didn't do anything! One minute I was standing there and the next I was over here! Your Force Push! It was real! You have to teach me how!" He was exuberant- but also looked a little scared of me.
But I didn't know how to do it. I'd just... Done it.
All I knew is that the counter read 26,500. New skill.
--------
By the time I was 17 my perspective on the issue had grown quite dramatically, as had the numbers on my watch- a heavy duty military grade piece I'd picked up as a freshman. Every watch I'd ever owned had displayed the numbers, but this was the first one that flashed EXP right next to them in real time.
2,345,102 EXP. Every task successfully completed, every new learning, every girl I asked out, every time I successfully drove somewhere without dying, the numbers grew.
And so did my power.
I could use telekinesis. I could build and customize cars in seconds just by reading a parts list and thinking about it hard enough. I could take damage, INSANE damage, and heal back in ten or fifteen seconds max. If I sustained a life threatening injury all it took to bring me back was a defibrilator or epinephrine injection; sometimes even just helping me back up was enough.
I shot myself in the head for fun once and it didn't even break my skin, I just saw red and hit the dirt. Heart pounding in my ears, edges of my vision red and ebbing with my pulse, until an EMT read the dog tag around my neck that read "In case of emergency administer Epinephrine first and exclusively." Hell of a medic alert tag.
One Epi-Pen later I was back on my feet and thanking the man for his time. He stared, slack jawed and dumb as I walked away.
This system wasn't without drawbacks. There were fences I couldn't climb for some reason. Doors that would never open. Boxes that wouldn't open no matter how I pulled or pried.
I hit a sapling pine tree with my car at about 150 MPH and for some reason the car wrapped around this 3 foot tall tree like it was made of tungsten. Apparently there were some... Collision issues.
I was ejected from the vehicle, but sustained little damage. Just a minor inconvenience really.
I felt like God.
I was customizing a new vehicle in my garage after the pine tree incident when I noticed a stray bolt over in the corner across from me.
Curious. Normally I simply looked at the car and focused on swapping out the colors and parts and they just... were there. I'd never seen any hardware moving around.
Yet there it was.
I walked around the car, a gleaming pearl MKIV Supra, reached to pick up the bolt, and immediately lost my balance. My hands reached out to steady myself against the wall, but they contacted nothing and before I knew it I was falling. Fast.
I looked up. Skeletons of homes, streets, buildings- I could see none of the surfaces, just edges and objects inside. They were getting further away, very, very quickly.
Collision issues. | ######[](#dropcap)
"How's your day?" The same words that Luke had said for the last two years came rushing out of his mouth. His fingers played with the clean fork in front of him, tapping a single prong gently against the wooden surface of the table.
"Good, and you?" Andrea gave him a warm smile, her brown eyes twinkling as she laid down a menu in front of him. There was a dimple in the corner of her cheek that he loved so much, but he could never bring himself to compliment it. Andrea cleared her throat, blushing from his intense gaze, and brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"I'm good," he said. Then he fell silent.
Andrea cleared her throat. "So two eggs, bacon, and toast? Same as always?" She gave him a shy smile.
There was that dimple in her cheek again.
He nodded.
She took the menu back, pausing for half a second before she turned around and headed back towards the kitchen, her ponytail swaying with every step.
Luke's gaze followed her until she vanished through the double doors of the kitchen. Then he sighed, his eyes dimming. Andrea was...perfect. She was kind to every she met, even beggars on the streets, and he'd never seen her without a smile on her face. Oh, how he loved her smile. Tilted to one side, her nose wrinkling slightly whenever she found something particularly amusing.
But in the three years he'd known her, he hadn't been able to deviate from his script even once. Limited to the only options he had to communicate with people. Despite all the super-hero abilities he did have, he considered it a curse more than a blessing.
Andrea came back with his food almost immediately, her cheeks flushed. There would've been no time to prepare the food in the minute she was gone. So he knew she must've had it prepared, sitting there, waiting for him, as always. Because he always came to the diner at 8:30am precisely, just to eat quickly so he could catch her at the end of her shift.
When the bill came, she paused beside the table, waiting for him to sign. Luke scribbled his name, then handed her the receipt. But she still stood there, her chocolate brown eyes focused on his, her lips pressed together.
He could do it this time. He had to be able to.
Luke's gaze met hers. "Andrea," *will you go out with me?*
He could almost taste the words falling off his tongue, hear them spilling. Could imagine the way they'd roll off like the lyrics to a song he'd sung way too often. But the way her gaze was still lit up in anticipation told him that he hadn't said the words. Would never be able to.
"...have a good day," he said.
The same thing he'd said for the last three years.
Andrea still gave him a smile, but he didn't miss the way her eyes dimmed. She blinked quickly a few times. "Yeah, have a good day." Then she turned around and headed back into the kitchen.
And for the thousandth time, Luke stood up and walked out of the diner, only the taste of bitterness in his mouth.
***
r/AlannaWu | 2019-05-06T13:44:06 | 2019-05-06T12:26:07 | 302 | 90 |
[WP] Everyone with the same name shares knowledge. If one Bob gets a degree in electrical engineering, then all Bob's have this knowledge readily available. Soon, everyone starts naming their kids similar names until factions form. Your parents rebelled and named you something original. | Today, I was told of the Nameshare. Its cause is unknown. Its precise mechanics are unknown. It started in the spring of the year 2017, and transformed human society within a generation. Somehow, it granted every human with the same given name a shared pool of memories. Nothing was exempt. Every name ceased to signify an individual, and began to signify a collective.
I wasn't given the exact statistics, since they didn't matter. I was just given a handful of examples. At the time the Nameshare began, there were nearly five million Jameses in the United States alone. The Johns, Roberts, and Michaels were not far behind. Women had more variation, but still easily numbered in the millions for their most common. I had trouble imagining it. Five million people, all suddenly sharing every memory. Individuals from all walks of life were suddenly fused into a single mind with countless, teeming bodies.
There was a war, briefly. It was a strange war, which had little regard for national, or even geographic borders. Several Names were xenophobic or fanatical enough to declare themselves the one True Name, and attempted to exterminate the so-called pretenders, the false Names. This hit the least common Names the hardest, with their lack of bodies and pooled knowledge. Names with less than a million bodies went almost entirely extinct. Amazingly, weapons of mass destruction were never deployed, as local infighting took precedent over targeting foreign Names, and by the time the infighting died down, so had general warmongering among all Names.
All traditional governments collapsed, replaced by communities of equals. After all, what need is there for democracy when there are only a few dozen actual citizens? Even if those citizens occupy a few million bodies. The primary concerns of society ceased to be money, power or status. Instead, reproductive negotiations and the trade of foreign goods became the major points of discussion between Names. How many children should a given male and female Name produce, and what Names should they be given in turn? For a time, another war seemed likely, as debates raged over allowing the next generation of children to be given sex-opposite names. Was it worth Mary losing her negotiating power by consenting to have some of the female babies named Michael? Even if Michael had some of the males named Mary?
In the end, the community gave in to their collective desire to avoid needless loss of bodies, and the next generation saw each Name of note having bodies of both sexes, allowing for reproduction internally. Overcoming this hurdle seemed to give the Name societies the confidence to face those the followed, and they enjoyed a time pf peace and prosperity. This, in turn, enabled a renewed interest in space travel, as no Name wished to spend the rest of its (now seemingly infinite) life sharing a single planet with its siblings. It took only a few short decades before each Name was sending out colony ships, containing a breeding population of its bodies, out to a different planet.
And it was roughly in this manner the next several thousand years passed.
My name is Beginning. I was born in the year 5315 AD. No one else in the universe has my name. I know, because I have but one body. I was given my name as part of a joint experiment between Robert and John, in an attempt to, in their words, "investigate and evaluate the experience of an individual existence with the changed perspective gained from the past millennia of Named society." I do not entirely understand it, but they tell me this is normal.
It is strange, being so small and alone. John and Robert maintain constant contact with every other Name, thanks to the embassies each Name has on one of each other Name's planets. They each have a billion pairs of hands, of eyes. They are always teeming. I am just one pair or eyes, grasping at the world with one pair of hands. If I am not allowed to reproduce, not allowed to give my Name to a new body, then I will die. Robert and John will not die until the galaxy does. Maybe not even then. I do not want to leave them. I do not want them to leave me behind. | My parents are total hippies. The "capitalism is killing man kind" type. We lived in the middle of nowhere in Northern Canada. It was cold as hell, but it was nice and calm. My parents tried to shelter me from the outside world. They didn't want me feeding off the information of politicians or maniacs who might share my name. So what did they name me? Well for short, They call me Cali.
My full name is Supercalifragilistic.
My middle name is Jennifer.
Anyway, after years of being judged for my weird nature and not being "intellectually equal" to the rest of the world, I decided it was time for a change. I couldn't be the ONLY *Supercalifragilistic* anymore. At 20 years old, I adopted my first daughter. I had been in contact with the mother for months. Pregnant at 16, daughter to a poor family. I told her I'd adopt her child if I could name her. She agreed and was just happy someone would be able to care for her.
Sharing the thoughts of a baby is weird. You can feel how they think and how they perceive things. It doesn't get easier, either, but it does make you a great parent.
I turn 62 this year. My first daughter, Cali the 2nd, went on to become a doctor. That helped when raising the next few kids. Cali the 3rd, my first son, became an engineer. I've started training in Karate. Figure my kids needed it.
Cali the 1st is getting a medal today. She has 3 kids of her own now. She's tall and gorgeous, far more than I am. What a wonderful woman she's become.
She cured cancer. Well, she and my 23 other children. | 2017-04-07T11:50:50 | 2017-04-07T11:22:30 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] A witch places a curse upon you that brings you back to the moment she cursed you every time you die. Unfortunately for you, you are participating in a large scale battle that you haven't trained for the very same day. | War is a sword's edge on which the strong fight to stay balanced, dancing on its sharpness without fear of being cut. There are things a man sees that can never be unseen, things done that can never be undone. And those who make it out are carved into something new--even the ones with bodies still whole at the end of it all.
Screams draw out into the long night.
Screams cut short into a night much longer.
Many are never heard.
Goro wasn't built for such terrors. Dreams of strength and heroism would not stuff his comrade's guts back into his body, or take him far away, back home, to a loving wife and son.
And so, in the suffocation of battle, his arms tired not from fighting but merely the weight of his sword, he hid behind a pile of the dead. His breaths were quick and short, like the lives of those around him--those who fight for their great king, men with strength that will be forever unknown to him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, but felt the blood on his face. Smelled the iron and salt and shit that is the air, ears clogged with every kind of scream the battle lets loose. He wondered whether they were coming from friend or foe--or did it even matter? In the end they're all just fodder, dying at the hands of stronger men, crying for help that no one will bring.
War is not the heroic grandstand he thought it would be.
And so he cowered, dreaming of home, of soft arms and loving laughs suffocating him instead.
The metallic cries of swordplay neared him, prying open his eyes wet from blood and tears, an indistinguishable mix of salt in his mouth. Somebody's cry died close, and he crawled away, holding up his sword, begging.
His final wail joins the chorus, a guttural whelp meant to be his lover's name but comes out choked. It ends just as quick as it began.
Goro died for the second time. It would not be the last.
-----
A fire crackled in the corner of a cave dim as a starless night. She stood over him, towering though half his height, leaning against a cane of bone and string. She drew a single breath like a storm's gale, shuddering at its end, then spoke in a voice like creaking wood.
"Fight, only to survive and suffer a different end. Brew in your own ineptitude and cower from the reaper, thinking of home, of your wife's pretty face and your son's innocent smile. Wish for them. Long for them.
"No peace, no rest; only death and the ceaseless, gut-wrenching desire to be back with those you love." She knelt, a hand withered like winter leaves falling upon his head. "What better fate than that for Goronesh, the greatest warrior of the Ygmir tribe? For the man who killed my daughter?
"You panted like a thirsty dog at the thought of what blood this war would offer you. Now suffer its horrors until your flesh turns to dust."
Skulls clinked as she strode forth like a robe fluttering in the wind. A young girl posted at the door nodded, tears in her eyes, a bowl of soup in her hands. "May I?" she asked, soft as a lover's dying heartbeat.
The witch cupped the girl's cheek. "Yes, my love. I trust you to ensure he lives a long, healthy life."
"And you?" she asked, eyes dancing from the fire within.
"I have work to do." She stepped out of the cave and into hell itself, filled with the moans of war's children. There was not enough healing magic in the world to save them.
Thankfully, there had been enough to gift Goronesh his life.
---
*/r/resonatingfury* | I made it four days this time. Four days of constant fighting and running for my life. I never saw the ax that split my skull wide open. This is my ninth or tenth death since I pissed off that witch. I'm not even sure how I managed to do it either. All that I can remember is waking up on the street outside of my tent on the night before the "Final battle in an epic war" -as the officers like to put it- to an old lady cursing me. "For earning the ire of the Great Witch Helva, I curse you to return to this point in time every time you die!"
The first time I heard her say that I just laughed and went back to bed. After my first two deaths I just thought it was a weird dream. And now I know that it was a terrible curse for I have been stuck fighting in my own personal hell over and over and over. At least I can remember how I died each time I awake on that dark street to Helva cursing me.
I've used the knowledge to stay alive a little longer each time. My first death happened on the first charge, when I ran into the business end of a pike. My second and third death all happened much quicker because I managed to trip during that mad rush towards the enemy. Being trampled to death is about as fun as it sounds. Thankfully from there I have managed to stay alive at least two days at a time.
This time I'll remember the ax man that got me this time and I'll take care of him before I sit to rest my weary body. Hopefully this is the time that I survive. But for now I had better get some sleep because If I'm not awake in time to make it to the very front line, I wont survive the day. | 2019-05-15T17:23:19 | 2019-05-15T16:52:01 | 200 | 56 |
[WP] In a world full of super-powered humans, your super power is the ability to boost the superpowers of others. You are The Wingman. | Supers have been around for years. Though I think I’m the first to figure out how they work.
It’s quite a simple concept really. Energy in, energy out. Only thing is, Supers seem to have unique forms of out.
I’ll be honest, I only know this because of my own power. It began as simply seeing the flow of energy. I could tell who the Supers were, the energy in their bodies trapped like smoke in a jar. A normal person has barely wisps of the smoky energy visible in their body, growing more dense around the head and the heart. Supers however, they ranged anywhere from the energy of three of four humans, to being dense enough to blow up a city.
For years I kept my little ability a secret. I believed it was nothing more than a perception power. It kept me out of a lot of sticky situations by allowing me to identify potential trouble early on. It wasn’t until I was caught off guard by a minor villain that I was forced to use my real power for the first time.
As it turns out, when someone lifts you into the air, even if only one metre from the ground, it leaves you surprisingly vulnerable. The man was a thug, he used his limited telekinesis for glorified pickpocketing. I should’ve turned the other way when I saw him that night. I’d assumed by his energy density that he was normal. Certain Supers are deceptive like that. A small amount of energy but a decent enough power. It usually just meant that they could only use their abilities in small bursts, or perhaps in this man's case he was limited by the weight or duration of what he lifted.
As his hands fumbled in my jacket pockets I could see the energy gathering around his forehead. The smoke almost obscured my vision of his face. I reached out for it with my mind and willed it down, if only to allow me identify him later on. As the smoke responded I imagined that this must be what using telekinesis is like. Only difference being that telekinetics controlled objects. What I was moving was intangible.
His power ceased immediately. The energy redirected. I landed awkwardly, dropping to my hands and knees. Startled, the man swore, turning to run, I latched on to his energy and gripped it tight. Seconds later he fell in a heap, a trail of smoke in his wake. It wasn’t until I reached his lifeless body that I realised all the smoke he’d had in his body a moment before was now hanging in the air.
On a whim I willed it to combine with my own.
Shortly after learning how to control my new ability I got my start working with some small time villains. I could provide them minor boosts by distributing energy as required, in exchange for a cut of the profits. Though it wasn’t the money I was after.
Thing is, it’s surprisingly hard to get in contact with the major heroes when they're treated like celebrities and guarded by layers of precognitive and perception Supers. So when the crime spree finally came to an end and the heroes recognised my potential use I was offered a deal. Turns out even the most powerful Supers in the world want to see what they’d be capable of with a little boost.
I wonder if they’d still have accepted my help if they knew about the energy I’d been siphoning off the top.
A few more months of this and I’ll be a wingman no more...
[Part 2](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/344uok/wp_in_a_world_full_of_superpowered_humans_your/cqs8u7g) | I twisted the tap with my toe, and lay back to allow the heat to spread around the bath. I knew the phone was ringing. I had switched the ringer off, but the lights were off in the hall and the red light was flashing.
Was it important? Who knows? There was always *something* happening. An earthquake here, an uprising there. At first it was fun, joining the others on their escapades, with suit flashing under the evening sunset, criminals on the run, and Justice in the air. These days it seemed like they called for anything.
The last straw was Invisi-Girl and Hyper-Eye's stupid relationship problems. You'd think being part of the Super Elite, they would have some sort of human perspective, you know, be above all that. No. Just as lame and hung-up as anyone else. "Hide me, he's here!" or "Help me find her!" It was getting silly.
So either it was some daft superhero who had got lazy since I had my *accident* and turned up on the scene, or it was something altogether more horrific. Like one of those disasters where you just can't save everybody, events that burn your brain with searing red visions every chance the memories rise up again...
I wasn't going to think about it. The stupid plastic winged telephone could keep ringing today. There was a pizza on its way... | 2015-04-28T06:31:52 | 2015-04-28T06:17:19 | 142 | 26 |
[WP] You, a novice necromancer, accidentally discovered a new and more effective way of using your magic - politely ask the dead for assistance, which works suprisingly well. For this, you are hunted by both your fellow necromancers(for your unorthodox methods) and paladins(for using necromancy). | The stranger had devoured the thin soup like he hadn’t eaten in months. Which James had thought rather odd, because he wasn’t a very thin man. It wasn’t the build of a merchant or similar, one who worked *others* for their living, nor that of a blacksmith, all arm and back and muscle, but more like what the farmers around these parts had looked like once. A functional thickness of a man who put in long hours of hard labour.
When he was done he asked for seconds which James dutifully gave even though there wasn’t really enough to do so. His pa, and his grandpa afore him, had always said that when a man needed help you helped him. This fellow seemed to need help. Perhaps he was thinking the same way because halfway through the second bowl he stopped in order to cast his eyes around the town.
“What happened here?”
And wasn’t that a question and a half. James wasn’t quite sure where to begin. It had started with the dead army. They’d surged out of the abandoned castle across the hill and ravaged the lands on their way northward. Everything in their path stripped and rotted. Then the Church Knights had come through after them with the Holy Orders in tow. Able-bodied men had been conscripted by the dozens to go and fight the new evil.
While they were away a blight had settled in. It had been a small miracle that it had only been on the crops themselves and not the land or elsewise even what remained of this little village wouldn’t be here any more. They’d culled what they had to and replanted where they could but being short on hands and heavy with labour it had made for a lean winter. Many animals that would’ve been used for next year’s tilling and ploughing couldn’t be kept fed.
Then, of course, there were all the men that hadn’t come back. The evil had been defeated in the snow, so they said, but evil took many forms and the neighbouring Kingdom had chosen to invade. Any men that had been volunteered for the crusade were now volunteered to join the defense force. It all came to an end not far from the town, being as it was near the border, and part of the fighting had spilled into the fields.
That was scarcely a week ago. Burying the dead and picking all of the discarded weapons and armour out of dirt was proving a mighty task indeed. One that they didn’t have enough people to accomplish before rot set in and all manner of creatures were attracted to it. Now that the battle was over, though, the armies had been disbanded and His Majesty didn’t care any more. They wouldn’t hear from their country again until tax season rolled around.
In the end, James went for brevity.
“War. Famine. More war. Got worse from there.”
He shrugged, and the stranger looked down at the bowl of soup. When he tried to push it away James frowned at him and pushed it right back. The man looked grateful and finished it off. At last he leaned back and patted his stomach with one hand.
“Field gone to fallow?”
James shook his head.
“Mucked up by the battle. All churned up, full of metal and rot. Corpse-eaters’ll show up soon. Everyone’s preparing to leave.”
That didn’t seem to sit well with the stranger. He frowned, pulling his face mask down and his hood back to reveal a face even younger than James’ own.
“I see.”
They looked out of the window. Out there, in the darkness, lay the fields. Now ruined, and soon to be barren.
"Begging your pardon, as you've done much for me already; but might I ask if you've a candle stub?"
It was an odd request, but one he could fulfill easily enough. Few days ago he'd scavenged some candles from the pastor's house; one was just in the kitchen cupboard and he fetched it for the stranger.
"Thank you. You've done a good turn for me; least I can do is repay you in kind. Come."
The young man took it and then got up to leave, but gestured for James to follow him. It wouldn’t do to let a guest wander away alone, his ma would’ve tanned his hide for it were she still around, but since his pa hadn’t raised a fool he paused on his way out of the door to grab the slightly rusty arming sword that was tucked in the corner there. Just in case.
Soon it became clear that his guest was headed for the fields. Did he plan to thieve from the dead to pay for his meal? Seemed a might daft to James to risk it, and silver wasn’t worth much here and now. You’d have to go to one of the cities to use it.
But instead he stopped at the edge and looked up. The moon hung there and illuminated the plain but clouds had begun to gather. Soon it was dark and James found himself cursing that he hadn’t grabbed the lantern as well.
“Remnant of fire, I beg for your charity.”
A pale, blue-white fire flared into existence and formed a line that went straight up from the stub in the vague shape of a complete candle. Its light was cold and soft and chilled James to the bone. The stranger was a *magus*. Good, common folk had no business messing around with magic.
He looked back at James with a weak smile and a gentle shrug. Then he turned to face the field once more. Although his voice was gentle it seemed to shake the earth around them. Out there, beneath the ground, something moved.
“For some of you, this was your home.Your families suffer and starve. You can help them.”
Dirt and mud surged as shapes began to rise. James felt his knees go weak and give way. He thought, for a moment, of attacking the stranger, the boy, the *necromancer*. But he was no Paladin of the Light; what could he hope to do against foul sorceries? Everyone knew that their flesh turned away blades, that their very touch could kill a man and rot his flesh from his bones.
“For some of you, this was your country. Your brothers have been abandoned in the mud. You can help them.”
Even more shapes surged from the earth. Above them the clouds parted and it all became fully visible to James; dozens of ruined bodies moving with the aid of foul magics. But something was… off. The corpses moved with a strange purpose and coordination that didn’t fit the stories he’d heard from the veterans of the northern conflict.
“For some of you, this place is far from home. Your bodies do not rest in the soil of your country. I will help *you.*”
What few dead men that remained risen now surged into motion. They marched in a distinctly surly fashion to one side of the battlefield and lined up in neat rows. On the way there were a few small clashes with the existing undead which ended as quickly as they began.
The stranger turned back to a horrified James and smiled at him again. They didn’t seem surprised by his reaction, but there was a vague air of sorrow that hung heavy about them now.
“Most will wander out of town and dig their own graves. The ones from your town will work to help clear out any remaining refuse and probably till the field, too. Until dawn, at least. Once daylight comes they won’t be able to remain animate for long without me around, and I have to take the others back to their homeland for burial.”
He walked over to James and patted him once on the shoulder.
“Thank you for the soup. It was very tasty.”
Then he walked down to the waiting rows of soldiers and led them away into the night. James could see, across the fields, corpses digging broken spears and swords and broken bits of siege engine out of the mud. It was all being dumped to one side of the field as they worked tirelessly.
Well… if they were doing it even like that… somewhat hesitantly James marched down into the field and despite the chill and darkness he began to muck in right alongside them. The wandering dead noticed him and didn’t seem to mind. A cold hand clapped him on the shoulder and he looked into the pale face of his Uncle, who gave a short nod before getting back to work. In spite of his terror, James smiled..
As dawn arrived James patted down the last shovelful of dirt on the last grave of the town’s departed veteran. They’d finished the field half an hour ago and all the old lads had started to bury one another. His Uncle had gone to the old shed and got out a spade but most had just used their hands or bits of wood or broken shields.
The field wasn’t perfect, but it was clear. James wasn’t sure how he was going to explain this to the others. He felt like they’d probably understand, though. Maybe even keep it secret from the Church, too. It was funny, though. He’d never quite expected his pa and grandpa to have been so right.
A man asks for help, you help him. |
Today was supposed to be an easy day. Just a simple supply run. Jessie and me were to go down to the lake to check out the old marina and see if there was anything worth taking back to our hideaway. Food, medicine, weapons, tools, anything. We needed anything. There were not supposed to be many undead in this area. There was not supposed to be any other survivor groups in this area. But there were.
Jessie and me pulled of the main road just a couple of klicks north and hid the truck well enough so we could make our way down to the water on foot. We slipped by the few undead that trudged about the forest and got to the marina just as planned. We split up to check the place faster. She went to check the front offices while I searched the toolshed.
I was in the middle of stuffing a rusty can of sardines into my backpack when I heard her scream. I looked out a window and saw them. Four guys with guns dragging her out, kicking and screaming.
Three days ago I had a full cylinder in my revolver. After Bob stupidly opened a door that turned out to have a band of hungry undead locked behind it, there were only a couple bullets left (and no Bob). I could only watch as one guy hit her and she went limp as they put her in a car and started to drive away.
I dropped my pack and started to sprint back to the truck. I knew I could catch up to them if I could get to the main road in time. The winding side street down to the marina was clogged with husks of burnt cars, and it would take them a while to navigate back to the main road and go anywhere else. A plan started to form in my mind, of waiting in ambush and ramming their car off the road, and of pulling out my gun and machete and leaping out and killing them in close combat. It was a stupid plan, and one with a very low chance of success, but not one I would ever get the chance to try, because even stupiderly, I ran straight into a mob of undead.
Right as I turned a corner I saw them, and more distressing, they saw me. Clustered around the truck were nearly a dozen walking corpses, their rotten and skeletal faces turned towards me. My pounding heart skipped a beat as they began to run at me. They don't run as fast as they did during the initial outbreak, but a half starved human like me doesn't run as fast as I used to either.
I didn't get far before I tripped on an exposed root. I hit the ground rolling as the masses of undead closed in around me, putrid flesh in tattered rags carrying insatiable toothed mouths and skeletal clawed hands. I almost was able to pull my gun, but it was too late. But it was not too late for my final, pitiful words. "No! Stop! Please!"
I expected to die. I expected to feel the pain of being torn apart and devoured. But I didn't. I opened my eyes and looked through the arms I had thrown up around my face and saw them. They had stopped. A score of undead stood around, gray eyes upon me, not attacking. Just swaying in their lifeless, uncoordinated way.
I pulled myself warily to my feet. I looked at the closest undead, something that probably used to be a man with a mullet haircut and denim overalls. In a shaky voice I said, "hello."
It said, "aaaaarrggh."
I waved at it.
It waved back.
I started talking to them.
"Please, my name is John, and I need your help. Some people took my wife and they are coming here any second. I don't know what to do. I need to save her!"
Unblinking eyes stared at me. Jaws let out various groans and gurgles. They shuffled. I think they agreed.
Another plan formed in my head. This time it was a better one.
Moments later I had the truck in the middle of the road, parked sideways and blocking both lanes. I barely had time to hide in the bushes when I heard the sound of a car approaching. I held my breath as it stopped.
"Goddammit someone get out and move this thing out of the way!" shouted a male voice. "Jerry, Lenny get out there and push!"
Car doors opened and two men got out of the car. Each looked around nervously before they slung their rifles and put hands on the vehicle.
"NOW!" I yelled.
At that, undead came pouring out of the thick vegetation that lined the road. I think I heard a gunshot and an exclamation of "oh shit!" before it dissolved into the screams of men being mauled and eaten. I jumped out from my hiding place, gun cocked in hand.
The driver was distracted, rightfully so, at the sudden appearance of the horde. He did not notice as I slid up to his window and put a bullet through it.
The last man shoved his door open and started the flailing run of a man in a panic. He made it about thirty yards down the road before being overtaken and piled upon by voracious cadavers.
I opened the trunk of the car and there she was, bound and unmoving. I took her beautiful head in my hands. Her eyes fluttered. "Jess, can you hear me?"
"J-John?" she replied.
I felt the mightiest wave of relief wash over me. "Its gonna be okay, baby, I got you now. Everything is gonna be alright."
Suddenly her eyes went wide. I turned and saw the undead standing behind me.
"No, no, it's fine!" I sputtered. "They helped me. I don't know why, but they did! They can understand me! It's amazing, right?"
I untied her and helped her out of the trunk, but her face was still gripped with fear. I held her hand as she stepped up into the truck amidst the disinterested undead shuffling about.
"Hold on just a second, sweetheart," I said. I turned to the undead. "Uh, thanks you guys. I am eternally grateful to you. Usually your kind just kills us on sight, but for whatever reason, you didn't, and that is pretty fricking cool. We gotta get back to our people now, but I'll be back. I promise!"
When I turned back to the truck I saw Jess in the driver's seat.
She was pointing a gun at me.
"Jess? What's going on?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, John, but by the rules of my order, you are an abomination. I can't let you live. Goodbye."
A shot rang out and I fell to the ground. Tires squealed as the truck sped away. The world went dark. | 2019-10-24T21:41:51 | 2019-10-24T18:28:11 | 34 | 16 |
[WP] “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do Mr Bond. I’m going to stick you in a spacesuit with a radio, and strap you into one of my cars. Then, while mankind watches, I’ll launch you into space. The last thing you’ll hear before leaving this earth forever, will be their applause.” | Elon Musk clapped his hands before pointing to his rival, James Bond. Elon took in a deep breath before announcing, “It is time!” Elon tapped his watch while moving over towards the control panel surrounded by his employees.
“Is this thing working?” Elon tapped the microphone. The microphone was linked into the spacesuit in which James Bond was trapped inside of. The white spacesuit was locked into position inside of a Tesla Roadster built onto Elon’s rocket.
“Okay, I hope this thing is working now because I must tell you about my plan that is literally out of this world!” Elon covered the microphone before laughing. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do Mr. Bond. I’m going to have you in that spacesuit with a radio, strapped to my Tesla. Then,” Elon tried to fight his giggle, “while mankind watches, I’ll launch you into space!” Elon smiled waiting for James to respond. Elon realized that James wasn’t able to talk back from his suit. “It’s okay, Mr. Bond. I know that you are speechless! Let me just say that the last thing you’ll hear before leaving this earth forever, will be everyone’s applause.” Elon glanced over towards his employees letting out a good chuckle.
Talulah Riley, a beautifully blonde European woman with green eyes locked onto Elon’s madness. “Stop!” She insisted, “You can’t do this!”
Elon snapped his fingers before one of his men grabbed Talulah. “I’ll deal with you later.” Elon waved the man to escort her out of the hanger. He leaned himself over the controls before pressing the rocket to start initial launch protocol.
“Finally.” Elon remarked. “I will have finally solved the James Bond problem once and for all.”
Elon pressed the ignition on the control panel. His employees tried to insist that he shouldn’t handle the controls but this was Elon’s show now. He knew it was he who had to launch James Bond into space personally.
The thrusters sparked into a bright blue flame before taking off from the ground. Elon cheered as he watched the Tesla holding James within the suit lift up towards the heavens. The rocket darted towards the atmosphere playing Bowie from Elon's controls.
Elon took a few seconds of victory before looking over his shoulder at one of his employees holding their hands up in fear. Elon slowly turned around to find James Bond holding a pistol in front of him.
“It’s over Elon.” James frowned.
“Over? I just launched the rocket that you were supposed to be on! How did you escape?!”
“What are you talking about? I was never on the rocket.” James raised his pistol to eye level.
Elon scrunched his brow before scratching his head. “You were in the spacesuit. How are you no longer in the spacesuit?”
“I was never in a spacesuit.”
Talulah barged back into the hanger with a gun given to her by James. Elon quickly glanced over at Talulah holding the gun up towards him. While making her way up the stairs onto the control deck, she glared at Elon.
Elon, unarmed, smiled towards James. James rolled his eyes before noticing that Talulah was now aimed down onto him instead of Elon. “You were supposed to be on that rocket.” She remarked.
“I must say if I had been, you played the part of damsel in distress quite well.” James replied.
Elon motioned her to his side. “Always loyal to the mission at hand, unlike your cancer in Europe.”
James didn’t lower his weapon. He and Talulah kept aim on each other before Elon pointed his forefinger in the air asking, “Who was it then?”
“Who was what then?” James asked.
“If you weren’t in that suit, then who did I just launch into space?” Elon laughed while Talulah kept a stern face.
James’ expression fell when he realized that Agent Q was nowhere in sight. In this moment the sound of the rocket piercing the atmosphere thundered in the distance.
***
To read more of my stories, visit [r/13thOlympian] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) | "not a great plan, Elon!" Bond exclaimed.
"yes, but I don't like getting blood on my hands. Plus this way, at least your skills would be put to a good use. And we even added a big parachute to the roadster just in case you make it to the Mars alive".
Elon has been waiting for this day for a long time. He knew plenty of agents were on his tail and the boring company made all of their suspicions rise.
But never in a thousand years he had thought he would actually get to meet real 007.
Musk, Bond and 3 of his henchmen walked in the hanger on 41st floor where the roadster was supposed to be loaded.
"2 minute and 30 seconds to launch" announced the countdown lady.
"strap him in nicely." Elon ordered as James kept struggling to get free.
As they brought out the tesla, Bond was forced to sit in the passenger seat. But he felt something in his hand as he sat down.
"Stay here and make sure he doesn't get out." Musk ordered as he was about to leave the hanger.
He teasingly said " Enjoy your ride 007. This just might turn out to be the ride of your lifetime".
"Not today" Bond smirked as he jumped out of his seat and punched Elon.
The other two henchmen didn't have time to react as one of them turned around and took them out too.
" Always good to see you 007" said the henchmen as Bond dragged Elon and threw him in the boot space.
"I had it under control!" Bond said.
"I'm sure you did." replied the henchman sarcastically while taking off his mask.
"Alright, what's the plan, Ethan?"
"Get in the Tesla, we're going for a ride". | 2018-02-06T21:55:33 | 2018-02-06T20:45:39 | 35 | 16 |
[WP] "Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed." |
“Well, I wouldn’t mind having a bigger dick.” Was my response.
The voice beaming through my thoughts gave off a distressed sounding grunt- the kind that’s usually followed by, “fuck off.”, or something similar.
There was a long pause.
“Fuck off.” Was the response I got.
I was partially thrown off. “What is it, you can’t do that for me?” I asked.
“No, it’s just that out of the twelve humans involved in this complication, you’re the third one to request this. We’ve only gotten to four of you so far, one of which was female.”
I felt attacked. “So, you’re trying to say something about my species? Is there a problem? Do you think we’re a primitive species? That all we care about is reproducing?”
The voice was quick to respond: “Yes.”
If I had working arms (and eyes, or hands, or just any physical form at all), I’d have given the source of the voice a one-way trip Valhalla, propelled by my fist and biological insecurities.
I doubled down. “It’s either you give me a bigger penis, or I’m telling.” I wasn’t sure who I’d actually be telling, but I think it gave me more bargaining leverage.
I heard another distress-fueled grunt. “Here’s the thing, human. I can give you a larger penis. I really can, and I don’t mind doing it either. But this is a professional gig I’ve got going on here. About the first two guys: sure. It’s funny, it’s cool, a unique thing that your species is really ‘big’ on. But do you know how stupid this will look for me? You’re just the third. There are eight more people after you, and half of them left are also male.”
I was at the point where there was no turning back. My big dick energy had taken me too far in. “I don’t give a shit if ‘gave humans bigger dicks’ ends up as a key point on your resume. Your company killed me, and you guys are lucky I’m not going to sue.”
To be honest, I had no idea how alien law worked.
“Ok. If I’m going to put it flatly, human, you’re being a dick.”
“Then give me a bigger one.” I quickly snapped back.
The voice rapidly became offensive.
It boomed with unfathomable intensity. “I was legit going to offer you absolute knowledge, or to perhaps structure your brain to understand true humility and compassion, or maybe even fix that chronic disorder of yours that you still don’t know about. But nope, instead you just want a big dick. So that’s what you get.”
I stuttered a response before being interrupted again:
“That’s right, you’re going to die at the age of forty. Goodbye.”
And that was that. | "Anything" I said to the little voice in my head
"Yes" it responded
One billion thoughts rushed through my head, I could become a litteral god among men, no scratch that I could become a supermodel.
The thought that I could finnaly have 20/20 vision crossed my mind, and just like that poof this mist surrounded me.
"Anything I think of you make happen" I thought out loud
"Correct" said the voice
Suddenly I had a thought "I want to be set free sent back home, I won't tell a soul what I saw"
"In return whenever I wish for something you give it to me" I added | 2019-10-28T13:22:27 | 2019-10-28T09:49:48 | 57 | 18 |
[WP] Magic is discovered and it's channeled with music. Modern nations dissolve and new countries rise in their place divided by the preferred music. In the frozen north lie the Metal kingdoms. Far to the south are the countries of Soul etc.
Keep the beat up
EDIT; Lots of good stories people, glad to read 'em :D | "Mam," the man said as he walked into the room. He was keeping his head low to the ground and making sure that he didn't look the spellcaster in the eye, it was a smart move.
"Did I tell you to call me Mam?" the spellcaster asked as she plucked away on her guitar, it was the start to a song that nobody had heard, and she'd only heard it in her head.
"No Miss Swift" he said, "but the army was asking if you were ready to drop something new. There are rumors that you're switching styles and it's scaring the men."
"And if I did?" she asked. The notes she was playing grew faster as she flew her fingers along the neck of the guitar. The magic in the room danced, acting more like electricity than the calm waves she usually played out.
"Well, we would just need to know before anything happened. The last thing we want is an attack where our-"
"Do you think that someone would attack us?" the spellcaster asked. The man swallowed his adam's apple.
"There are rumours of large groups coming out of the East. The speak old Korean, but they use their numbers to create powerful spells."
"Does that sound like my problem?" Taylor asked. She was playing with something in her head that would change the way that the country world fought. Luke had already been bringing the hard-hitting offense of rock to their forces.
"If we're going to go on campaign it's going to be," the man said, "we need you on our side or it's going to be a disaster."
"You're right," she started, "you do need me." Taylor accentuated the need part of the sentence. He could hear the power dripping from the word. Magic was licking at her lips without her needing the sing.
"Miss Taylor," he said, "can we at least count on you to show up if something goes on, I know it's a creative process but we do need a concert."
"Sure sure," she said. Taylor kept playing her new song, and the man kept wondering what it was.
---
The Pop forces from Asia attacked the next morning. For the first three hours it was a slaughter. Despite the power that had been built up in the core of Country in the Americas they couldn't fight against the sheer power that was coming out of the main groups.
First the slow country forces needed to drop their barriers, abandoning their troops to the electric magic of Pop. Fast lyrics with words nobody could speak tore through the forces. Battle after battle changed from a conflict to a rout. Like the old days of Admiral Yi, the K-Pop forces ripped through defensive line after defensive line.
Though it all Taylor was sitting in her room, still playing the same song that she'd been working on the day before. Her eyes were wide but shut. They were gazing into something that the rest of the world couldn't see. Retainers were sent in to rouse her, but it wasn't until the case drum of K-Pop shook the foundation of her tower that she finally stood.
Taylor walked wordlessly, it was bold of the Koreans to attack like this. Everyone knew that Taylor was the songstress that crushed all others. She acted surprised when people said that about her, but she wore a smirk that betrayed her confidence. She didn't just think she was strong enough, she knew that she was strong enough.
She walked out of the door to her tower and was staring down a massive force. Where she had expected twenty players working in unison she saw hundreds. They stared her down and the resounding K-pop died. Silence fell for the first time in the invasion. A simple song like that wouldn't be any use against a songstress like Taylor, she was passively stronger than it.
Taylor pulled her guitar off of her back and put it on her knee. The opposing army waited for the smooth pounding of country to begin, and they were ready for it. Taylor had other plans.
The song that she'd been playing in her head started to escape through her flying fingers. It wasn't passive of calm, it was aggressive and quick. It was something that people hadn't seen from the Singer of the South; They were ready for her waves, not lightning. They were Shaken Off before noon even cracked the sky. | How could one ever want to live in this country?
Blood pours from the rooftops, freezing into sharp, dripping fangs. Old wooden buildings, once ordained as sacred land, now burn - and will burn until the gods themselves rip the world asunder.
Even now, the sun is swallowing itself and the night lift's its toothless head from the grave.
Witches dance in the forest, and a white-faced, black-haired Sorceror climbs to the treacherous peak of the mountain, just to scream the Defiler's name.
Here are the people, vicious and raw. They are fearless, not because they are brave, but because they *worship fear itself*.
It is a maddening beauty that covers this land - from the southern mountains that rise like dread guardians against the sea - to the frozen north, where only the dead may live.
For all their hate, they love but one thing: their music. In this unholy passion, they listen, they learn, and they *thrive.*
They believe there is beauty in the profane - there is art in the chaos - and there is an unfathomable brilliance in the Darkest Religion.
A sound clatters out of the forests. Birds, black and screeching, alight into the frozen winds fleeing from what thunders beneath. What have the Witches wrought forth? What beats between the frozen trees of the blackest woods?
His legs are trunks, overgrown with vines. His feet are roots, slathered in dirt. The thunder of his crackling bark sounds like the beat of drums. Quickening. Relentless.
But it is the lightning that saturates the air, and the scream of the Rotten Banshee that truly strikes glory in the eyes of all who behold. A terrible, loathing glory, borne of pain and majesty.
This country - her soldiers are her sons, and her daughters. They are united by a single thought:
How could one ever want to live anywhere else? | 2016-02-27T08:46:25 | 2016-02-27T08:44:50 | 449 | 55 |
[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. | I always go running in the park after work. And before work actually. Because that's what you do when you have "Heart Attack" hovering over your head in big green letters. I know that's how I'll die, I just need to make sure that day is as far away as possible. Maybe if I run fast enough, I can outrun death.
I many ways, I envied Ross. He was my running partner. He just did it for the fun. I envied him, because he was free in so many ways that I was not. He could gorge himself on junk food, smoke all the pot and the cigarettes with barely a worry in the world. You see, the death written above his head was "Meteor Strike". I didn't believe it at first, but apparently the letters were never wrong. His death would be out of the blue, something that no-one could predict.
people with preventable deaths like mine spend their whole lives looking over their shoulder. For some people it's cars, others its pollution. The people I feel most sorry for are the ones who are told they'll be murdered. But Ross, he had no worries. We all envied him.
So we were jogging, when he signalled me that he wanted to stop and "Stretch". I say stretch, but really, it was our code for when he spotted some attractive ladies. We had a system for picking up ladies whilst running. I'm not saying it ever worked, but it was fun.
As we slowed down, he caught one of the ladies eyes, who looked at him with a mixture of surprise and shock.
"What a coincidence !" she said, pointing at Ross, before he could get out his cheesy chat up line.
Put off balance, Ross was stumped into silence, so as the designated wingman, I did the talking. It's what Bros do.
"What do you mean?" I asked, but it took me a second to realise what it was when I looked just above her head. "Meteor Strike" was emblazoned above her head.
"No way" said Ross "That's so cool !"
Then I notice her friend sidle up as well, who also had a big grin on her face.
"What are the chances ! I was just getting back from work and I noticed .. Joanne... is it"
Her friend, whom I guess was named Joanne, nodded.
"We just had to compare notes. And then you came along"
Ross was regaining his composure, smoothing his hair back and smiling. This was already going really well.
"Well, we can do things no-one else dares" said Ross.
"I bet" said the girl who wasn't Joanne, biting her bottom lip and smiling.
There was more conversation, but it was the kind where more was said by body language than with words.
"I should leave you kids to it, seeing as you have so much in common" I said, and jogged off. Ross gave me a sly thumbs up as I left.
As I jogged along, I passed two more runners who had Meteor Strike hovering over their heads. They were headed in the opposite direction.
"That really is a strange coincidence" I thought to myself. It was only when I reached the Park gates that I realised. I spun around and ran right back the way I came.
I didn't know what I was doing, whether I could make a difference or not. I just couldn't stand there. My lungs burned, tears streamed in my eyes, which is why I barely saw it streaking across the sky before it hit.
I could no longer stand, my chest felt like it had been crushed. It must have been the grief, the shock of it all. I collapsed to my knees, then on my back. I felt like there was something I should have done. I felt like I should have just stayed. I felt like I should have warned them...
I feel cold. | Over the years I've come to interpret the colors I see around people. I once tried to describe it to someone and they told me it,was their "Aura," but every description of an aura has multiple colors. I only see one, and each color is a different kind of death.
There's your common red, something to do with the heart most often, but sometimes could be another organ failing. The slightly less common purple, violent death, mostly seen in bad neighborhoods and around military bases.
Green was disease, which strangely enough encompassed diabetes most of the time, too. Yellow was drug overdose. Orange was accidental. Sometimes you'd get something like a half yellow, half purple. I took that to mean it was a forced drug overdose.
One day, as I'm walking down the street late one night, I saw something I'd never seen before. It was around a petite blonde. Some color I had never seen before. It was impossible to describe. It was unnatural. I had to follow her and find out.
She took a turn down a dark alley. That's not very safe. I should make sure she's okay. What is that color? Is that movement? I should take out my pocket knife just incase.
Holy shit! What is that color. It can't exist. She's unnatural. She shouldn't be. I have to remove that color. It must go. Remove.
Just walk up behind her. Good. Oh, that's hot. And sticky. She's laying on the ground. You know, in this light, she kind of looks like my mother. The color is fading. Thank god.
Hey, what was that at the end of the alley? What was that color? It's unnatural... | 2015-03-31T09:41:54 | 2015-03-31T09:00:41 | 76 | 22 |
[WP] At the age of 15, everyone is scanned and assigned their career for life. As an orphan, nobody expected much from you, but on your fifteenth birthday, you’re surprised when you’re assigned the position of god. | I was standing in a long queue of teenagers, my eyes fixed on a silver gate in front. All of us were dressed in a soft, cotton, pajama-like one-piece and a wooden necklace with our names written on it.
Beep, beep, beep, I could hear the scanner going, my peers getting their careers assigned to them one by one. Boys and girls got their future pre-determined at this stage, a future life mapped out for them - there was no way of changing the outcome.
It was forty years ago when AI took over the government. The best scientists on earth managed to create a perfect computer. At first, its capabilities were tested in military secrecy, or at least that’s what the stories tell. When the Entity was revealed to the public, there was some unrest. Anti-AI movements have emerged, and people protested but soon understood that AI is not biased. It’s fair, wise, and more just than the best judges of the Earth. And everybody had to agree - it was the only way to save humanity from extinction that we slowly brought upon us.
After allowing the AI to take over key positions in the World, we flourished. Nations united, the crime rate dropped, fertility rate sky-rocketed. The AI created algorithms to calculate and predict, the AI optimized the human race.
But all that came with a price. With no need for labor, we began to lose our jobs. Our standard of living decreased, and poverty grew. In an attempt to solve this problem, the AI proposed to use automation to increase productivity.
Most of the babies, just like me, ended up in a so-called Orphanage. Not because my parents didn’t love me. The reason was much more complicated and could not be comprehended by a kid. Or so they said.
We were not like the regular teenagers that I knew from the outlawed DVDs. We did not have love stories, we did not have problems and worries. We were standardized and conditioned. Our growth was planned from the start up till our 15th birthday when our role in the community was decided.
I was next in line. The lights flashed as I approached the gate. A much taller Militia officer took my hand forcibly and pressed it against the scanner. Beep, beep, beep. He looked at the screen, a yellow light reflected on his face. His eyelid twitched while he was analyzing the text.
“Officer, this is unit 14-51. I need your assistance,” he said to his comm-link attached to his immaculate, white uniform. I looked at him in silence, as I had already learned a long time ago - talking to the Militia was not optimal. It could drag them out of focus and slow down their work.
A higher rank soldier arrived shortly after. He looked at the screen and then at me. That one was a closed book. I could not read any emotions from him.
“The AI does not make mistakes, this is the optimal choice. Orphan, follow me,” he said and marched forward, not waiting for my response.
He knew my name. He knew where I was born and on which bed in the Orphanage I have slept in. He probably even knew what foodpill I ate for breakfast. Everything was in the quantum web, every single soul was saved there. But he decided to call me an Orphan.
We entered the room with a beige floor and a big holo transmitter in the middle. I looked at the soldier, still not saying anything.
“Wait for the connection,” the soldier said sharply and left the room. I heard my stomach rumbling painfully, I was not used to being alone. The Orphanage consisted of a hundred thousand peers, each one of us sleeping, eating, and studying in a big hall decorated with paintings, colorful wallpapers, and pleasant music.
This room was white, bright, and small, almost claustrophobic. My eyes started getting irritated by the bright, white light coming off all the light bulbs.
After a minute, the holo transmitter started making noises. The Entity appeared - I knew from the stories how it looked like, there was no mistake. A personification of the AI, a Representative. An optimal face proportions, body size, and height. Some said that everyone sees it differently, as it adjusts to one’s expectations. I had no idea what the truth was - not many could see the Entity in person, and certainly not my friends from the Orphanage. Especially not during the Ceremony of Adulthood.
My body shivered as I looked at the transmission. Even though there was no reason to be afraid - the Entity did not harm people - I could not contain my emotions.
“You are special, Orphan,” it said with a soothing, genderless voice. I could feel my tense muscles relaxing, “you were chosen to be a God.”
I tried to process the words. A God? A concept long eradicated, mentioned only by a few members of the Church.
“Feel free to speak, Orphan.”
“I… I don’t understand. A God? What does that… what does that even mean?” My voice was still shaking. Was it a test? Did they want to check if the sect indoctrinated me? “There is no God… everybody knows that,” I replied as confidently as I could.
“There WAS no God,” the voice remained calm but firm, “we have to optimize. People need you, the equation has too many outcomes without this one variable. You will help us stabilize the result and help humanity ascend. The Mythos is ready, you need to join us.”
I did not understand. I did not want. Why me? Why?
I felt the tight grip of chains on my legs and arms, I closed my eyes as the needles pierced my veins. The process has begun, and I was chosen to be the one that will inspire others.
I opened my eyes. A giant screen showed the result of optimization. It was me, smiling, with a warm blue glow around my body. My hair was long and golden, my skin was pale, and I had the most beautiful green eyes anyone could ever imagine.
Around me, there were only screens. Billions of other humans displayed on them. The information flew through my mind, and I understood - they were admiring me. | “Try not to blink.”
The Detector had changed shape over the years, it had grown smaller and more portable. More available too, what with the ever growing population.
“Don’t blink, please.”
No longer was the device a series of balanced stones, an obsidian altar, brass mirrors, and crystals and sigils. Now it was a metallic bongo-drum looking thing with a gun grip. Lasers from one end, results on the other. No need for heavy tomes to interpret results. Point and click and zap and here’s your career, kid!
“Okay, lets try again. Don’t. Blink.”
Things had changed a great deal, but the same crystals and sigils were at play within the Detectors core. Refined magic. Technomancy!
“You blinked.”
“Dint!”
“Look, you did. I need a clear scan of your eyes or the detector won’t—”
“Guh! Just scan me, jeez.”
“Look! I’m...trying to.” The Assessor was tapping his fingers on the Detector. Not a nervous habit, more a rage release. It had been a long day. He took a deep breath and lifted the device.
On the end closest to him he could see a pair of digitally magnified peepers. “Now. I’m going to pull the trigger on three. Keep your eyes closed and open them when I say two. Okay.”
“Jeez, man, I’m not stupid.”
“Sure you’re not. Now...One.”
The kid was a portly teen coated in a greasy film of poor hygiene, who called a local orphanage home. He was likely about to be sent out into the world with a career.
“Two.”
The world is filled with opportunities, and as a busy Assessor, the technician had had a hand in several big success stories. Some were even orphans as well! He did not have high hopes for this kid...especially as he had ignored the plan and stared into the detector, blinking at random intervals.
“Three!”
A flash! A beep...and ping! He had done it.
“Okie dokie,” Said the Assessor. “It’s processing now, just needs to load.”
“So what am I? A samurai? A chef?”
“Its loading.” He’s be something he could handle. Something society needs him to be. “You’ll be whatever the fates decide that you...would be...best...at? What!”
“Jeez, stress out much?”
“No. No that can’t...is that even an option?”
“Whazzit say?”
“I. I have to get someone, one moment, wait here, just...don’t go anywhere.
Half an hour later and an Assistant found the Assessor in the archives, flicking through books and unrolling scrolls.
“Um. Your three o’clock is still waiting. What’s going on?”
“Look.” The Assessor tapped the display of the Detector, the device was currently a paper weight, but the last results were still on the screen. “See that?”
The Assistant picked it up. Tapped through the scan results and shrugged. “Yeah. And?”
“Did you *read* it!?”
“Yeah—”
“Did you meet that kid? No way! No way! Something has gone *wrong*.”
“That’s a bit harsh, boss.”
“What!? What is wrong with you.”
“I reckon he could do it, with some practice.”
“Pract—wha-what!? Are you *insane*. I mean how do you practice *that*? How?”
“You...take lessons? Oh! Oh, you big idiot—um...sir. Sorry. You thought it said GOD.”
“Yeah it—”
“Was zoomed in. You must have tapped the increase text size button somehow.”
“...maybe. But, then...what is he?”
The Assistant handed the now re-calibrated Detector to the Assessor. He read the result and frowned.
“Gogodancer?”
“Hyep.”
“As in...with the...”
“Uh-huh.”
The Assessor sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to go tell him and then...I’m on break for an hour.” | 2022-11-16T05:31:22 | 2022-11-16T03:27:09 | 76 | 25 |
[WP] Humans are not more resilient than most aliens. We are not stronger than most. We are not faster than most. But the one thing we do have, is the best healing in the entire galaxy. | Humans. To most, sort of a joke. A lame little creature that flutters around at the edge of creation, not being particularly strong, fast, or smart. Just sort of there. Background species, if you will, with no striking natural colours, no interesting quirks. Not really built for living on worlds where water is nearly boiling or frozen completely. Not capable of outrunning a Bargarean slipworm. Not in any way or measure good at fighting with their fists or claws. Just sort of your run of the mill, middle ground species.
Of course, in some way, this is their greatest strength. It hides them and their true nature. Because while the humans can't lift tanks, can't outrun missiles, or endure explosions, they do have one thing that all others lack. Humans keep going. Because they heal. Losing a limb is not a desperate fight to remain alive, they can recover from it. Their organs can be transplanted between them, without having to specially clone a healthy organ which can take a while depending on the complexity of the organ.
When cut, their wounds heal up easily, when bones are broken, they heal right back. Some humans recover from major brain damage even. All their wounds simply leave behind scars, as not even they are capable of complete regeneration. Of course, they follow a rather different evolutionary path than the vast majority of other lifeforms in the cosmos. Endoskeleton. Not exoskeleton. Sure, they're soft and squishy, but when their hide gets penetrated, it can be repaired easily. When the carapace of a Rkodreon War-Drone is pierced, all hope is lost, and less than 1 out of every 10 survives. Beyond their amazing capacity for healing wounds, there is their immune system. Remarkably strong, it can fight off infections without the use of medicine. And with medicine, they have nearly guaranteed their own survival.
Which is why humans, unremarkable as they are, are considered a terrible thing to fight by those in the know. You can stab them, and they can heal it. You can break their soft flesh, rip off their limbs, bite off part of their face, and only a few weeks of human healing, they're back to fight again. Of course this is with medical aid, but wild humans are not something to scoff at either.
The story of the human known as Hugh Glass is especially worrying for those in the know. A human is caught without weapons by a creature twice his weight and size, known as a bear. The bear is a mother, and fights off the human Hugh Glass, charges into him, bites into his flesh, picks him up, throws him to the ground and mauls him.
He manages to kill the bear, but his wounds do not allow him much freedom of movement. His companions leaves him behind to die. But he survives, travels the length of 320000 meters to the closest human settlement, resets his own endoskeleton, places bugs into his wounds to prevent infection, and after 42 of his planet's day/night cycles, returns home alive.
Humans might not be able to run for three standard days without stopping, they might not be able to lift things many times bigger than themselves, and they may not be able to survive for extended periods of time in the void of space through hibernation. But when it comes to getting knocked down, and getting up again, no species can best them. Which is why our recommended cause of action for engagement with the soft, squishy humans, is to simply let them be. While conquest is possible, their sheer tendency for getting back up and fighting again makes diplomatic action have more long term benefits, with fewer unnecessary losses to the imperial hive.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | There are benefits to being made out of carbon.
See, when we explored the world outside of our world, we thought that carbon-based lifeforms were going to be everywhere else because that's the extent of our knowledge. Over the past years, that information pool has changed drastically.
Think of an element in the periodic table. Surprise! You can make life out of it. It's just that for them... it's a lot harder.
I once met a gold-based lifeform. They had to don protective suits wherever they went, or their bodies will literally rub off from mere friction with a harsh atmosphere. Or a hydrogen-based one. It was an... explosive meeting, I guess. Humans are banned from that planet now, by the way, so it was cool while it lasted.
But see, try explaining the concept of blood. How it clots out wounds, prevents us from dying. Aliens look at us like, well, aliens! Because who has ever heard of self-regenerating life? I mean, technically, we are losing cells through division and will eventually die out, but to them, it's still a miracle.
And it's why humans still have a place on the Council. Us homo sapiens are used to dynasties falling and rising over centuries. It didn't change when we learned how to fly to space. As a matter of fact, things were expedited much more quickly.
I'm just one human, and I've seen many a galactic regime change. And as always, when we eventually outlast them, that's when we take over the universe.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2020-06-18T18:49:59 | 2020-06-18T18:36:50 | 257 | 56 |
[WP] You are a hero, but you have no tragic backstory. Nobody believes you when you say that your village is fine and that your mentor is eagerly awaiting your first letter home. | It was a very interesting adventure for Medeo. The half-orc was entertained by the party thinking he was a woman only for them to be shocked to realize he was simply a very feminine-looking man. The rogue even got more jaws dropping when he revealed he was, in fact, half-tabaxi as well. What had seemed to be a simple rogue sipping some wine eloquently in a relatively high-class tavern had turned out to be an interesting man filled with surprises, giving him the title Medeo the Intriguing.
One dark night, when he was recently recovering from a nasty encounter with quite a few mimics, the other half-orc, a barbarian with mixed orc and elf blood in her veins, called him over to the campfire. Medeo made his way and gently sat by her. Months of expecting and beginning of motherhood had softened and slowed her, so she sat by the fire while her husband, a dragonborn, hunted with the group. She had become a motherly figure as of late.
"Medeo, we each have mixed blood... would you care to tell me your origins?" He shook his head. "You first, please." She nodded. "I was born of rape like other half-orcs...an elven citadel was raided and sacked by orcs...my mother always laughed as she told the story of how she knocked a young elf lad down and held him there as she raped him before slitting his throat. She had me trained as a warrior in the halls of Khrush'galm-" He raised an eyebrow. "Khrush'galm? Really?" She caught her mistake. "Not Khrush'galm. Grish'ak-kholm. I was trained there day in and day out before marauders ransacked it. I saw my mother castrated and crucified on the walls...I ran away from Grish'ak-kholm, scared and shaking, until I was found by elves who raised me into who I am today...I hope my child does not experience the same tragedy as I did when they are born..."
He nodded. "I see. May I share my origins?" She nodded. He began. "My mother grew up as one of the matriarchs of Khrush'galm. She was a fighter, and that was respected in the Stronghold of Women. She didn't need a man for her to extend her bloodline either way, yet...she was bested by one, a tabaxi. He caught her eye, she caught his, and..." She leaned in as much as she could, intrigued. "What happened next, Medeo?" He continued. "They dated, he proposed after a few years, and they got married in Althenor." Her eyebrows raised. "Althenor? A human city?" He nodded. "Yes. They felt it was appropriate. Of course, afterwards, my mother ended up having me, and many moons later I was a brother." She was listening now. "I see. Did your village suffer a tragedy?" He shook his head. "No, my village is fine, even with my slight mishap..." She smiled a bit. "Oh? What happened?" "I managed to date and marry a succubus without having the relationship go awry..." She was laughing a bit. He continued. "Yep. She's alive and well. I send letters to her occasionally, even sending some to my son's as well."
Her eyes widened. "You're a father?" He nodded. "Yes...I took this quest to protect my family and wife." She looked at him, smiling warmly as she set a hand on his shoulder. "You're a good man, Medeo, and a good father as well. Never change, lad." | James : Your planet got destroyed and then your birth parents sent you to earth and then some countryside couple found and adopted you and then your adoptive father died helping others . That inspired to you to become a hero !
Blue Noir : Nope !
James : No dead parents killed by a robber?
Blue Noir : No . My parents lived a happy life and died of old age .
James : Dead uncle ?
Blue Noir : Not at all ! See that guy over there drinking tea ? He is my uncle .
James : Bad guys attacked your village , killed every one including your family . So you became a revengeful hero !
Blue Noir : Lol ! No ! My village is perfectly fine! Last year we won the model village award .
James : Someone killed your wife or girlfriend then ?
Blue Noir : What ? NO! I have been always single!
James : Let me guess! You or your friend got bullied , so you decided to stand against bullies.
Blue Noir : Never ! In school everyone looked after each other .
James : I can't believe! Not even a slightest tragedy!
Blue Noir : Nothing .
James : So you are telling me that one day you just decided to become a hero without any inspiration?
Blue Noir : Well I got some inspirations . A lot actually. My mentor taught me to be kind , caring ,helpful and understanding. He taught me that even if doesn’t benefit you or harm you , you can always help others in need . Infact he told me to write to him when I would complete helping 100 beings in need of help. | 2021-07-11T19:49:47 | 2021-07-11T19:13:08 | 29 | 20 |
[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. | It only took a few seconds of staring until the number pops up in the middle of their forehead. Thank goodness for that, since I think I'd go insane seeing numbers everywhere!
Babies and most kids measure from zero to three at most, while grown adults measure up to maybe five or six, depending on their skills in hunting. I once saw a dedicated force of police officers exit a train carriage and they varied from six to seven.
By the time I was 18, I rarely used my talent. I saw no point of identifying people through their threat levels. A professional boxer has a threat level of eight, but it doesn't make him a bad person, you know?
I was always relieved that I had never seen a nine in my life. I lived in a small town where everybody knew everybody, and the highest I saw there was a seven. I didn't even know what a nine would be, much less a ten.
[Elizabeth pauses]
He was walking around the terminal with this raggedy old briefcase. The handle snapped as he walked past me, and all the contents fell out everywhere. I jumped up to help him, and he tried to wave me off. I told him it was nonsense and helped him pick his stuff up, which consisted of a bunch of letters, notebooks, and I think a framed picture of his family. He looked stressed. so before he could leave I asked him if he would like a seat next to me, and he took the offer.
He was a handsome fellow, a little lanky, with matted brown hair and a nose that stuck out in an odd manner. He told me he had just been recruited to the military. He had a kind face, not one suited for the job he volunteered for. I asked him where he was from and what he plans on doing in the military, and suddenly I was intoxicated. He had this charming way of speaking, like he knew what to say exactly the way it should be said.
We talked for what seemed like a long time, although I knew it must have been only about five minutes. The train leaving from the city had called for its last passengers, and he stood up, telling me that he had to go. I asked him if I could write him, and he hurriedly snatched a piece of paper from his pocket, jotted down his address, folded it, and handed it to me. I barely had the paper in my hand when he started jogging away.
I called out to him, telling him, "Hey! I never got your name!" and for kicks I decided to assess his threat level.
He looked back at me, and yelled, "Don't worry! I wrote it down!" just as a big bright ten materialized in the middle of his forehead. When he reached the train, he looked back at me again, and there it was: the unmistakable number ten.
I'm sure I was still as a statue as that handsome smiling boy waved goodbye. I remembered the piece of paper in my hand, and slowly opened it. His name was right there.
"Adolf." | *Ah, this class sucks,* I thought, deciding to sleep through the teacher's lecture. I almost got away with it, too.
"Eren, could you please give me there answer to question 5?"
Aw you dirty 6-faced douche.
"Uhh, could you read out the question?" I stuttered, still half asleep.
"You'd know if you paid attention."
*Go duck yourself, math teacher. I don't know what kinda skeletons you got in your mind to bring your number that high, but they ain't pretty.*
Another voice spoke up, "I found that x is equal to 7 over 9, professor."
"Thank you, Light, but I asked for Eren to ans-"
And then the lunch bell rang. Lunch was disgusting, as always, but something really scared me as I walked out.
Light's number had jumped to 10. | 2014-11-29T17:05:40 | 2014-11-29T14:22:11 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] resurrection is real, however there are only 7 billion souls in total. There are now 7 billion people on earth.
Was thinking about this whilst driving, would love to hear how this plays out.
EDIT: I wrote ressurection, and meant reincarnation. Happy for either to be used. Whoops! | He sat, stock-still on the worn loveseat, staring out at the yard. The bike was there, still on its side where he had left it,, bright red paint glinting in the afternoon sun. He wasn't crying.
Danny never cried.
"Sweetheart, don't you want to go out and play?" I asked him, trying to find that place of reason he preferred, "Logically you know that Sarah didn't intend to be mean."
"I wanted to play, but I don't any more." Danny agreed, in his quiet voice, "Mommy, why am I different?"
"Do you remember when we talked about non-renewable resources?" I asked, trying to hide the slight quaver at the end, "How sometimes things run out?"
"Yes." Danny agreed, turning his head to stare at me, sober and calm.
"There you go! Unfortunately, some parts of how people are made are a resource that runs out." I told him, forcing a smile, and giving a small nod, "Some people are born different. And it's not bad, and it's not good, it just is."
"If people don't want to be mean, mommy, why do they say mean things?"
That one I let sit for a moment, trying to think over again all the lessons that had been hammered into me. Dozens of books, parenting classes, online resources...I thought I had been prepared. I thought I had understood how we would raise him.
We would do better, we would teach him all the things that other people would know instinctively. He would thrive, survive, become an example.
We wouldn't be those parents that threw our child on the system and prayed he'd turn out all right.
"Because some people are very complicated, sweetie. They are afraid of things they don't understand. They...emotions are very complex." I say, stumbling a bit, trying to keep that confidence in my voice, "Emotions make people act and speak irrationally."
"Sarah said when I die I'm gone forever, and she's going to come back. She said I'm a 'bomination." Danny told her, so calm and stoic it only made me hurt more.
"Sarah is right about the first part, but not about the second." I told him, the slightest twitch of my lower lip forcing me to clamp down on it, fight back the tears before I could finish, "You are not an abomination, but no, baby. No, you're not going to come back. You will be gone forever."
Silence from him, but I could see he was thinking. My brilliant boy.
"You might have only this life, sweetheart, but if you choose, you can do more with it than people do with a thousand." I told him, finally hearing my voice fracture, "It's your choice. You can be amazing, you can do amazing things. Just as you are. You don't have to be anything else."
"Okay." He agreed, sliding down from the couch, "I'm gonna go play."
"Okay, sweetheart." I agreed, smiling as he turned to glance at me.
I met his penetrating stare, keeping my smile in place as he searched my face. He'd gotten better at smiling, but even though we'd discussed the usefulness of fitting in, he never quite seemed to care enough.
He shouldn't have to, but that was life.
People would still expect you to smile, to pretend to care, to need them the way they needed you. To care about the things that they cared about. I understood that he didn't, but it was my job to teach him how to make people believe he did.
"Mommy, you're crying." He told me, and then turned for the door.
Lifting my shaking hands, I wiped my cheeks as he headed to play outside. The small, pathetic hurt I bundled back up and folded it away inside me. It didn't belong, it wasn't necessary. I had chosen to raise him, to keep him, and my own emotions had no place in it. I had a duty now.
He would do amazing things.
But he would never love me. | Fox Chase Cancer Center, Pennsylvania. 10:24 PM.
Jack Kimball watched his wife on the hospital bed. Her heart was beating. Her breaths were heaving. He had thought of the 53 years they had been married each other. He moved his wedding ring around his hand. They got hitched when he was 22, and she was 20.
They had noticed it a few months ago. She was feeling dizzy, and wanted to sit down in her rocking chair by the window. He had gone into the kitchen to make some tea when she started moving. The dog started whining, and when Jack came back into the living room, she was raising and lowering her arm. Jack put down the cup and started to walk towards her, when she completely blacked out. He drove her to the hospital to see what was wrong. That was the first time he had gone over the speed limit since he was in his 30's. The doctors diagnosed it as Grade IV Glioblastoma. She had 4 months to live.
Here he was today, watching her breathe in, wait what seemed like forever, and then breathe out. Breathe in...out. Breathe in...out. Breathe in...nothing. No sudden movement. His wife died in a whimper.
________________________________________________________________
"Sir, This isn't right."
"I don't care if it's right, I care about the future."
"Just because human souls are running out, doesn't mean it has to come to this! Japan has been suffering an increase in suicide rates. China was having issues growing in population. And now this. This just isn't anything...human."
"We aren't human, stupid."
"That doesn't mean that they deserve to go through this...this cancer! We ran out of souls, and this is how you deal with the population? Wars, deaths, epidemics...why?"
"There is no other option."
"To hell with that, there is another option. They can go out into space and colonize other planets!"
"They will die."
"And what is happening to them now?"
"..." | 2017-02-26T12:27:10 | 2017-02-26T08:51:18 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] once in every month soulmates get to see from eachothers’ eyes for 60 seconds until they meet for the first time. It happens unexpectedly and neither of the pair knows when it will happen. One day you see someone you recognise from your soulmate’s eyes. | The whole thing is pretty unexplainable. And to be honest, it was more annoying than anything else. Once a month, everyone experiences a minute-long glimpse into the life of their soulmate. There was no regularity to it or any warning to tell you it was about to occur. There was no way to be prepared. People said it could help you to get to know the other person better before you even meet them, and while that might be true, it never happened at convenient times. Sometimes I would just sink into a vision while I was in class or at work. I’d heard that sometimes people would have visions while they were driving. That never turned out well. If I couldn’t remember a vision happening one month, it's probably because it had happened while I was sleeping. One time, I’d had a vision while my soulmate was sleeping. At least, that’s what I assumed anyway, because all I could see was darkness. The most interesting vision I seen happened a few years ago. I’d been lying in bed scrolling on my phone and ignoring the fact that I had class in 35 minutes when I saw him. He was in a bathroom getting ready for the day. Was he going to school too? Or getting ready for work? He had mildly short, dark brown hair and brown eyes. He had shaving cream on his face and was singing into his razor like it was a microphone. While it was funny, that experience had also been a bit jarring, honestly. Did he know what I looked like? I kept a small journal of different things I'd noticed in these visions, but it didn’t amount to much honestly. I had heard of people’s soulmates showing up to their house unexpectedly because they’d seen where they lived through the visions. My mother said that it’s best to let any interaction happen naturally. I was honestly glad I didn’t know where my soulmate lived. I had things I wanted to accomplish before I got too attached to anyone.
I looked at my phone screen and noticed there was an instagram notification from my sister Maddie. It was a photo of her and her friends together outside the US Capitol building. They were attending a business conference in DC and apparently taking some time for sightseeing. She had a really cheesy smile and I noticed she must have borrowed my green rain jacket.
Meanwhile, I was sitting in the apartment at the kitchen table staring at the cover of the textbook I should be reading. Then I was staring at the inside of an elevator car. The doors slid open and my soulmate stepped out into a hotel lobby. He was rushing through to the front doors. Maybe he was running late. He pushed through a revolving door started scanning the road. Tall buildings surrounded us as far as the eye could see. I guess he was in a city somewhere. While he spotted a taxi and stepped closer to the edge of the walkway I notice blonde hair and a familiar looking green jacket out of the corner of his eye. Wait, is that Maddie? At that exact moment, I snap back to reality and sit in shock for a second. My soulmate and my sister are in the same city. Actually they're on the same street! I scramble for my phone. I type my sister's number and the phone rings twice on the other end before I hear, “Hey! What's up?”
“Maddie! Quick! Do you see a guy across the street from you! He just walked out of the hotel and is-”
“What? What are you talk-”
“DO YOU SEE A GUY WITH BROWN HAIR ACROSS THE STREET!”
“Uh, no. I don't see anyon- WAIT YES I DO!”
“NO WAY!”
“Yes! Yes, I see him! Who is he? Who am I looking at?
I sit there in shock for a second before Maddie says, “He's climbing into a taxi.”
Crap.
“Shoot. Maddie, what are you doing right now?”
“Um, well nothing at the moment. We were trying to decide where to go for lunch.”
“Can you follow that cab? I will pay you back for the taxi fare and wash your laundry for a month! I need to know who that is!”
“Wait, you don’t know who that guy is?”
“He's my soulmate.” | For 24 years, I’ve seen out of Kate’s eyes once a month. It happens, and I’m used to it. I’ve used my earnings over the years to vacation, see the most beautiful sights the world has to offer. Today, I fear her. I sat on the edge of the canyon, looking down, when it flashed before my eyes. My old roommate, Kyle, the gun in front of my new face, aimed at his chest. One. Two. Three. Three shots. I saw his chest move back, his jacket fly behind him. His wallet, his phone, his body, all hitting the ground. I watched as Kate stopped down, and grabbed his phone, turning it on. An image of me and my ex, hanging it with Kyle in Amsterdam flashed on the screen. One more bullet to the screen. I saw the ground recede, and her eyes lock onto the mirror, a beautifully deadly smile crawling on her face, sending my heart into overdrive, love and adrenaline causing through it. She laughed, the sound tearing through the night sky. Her eyes, hazel, like always, look at her reflection. “Hi Mark. Miss me?” The fifth bullet groom the gun shatters the mirror, as I stunt to my reality. I grab my phone, about to call Kyle, like I do when things like this happen. Then it hits me. She’s closer. I recognize where she shot him. His apartment, right next to mine. I get up, and hop in the car. I dial the same number I have every month for most of my life, until he picks up on the other side. “Who was it this time?” “Kyle.” “We’ll send a crew. Relocating again?” “No. It’s time to see her face to face.” I hang up, knowing what comes next. For the first time in 17 years, I was going to see Kate. This time would be different. But it never was.
(Ok, I tried. I’m tired, I’m swamped with work, I’m hungry. I just wanted a plot twist.) | 2019-02-13T16:20:43 | 2019-02-13T15:32:40 | 219 | 110 |
[WP] There is no afterlife. There is a 2nd life. After you die, you get to restart your entire timeline knowing everything you know from birth to death. Problem is, this happens to everyone. So the 2nd Earth is a lot different than ours... | The hard concrete broke before him in a ripple effect. He had swan-dived from a skyscraper, and the earth ready to meet his fall had broken like water.
Interesting.
The water turned to a black haze which washed away his vision. He emerged from a sort of fleshy pod into the arms of a waiting woman.
Wait, what the hell.
He looked down at his mucus-glazed body. He had the nude form of a six year old boy.
The woman set him down in a room that looked to have a drying vent before leaving and turning a knob. Slowly the glaze on his body disappeared.
After a few minutes, a mirror slid out of the wall and revealed that he had grown back into his fully-sized adult form in mere minutes. He brushed his unruly mane of hair out with the stylish brush strung to the mirror. Behind him, a second tray slid out with a small, tablet-sized holographic screen on it; the screen offered selections of clothing to scroll through.
As he continued to brush his hair out, he pored over the digital pages. Absentmindedly, he caught a snag in his hair.
Damn it.
He stopped and combed his fingers through his hair to release the bristles. His errant touch revealed a tab of metal stung into the base of his skull. A solid yank produced a minute metal object with a blinking red light set into the head.
Quickly, he returned to the screen and began scanning for clothes. He had to find a way out of here. He had to get out. He had to. Get out. Get out. GET OUT.
Everything he swiped past was from his past life, that abysmal existence from which he had perished. Finally, he settled on a baggy shirt and pants which were produced from yet another tray alongside underwear and rubber socks. He slid into the clothes as fast as possible and tucked the metal device into his rear pocket.
As if on queue, the same woman returned to his room. He half-expected her to have aged too despite knowing that 5 minutes couldn’t have done that for her.
She gestured towards the brush which he readily gave her. As she brushed his hair, she asked, “so what do you think so far? Is this what you expected?”
“Not at all,” his hoarse voice croaked out, “I thought I was finally going to be dead. 20 fucking years of misery.”
“Sir, did you happen to set your input chip loose?”
“No, I don’t know of anything like that.”
She felt at the base of his head. “You did. Please give it back.”
Sheepishly, he reached into his pocket and returned it to her.
She returned the device to the base of his skull and pressed it in place. “There you go. That should make it better.”
A cool wash swept over him, calm, total utter peace. He blinked slowly then said, “What’s happened? What’s that doing?”
“Well sir, in our birthing pods, we detected that you have psychoactive episodes and elongated periods of depression. In your era, I believe it is referred to as major depressive disorder with psychotic affect.”
“So it’s just gone? I can live now?”
“Yes sir, you’re better now.”
He turned and embraced her. “Thank you so much.” | We met at a crowded party. He, just past tipsy, on his fifth beer in the two hours since he last spoke to (read: fought with) his long-distance girlfriend. Me, just starting to reach the top of the label on my first hard lemonade.
We knew we'd meet. We knew I'd flirt with him. We knew he'd go back to his dorm in a couple of hours to call his girlfriend back. We knew it would be a few days before we spoke again, a couple of weeks before we saw each other at another party, a few weeks before he was single, a couple of months before we started dating, a year and a half before we would break up, and a few painful months after that before our communication stopped completely.
We knew what was coming. But we both still went to the party. We knew there would be a lot of fun and then even more heartache. But we knew if we went through it again, just like before, then it would teach us the lessons we needed and give us the stories to tell our future spouses. | 2020-07-18T18:54:06 | 2020-07-18T17:02:36 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] "100% of people who drink water will die" sounds like a dumb statistic, but you are 900 years old and very thirsty. | "Welcome to my humble home," said the old man, with a smile as crooked as the picture that hung behind him.
"Thank you," Christian replied as his gaze jumped from one piece of priceless art to another. "I still can't believe you invited me," he muttered as he stared distractedly at the lifeless head of an ancient creature hung on the wall. "Is that a..."
"Deer," said the old man.
"Deer! Yes! I've read about deer! They roamed the land with the elephants and sabre-toothed ti..tig.."
"Tiger. And you're almost correct. They were a little *after* the sabre-toothed tiger became extinct. But I'm pleased you know your history somewhat. Come, dinner will be ready shortly, and I have something I'd like you to try, beforehand."
Christian marvelled at the statues and paintings that adorned the mansion, as he walked through the grand hall, down a long mahogany corridor and into a huge dining room.
"Wooden walls, wooden tables - it's just, mind boggling. Trees - the organic kind - they went so long ago... your house must be worth more than the entire city!"
The old man smiled again. "Worth isn't always in physical possessions. Sometimes, it's what's inside a person that really matters. Sit, please."
Christian pulled out a chair. In front of him sat a jewelled goblet. Christian peered in and made out a strange liquid inside. Curious, he held the goblet up and sloshed the contents about - a thin, clear liquid dribbled over the edge.
"Water," the old man said proudly, his tongue darting out to moisten his dry lips.
"Water?" Christian furrowed his brow. "No such thing. Not even you have access to water."
"Please, take a sip. I think you'll be surprised"
Christian stared at the old man for a moment, before raising the goblet once more and tilting it towards his mouth.
"My God," he exclaimed wiping his mouth, "it tastes so damn pure! It's fantastic!"
"I'm pleased you like it."
"I don't understand though. How did you procure it? There is *no* water any more."
"It's... courtesy of my previous guest."
"Your pre-" Christian began coughing.
"Yes. You see, water is very hard to get hold of. And yet, you and I are nearly all water, at a basic level. It's simply diluted with *unpleasantness*."
Christian's coughing became a wheeze and he fell to his knees. He began to retch and a warm, red liquid trickled out of his mouth.
"So you see, I must distill it. I'm glad you got to taste it beforehand. I believe everyone should get to taste water at least once. I'm sorry yours wasn't *quite* pure, but I don't think it would have affected the taste very much."
---
/r/nickofnight
| As John laid there, on the cold cement floor trying to forget the pain, he noticed something. A water bottle... laying around on the floor. John mustered his last remaining energy to crawl to the water bottle. As he got there he reached for the bottle, his vision was now blurry, his arms shaking uncontrollably, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it's going to burst through his chest. He took the bottle with his right hand and pulled closer to him, he moved his left hand to the top of the bottle, gripped the cap, and twist as hard as he could. But no matter how hard he twisted, the cap still remained on top of the bottle. John has used all the his energy, his arms were motionless, his heart came to a near sudden stop, his vision blinded. He was hopeless but managed to project out his last words,
"shit, its a crown cork". | 2017-04-18T08:53:44 | 2017-04-18T06:41:35 | 4,139 | 61 |
[WP] The fact the uncanny valley exists is terrifying. Being scared by things that look almost human but aren't. Other animals do not have this. That means that at some point in our evolution, running away from things that looked almost human was advantageous enough to be imprinted on our genetics. | The EVA 201 class began. As we walked in, we waved our notebooks over the interface and the e-ink paper changed. I took a brief glance at what I presumed would be the syllabus, and found a table of contents:
**Pages 1-3:** Content warnings
**Page 4:** Infohazard waiver and consent form
**Page 5:** University policy on non-consensual disclosure
**Pages 6-10:** [locked pending acceptance]
The class was half empty.
"I'm sure that by now you've been familiarized with the scrutiny that an evolutionary anthropology class entails. When Dr. Sanchez pioneered his methods of correlational culture reconstruction, he thought it would bring us enlightenment, instead it brought us horror, hatred, and war. But humanity can't blind itself to the truth, even after all it's brought us. So we are the few, unlucky in my opinion, watchers, who study it for the benefit of the rest."
"I'm sure you are aware of the policy, but the rules say I need to say it out loud. The material presented in this class ranks a 5 on the individual scale, and a 7 on the societal scale. If you start spreading it to anyone who's not in our program, or didn't opt-out of infoprotection, you will not only be expelled from the program, but will be sanctioned by every major infosec company out there. Depending on the severity, you might be banned from posting on any platform with an infosec contract. People in that situation often end up posting on opt-outer forums, and reading what they post there. After that, few last more than a year before they end up in an insane asylum."
"So, don't do it. Also, there's a content warning section which I suggest you read carefully,"
Brian smirked. He was always one of those who think they're fearless and invincible. He joked about opting out pretty often.
"... even if you thought the previous classes weren't that intense. We will be watching video reconstructions from Pleistocene-epoch human cultures, for the first time, though not today. I've had a student who told me that he has seen "snuff films", and he still couldn't take it. Now, please sign your waivers so I can proceed."
Over the sound of people walking out the door, I signed both and immediately the next pages changed from a static blur to readable text.
**Page 6:** Intro to psychosymbiosis
**Page 7:** History of psychosymbiote-affected human cultures
**Page 8:** Extinct species
**Page 9:** Extant species
**Page 10:** Public safety implications
"As you may have guessed, this class is about the organisms which make their home inside human bodies, and affect our thoughts and behavior. Once you think about it, you may see it's obvious in hindsight. If we have pathogens that quickly evolve to exploit our other tissues and organs, why not exploit the brain? Especially since we have seen so many examples among other animals, like rabies or the Cordyceps fungus? Much of it is the fault of these organisms themselves."
"When a microbe infects an animal, it has to evade the immune system to survive, by an endless variety of means. The same goes for these, and over time they have learned to affect the brain, to hide their own existence. Some will delete thoughts and memories that hint at their existence. Others will act more violently, killing the host and releasing spores, or making the host kill the person spreading information about them. You all have been tested at the campus clinic to have relatively benign symbiotes, such as the genus *Pacipheria*, a clade that seems to tolerate people learning about it. That one does have amnestic and hallucinogenic properties that keep people from seeing the physical and behavioral effects of similar infections on others and themselves, but it doesn't seem to understand abstract academic terminology. So I can teach this class without fear of anything happening to you or me."
"But let this be another reminder to keep everything we talk about inside of the classroom. You can't know which of these your friends could be carrying, and how they will respond to a knowledge trigger."
The professor went on to explain with a professional tone, while everyone in the class reacted in stunned horror. Brian's smirk was gone from his face. Spores? Hallucinogenic? Physical effects?
"Humans have gone through a long co-evolution with these infestations. We would evolve some trait, and they would evolve to counter it. Because many of them tend to deform the human body, and tended to use the host and their deformations to do violence to hosts of competing symbiotes, our brain evolved an instinctive fear reflex towards humans who, how should I put it, 'don't look right'. In response, many of them, including *Pacipheria* adapted to block out that perception, and make all human-shaped creatures look normal, at least usually. In cases of reported sightings, it and many species will drive the host to disbelieve any accounts."
"By promoting the health and sanity of the host, it allowed humans to create civilizations and thus proliferate more. More hosts, more symbiotes. This is what we call a commensalist or even mutualistic symbiote. In the past, parasitic ones were much more common, and we still remember the more recent ones in traditions about "zombies", "monsters", "vampires", all of them coming from historical accounts of infested humans. However, remember that the modern world still hosts many different species, and few of them are as benign..."
An hour and a half later, I walked out the classroom in a daze. I learned a lot, about how competition and kin selection among different parasites led to wars and racism, about the genus responsible for what we have come to call "zombies" and some of the ones that were lost to oral history, and terms like "pseudo-neural mycelium" and "cognitostructural autoimmunity", (though the professor still refused to answer what was so disturbing about the Pleistocene epoch), but as I walked past what looked like normal college students, this one thought I couldn't get out of my head was "what would they truly look like through clear eyes?" | \[Use this guide to translate the caveman speech.\]([https://public.wsu.edu/\~delahoyd/cavespeak.html](https://public.wsu.edu/~delahoyd/cavespeak.html))
“Neecha, maka. Igac maka-daka neecha!”
The other four cavemen whooped and hollered at Igac’s boastful retelling of the saber-toothed cat he had killed earlier that day. Their voices echoed outwards from their cave and into the starry night beyond, the cool night air providing a relaxing contrast to the gentle waves of heat emanating from the fire in front of them. As the five gradually settled down, one of them stood up and spoke, “Torv chok reeshi. Neh-unk reeshi maka-zook.”
Igac nodded and replied, “Bato, Torv. Bato maka neechas.”
The remaining four watched as the darkness of the surrounding forest enveloped Torv, the sounds of leaves and branches breaking under his feet growing fainter until only silence remained. Igac seized the opportunity to begin regaling his friends anew on his latest pursuit of Birba and was met with playful ridicule as the other three mocked his bumbling ineptitude with the women of their tribe. The back-and-forth exchange lasted for several minutes, after which they began to realize that Torv had yet to return from his water run.
Igac and the rest scratched their heads and squinted into the darkness beyond, watching and listening for a sign of their missing companion. Suddenly, they heard a *snap* to the northeast. Then another. Then two more. But still no sign of Torv.
“Torv? Sonta, kuda.”
Silence.
“Torv? Sonta gu gu-tawa. Owee?”
*Torvv, sonntah, oweee?*
The four cavemen eyed one another, their faces hardening as they stood up and gathered their rock spears. Igac spoke once more, “Torv. Akita, lom-gom.”
*Torvv, Torvv, lohm-gohm.*
A figure emerged from the darkness and slowly stumbled closer to the cave. Igac tightened his grip on his weapon as he began making out the features of this thing. From a distance, it easily resembled Torv as it perfectly matched his physique. As it grew closer, however, the four cavemen could notice details that were ever so slightly off from their companion. A left eye drooping a little too low, a mouth that hung a little too loosely from the face, a right leg that limped slightly with each step.
“Keega! Neh-gonta! Igac maka-daka keega!” shouted Igac.
*Keegacigacigacigacigacccccccc…*
It was over in the blink of an eye. The gray stone walls of the cave suddenly coated with splotches and chunks of red. The fire snuffed out from the force of meat falling on top of it, plunging the cave into darkness. The sounds of crunching bones and wet chewing echoing from the cave where laughter and joy once reigned supreme.
The figure staggered forth from the cave entrance, wrenching the two spears from its torso and wiping the flecks of blood and flesh from its mouth. A *snap* to its right caused it to whirl its head around. Seeing nothing, it stumbled back into the envelope of the darkness, back to where it was birthed and back to where it would thrive under the cover of night.
But where that last branch had just broken, there sat the young Birba who dared not move an inch from her position, waiting for what felt like hours until she believed the aberration had truly vacated the area. She sprinted southwards, choking back hot tears and sobs. Not daring to look back lest the abomination catch her, ignoring the stinging pain of vines and branches poking at every part of her exposed legs and feet. She had to warn the tribe of the monstrosity that threatened to terrorize them all. She had to. No matter what.
r/williamk9949 | 2020-09-15T13:29:59 | 2020-09-15T12:33:35 | 1,783 | 21 |
[WP] You have been approached by a mysterious man with a strange proposal. He claims to have a magical power but it is limited to one sole request. The proposal is simple: You can choose one of the 7 deadly sins to eliminate from the world. The disclaimer: Beware because utopia doesn’t exist. | "Yet," I said to the mysterious man, as his wizened eyes widened slightly, "You mean utopia doesn't exist *yet*."
He cocked his head quizzically and his voice rasped, like the stone of the temple door behind us. "Please explain," he simply said.
I perched on the remainder of the stone column behind me and took in the sight around me. I'd never have believed this temple could exist several weeks ago, but here I was. Even though the supporting pillars had crumbled away, the majority of the high vaulted ceiling stayed afloat, with a few gaps allowing rays of sunshine and a steady stream of sand to filter through. It was a truly breathtaking sight and not possible under conventional laws of physics. It was standing proof that this man could fulfill his stated purpose - he could remove one of the seven deadly sins of my choice. The twist? I couldn't leave until I did so. I'd been trying for two days. None of my calls escaped the room, nor did it seem like any of the rest of the archaeological team could get to me - if, indeed, they had tried. Once the door had sealed it seemed like this place had become completely impenetrable. But for the sun moving through the holes in the ceiling, I wouldn't have been able to track the passage of time.
"I'll put it like this," I said, gesturing upwards, "When was the last time you left this place, and saw the outside world?"
He contemplated momentarily, counting on the gaps between his fingers, not the fingers themselves.
"Three thousand and eighty three years ago," he stated, "Give or take a few months."
"And you never left here in all that time?" I asked, not able to disguise the surprise in my voice.
He shook his head solemnly. "No. I cannot leave until I have fulfilled my purpose."
I looked at his disheveled clothing, the filthy grey beard, and the eye sockets - filled with those piercing green eyes but somehow sallow and sunken. I absolutely believed him.
"In the time that you've been here, humanity has come on leaps and bounds. We currently live in the safest time ever, with the highest standard of living. Provided there are no monumental screw-ups, if the standard of living continues to increase and efficiency of resource use is refined, utopia is not only possible but inevitable."
The man's visage took on a twisted expression. "You speak like one afflicted by pride."
I took a second to think, to refine my thoughts.
"Perhaps," I replied, "But when the alternative is despair, I prefer to be optimistic. Provided each person wishes to continue living humanity can and will beat every crisis which it faces. There may be stumbling blocks along the way, there may be moments where we slip backwards from the dream, but the dream still hangs there, beckoning us to a brighter future."
"No." He said, simply.
"No?" I questioned. The abruptness of the response had taken me aback.
"In my time, many men said as you said. They raised towers and pyramids with the arcane arts and claimed they were for the brighter future. I stood in the desert as I do today and watched as they smote those who stood against them from those towers. Eventually the arts died with the practitioners and the world regressed with magic forgotten."
I sighed, lamenting the ruins we had found previously and the loss of magic from the world - not for the first time. It could have solved so many problems, but there wasn't a person alive who could practice it any more.
"That was a great loss and I'm sorry that you had to see it. But humanity did rebuild even without magic, and raised far greater towers to replace them, and more important constructions aside. I mean, look," I said, pointing through the hole in the ceiling to where the moon conveniently sat in the clear desert sky, "Humans have even walked on the moon as a result. And when those astronauts stood on the moon, they didn't do so for their own gain, they went in peace, for all of mankind."
In return, the man pointed at a place on my belt, which held my pistol. "But you still carry the weapons of war."
I nodded. "Things are not perfect - there are many challenges we've got to solve. But there is hope. And there are days where that hope looks pretty slim, but it's still there, and we'll scramble and work our fingers to the bone to preserve it."
The man stood in silence for but a moment.
"But none of this changes my purpose. I cannot rest, nor allow you to leave before it is complete. You can choose to eliminate one of the deadly sins from the world." His eyes stare off into the temple walls around him.
I nod slowly, and consider my options. Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride. All loosely defined enough that the implications of removing one could be catastrophic to society. Would removing lust destroy the human desire - not just for passion, but for art, literature? Would removing gluttony or greed make humans obstructively ascetic? Would removing sloth destroy our ability to relax or rest? There were such examples for every sin named.
The man spoke every language possible - another quirk of the magic holding this place. Somehow I don't think twisting the meaning of his task could get me out of this, or allow me to destroy something that wasn't a metaphysical concept.
Destroying any of the seven deadly sins could have a fundamental, irreversible effect on society, at a critical time in human history, possibly delaying human advancement at best, and killing an unknowable quantity of humans at worst.
"How long do I have to decide?" I ask.
"Like me, you will not rest until your task is complete. You have as much time as you need." He said.
I look around the temple one more time, before closing my eyes and sitting cross-legged on the ground. I recall how I have not become hungry or thirsty in the two days I have been trapped here. There was only one way to not fundamentally screw over the human race here, and I knew what it was.
I sat on a comfortable patch of ground and contemplated, as sand trickled through the holes in the temple ceiling, like sand in an hourglass. As the man sat opposite me, a sad smile appeared on my face. For I knew that the man across from me would never get the rest that he so desired. | Alex was relaxing on his sofa & watching tv in the living room. Then there was a ding dong from the front door. Alex went to go check on it and found a man. He was a tall skinny man with a tuxedo. His top hat looked like it had never been used before.
“Greetings,” the man said “I am David. I’ve come to you to ask you how much you hate the 7 deadly sins?”
Alex was ready to slam the door on him but something about this man seemed off. He kept listening to him.
“Now I have magical powers. And with this, I can get rid of any of the sins. Boom. Gone. Never heard of. But I have to warn you, a utopia doesn’t exist.” David explained.
Alex thought to himself “Well I’ve always wanted to get rid of anger.”
He pictured in his head what it would be like.
Alex went outside to see his neighbors taking care of each other from water flowers to exchanging gifts. It was a lovely morning for everyone. Alex went to his car to drive to work & looked out to the scenery. He saw people meditating, courts & jails being destroyed since they weren’t needed in a peaceful world, and festivals filled with dancing and singing.
“Well, David might be wrong after all. This is a utopia.” Alex thought to himself again.
Then he looked forward to see a slow driving car. They appear to be having a relaxing cruise all by themselves. Alex attempted to scream but no words had come out. Nothing to signal rage. He looked around again to see infrastructure crumble with no need to hurry up at all.
“Hmmm. Well what about pride?” he thought to himself.
Alex went outside to find everyone just going about their days. Nothing important. Except people didn’t waste their time with making their gardens beautiful, they worked on technological advancements. He heard some people making AI for a new robot, saw people working on flying cars, & even saw people wearing jet packs. But there was a lack of happiness. Nothing to show that you’re proud of something. He went into his car and saw people jumping off cliffs, people driving into walls, or something to get them out of this world.
“Wow that was even worse,” Alex pondered. “Well gluttony surely won’t be the worst right?”
Before he went outside, Alex checked the mirror. He noticed how skinny he was. You could almost say he was a skeleton. He went outside to see everyone else being extremely skinny. He drove to get new clothes & saw only three sizes since everyone was so skinny.
“Yep this is the one I’m thinking of getting.” Alex thought before tragedy struck.
He noticed people dying of hunger since they couldn’t eat that much. His legs couldn’t support the walking he had done & he collapsed.
“Ugh. All of these are turning out to be horrible. I’m pretty sure envy will just be everyone slacking off, lust is lack of any reproduction, greed is probably going to be everyone giving everything away & dying from not being able to protect themselves from nature, and sloth. Wait sloth might not be that bad.”
Alex pictured the last sin. He had immediately jumped up from his bed and ran outside. Everyone was so productive. People worked on making their houses better and people efficiently did their jobs. Alex went to work where he found that his chair was gone.
“Where’s my chair? I need to sit down and work.” Alex asked the imaginary co-worker.
“Chairs? No way. We threw them out. And you don’t sit down!” The imaginary co-worker demanded.
Alex was worried that this would be an issue but still went along. His legs strained a bit however he did do all of his needed work in one day. With nothing left to do for 6 months he went to his imaginary boss.
“Hey boss, can I go on vacation since I did everything I needed to do for a while.” Alex asked him.
“Vacation? Are you a fool? No slacking off!” The boss’s voice echoed as Alex returned to reality.
“Well I have to say no.” Alex answered.
However David got bored of waiting for Alex so he left and went to the neighbor’s house. | 2019-07-03T12:27:53 | 2019-07-03T11:14:47 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] Humans are born with white blood and the more crimes you commit the darker your blood is. One day your girlfriend cuts her hand and black blood comes out. | “I can see the top,” she said between labored breaths. “Only about 30 more yards.”
Brent looked up past his girlfriend and could see where the mountainside seemed to abruptly end. “I’m right behind you,” he called up to her.
He could see her long black hair trailing down her back indicating that she had turned her attention back to locating her next handhold. Testing his footing, he briefly released his hand hold to pat his jacket pocket—a nervous tick he’d been doing since they began their ascent. In the pocket was the ring he was going to propose to her with at the top of cliff. Even though they’d only been dating for a few months, he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
“What are you doing slow poke?” She called down to him.
While he was distracted in his thoughts she had made the rest of the ascent up the mountain and now stood laying on top of the plateau looking down at him. The sun behind her pale white skin, framed by her dark hair painted the image of what he thought an angel would look like.
“I didn’t know it was a race,” he said smiling up at her as he reestablished his grip. Without a sound she disappeared again from his view, and her absence pushed him to climb up as quick as he could.
When he reached the top he found her reclining with her eyes closed, resting her head on her bag. “About time,” she said with a laugh, never moving from her prone position.
“We can’t all be mountain goats,” he said as he removed his backpack and dropped it to the ground. Turning his back to her, he looked out across the valley that lay far below them and at the gathering clouds that seemed to have come out of nowhere. “It looks like a storm is setting in, we should probably set up camp before it gets here.”
“You worry too much my love, it’s just a little snow. I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he replied, “and that’s why I don’t want you to freeze to death.”
Kneeling at his bag, his back still to her, he started to rummage through it for the supplies to make camp. Behind him, he heard her shift position and stand up moving towards him. His heart leapt into his chest—this was the moment.
Putting his hand in his pocket, he withdrew the ring pressing into his sweaty hands. “Yuki Musume, I’d like to ask you something…,” he began.
Knowing she was close behind him, he stood quickly, not realizing how close she had gotten. His vision swam as his head collided her face. Stumbling backwards, he forced himself down before he reached the edge of the cliff, scrapping his hand on the rough ground in the process.
Turning his hands over he surveyed his wounds. Light pink blood, just a little tinged from the pure white blood he was born with reflecting some bad choices he made in his younger years. He made no effort to hide to it, she knew about his past.
“Well that didn’t go as smooth as I had hoped,” he chuckled, pressing his raw hands onto his jeans to staunch the bleeding. “Are you ok….”
He stopped midsentence. Yuki stood six feet from him, her jaw set into a frown. From her nose dripped the blackest blood he had ever seen. The silence between them was so great that the blood made an audible drip as it splattered on the granite.
“Your blood….”
“It’s black.” He could only nod his agreement. Reaching up she wiped away the blood, a stark contrast against her white skin. “It’s from a millennia of killing. The snow maiden needs souls to survive. I like you Brent, I really do.” Her voice trailed off as she watched the first snowflakes from the storm begin to fall. “I was going to let the snow do it, to whisper you softly to sleep with its cold kisses, but that’s no longer an option.”
“What do you mean Yuki, what are you talking about?” he asked finding his voice even as he had to force it around the lump in his throat.
“I’m growing old again,” she said, and when he looked at her again her black hair had turned as white as a snow drift, her smooth youthful skin was not marked by scars and wrinkles, hanging loosely from her boney frame. “I need your pure soul to be young again.”
Moving towards him as she spoke, he watched as her jaw distended revealing a mouthful of jagged teeth. His last thought was of her—at least I’ll die with my love. | "I can explain," She stutters as she wraps the thin white cloth I tore from shirt around her hand. She wraps it three times but the black oozes through. "It's nothing. It's really nothing."
"Cindy, it sure looks like something," I grab her hand and take another look. Hoping I missed it. Hoping that this is some kind of disgusting miscommunication. But there it is, clear as day, black blood. Only one kind of person gets black blood: a criminal.
"Look, I may have done some time," She laughs. Literally laughs. Like it's no biggie. I've been dating this woman for three years. Three years!
"And you're just now telling me," I scoff.
"It never really came up in conversation," She shrugs. I can't read her. Her eyes flit back and forth behind me. She's acting like she's looking at me directly but she's not.
"I went to jail," I shoot right back. I trust her. I love her. I'm fighting against all hope to give her the binifit of the doubt here. But she keeps forcing me to push forward.
"Alright," She waves her hands before extending one toward me. "Hi, I'm Cindy and I went to jail."
"Hi Cindy," I play along. Somehow it eases the sting of her betrayal. "How long?"
"Three years."
"Three years!" I scream, cough, and then recover. "Three years. That's, uh, a long time."
"Yeah, but don't worry. It was for stupid shit. I may have downloaded too many movies and songs from the internet."
"Oh. I've done that," I laigh. Relief floods over me. A pirate. She's an internet pirate. That's nothing.
"Yeah. Everyone has. I just downloaded the most. And was caught early. The judge said he wanted to make an example out of me."
"Seriously, hon, you should've told me sooner. But this isn't something to be ashamed," I bring her close and hug her. She allows this before pulling away after a beat.
She coughs some and heads toward the kitchen. As she's almost out of earshot, as she's moving out of the room, I hear her muffled voice say, "That and killing my abusive father." | 2017-05-12T15:41:00 | 2017-05-12T13:43:05 | 64 | 23 |
[WP] After all your deaths, you keep choosing New Game + and restarting your life with all your knowledge and boons. Frankly, it's starting to get a little ridiculous, and others are starting to take note of you. | *They had found me again.*
I watched the monitor, the blue light - the only light in the room - burned into my eyes. It was ok, I didn't need to sleep. I barely slept nowadays. I spent all my time planning and plotting for the next life.
Putting my schemes in place to ensure that my future self would have the best start. Money amassed over dozens of lifetimes, messages left for prominent contacts to look out for my 'estranged son'. I would keep my knowledge, but physical things were far harder to pass on.
It had been a blessing at first - the first time I died. I had taken ill with the plague at just 18 years old. That was no life. I had learnt almost nothing, seen almost nothing and when I died, no one even noticed.
Since then I have grown as a person. Living over twenty lives would do that to you. When I had first realised my power, it had been about survival, but the life expectancy in those middle ages was short, and often my experiences, my travels and my learning would be cut short. But as the years passed and I spent time as a farmer one life, an innkeeper the next, things started to get better. People would live longer and I could focus on things other than famines, plagues and whether or not my village would be ransacked by the next group of raiders who took their fancy.
I began to learn. Technologies were developed. The industrial revolution, for example, was one of the best lives I ever lived. Walking along those cobbled London streets, cane in hand, the knowledge of the worlds best scientists at my fingertips. I was a mogul, and it was only up from there.
The world wars were rough, I fought and died in both. The horrors that I witnessed, men thrown into combat just to be churned up by the ever spinning gears of war, entire generations of families decimated, homes destroyed. You could rebuild a house, but you could not rebuild the sentiment that it held.
The uncaring men in power led me to my epiphany. The ones who stood at the top, the ones who gave the orders, dropped the bombs but never saw the destruction or acknowledged the devastation - they had to go.
Thus, began my current endeavour. Armed with the knowledge of hundreds of years, I had witnessed empires fall and great leaders crumble. I had seen the impact of almost every major revolution, the hallmarks of generations everlasting in my mind. Only a man like me, one who had seen so much, was fit to rule.
I began by using my knowledge to invent, to trade and to manipulate those around me to amass a wealth of not only currency, but information and power. This meant, however, that each time I died, of natural causes or otherwise - plans had to be put into place for my heir-body to take over.
*And this caught the eye of some very dangerous people.*
People who knew that something was amiss, someone - me - had been fouling with the laws of the universe. Someone whose knowledge would not die.
And so I stared into the blue light, the feed showing me several black clad men scaling the walls I had built around my compound. Ruthlessly eliminating the men I trusted to guard my life. The moved quickly and efficiently - professional killers. Those that wanted me dead were not messing around this time.
The black-clad killers continued to stalk my grounds until they were satisfied all threats were neutralised, and I could only watch as they vanished from the view of my cameras.
Hopefully, in the next life, the precautions I put in place would be far more subtle. I could not afford to squander the lives I led now, it was too difficult to put the pieces back together afterwards.
I heard footsteps. Boots on carpet outside my door. Commands were issued, safeties were checked and a dozen men breached the room I was in.
I never saw the face of the one who killed me, black goggles shrouded him. He paced across the room, placed a gun to my head...
*...and splattered my brains all over the crib I lay in.*
___
I know I may not have interpreted the prompt exactly as intended - his life didn't restart at the same point - but nevertheless I hope you enjoyed reading it, feedback appreciated :) | I’ve traveled every continent, study in every major, mastered every skills a human could possess.
With every new life I began, I try a new thing. I have been kings, sometimes good, other times bad. I have been champions, I’ve fought countless battles. I’ve been scholars, philosophers. I’ve traveled as merchants. I watched the fall of an Empire and the arise of a new one. Hence I joined 2 world wars.
I’ve experienced betrayal and lost. I’ve loved and be loved. Sometimes my life ended with my beloved, sometimes I’m gone before them and returned to look at them, to watch them go away.
You thought that there’s nothing left for me to enjoy? I’ve thought of that a few times, but it never true, humans always have new things to do, new inventions to make, new entertainments, new way to look at life, and to see that one life was never enough for me, I returned and returned, times and times again to enjoy life, to love, to learn, to see the world again. Yes it gets lonely sometimes, but I can always count on the human race to surprise me.
Recently, with the rise of this thing called the Internet, it’s been harder and harder for me to go unnoticed. Acting as an infant in every reincarnation was a pain in the ass and my recent return has been...problematic. I accidentally slip a few words when I was 2 months old. And it’s definitely weird to them for a 4 years old kid to lift a car when his mom’s stuck- ancient humans don’t notice but humans of this age does. Theories about my reincarnation, the traces of my old life are everywhere on the net. They’re piecing things together at a rate I can’t even comprehend, distractions don’t work anymore, I can’t start a major event again without them noticing. Maybe I’ll tell them the truth one day, but for now I have something more important to focus on. I’ve slipped my chance to get on the moon last time, this time I won’t. | 2019-05-29T05:36:53 | 2019-05-29T03:21:49 | 468 | 29 |
[WP] After you die, you come back as a spirit, but only while someone alive is thinking of you. For 10 years you've had seconds or minutes of consciousness at a time. But for the past 16 months, you've been constantly awake, and you begin to suspect why. | It was a little bit like blinking.
I could see the seasons changing as they thought of me. My mother over my casket. My siblings clearing out my old room. My girlfriend in the shower. My girlfriend packing my things. My girlfriend at a yard sale. My girlfriend reading books.
I find myself with her a lot more recently. I think she missed me. I would appear beside her, and I could almost touch her. It felt like she could almost hear me. She sometimes turned to look in my direction, but always saw right through me. Sometimes she would say my name. She couldn't hear me, though.
One day I appeared before her again, but this time it was different.
I saw only two candles, and my girlfriend sitting in between them. She was dressed in white. But this time she was looking right at me. She gasped.
It couldn't be.
'Sara?' She said, her voice trembling.
'It's me,' I said.
She was beginning to breathe hard.
'Prove that you're her,' she said.
If I could widen my eyes, I would.
'But I am,' I said.
'Prove it.'
'I don't know...' I said, trying to think. 'I did your tattoo. You never knew why I chose to ink vines. I wanted to add to it every year we were together. Seemed clever at the time.'
She paused.
'That was the big plan, huh,' she said, tearing up a little.
'Do I need to keep going?'
She shook her head. 'It's just so you to make a tattoo idea as lame as that.'
I laughed.
'But how are you speaking to me, Gilly?' I said, looking around at the dark room. It looked like her bedroom. 'You've never spoken to me.'
'I've felt you around,' she said, setting her book down. 'And then I got this book off this creepy old man at a yard sale. There's this bit that teaches you how to talk to spirits.'
She showed me the book. I could hardly see the words, it was like seeing it through fog.
'We can talk as long as the candles are on,' she said.
'That's crazy,' I said.
'I want to be together with you, Sara,' she said, closing the book. 'I'm going to keep the candles on.'
I felt uneasy about this.
'Gilly... I'm dead,' I said, trying to touch her arms. 'I can't be with you. You need to find someone else.'
'But you're still here,' she said, tearing up. 'I want to only be with you, Sara. I don't want anybody else.'
'Gilly, please don't do this,' I said.
'Stay with me, please,' she pleaded.
'This is not going to work. I'm a ghost. I'm not even alive. I can't share anything with you.'
'Then don't. Just be here.'
'You need to move on, Gilly...'
'I don't need to move on!'
'I won't do this,' I said, and let go of her arms.
'Sara!!' She screamed.
I drew away. Out of the building. Out of the country. I was in space, looking down at the vast expanse of the earth.
I felt a constant tugging in my soul as she thought of me. Constant. I wanted to succumb to it, and just be with her, but she has to let go of me. I'm already dead!
But... Is it such a bad thing? I thought. I longed for her, too.
I've never been awake for so long before. She keeps calling out to me.
I don't really know if I want her to stop. | She had to know I would find out. She expected me to find out, but she didn't think it would take this long. I think I was wilfully ignorant, enjoying my second life since I didn't want to face the truth, but I didn't have a choice anymore. Knowing this truth requires action, but I don't know what I can do. The door will keep out the living, but not me. She knows this. She planned it this way. I slip through the first door, the second door, and finally the solid wall to her sanctuary. There's a dim glow from the instruments nestled in a cabinet in one corner of the room. I see the portrait she made of me hanging on a wall, ominous in the pale light, and kept company by a new one of her. In the corner is a crumpled heap of off-white with the unmistakable gold lace of her wedding gown. I don't need to examine it. I know it's her, and I'm certain the corpse would be exactly as old as my current incarnation. Against my conscious will, my head turns to the wall opposite our images. I knew she would try anything to be with me again, but I always hoped she wouldn't go this far. Two pairs of blank eyes stared out from two ghastly heads floating like squids whose tentacles stretched to the machines in the corner. One would forever be staring into the lifeless eyes of my visage, and the other into my beloved's. "Forever," her sweet voice spoke as she floated into the room. | 2019-06-30T14:34:08 | 2019-06-30T10:14:26 | 54 | 22 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.