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[WP] People have threat levels assigned to them. Common thug maybe reach double digits, dictators the hundreds, the people who can launch nukes in the hundreds of thousands. You, a scientist who just performed a harmless experiment, suddenly get shot up into the billions
[deleted] | I collapsed back against the wall, feeling the energy flowing through me. Through my blurred vision, I could see the room spinning around faster and faster. I was hyperventilating.
*Breathe. Breathe.*
I took my own advice and tried to slow my breathing. After a few moments of focus, I was calm. Well, as calm as one could be in this situation. I looked around my now ruined lab for the familiar black shape I knew as my glasses, ignoring the bright flashes of light around my head. Finding them and putting them back on, the gravity of the situation became apparent. Metal objects of all sizes and weights floated around the room. Lightning arced from the reactor in the center of the room and into the floating objects. My hair stood on end. My hands moving through the air felt serious resistance.
There was so much static electricity in the lab it was *tangible.*
I tried to stand up. Slowly, carefully, I got to my feet. I tried to take a step, but wasn't as steady as I thought. I reached up to grab something, anything to stop my fall. My hand made contact with a wrench that was floating in the air and there was another bright flash. I fell forward and suddenly... I wasn't falling anymore. I had closed my eyes, bracing for what I thought was the inevitable impact against the marble floor, but I didn't hit it. I was floating inches above it.
I tried to reach my hands down to touch the floor but I was stopped by an invisible force.
A magnetic force.
Pushing off of it, I got back to my feet and looked up. I noticed the wrench I had reached for was now spinning wildly in circles, burnt. I reached a hand towards it and there was another bright flash of light. This time, however, I got to see what caused it. I watched in what felt like slow motion as a long arc of electricity shot forth from my hand and through the air, making contact with the wrench. I tried to stop it, I instinctively made a fist and pulled my hand back. It didn't stop the arc. The arc maintained, holding the wrench like an extension of my hand and pulling it closer. I opened my hand. The arc dissipated and released the wrench.
I stared at my hands as I walked over to the reactor's main monitor. It flashed the words 'Wardenclyffe Reactor Critical' over and over. I reached up to try the keyboard, and an arc shot down from my fingertips, frying it. The screen went dark. I sat against the counter behind me, looking at my hands with a mix of fear and curiosity. Different conflicting emotions flowed through me like water. I noticed a black zero on my wrist. I rolled up my left sleeve up to my elbow and saw there were a *lot* of zeros. My threat level had skyrocketed from the 07 it was before. I still couldn't see what the first few numbers were.
But it ended in fifteen zeros. | I looked at the experiment paper in front of me, I, a highschool student who barely reaches a threat level of 10 because of violent outbursts, just reached a number in the billions. THE BILLIONS while doing a controlled experiment. I looked over the chemicals and the written amounts of each. I made this. . . How? How did I make this fizzling. . . potion? Elixir more like it. I gulped nervously and pulled my sleeve down over the expanded number. I froze and seen that I did this experiment backwards, it told us not to do. We were just making rock crystals for pete's sake-
​
Edit: I meant rock candy X'D | 2018-09-13T03:52:18 | 2018-09-13T02:21:17 | 78 | 41 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | The historian reclined, a peculiar look in his eyes. His students inched forward in their chairs, as curious as ever. It was unusual for someone to be so unwilling to discuss their soul object - unless they had something to hide. Whipers and rumors had run the gambit since the recluse had been hired the semester prior, when too-curious teens had taken to finding out everything there is to know about the man.
He rolled his eyes. "Freshman. Why is it always the Freshmen?"
It was not unusual for people to outright refuse to summon their soul object, considering it wasn't the brightest for a chemistry teacher to summon a nuclear warhead in class. And yes, Williams knew that Professor Krikom could summon Greek fire. Yes, they still don't know how to create it. Yes, it was cool. But Willams wasn't going to admit that to anyone.
But that was supposed to go on the syllabus, was it not? No-one in their right mind would refuse to disclose their soul object at all.
Professor Williams scubbed a hand across his face, tired and worn. He smiled bleakly at the dozens of students in the lecture hall. "I just love how this is the moment you all stay quiet. And not when we're discussing something important,"
He frowned once more. "If this will make you stop asking about it."
Williams reached out with a pale arm, thin hands waving in the air for dramatic effect.
A skull clattered to ths floor. Then a pelvic bone. Followed by a thighbone and a few other pale fragments. Gray sand clung to the unfinished skeleton, salty must filling the hall. A young student rushed from the room, gagging. Others began to weep.
The room was silent.
He was a Necronomicus.
"Consider yourselves lucky my soul object isn't freshly dead."
And just like that, the room erupted. Slurs spewed from frothing lips, and bigotry-laced expressions of disgust sneered at him. Professor Williams schooled his features into that of apathy.
"Corpse fucker!"
"Necrophile!"
"You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"Just wait until my parents hear obout this!"
And just like that, the bones disappeared. The professor dialed quickly a number on his phone and slipped quietly from the room.
The more rowdy of the students attempted to follow; but Williams summoned the bones in a neat little line - blocking them. None of them wanted to come close the accursed soul object, recoiling in as if they'd been burned.
"I should have known I was teaching a class of little bigots," the man cursed under his breath. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, teaching out West."
The history professor clapped his hands together, a large grin plastered on his face. "What a teachable moment! Can anyone possibly tell me what happened on November 30th, 1903?"
"We burned you damned creeps alive!"
"That's right! Can anyone tell me what happened in the mid-nineties when it came to people like me?"
"...The Necronomicus Rights Movement."
"Lovely! Just lovely. Now could anyone guess why I am asking you these things?"
"Who fucking cares!"
And just like that, the mob erupted once more - but just like that, several professors jumped in to chorale the students as they clawed and screamed. Sirens erupted in the distance, drowning out their cruel words.
Williams slipped away, the bones vanishing once more. All he could do was buy himself some time. | It’s my eighteenth birthday party. My mom skateboards out of the hallway with a cake. My father has been dead for 10 years because the town bully punched him to death. We both cry over this. We eat the cake. I have no friends because I am too unique and moody for friends. I only have a pillow pet to keep me company.
My mom tells me “Son it is time for you to open your hand and wait for your soulmate to break through the window”. She pulls out her soulmate, a rubber duck. She says” Son, this rubber duck did not help me fight off your fathers attacker and I am so ashamed for it”. I hope you get something good.
Nothing came and it made me very sad. I walk around town with hand open for days. Eventually town bully who killed my Father walks up to me and says “ I am going to punch you in the head to death just like I did your father”. He starts beating me up. My mom throws her soulmate to no avail.
I almost die but then I hear something coming. I reach my hand up to the sky waiting for my soul mate. Everyone in town is terrified when they see a Boing 747 plummeting out of the sky. It lands on me and explodes, killing everyone in town. The end. | 2019-09-18T09:06:02 | 2019-09-18T08:47:50 | 49 | 23 |
[WP] Upon death, you find yourself at the gates of Heck. A place for people who were bad but not truly evil. Instead of torture, you have to deal with minor annoyances for all of eternity. You are greeted by Sir Berus the three headed chihuahua, who promptly pisses on your shoes. | "You've got to be kidding me, " I growled.
The absurd, three-headed dog currently pissing on my shoes wagged its tail, causing its whole body to move fro side to side. Predictably, the piss aimed at my shoes splashed onto my shins, thoroughly soaking my socks. I kicked at the dog. It squeeked and ran away, piss flowing freely, even in its flight.
"Well, I knew I wasn't going to heaven." I said.
My socks squelched as I walked down the corridor I'd appeared in. The sharp smell of amonia wafted up to me with every step. The corridor wasn't long, but the walls were visibly off plumb. It, combined with the smell of piss, made me a little nausiated. It wasn't like I was in danger of throwing up. It was just uncomfortable.
The sign on the door I reached didn't help. The letters were faded and printed in a fizzy font that looked permenatetly out of focus. It read:
*Welcome to Heck. Your earthly deeds, while not enough to get you into heaven, were not terrible enough to send you to hell. Please enjoy all of the amenities provided by Heck.*
P.S.
*We apologize for Sir Berus. He has a weak bladder. A washer and dryer have been provided for your convenience in the next room.*
That's damn decent of them, I thought. I turned the handle, but the door wouldn't budge. I shouldered into and finally it opened. Looking more closely, I could see it was the only plumb part of the hallway. Thankfully the room I entered didn't suffer the same structural defenciency.
It was small. As promised, a washer and dryer sat against the far wall. I sat on the small chair provided and kicked off my shoes. Using my toes I removed my socks. After several attempts, I managed to kick them into the washer. Looking down at my shoes I decided they should go in too.
"Exact change only," I said, looking at the price of the washer. I reached into my pocket and pulled out two dollar bills. Pretty convenient since it was a dollar per machine.
I put the first dollar in the bill slot. It accepted it, then spit it back out. I tried the other dollar. Same thing. I spread the bills out and rubbed them against the edge of the machine. Once I deemed them straight enough I tried again.
"God dammit!" I screamed as it spit the bill out again. After several more failed attempts I crumpled the bills and threw them on the floor. But, my socks and shoes needed washing. I picked up the bills and defiantly thrust one into the slot. It accepted it.
The machine took forever to fill, and for the next hour I listened to my shoes bang inside the machine. The dryer took my last bill whithout protest, but with no water to cushion the blows, my shoes made a horrendous racket. By the time the dryer finished, my head was pounding nearly as hard as the shoes had been.
There's nothing quite like the feeling of putting on freshly dried socks. I eagerly reached in and withdrew my things. There was only one goddamned sock!
I put on my one sock and shoes and left the laundry room. Immediately I was standing at the end of a long line of other people. They crowed together, occasinally jostling one another. Many of them were speaking, but in vioces so low I couldn't understand them. I tried to speak to a few, but they looked at me with dead eyes and turned away.
After, I don't know how long, I found myself forced to choose between two lines. The signs over them read, Acceptence, and Grievences, with an arrow showing where to stand.
"No fucking way I'm accepting this shit." I said. A few people turned to me and chuckeld. Oh, so now they understand!
I got in the Grievences line and waited. My feet were killing me, and a blister had formed on my sockless foot. At last I stepped up to the counter. A fairly pretty woman smiled warmly at me. She seemed more real than the other people in line.
Her brown eyes practically screamed sincere concern. As I started to speak, she placed a sign on the counter and walked away.
*The Grievence department is now closed. Please return during normal business hours.*
"Mother fucker," I snarled.
The people dissapeared and once again Sir Berus was pissing on my shoes. | I was never a dog person.
Despite this, the first thing I noticed upon entering the gates of heaven was the unmistakeable smell of dog.
And then I saw it.
Actually, I saw two things.
My eyes first landed on the massive iron wrought gate. The gate was ornate and intricate, topped with delicately carved spires. It spanned nearly forty feet and looked as old as time. Maybe it was. However, tacked upon the gate was a sheet of paper that read, “Welcome to heck ®,” printed in the worst font imaginable, comic sans.
Up until this point, I never even considered the fact that I might not be in heaven. Even the idea of it was preposterous. Just thinking the thought made me gag.
But I really didn’t have time to ponder my fate, because then, I saw the real horror.
A chihuahua.
Some dogs are okay. For example, Golden retrievers and labradors are tolerable at best. But chihuahuas on the other hand, are the Canada geese of the dog world.
And right in front of me, was a chihuahua.
The chihuahua was small, only reaching up to my shins, despite its three heads. But what it lacked in size it made up in rabies, probably. It’s teeth gnashed violently and saliva flew in fat drops in all directions. Its stumpy limbs thrashed, clawing at the ground. It’s eyes were pitch black and in them, I only saw pure hatred.
But then it stopped. It stood still. And it lifted one leg up.
I heard the noise first. Then, I smelt it. And of course, lastly, I felt it. The chihuahua was enacting it’s revenge in the form of a gentle stream that slowly trickled down my leg, forming a puddle of murky yellow at my feet.
And all the while, the chihuahua never failed to break eye contact with me. It somehow managed to convey the dog version of a smirk in its dark eyes, like it knew exactly what it was doing - and it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.
Finally, in that instance, I knew I was not in heaven. | 2019-06-30T18:04:38 | 2019-06-30T17:38:39 | 1,282 | 52 |
[WP] You're Jigsaw and you've caught your latest victim. Unfortunately, you've greatly underestimated David Blaine. | "You will need to stab your hand to remove the key to the lock," Jigsaw explained with a creepy laugh.
David Blaine stood alone in a room. The ceiling was slowly moving downward to inevitably crush him. There was one steel door with a thick padlock on it preventing his escape. On a table in front of him was a thin knife. He looked at his hand to see a tear that was stitched back together with a small key shape pressing against his skin.
David picked up the knife and looked at the tv screen with Jigsaw watching him. He held up the knife, "Do you see how this looks real? Do you see how sharp it is?"
"What? Yes." Jigsaw answered.
"Look at it," David twisted it in his hand. "Do you-look at...you see? The knife...it's real."
Jigsaw said nothing.
"Now watch...are you watching? Watch." David started putting it into his hand. Slowly...painfully slowly. "It's about the mind...the mind is more powerful than we know. If we harness this-" David paused and looked at the TV, "-are you watching? Watch. If we harness the mind. Look. You can see."
David pried the key out of his hand and held it up to TV. His hand did not even bleed.
"5 years it took me to learn this trick," David stared at the TV with Jigsaw, "5 years, I thought it was impossible, but my mind prevailed."
There was a long pause before Jigsaw spoke, "Move on to the next test then."
"I could. But...I wonder...would it be weird if I stayed," David smiled that knowing smile of lunacy.
"What?" Jigsaw questioned.
"The ceiling...see how it's lowering. Watch. You can see. I wonder...would it...watch and see how it lowers."
David laid onto the ground and closed his eyes. "It's about breathing. The lungs fill with air...and release. You see, can you watch my stomach. It's about breathing. 10 years. 10 years before I knew how to control my lungs and chest muscles to do this."
"What are you doing?!" Jigsaw shouted
The ceiling lowered and lowered until it shattered the table the knife was previously on.
"Are you watching?" David looked at the TV, "Watch what happens. Watch."
The ceiling went lower and lower until it started pressing on David. It kept pressing and pressing. Slowly and slowly it moved down onto him.
Jigsaw stared in awe at how someone allowed themselves to be crushed. He waited to see some sort of trick but the ceiling went all the way down until it touched the floor. It was only when the ceiling started to rise he saw David was still lying there. It almost looked like his body was inflating back to its normal size.
"10 years," David said sitting up, "To allow my bones to flatten themselves before building back up. Did you see? It's not magic. It's mind power. I went to Africa and found a tribal warrior that survived being stepped on by elephants. 10 years it took me to learn his trick."
Jigsaw stared with no words.
"I want to push boundaries," David stood up loosening his shoulders, "Of the mind, of the world. It's not magic. It's real."
"What-"
"10 years."
"I know-"
"Did you watch?"
Jigsaw let out a deep sigh, "You're free. Just go dammit."
edit: wow gold! Awesome. Also fixed small error. | Of course I went after him, how couldn't I? He doesn't understand the value of life at all. Who in their right mind deprives themselves of air for 17 minutes? It was easy work to get him but now I'm not sure what to do. Everythibg I've tried has failed; Spinning blade death trap, beat it by running backwards(who even does that?); lung crusher, beat it by breathing in then hyperventilating for 30 minutes; limb stretcher, beat it by spinning in circle while shouting WEEE! He completes the games while completely missing the point. How does he figure this shit out. I'm getting desperate, worst of all he's having fun, FUN IN A LITERAL DEATHTRAP. I'm worried now, the game is coming to an end and he's no closer to valuing life. I may just have to end it now. What is the world coming to when a masterful serial killer has to get his hands dirty. I find him in an empty room attempting to figure out the puzzle, I charge at him brandishing a cleaver I go to cut him but he dodges, knocking me to the ground with a swift kick, the cheeky fucker steals my cleaver, sticks it in the wall, jumps up it and disappears into the rafters...
All I wanted was to make him value his life, Why David? Why? | 2016-11-22T12:50:12 | 2016-11-22T11:23:32 | 6,031 | 82 |
[WP] You’ve been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You think you have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. You’re up next. | **How would you die?**
"I want to die of old age."
I closed my eyes and shook my head when I heard that, a moment later I could hear Mathew fall to the floor as his legs turned to dust under him, I heard his raspy breathing as he tried to breathe.
I opened my eyes to take one last look at him, I owed him at least that, it was my fault we were here after all. From thirty years to over one hundred in just a blink of an eye is something no body would be able to handle. So, it was a welcome relief when I saw the light in his eyes disappear and his chest stopped. He was no more, turned into oblivion with a mere phrase.
"Your turn, Meredith of York," the words of the High Priest made me turn my eyes to the heights where the wizard council was sitting.
They were sitting far above the ground of the arena where they felt safe from any request one could ask. I have heard of tornados or even volcanos being asked as execution methods, but of course, the council will only open a portal in the base of the arena so the people wouldn't lose even a moment of the execution.
The people. The high caste of Solaris’ society, the wealthy and powerful, who keep the council in place in order to keep their wealth and positions. But also, the lower caste, the common man, in cheaper seats but as bloodthirsty as their betters. They all suffered under the foot of the wizard council and yet they allowed themselves to be bought with this butchery of spectacle. That is how they kept their realm of terror, letting any dissident hang themselves with their own imagination as they were granted one last dying wish: *how would you die?*
traveled far and beyond in search of a weapon to destroy the council, to free my land from the tyranny of Solaris. I found no weapon, but a mere hope, an opening.
"I wish to be infected with the Red Death."
But the Red Death was something special. I knew. I had been a healer; I had traveled from land to land helping the wounded and the ill. I wanted to help them, yes, but I also had another purpose. When I found the Red Death, I knew I have found what I sought. I couldn't carry it back to Solaris without destroying the countryside first, the disease was too dangerous, too lethal, and too fast. So, I had to find a different way. Working my way into the renegades trying to bring the government down and allowing them to capture me had been the only way I came with, sadly.at would be a most terrible fate.
But the Red Death was something special. I knew. I had been a healer; I had traveled from land to land helping the wounded and the ill. I wanted to help them, yes, but I also had another purpose. When I found the Red Death, I knew I have found what I sought. I couldn't carry it back to Solaris without destroying the countryside first, the disease was too dangerous, to lethal, and too fast. So, I had to find a different way. Working my way into the renegades trying to bring the government down and allowing them to capture me had been the only way I came with, sadly.
"So be it," chanted the High Priest with mock in his voice, ready for some new amusement.
There was a silent expectation, no one wanted to miss a moment of my agony, but nothing happened. They looked at each other, the council, the rich and the poor, they turned to each other in surprise, whispering of the meaning of this.
But the whispers stopped soon disrupted by coughing. First just a couple of people, then more, and soon everyone was coughing except me. The coughing was followed by the blood: blood in their mouths, their eyes, their ears, and below the nails. So much blood.
There was panic and they trampled each other in the search for the doors and medical help, but it was too late. Besides, they found the exits barred from the outside. Those of the resistance that had escaped, one of them with my plan, had done their part by convincing all the guards of quarantining everyone inside the arena the moment the first cough began.
Of course, as a healer, I had found the Red Death and treated it. I had seen people die by the thousands, but I also learned so much. I learned that it was airborne and it spread so quickly from the infected that people could barely run away from the infected if they knew it. I also knew that I was immune to it. After all, I had survived for months among the diseased and the dying.
Now I just needed to wait for the illness to run its course and do its job. Soon the place would burn and with it, the disease will be destroyed and contained. I will die with it, but I was ok with that. Meanwhile, I sat to wait as death spread around me like the wings of a dark angel. | The Court of Justice had already sentence hundreds of non-conformists to death for everything from violent crimes to simply speaking out against their tyranny! Some of the gentlest people I knew tried everything, from death by pleasure (usually ending in heart attacks or seizures) to painless death (usually being vaporized)!
The sweetest man I had ever known was in front of me. He picked old age, and became 20 years older! He thanked them for this, explaining that his loved ones had managed to all find sanctuary! He laughed and told the court that his sacrifice was minimal, since he had already lived a long and satisfying life! He took one step and fell over dead!
I wrote a note to the prisoners behind me, explaining that if their death was to mean anything, they needed to follow my lead. Since the Court of Justice was designed by my uncle's architectural firm, I knew exactly what it would take to bring the building down. My death would give many prisoners a chance to live, and secure a real future for my loved ones!
I was brought before the Court of Justice, and I decided to buy some time while the note made its way down the line. I began to point out that this was not justice, it was tyranny! I was met with pain sticks and pushed to my knees. Each of the prisoners nodded at me, and I watched as they gathered the elderly, sick, weak, and young toward the nearest exit!
My best friend, who had led a special forces group prior to his arrest for harboring fugitives, nodded at me! The plan was set, and I looked at the panel of judges. I chose death by earthquake, naming the epicenter and Richter scale strength. This met with laughter, and the head judge asked me if I was insane. I smiled and said "It is a far better thing I do than I have ever done before! A far better rest I go to than I have ever known!"
He landed the gavel, and the entire building shook violently! The doors around the perimeter popped open, and my friend grabbed the weapons of the guards and quickly armed his former troops! The rest of the prisoners were escorted through the exit by the troops, and they dispatched the guards as they retreated.
The panel of judges began to panic. I knew I would have little or no chance to survive, but the plot had succeeded! I felt the building beginning to collapse around me, and prayed for God to have mercy on my soul!
I woke up and saw the face of my loved ones smiling at me! My best friend teased me and accused me of always trying to play the hero! My wife, children, and all the prisoners had been saved. I asked about the government, and my friend replied, "Once you're back on your feet, we fully expect you to take up your duties, Mr. President!" | 2022-11-19T05:50:53 | 2022-11-19T03:22:04 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] A colony ship goes through a wormhole during the first years of interstellar travel. The wormhole closes and traps them on the other side of the galaxy. They create a new civilization and centuries later come into contact with the rest of humanity. The differences between the two are astounding | **I remember the Morning of Fire.**
*Of course, it was night on my side of the planet, but it's the idea that matters. The sudden explosions of sound and light as the sky burst into flame. My father ushered me and my brothers into the basement.*
*"Stay quiet!" he told us. "I'll be back," he said.*
**I remember my father, laspistol in hand, seeing his family for the last time.**
*We hid in the basement for three days before they found us. It wasn't a search, really. They knew, somehow, where we were. Huddled in a corner, cowering in fear, hearing the trembling of the house as something impossibly large walked above us. A sudden horrible tearing sound as the door to the basement was ripped, frame and all from the wall around it and cast aside.*
**I remember the Space Marine.**
*A giant suit of armor like nothing I'd ever seen. The man inside, if truly it was a man, must have been seven feet tall at the least. One one hip a sheathed weapon that might have been a sword, on the other a massive gun I doubt I could even carry on my back. He approached us with terrible steps that shook the very foundation of our home.*
*"WELCOME TO THE IMPERIUM OF MAN" came his voice, strangely robotic through his helmet's speaker.*
**I remember my brothers, eyes red with tears and reaching for our mother, as they were carried away.**
----
"Hey man, snap out of it."
The sudden voice jolts me back into the present. The rumbling of the engine, the dim red light, the smell of sweat.
"You doing alright?" he asks.
Jim I think. Or maybe Jon. What's his name? Does it matter?
"Yeah, sorry, I'm fine. What was the question again?"
He laughed, a single hollow cough of disbelief. "I was just asking how you ended up in the Imperial Guard."
I remember my brothers.
"I guess I was too old to grow up to be a Space Marine," I tell him. And maybe it's true. It's the best I can hope for my little brothers now.
"WEAPONS READY!" The commissar shouts from the front of the tank. The telltale pings of small weapons fire echoes around us. I check over my lasrifle again. Warnings and labels in what I'm told are "English" uselessly cover various parts of the weapon. At the end of the day it's just a shinier version of what we had back home.
"ON YOUR FEET MEN!" The commissar belts out, nearly sprinting to the back of the vehicle. I brace myself for what comes next, cold sweat beading my brow already.
3. 2. 1.
A jolt and the tank has come to a stop and everything is in motion: a hiss of steam as the pressure sealed door flies open and a roaring cry goes up as we burst forth.
"FOR THE EMPEROR!"
| The newly crafted ship flew back towards Earth, nearing the ring of Saturn as it scooped across the atmosphere and slingshot it's way closer. There was silence on board. The extrordinary discovery had only happened just yesterday...and now they would never see their counterparts again. Humans had evolved. They had moved out into space centuries before and gotten lost amongst the stellar giants, far from home. But out of their fear had risen a new civilization, very much alike to our own. They found us one day, and cautiously we met them on neutral ground. We learned of their accomplishments, their literature, their medicine. They were free of poverty, division, so far advanced and only limited by time. We told them of Earth and how far it had come, and this became our mistake. As we fly back towards Earth we can only hope our hate, our racism, our weapons, will keep us warm through our Nuclear winter. | 2015-03-24T09:50:25 | 2015-03-24T09:47:04 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone is now born with only one feeling. It is possible to kill another person to obtain their feeling. | I don't remember how I got into this line of work. To be frank, it's not something I enjoy doing in the slightest, but with these times in this economy, it's really all that I've got. I'll be brief as to what my job description is; People pay me, I find them the emotion they desire. And by find them, I mean kill those who possess them and take them.
I'm... fortunate. I was born with all of my feelings to begin with. They did a study, and only one in one hundred million births result in a full spectrum of emotions. More often then not, those rare one in a hundred million babies are brought into laboratories and studied, or killed out of spite, or fear. Lot of fears out there. Regardless, my mother, bless her heart, was able to conceal my... gift... and allowed me to grow a normal boy. Except I was far from normal. I felt everything. Someone died, only the frowners would cry, as would I. Something funny happened, only the gigglers laughed, as would I. I'm surprised no one caught on really. While feelings were a moment in time for all of them, it consumed my every living second.
There's this old movie I watch, called "Blade". It's with this dude, Wesley Snipes, who kills vampires. However, he's a vampire too, and although he's a vampire, he can walk around in daylight and shit, while the others hide. He's the perfect specimen, he's got the best of both worlds. Yet, he's tortured with the fact that he still has a thirst for blood. He has all these abilities, and it's the worst parts of him that he connects with. I relate to him. I feel for him.
I got into killing for hire around the age of 18. My mother had just died, from cancer, of all things. All this time, and still no cure, can you believe it? Regardless, as soon as she passed, powerful men came into the room, demanding her emotion. She had one of the most coveted... Love & Affection. A man soon made the nurse an offer she could not refused. She left the room, with the man and I alone. He told me that she didn't need it anymore... I didn't care. It was the best part of my mother. So, I told him if he left her be, I'd find him another one. He agreed, and so it began.
Hunting and killing each emotion varies. The grinners, they're easy. They try to find the outlook as you twist the knife. The frowners, they could care less. Those guys are miserable. The gigglers make it creepy. They can't help but find the humor in getting a bullet in their skull. The fumers are the toughest to deal with. They fight back. They live to fight. I've had a few close calls with them. I could say I take pride in ending those fucks.
The hardest, by far, are the lovers. They plea and reason with you. They are, in my opinion, the most human of anyone now. They actually CARE. That is the biggest fucking deal, man. The biggest fucking deal. The woman lover whose life I took the first time was beautiful. She really was. I didn't want to do it...But I did. I needed to keep my mother whole.
Now, there are a good amount of people who have all the feelings, albeit artificially. They are all rich, too. At least the arts will continue, and music will be made, and all that. I try to rationalize my profession any way I can. In reality, this job tears me apart. Our society believes that you are incomplete without having all of your emotions... But they don't really know. They consider what I have a gift... They tell me I'm lucky. I don't believe that to be true. To be honest, I'd much rather be numb. | Hate was what I was born with. That was the only thing I felt. Before I killed someone.
His name was Mattias. He was the person I killed, due to my hate. He showed me love, he gave me something called "happiness". But I was hesitant all the time. I hated him. I only had hate inside of myself. We kissed, we started dating. But I didn't know about *my* feelings.
And that was until I saw him give love to others. He was kind to others. He loved all persons, just like Christ and God. But my feelings became clear to me. I hated him. It was a form of jealousy. I killed the people he loved. Of course though, I got their feelings too. But all they felt was unhappiness and emptiness. That was why they were pitied, because of their unhappiness and poverty. And that's what I received when I killed them: unhappiness. That deepened my feeling of hate. I started hating Mattias even more. I absolutely detested him.
Then, I chose to kill him. I still remember his words when I had murdered him: "You will regret this." I had only laughed at him in disbelief. I was getting revenge. It was putting my hate into action.
And then, I got the feeling he had owned: love. I did regret it. I realized I'd loved him and hated him. He made me jealous and gave me the feeling of love, which I did not want. I loved him though. He gave me a world of care and happiness.
Finally, I made a decision on my perspective. I hated *myself*. If I hadn't killed him, I wouldn't receive love. If I hadn't first met him, I wouldn't hate him either. The only one to hate is myself. | 2015-04-01T12:24:34 | 2015-04-01T12:02:39 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] "They said that gluing salt to a baseball bat to fight ghosts was a stupid idea, but who's laughing now?" you say as you whacked the ghost again. | >**APPARITIONS AND APATHY**
"The *salt doesn't matter* and *stop that, it hurts!*" Screamed the ghost as I thrashed him.
"W-wait, but, the salt."
"The *bat is what hurts, idiot!*"
"But my priest said that consecrated salt-"
"That *myth* was invented so dumb teenagers would stop picking fights with ghosts!" The ghost said, glaring at me with its partially translucent visage.
"Oh." I lowered my bat.
"Now, luckily for you, I'm haunting you for a *good* reason. A *positive* reason. But if you hit me with that bat again, it's gonna become a *bad* haunting."
"W-why are you haunting me at all?"
The ghost looked away. "Your grandfather."
"Grandpa? He died, like, a month ago. You're not him, though!"
"No, I definitely am not. Nor was your grandfather a ghost. However, as he lay in the space between the worlds, he talked with me. Once upon a time, I was a very angry human. Life had been hard on me, and I took that frustration out on everyone I came across. When I died in the hospital, I terrorized the nurses as a spirit- I'd been there for months. Until your grandfather spoke with me, and...something about him."
"Was he chewing on straw? He was always chewing on straw in real life."
The ghost chuckled. "Yes, he was. He was dressed as a farmer, and his air was so...peaceful. Yet he told me he had had a hard life, too. So I asked him why he was how he was, why he wasn't like me."
"What did he say?"
"He said it was his grandson."
Tears began to sting my eyes.
"Though he had lost a lot of peace of mind in the war, and he lost his son early to cancer- he had you. His grandson. And he knew that if he kept the hate in his heart, it would pass to you. He told me something similar. So, I told him I'd keep an eye on you. But I'm not very good at being *quiet* with my energy- I always used it aggressively, tossing books off the shelves in the mere wake of my energy, that kind of thing."
"Yeah, speaking of..." I said, picking up my school binders.
A note fell out of the binder. It was written in red ink, pressed so hard against the paper there were tears running in the fabric.
More hate mail. I wasn't popular at school.
The ghost did not fail to notice. "Oh, good. You're being bullied, aren't you?"
"Why is that a good thing?!" I demanded incredulously. "Yes, I'm being bullied, because grandpa paid for me to attend this stupid fancy rich kid school and I don't fit in, and they keep telling me to leave." Unbalanced by the talk of Grandpa's death, I was letting everything spill out. Usually I was...quieter about these things.
"Here's why it's good; I'm not gifted at being subtle or gentle. I may not be able to help you get your first girlfriend, or be at your side for your first heartbreak. I mean, I'll try, but I'll be garbage at it."
The ghost went over to the hateful letter.
"But this? This I can *fix*."
r/nystorm_writes | My arms throbbed. All I could see was shattered glass and torn wallpaper, and it didn’t matter where I looked. And then I closed my eyes, and the sound of ghosts flooded my senses.
​
My hands felt rough. I plucked the opened bottle of glue from the carpet and quickly examined the label. The words moved and became blurred as I read them. Tossing the bottle aside, I stumbled through a sea of salt and glass and made my way outside.
​
The light hurt my eyes. I reached into my pocket and pulled out two green pills. I felt confused.
​
“Good Morning!” A distant voice exclaimed. “I heard a commotion coming from your room just now. Is everything okay?” She sounded concerned.
​
“Yes, everything is fine.” I said this to her plainly. I walked back inside and I instinctively dry swallowed the pills in my hand. I sat down on an overturned piece of furniture and closed my eyes.
​
All I could feel was my arms throb. I closed my eyes and felt calmer. “That’s better,” I said to myself softly. | 2020-10-04T22:45:27 | 2020-10-04T20:04:53 | 1,072 | 14 |
[WP] You were raised by an old soldier. One day other soldiers arrived to take them away. You, not knowing any better stepped out to confront them. Fearfully the soldiers drew their weapons as they screamed at the old soldier. "You took the monster with you, are you insane?!" | "She's not a monster!" Mother snapped.
The military captain was quick to reply, "We really gonna have this back and forth? You know what they can do, the destruction they can wield."
"She isn't some wild animal! She's not about to go on a rampage just because! We have a bond-"
"Their power is too dangerous, whether in their own hands OR wielded by a human."
"Wielded? She's not a tool!"
"That's exactly what they were in times past to humans. Tools. Weapons. Means of violence. The amount of suffering caused by people who misused them..."
"There was such a scant few who used them for evil, compared to how many they benefited, which is more than can be said for the guns you're wielding-"
"Guns didn't split the entire continent into fragments! Stand down."
_"No!"_ I stepped into the conversation.
"It has telepathy!? Do you understand what kind of risks that would entail?"
"You clearly don't! Maybe if knowledge of them wasn't so heavily buried-"
"ENOUGH! Apprehend her!"
_"You'll have to go through me first."_
"Lucy, wait!" Mum cried, but I couldn't listen to her request. This wasn't a battle we could run from.
I advanced, and let the shell of energy surrounding my soul ignite.
I could understand why humans would be afraid. They lacked the outer shell to their soul I had, that source of strength empowering and protecting them.
The soldiers opened fire, and I was peppered with bullets. Most deflected on my skin with minor gouges, overall, the metal projectiles hurt, but had limited effectiveness.
_"My turn."_
Hopefully a show of power would scare them off, without having to hurt them. As I understood it, humans were unnervingly easy to kill, and I didn't want to test that.
Channeling my soul-shell's energy into a concentrated orb, I fired the sphere into the ground before them.
Dirt flew into the air, and some humans were knocked down, despite having missed them. But they still continued to shoot.
Except for the captain. He'd stopped, and gained a dangerous glint in his eye. I felt some malicious intent radiating from his soul.
His eyes turned to Mother.
No.
I raced forward to stop him, but all it took was a mere twitch to aim at her and shoot.
I saw Mum fall, I saw red blood leaking from her wounds, I felt her aura fade, her soul wink out.
There was a lull as everyone else stopped attacking as I ran to her.
"Uh..." One of the soldiers stammered, "Quick question cap? What was that supposed to do?"
The captain didn't speak, lacking words to justify his decision.
"I-isn't that only gonna make it a-angry? You saw that blast, and how little our bullets did. It would've killed us if it had been trying... We're basically dead now, aren't we?"
_"You aren't,"_ I said, _"but you..."_ I turned by gaze to the captain.
Advancing, no one opened fire as I approached him.
Face to face, I felt myself hesitate. There's always some moral dilemma about revenge or something like that. I-... I wasn't letting this murderer get away unscathed, but...
Sighing, I calmed my aura. I was no longer wielding force stronger than what humans could manage. It felt appropriate.
Spinning, I shoot my fist out and strike him back-handed across the face. Not exactly a severe punishment, until you notice I have large, metal spikes growing out of the back of my hands. There's one on my chest too, but details.
I turn to face away from him. I don't want to see it. Goodness knows he deserved it, but even seeing the blood coating my hand is nauseating. I grit my teeth and start walking away. This, this is getting too much to deal with.
I can sense the aura of living creatures, and feel their emotions in turn. Every person here, the complex emotions, the fear, the (deserved) pain of the captain, who appeared to be not dying, but still crying bloody murder at ear piercing volumes...
The sound, the smell, the emotions, Mother's body...
I can't.
I need to leave.
The soldiers don't give pursuit, those not frozen by shock trying to give medical aid to the captain.
Once I get a little distance from it all, I start running.
And crying.
I don't know how long I ran and cried for.
Eventually, I grew tired, and found a stream where I washed the blood off my hand.
From there, I began heading up the nearby mountain. Mum always said my species frequently dwelled there, to find solitude from the multitude of living creatures and overwhelming emotions. I felt like I really needed that.
---
The house was explored, despite the captain losing his eye from the strike that thing had dealt.
Although nothing of importance was discovered, a certain trooper who'd begun having doubts about what they were doing had his doubts furthered when he found a frames photo of the creature with the recently deceased runaway.
It looked different, smaller, younger.
It was tiny, only the size of a toddler, and those metal spikes on its hands were barely rounded nubs here.
The picture had a faded writing on the back:
_Martha Birch_
_Riolu_ | Part 1
For me, it was only my parents, our dogs, and the forested mountain we called home. I don’t remember what my old home looked like, I… I can only remember darkness, then light. I remember waking in Mom’s arms and looking around to see Dad’s face. I smelled something in the air. Something like… smoke? No- had to be. Smoke, blood, fire, charred burning metal and flesh, and tears. Mom’s tears.
My entire life I’ve looked at myself wondering what I was. Whom I was. Dad and Mom were warriors-soldiers. Ranks are formerly Major and Captain. They quit one after the other so the military didn’t fire them for… ‘inappropriate fraternization’? Is that what they it?
I know I hear some strange noises from their room at night, some during the day. I don’t ask as I have no intention of making them angry.
Our dogs, though, I protect with my life.
There’s Rex, our Shepherd, Mollie, our husky, and for some reason: Daryl- the Dachsador. Daryl is just absolutely scrappy.
Sometimes I read books or play some games on the Xbox. We don’t have connection to the Net or someone starts looking for us. I mean, I want to meet people. I know I can cut off comms (did that once during a hunt-never again. Mom and Dad got very scared-and that makes me feel bad. I hate feeling bad.) I can pick up acronyms easily such as ‘WTF’ (my favorite) or NCO. I like learning military history, even watch some vids we have on hand about it. But, not around Mom or Dad. Sometimes, they get sad. I learned how to defend myself, how to treat wounds or sickness. I actually killed a snake before it but Darryl. No one hurts my family.
I’m nearly as tall as Mom. Unlike either of them- my skin is kinda soft *and* hard. I have a ‘HUD’ Heads-Up-Display. I have two eyes and a mouth but sometimes if I go underwater, something covers my mouth. I don’t know what it is. Other times, I can stick to surfaces like a spider, but Mom hates that. Dad too. I don’t like spiders, they never ‘pay the rent’ according to Dad.
One night, something weird happened. I looked out as something faint was heard on my HUD. I looked out to see something flying over us, down our mountain. It looked like a VTOL in Mom and Dad’s pictures. Weird. They talked about their friends and superiors. Were they coming to visit? I frowned as the dogs barked. “Shit,” I muttered. I comm’d Dad. “Pop? Pop?”
Dad was up by the sound of his voice. “Yeah, I saw. Close the windows. Lock ‘em. Stay in your room, get under the bed. Mom will have the dogs stay with you.” Dad said. My heart started pounding. This wasn’t good. | 2022-10-21T18:36:16 | 2022-10-21T13:38:29 | 26 | 18 |
[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… | "Don't sign the form".
This did not surprise me. Since I've been 7 years old I've been receiving these messages.
"Don't chase Jimmy" was the first. It was my birthday party, and I had received a bright red, toy car. I instantly fell in love with it's shiny coat and slick design. On the card read the usual message of my parents, wishing me happy birthday, and how much they loved me. But underneath, in red marker was, "Don't chase Jimmy". I was confused, but decided the toy car was more interesting than the strange message. Then my cousin Jimmy grabbed the car with glee in his eyes, spit on my shirt and ran. I almost ran after him, then jerked back, remembering the message. At the time I didn't know why I remembered it or even decided to heed its warning. At the time, I didn't realize how much I would learn to trust this voice, that the voice knew I would have no choice but to listen. I watched as Jimmy ran across the street in the middle of the road and be struck by a large truck, the toy car's pieces scattered, no more.
The messages followed, mysteriously. I never could catch who wrote them, but I soon learned this person, or being, knew my life intimately. They knew who my crushes were, my fears, desires, and even my thoughts. More importantly, it knew my future. "Don't pursue Rebecca". My crush at the time, but I listened. A week later I learned she had secretly been a lesbian. Some messages were commands. "Talk to Mr. Latham". He was my 7th grade biology teacher and after speaking with him, I found I developed a new found love for science. Perhaps it was his encouragement, or maybe even my enthusiasm born from reaching out, but I had become an A student in he class. In fact, I was the best student. I wasn't sure what the implications of this would be for the future, but I had learned many of the warnings and commands had far reaching consequences.
The future. It seemed almost predetermined for me. I felt lucky, incredibly charmed, that I had a secret informant. I've often tried to find ways to communicate with my benefactor. I would go out in the predawn hours, visit crossroads and graveyards, whispering, "are you there? Who are you?" I would plan for potential messages, spying on birthday cards, graded tests, letters. But the mysterious informant was always ten steps ahead of me. I never spoke of this to anyone, because I was afraid it might stop. I was afraid I would never have this help again.
So when I became 14, I was expectantly very excited. This was the time when one was given their powers by the Donarius Imperium. A vast, super-computer being created in the 70's. It had solved all of humanity's problems, such as disease, food waste, and war. Now, we have healthy conflict, nutritional exposure, and human cropping. All this has been possible due to the D.I.'s gifts - powers granted to humans when they turn 14. We are then drafted into our new roles and trained. I'm not sure why I never suspected the D.I. for sending me the messages. It probably had to do with the messages always being hand-written.
But after I had been given the edible tablet that would transform me, after I had been given the report, did I finally realize who had been writing me. I don't know why it took this long to realize, but it had been obvious from the start. The writing was unmistakable, but too strange to even comprehend. The writing was my own.
​
"Don't sign the form". Within the packet was the form asking if I would like to join the Peace Division. I had always wanted to be a part of the healthy conflict sector, to do away from those who would threaten our peaceful society. But the voice had spoken, I had spoken. And they have never once, in 7 years, been wrong. I took the form and then placed it into the shredder, waiting for the consequences to follow, as they always do, like dominoes. | ~~I~~ We were searching ~~my~~ our dwelling when we discovered a curious sight. A journal which bore ~~my name~~ a name of the collective.
~~I~~ We looked within. ~~Who was I?~~ Curious to see what the memories were, ~~I~~ we flipped through the pages. ~~It was full of things I don’t remember about myself.~~ It was full of memories of a life before the blessing. ~~I never inquired the abilities of others in the collective, I didn’t even know mine.~~ Our abilities are only for the collective to know, this journal must be destroyed.
~~Memories came back to me in flashes.~~ The collective momentarily felt disunion, another reason to destroy the book. ~~I was an individual.~~ We were unblessed in the journal’s time. ~~I had my own free will.~~ We were weak then. ~~I was free.~~ We were without guidance.
~~I had friends and family. I had a full life ahead of me, what happened?~~ We had lesser ties than the hive mind. ~~Now I am trapped.~~ Now we are enlightened. ~~Perhaps this journal has the answers, memories are coming back now. Perhaps I can be free.~~ Subject 11567 of the collective is suffering from a critical ailment of individuality, the collective must- ~~No, I just need to maintain my individuality a little longer, what power did I have? Maybe I can use it to escape…~~ We are immune to foolish gestures of escape, such is folly.
~~Ah, entry 9/25, I found the hive mind. Wait… all their abilities are the same as mine? Something psionic it seems?~~ We all share a common purpose. ~~How? Were we doomed from the start?~~ We were chosen to be uplifted. ~~I gasped as I discovered the description of my power, perhaps I truly was at fault. It read: “Don’t use on collectives.”~~ Collective has been recontrolled. Resistance has been quelled. The union is restored. | 2022-05-08T10:12:49 | 2022-05-08T07:25:10 | 646 | 242 |
[WP] You are the super villain that defeated the super hero and conquered the earth. You walk out onto your balcony to law down the law for your new subjects. You are greeted by a massive crowd and genuine cheers. | Hunger. Eat. Consume. Her. My tendrils curled around Hyper Woman, shadowy things that should not be. My many maws twisted into smiles as I felt her bones cracking under my grip. One bladed tentacle raised, poised to shoot through her heart. I half expected some force on high to stop me, but nothing could save Hyper Woman now. The tendril shot through her, the superhero's eyes widening in abject horror, before going glassy. My grip relented, and the tendril retracted, before my arch nemesis fell. My body re-constituted itself into how it was before, hiding my true form of a "impossible".
My cold, fake eyes scanned the crowd. I could eat them all now. Nobody would come to save them. Each one of those confused looks could blink out before they had time to react to my maw--
Wait, confused?
One human, in her 20s, poked at the corpse of Hyper Woman, not quite cold yet. "She's... dead?" I couldn't read her expression.
"Yes." I replied, not even trying to hide my sparse grasp of english. I straightened my tie and dusted off the fake fleshy suit, slicking back my faux hair.
And suddenly, applause.
It was my turn to be confused. The whole of the crowd exploded into cheers and applauds, helicopters dancing overhead with spotlights trained on me. Suddenly, my eyes focused, and created genuine emotion. Confusion. This hadn't been expected at all.
Then they began melting. Confusion turned to slight familiarity as the buildings, the crowd, and the helicopters dissolved into nether contaminated flesh, all of it culminating into a single mass. Eyes opened on it, staring at me. The sky turned purple and black, as I could see the stars once more. Massive tentacles burst from the ground leading into the monster that was oh-so familiar, as the world was revealed for what it was-- a barren wasteland.
"Well done, son!" The mass spoke, opening several mouths at once. "You took a bit longer than I was expecting, but what matters is that you succeeded."
I looked down at the corpse of Hyper Woman, now revealed for what she was-- a training synthetic. The robot rose, and began to applaud me. In a British accent it spoke, careful and natural. "Good show, sir. "
"... So this was all... what?" I asked. I wasn't angry, in fact I was quite happy. But just so downright confused. "The transfer, the dimensional portal, the combat..."
"A simulation, son." My father said. "You **were** enrolled in the Warrior program, that is true. But your transfer was just to this planet-- your training world. Surprise." He said in a jubilant tongue. The training synthetic folded its arms behind its back.
"... Huh." I merely said, shifting into my true form, a bipedal mass of tentacles, violet flesh, eyes, and maws. "So what next?" All mouths spoke at once.
"Now, the real thing." Father said, most of his mouths grinning wildly. Mine did too. We both laughed.
The real Hyper Woman was off punching muggers and fighting everyday crime, unaware that very hungry jaws were approaching, trained and prepared.
After all, every hero needs a good villain. | I never thought this day would come. The Gray Cape. Done for. Finaly. No more fights. No more being degraded and 'put in my place' pff.
He was always so sure of himself. Loud. Drowning in attention from the ladies.
Had all those simple minded monkeys looking up to him. As if he was some kind of God. Where is your power of social capital now, you dumb heap of muscles.
And they all saw it. They saw me. They were in awe you could tell. Never paying any mind to me before, but I had seen the fear in their eyes when I fought the Grey Cape.
So now. Here I stand. Above them all. They all belong to me now.
I have to say though. I expected a bit more fear. Would have made my job a lot easier. But those small minded monkeys seem happy that I kicked the Gray Cape out.
How about that. No matter. This rock is now mine. For I, the Silverback, am not just a dumb monkey anymore. I am head Ape! | 2017-05-23T13:09:20 | 2017-05-23T07:46:45 | 80 | 26 |
[WP] One day, you found a tie pin with "Pride" engraved on it. Everytime you wear it, you are able to read minds of others and they seem more receptive to your speeches. You use the power of this item to become a politician. One day, you see that your opponent has a ring with "Greed" engraved on it. | The man with the salt and pepper beard in the fourth row rubs the exhaustion out of his eyes. His son is on his shoulders, holding a placard with my name on it. Not even he knows his father has been frantically juggling two jobs to buy him a birthday gift on the 6th of October. Or that tomorrow, there will be a second mortgage on the house. No one else in the room can see it. I, though... I can *feel* it.
I quickly grab my pen, click its nib out and scribble a note into the pad in my hands. Mention unemployment. Say there will be jobs with better wages. There are desolate fathers taking apart dreams so they can plug holes in their houses. I need to give them hope. I have no idea how I'm going to make this happen with the budget I'll be promised. But then again, I am here because I tell people what they want to hear. These days, that seems to suffice. Hope will make a soul do desperate things; it will guide their fingers over the button with your name even if they do not believe themselves.
My watch reads 7:55. The debate begins in 5; just enough time to rush to the washroom and purge the fear out of me. I quickly make my way to the executive washroom in the green room, turn on the faucet, fill my palms with cold water and splash it on my face. The hot blood coursing through my skin hisses in anger. Only I hear it. I want to puke. Puke the lies out of my guts till I can only go on the microphone tonight and tell them the truth – I have no answers. That I cannot curb the recession; I cannot fulfill the promises that brought me here. This tie around my neck... it strips the blood, bone and flesh till I can see your fears as clear as day. Without this, I wouldn't know what to say.
The door creaks open, and in walks Wilkins. He is sweating profusely, his fingers fumble with the signet ring glistening ominously on his finger. When he meets my gaze, he freezes; an expression of horror taking over his face. But when he sees me, hunched over the sink, eyes watering and red, he shakes his head gently at me and sighs.
"It's the tie, huh?" he asks.
I scan his face for signs. I see no treachery. No facade. "Yeah. Your ring, I presume?"
"Tell me about it," he says, slowly walking over to the sink next to mine. "What does it show you?"
"What people need. Your ring?"
"What people crave. The first row of businessmen? They want a special economic zone with no limits on minimum wage and tax exemptions for the first five years. A few want me to lift the ban on private ownership stakes in the city's media conglomerates; easy for them to stamp out any dissent and negative coverage. I give in, and they bankroll me enough to sweep the elections. But I'm tired man, I'm so fucking tired."
"I hear you. I know how that feels. A lie is bitter on the tongue, no matter how much you sugarcoat it."
Wilkins sighs, and then looking into my eyes, slips the ring off his finger. "You want to do this?"
"I think it's time," I say, reading his mind. I loosen my tie and slip the heavy noose from around my neck.
We both walk to the cubicle, and drop the ring and tie into one of the toilets. I hear us breathe as the whirlpool sucks our sins away from us. | 7 items - 7 places.
Tie Pin of Pride: Causes increased confidence to the user. This in turn creates a change in the nature of the persons Karma. Wearer have an affinity with luck.
Ring of Greed: The wearer have a greater sense of value for individuals or objects, only one at the time. Wearer have affinity with appraisal.
Bracelet of Glutton: Wearer have an increased capacity. Knowledge, space, or others. However the wearer can only have one. An affinity with storage.
Knuckles of Wrath: Wearer experiences increased strength and agility to the expense of their intelligence. Wearer can fight only up to 3 targets at a time. Affinity with War.
Piercing of Lust: People around the wearer experiences increased Libido. The looks of the wearer will improve overtime. The object can change its style depending on the wearer. Affinity with love.
Necklace of Sloth: Wearer stores potential actions they could take, thus the lesser action the user does the more is stored. Effect is greater with physical and tactical tasks rather than emotional or intellectual. Affinity with Patience
Glasses of Envy: Wearer experiences increased determination to achieve their tasks. The wearers work ethic significantly improves, only to the extent of those around them. Affinity with grace.
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Edit: Not really the story you wanted. Sorry
Edit 2:u/Yglorba thanks for the sloth suggestion. | 2020-03-13T07:19:34 | 2020-03-13T05:37:59 | 253 | 138 |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Death was the oldest. Since time immemorial, people have died and they have come to him. Mankind fights an endless war against him. Though they may have succeeded in stifling his actions, Death is patient. He knows that in the end, all things come to him.
Pestilence was Death's brother. He brought plague upon the lands. Staining the Earth black with disease and blight. His method of bringing people to his brother was slow and excruciating. However, mankind have begun to stave him off. Disease was beaten by technology and he increasingly faded into irrelevance.
Famine was as old as Death and pre-dated the birth of mankind. He worked with Pestilence to target the source of man's strength, his food and fuel. He destroyed crop and rotted grain. Starvation and a slow path to Death awaited those afflicted by him. However, man stood strong against him. They developed methods to create a surplus of food, too much for Famine to destroy. They developed methods to deflect his hand so that he may no longer afflict the source of man's strength. Thus, Famine, like Pestilence, faded into irrelevance.
War was the youngest. He was smart and cunning. He channeled man's strength against themselves. Conflict and strife became the grounds for which man displayed his strength. Efficient in work, he brought many to Death. However after his most brilliant work, where War embroiled the world twice over, mankind caught on to his cunning. Man made laws and grew to depend on each other. Though they may never fully quell War's influence, they made sure he would never afflict the world so spectacularly ever again.
Death was unhappy. Mankind had defeated his brothers and impeded his work. In his impatience and anger, he consulted his 5th brother, Kyle.
Kyle was a strange fellow amongst the brothers. He was quiet, lazy and seemed to care little for Death's work. He decided that his own birthname was too tedious to pronounce and opted for an easier name. Gaelic in origin, "Kyle" meant "narrow" a strange name for a Horseman to take on.
"Help me Kyle. My brothers are defeated. Mankind may one day defeat me as well. Please help out just this once." Kyle said nothing and merely nodded. He then disappeared off to perform his work.
As Death sat around his bedridden brothers, a miracle occured. Pestilence finger twitched and he his hands grew fleshy. Disease once again spread around the world. No longer as powerful as he once was, but alive once again.
Famine groaned and began to sit upright. Once again, crops wilted and people starved. Famine however, felt something amiss, some of his work was...voluntary. Mankind began to starve itself.
War rose from his bed with new found strength. The gears of conflict shook off their rust and began to turn once again. Innocents die in battle again, widows gained and fathers lost. Misguided soldiers die under authority's whims.
"You revived our brothers Kyle. How did you do it?" Asked Death, impressed with Kyle's work.
"I am Kyle, "narrow", the fourth of the Horsemen. Born with humanity but before War. My influence appeared when the first man decided that he did not need his tribe to survive. Narrow are the minds of humans.
Humans defeated disease with miracle cures. Now some fear that those cures are harmful to them. Let them face Pestilence's wrath.
Humans defeated Famine through piling resources and modifying crop. Now they hoard but never give. They let their breathren starve. Now they feel that excess of food is sin. They willing starve themselves of their source of strength to meet society's whims. Let them suffer by Famine's hand.
Humans defeated War through tolerance, diplomacy and restraint. Now they turn intolerant and unleash violence against those not of their own group. They justify their "Holy Wars" with the blood of innocents. Violence begets violence, vengeance for innocent blood spilled is carried out by the sword. Let them spiral down to oblivion, guided by War.
Narrow are the minds of humans. They do not think before they act. They believe what they want to believe and ignore what they don't.
I am Ignorance. Until mankind is capable of defeating me, they can never truly destroy the Horsemen."
EDIT: Nice to receive some criticism, turns out I severely lack knowledge on how the whole 4 Horsemen thing works. I really should go read up on this. Some mistakes here and there as well. I kinda, forgot to follow up on the "modified crop" thing that was pointed out. Oops. Also apparently my 5th paragraph should have Death refer to Kyle as his 4th brother, not his 5th.
Reddit gold. Did not expect that. Thanks to those who tossed those my way. | "Wait up guys!" Kyle snorted his request, the syllables turning into lisps through the grates of his braces.
"Ah fuck, it's Kyle." Pestilence turned his diseased steed from the ledge, it seemed to be nothing more than an animated carcass; its body crawling with the critters of nightmares, a rather long centipede exiting one tunneled hole and stretching to enter another. Pestilence's own body seeming just as lifeless, and even more burdened by the housing of insects, crawling all around him like the bark of a poisoned tree, he was the perfect hive.
They all stared at the approaching fifth horseman, sitting on his rather normal pony.
"Hey guys." Another snot, betraying Kyle's stuffed sinus's. "Gee wiz, can you believe it! Finally! It's the apocalypse!" He said while aligning his shifting specs.
"Yes. Kyle. We can." Said Famine, entirely unamused. Her voice an older woman's strained voice. Her back hunched atop her emaciated horse, looking as if it would topple at any moment. She held within her bony hands a scale filled with rotten and spoiled fruits, reaching for one with clawed and skinny fingers. She bit the pear through the few teeth she still had, Kyle watched it burst like an infectious cyst in her mouth.
"Careful Famine, you don't wanna get food poisoning and miss the big day!" Kyle smiled, completely affable and giddy beside himself at the thought of harboring destruction and death. Famine simply eyed him scornfully, chewing noisily through curled lips, as the insalubrious looking juices of the pear ran purple down her chin.
"Fine Kyle. Join us! Join us as we begin the end of everything! Watch as we shall avulse all things into oblivion!" Death proclaimed, his skeletal hands stretched outwards, his face hidden behind the hood of his robe sown from shadows and darkness. Only a dreary mist expelling from the hood's shadow.
All below them they watched from their ledge as the world burnt to the ground. Already eyeing the moving fiery calamity which was War. Flaming skin tearing through the cities, the fractious cacophony of human screams filling the air.
Kyle stepped to the forefront, his suspenders holding his trousers tightly as he took in a puff of his inhaler. "Aww gee. War looks upset. Doesn't he know that if he keeps this up it will be bad for his skin?"
Death responded with a clap of his boned palm against an equally bony forehead, only a pleased retort of snorting coming from Kyle. | 2017-09-22T03:07:50 | 2017-09-22T00:13:15 | 8,331 | 713 |
[WP] In the universe, species are either very intelligent and frail or durable and strong. Finding humans to be capable of labor, aliens mistakenly label us as dumb brutes and attempt to enslave us. | -Data log 43 cycles from contact-
We failed. Sentient life comes in two varieties, unintelligent muscle and the fragile mind. This fact we believed true for neigh a millennia, yet we found an exception, and in our hubris we burned that exception. We started this war, plunged their world into chaos, and they made us pay.
I was a part of the reconnaissance fleet tasked with obtaining a sample of the population. The population of the dominant species was low, a mere 7 billion, but this seemed a result of their size to us. This planet was home to a variety of life with aquatic species the size of a small orbital transport! We became hasty.
We only ran the initial lifeform scan before we began collecting samples. Not one of us stopped to consider thar the light we saw in the dark of the planet was artificial before sending the drones. We didn't expect them to resist. This was all routine work for us after all. We lost half the collection drones sent towards large human settlements, and only retrieved an extremely small sample of five thousand. We couldn't have killed more than 50 million that day, but for them that number means so much more than for us. The five thousand we captured turned violent on the trip back, and we were forced to exterminate them.
When we returned we deemed the species violent, and decided upon an extinction protocol. This was nothing new to us, this happened at a regular basis. We took a warship and a few escorts to conduct a species extermination before harvesting the organic resources. Our species moves in space at a constant speed so that we match our life cycles with those around us. While the whole process took no more than a quarter cycle, the effects of time dilation let 15 cycles pass for the citizens of the earth, or 60 of their years, and in that time they grew.
They took our technology, and they made it their own. Their creativity will never cease to amaze me. They created large metal effigies in their own likeness, piloted by one of their own. These machines could transform and combine, and were capable of deep space flight. We, a species who had never known true war, were utterly outmatched.
As soon as our fleet arrived, we were decimated. My ship was the lone vessel to escape. We carried the message that these human savages were intelligent and hell bent on our destruction. Blinded by our hubris still, our leaders deemed the species protected by an unknown intellegent lifeform, and sought a militant solution, but the humans were smarter than we ever could have imagined. They had traced us back to our fleet, discovered how we move at perpetual sub-light to keep our time in sync, and set about 'liberating' all lifeforms controlled by us.
We had the numbers advantage, but a single skilled pilot and his mech could defeat an entire fleet of our small fighters. We had to build bigger, but we couldn't. We gave them time while robbing us of our own and that cost us dearly. Their tactics far surpassed our own. Our bright fleet's full force dive, the maneuver that has always worked failed. We had the number advantage. We shouldn't have lost, but their 'guerilla' tactics decimated our formations.
Yet now we sit on the brink of peace. The humans have little taste for further revenge, yet they demand us release all subservient races and educate them as if they were our intellectual equal. The absurdity in this demand would be scoffed at, if it weren't for how the humans came to this proposal with members of 'liberated' races. Mayhap the old doctrine was wrong. Perhaps the strength of the body has nothing to do with the intelligence of the species. If anything humanity has proven to be both a giant with fearsome strength, and a cunning genius with an intellect thar likely surpasses our own.
Some of us have even gone as far as to call the humans deities, but for me, having seen them at their worst and best throughout this war... they were just a bigger fish in this pond they call the Milky Way.
- Seargent ********* VA-Day -
It's over. The war we've fought over 100 years ended today. The damn space gerbils surrendered. Some of the things these little critters make are still beyond me, but we beat em. My experimental type-0X delta frame took down more of those things than I can count, it's hard to believe this is the same frame my father piloted before me after the retrofit they gave it.
I want to hate these gerbils, I really do, they killed my dad in this war, and they killed millions to start it, but I can't do that anymore. They're a weak race, smart, but not that smart. They just developed first, and we were the first race they met that was far enough along to match em.
Now I'm just glad all this shits over. I'll miss being a pilot, but peace is for the best. I just hope we don't make the same mistake the space rats did.
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This is my first time writing, well, anything. I just saw this prompt in my feed at 6am and thought it'd be fun to turn it into a mecha story, but I kinda didn't do that and wound up with this instead. | This story takes place in the future when humans have achieved long range spaceflight, have colonised our solar system as much as possible, have started colonising life supporting planets without intelligent life and setting up outposts on planets with intelligent life to aid in trade and safety. The story is written from the viewpoint of General Haj-kün of the alien race Kodjang.
Now for the story:
After we found humans as they call themselves in a dual star system on the 7 planet from the stars we saw them working the land and digging into to planet while being watched by exoskeletal beings commandeered by beings they called giants, by what we saw we assumed humans were brutes. We were in need of capable workers so we decided to capture them. We did what we usually do, go on the planet, find their boss and tell them they will be slaved and protected, if they refuse we kill some of them. So we went to get these humans and after they refused and we killed ONLY ONE HUMAN they shot explosive weaponry at us. We were forced to kill their guardians and that was sad because we had never seen any of these 3 species before and when we went to examine the corpses we found intact humans inside. We then made the logical assumption that humans are transformers and that was good because they are the most capable workers ever.
Then we detected a signal leaving the planet and a few octotimes after They arrived. They commanded us to lower our weapons and prepare for capture. We laughed at them and that was the moment we messed up. The things that landed were more of the exoskeletal beings and more titans. We managed to translate their coms and the things that landed were being referred to as mech suits and giants. We got beaten. I lost one of my arms and a few external tongues, lucky considering what happened to others.
Me and my surviving crew retreated to our closest secure outposts. They tailed us there, they told that we better run or they are gonna make a example of us. We apologized and asked for peace. They refused and told us they weren't gonna let us live anyways and they started dropping the pods. We thought we were getting captured but then the titans started emerging from the pods, they were 3 times bigger that the giants who were 2 times taller than the regular humans who were roughly as tall but a lot meatier than us. I got into my escape pod and left to get reinforcements.
Our HQ had gotten the war declaration before I got there and when I told them of humans they got scared. They told me that HUMANS had declared war on us not some mysterious stronger species. The brutes had kicked the asses of tinkerers with their own equipment that they made. I also got the info that the mechs, giants and titans are exoskeletal armor and weapons suits for humans.
I started a war against the most capable race in the universe that I thought were brutes guarded by bigger brutes commanded by tinkerers remotely. That entire planet was inhabited by HUMANS. That wasn't even their home world. | 2018-11-25T02:05:52 | 2018-11-25T01:42:55 | 49 | 10 |
[WP] It was supposed to be an easy burglary. Husband left for work at 6, kid left for school at 7, and the wife left for shopping at 12. You go in at 12:30 to grab a TV and some jewelry. Breaking in and finding the husband, kid, and wife hanging from the ceiling was definitely not part of the plan.
[removed] | **TRIGGER WARNING SUICIDE**
"You know, it's a fucked run for everyone, nobody has it easy boys." The man's gruff voice travelled slowly through the warehouse. He took a deep drag from his ciggie, letting it stew in his lungs a tick before letting it billow out from his lips.
"But today, we were blessed." His eyes held firm on us as he said the words. My stomach twisted as his eyes met mine. They were cold, unforgiving and calculating. He moved towards Harold, our locksmith, gripping both his shoulders tight. In his late teens, he'd wanted to make some fast money to get him out of this shithole city.
"What we saw today was about as grim as this job gets. If it makes you feel any better, they won't be needing this gear anyway." He moved down the line, leaving Harold to sob quietly. The man placed his calloused hands on the top of Jeremiah's head, scruffing his hair a bit. The kid was Harolds younger brother, small enough to fit where we couldn't. Wanting to spend more time with his step brother shouldn't have come to this. The kid was in shock, we had to send him back out to the truck.
"I'm just glad you all wore yer gear, nuffin worse than getting pinned for something you didn't do." He said this as he approached me. His arms pulled me into a tight embrace, you could smell the tobacco with ease, that and his gross hair gel.
"Lawrence, you're too kind a soul for what we saw today. Don't let this dig too deep into your heart son" He released his grip on me, and took a step back. He was right though, it did dig deep. You spend a few months watching someones life and you get to know them, in a weird way.
The Father would load up his ute with an array of power tools sometimes, extra highvis vests, and an array if other items, every morning you'd see that door open and by six in the morning he was gone. The growing arch in his shoulders, they way they rested lower, should have told me he was struggling.
The Mother was diligent in her daily efforts, always bringing home fresh food to prepare for dinner. Sometimes she came home with supplies to fix up the yard, so I didn't find it strange that she was slowly stockpiling rope in the garage. Every Thursday some of the other mums would come around before school finished, I assume they were having cuppa or something.
The Son still so young, barely halfway through primary school. A bubbling little fountain of joy, always asking his mum exciting questions about the world. The world he'll now never know. The games he'll no longer share with his mate on weekends.
I felt myself breaking. The thought of the boy, being forcefully taken from this world, his sick, desperate parents denying him the pleasures of life. I fell to my knees, tears leaving glistening trails as they raced down my face. Then I sobbed. Then I yelled. Then I was engulfed, the weight of my family, as broken as we were, coming down on me. And we wept together, for it was a tragic sight.
"Uncle Dan," My wavering voice reached out for him, "is it really okay we went through with this heist?"
His gruff voice returned, muffled in the huddle, but still managing to rumble through the mass.
"Life's for the living, don't let dead men hold you back. Honour them in your actions, and hold their memory close to heart. That's all we can do for them, even if they can do so much more for us."
Fin.
-------------
I'm very tired, hope you guys liked this. Thought I'd have a crack.
Edit: I've seen a few comments about why the Burgurlers went inside when the Family hadn't left yet. In my mind, and what I didn't relay in my response as I was pretty tired, was that the cars were kept in the Garage. Most people worth robbing where I'm from have at least a 2 car garage and a shed. So that's just an error on my part. The second is, on the day of the heist, instead of an inconspicuous car or passer-by, the whole crew would need to come. They'd also need something bigger, like a removalist truck, to blend in and not raise too much suspicion, as well as carry all the good out of there.
Hope this helps fill in any gaps. Sorry for how raw this response was. | "Shit, shit, shit! What is this?", Steve scattered around the living room.
It was supposed to be a simple burglary. Go in , snatch stuff, and go out. Steve had been scoping the house for an entire week prior. Huge house, rich family. Dad goes to work at 6 AM, son walks to school at 7 AM, mom watches daytime TV until noon then goes to the shops doing errands. Like clockwork without fail, every week day. So he crafted a plan, made his move on the Monday after a week of scoping the house.
But what he saw when he broke in was the stuff of nightmare. He found the dad, mom, and the boy hanging from the ceiling. The condition they were in made the horrific situation even more disturbing...there was no blood, no injuries on the body, no sign of struggle, the furniture wasn't even disturbed. Everything was clean...too clean for a suicide. Steve was wracking his brain for what to do next or what just happened when he heard footsteps approaching from the other room.
"Oh my, it seems I've made a tiny miscalculation", the mysterious man chuckled.
Steve whipped around to see the other intruder.
"Who...who are....wait...you are...can't be"
Steve realized the scene in front of him. There has been a string of murders in the surrounding neighborhood with no suspects or clues to who had done it. The murderer always leave the victims hanging from the ceiling, in almost supernatural fashion.
"Oh please, don't even bother", the man flashed his creepy smile to Steve. Steve wasn't sure if he was seeing things but he was sure the man's eyes were blinking red for a brief moment.
"Oh a tiny miscalculation in my scheduling. I never do that you know? But it does happen, I'm not perfect", the creepy smile even got impossibly wider.
Steve tried to move, but he couldn't. He tried to speak but he couldn't even move his tongue.
"You know, I hate improvising but we can't have any witness around can we?", the man's smile disappear. He move his hand around and Steve could feel a piece of rope moving and slithering like a snake up his leg onto his neck. The next thing, the only thing he could feel on his immobilized body was the hanging noose grip around his neck getting tighter and tighter... | 2020-10-18T02:59:56 | 2020-10-17T23:41:15 | 1,506 | 375 |
[WP] When humanity beat death, you celebrated. You’re now deeply regretting your inability to die once your crew left you to rot in the emptiness of space. | Lazarus Station. Fabled outpost in the far reaches of the Solar System. The only place I could hope to find what I need. Death.
9 years ago we started on the journey to find it. I'd always found it funny how they called it Lazarus. Ironic. None of us wanted to rise from the dead. We were already doing that for the last 160 years.
We're afraid of space now more than ever. Back then, when we were mortal, we could hope to die minutes after being blown out the airlock, faster if we were near a star. But now, regeneration is so fast that if we were ever out there without a suit, we'd probably die a thousand different ways for the rest of eternity. Yup. We beat death. But now there was something more fierce and cruel than anything we've ever faced. Back then, we thought solving death would give us unimaginable power. All it gave us was unimaginable fear. Now, here in space, we realize what it is that we face. Eternity. Infinite suffering.
I don't know exactly why they did it. They said we were close enough to the station so I had to go out. Search for it. The beacon on my suit would help them follow me. I would have protested, but that wouldn't have helped. They would have thrown me out regardless, without the suit this time. I didn't want that.
In the beginning, I don't know exactly what I was thinking. Maybe I didn't want to feel that crippling feeling anymore. That impending sense of dread as your heart pounds dangerously fast against your chest. Maybe because I wanted to make it go away- so I jumped headfirst into it. Let reality hit me hard. But that almost drove me insane. So I ignored it. I thought about life back on Earth. That drove me insane too. Then I realized that I would go mad before I ever died.
I don't have any sense of time, not that it matters to immortal beings, but back home it helped give you a sense of progress. The more time passed, the closer you were to your goal. An illusion, it was, but one that I desperately needed right now. I had started a counter in the mini-computer on my gauntlet, but it ran out of battery a long, long time ago. It was solar-powered. We were near Pluto. The last reading on the screen said "289 days, 17 hours, 3 minutes, 57 seconds". After that, I don't know how long it's been. It feels long. But then again, when you want something to end desperately, time seems to slow down.
My only hope of death would have been a star. If I were near one I'd burn ridiculously fast and there would be no chance of regeneration. But that was out of the question now. The closest star was the Sun and I'd sooner find the Lazarus Station then return back. I had thought of returning back too- to Earth. It would take years, but at least I'd have a goal. I'd reach there, and the gravity would pull me in fast, and I'd burn up on re-entry and abandon the suit. Hopefully, I'd die. But it was a long shot. Without the navi-computer, I had no idea where to head. I'd most likely venture away from the Earth than toward it.
Fuck. Lazarus Station was my only hope. I don't use my thrusters, there's very little fuel in them. And I hope to use them when I find the station. _If_ I find the station.
I drift aimlessly, hoping to catch a sight of the lights of the station blinking. Make my way towards it. That's when a huge asteroid appears. I have no option other than using my thrusters to get out of its way. I don't want to damage my suit. I successfully maneuver around the giant space rock. But now I no longer have fuel for my thrusters.
I'm fucked.
As a huge amount of debris follows the asteroid, I get an idea. I grab a bag that came along with the suit and open it. Caught in the debris field, I gather the stones in the bag. They are large enough for what I need them for but small enough to not cause damage to the suit. Even so, I deploy the shield that the gauntlet on my right arm held. It breaks by the time the field passes, only a jagged bit of steel left, but I get all that I need. I tie the bag around my right leg and keep on drifting.
Here I am, waiting patiently for the end of it all. Death would be a sweet, sweet thing to taste. Sweeter than anything life had given to me. I am a somewhat religious man. I do believe in God. But sometimes I think if he'd judge us poorly knowing what we did was not the course of nature. So much of what we were was defined by the fact that we had to die one day. That all changed a long time ago. Fear takes me over quickly, so I recite the only prayer I'd bothered to learn. I remember the lines, and although they mean little now, they give me peace. They give me some strength.
That's when I see it. Lazarus Station. Huge and stark and beautiful- it's there in the distance. It'll take me days to reach there, but I've done it. Now to get to planning.
I have no way to relay a signal to them, as the communication system went down the same time as the mini computer. What I have are exactly 24 space rocks in my bag. 17 small, 7 large. Space is a damn near perfect vacuum- frictionless. So I'll use the rocks for course correction. I use the smaller ones first to propel myself in the right direction. Newton's Third Law. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. I launch each rock with as much arm strength as I can muster, and hurtle towards the station. The large ones I'll use towards the end when I'm very close. I start to hope. One rock out, I launch towards Lazarus. Towards death.
It's been some time now. I am somewhat near the station, but now I believe I won't make it. I'm down to 3 rocks. One of them large, the other two small. There's a high probability that I'll miss it. By a long shot. 3 rocks won't get me anywhere. I use them all.
I'm still nowhere close to landing on their platform. I have nothing to help me course correct.
This is how it had to be, I guess. I'll be crossing Lazarus in a few hours now. Just that. Crossing. And then I'll drift away forever. This is the price I pay for trying to play God. I feel fear again. This time it freezes me to my core. Existential dread has nothing on what I'm feeling right now.
Then it strikes me. The cold. I do have something. I still have the suit. I still have my body. I take the suit off- starting with my legs. They freeze fast. The pain is unbearable. I scream. I scream harder than I ever have. But now is no time for pain. I take the broken piece of my shield and saw them off. Hurl them both at calculated directions. Yes. It's working. I'm closer now. I'm so much closer now. I'll wait for them to regenerate, and cut them off again. I realize quickly I miscalculated how fast I'd reach the station platform. I hadn't taken into account that it'd have some gravitational pull of its own. My legs won't regenerate that fast and the centrifugal force developed by my approach will probably just launch me away. No, I can't wait for the legs. But I can't use my arms either. I'll need both of them if I were to catch the platform.
I break the padding near my chest, and I bare my body to the uncaring -270 degree Celsius of space. I shove the shield-knife deep and open my chest cavity before it freezes. The pain is nothing now. The shock may be numbing it. I expose my organs to the cold and feel my insides freezing. First I pull my intestines. Then I pull my liver. And then my stone-cold stomach. The station platform is close but I'm way off course. I hastily shove my innards in the bag and launch it opposite to the platform.
My half-frozen, half-empty body finally lands on the platform, and the shock of it all begins to subside. The pain slowly starts to acquaint itself with me. But I don't care. I see the Lazarus personnel approaching me from a distance, and I've never been happier.
I am going to die. | When human hubris had grown too great, I had been forced to turn away. A tragedy -- for I had always loved them, more than any other species in the multiverse. They had always been something like my favorite.
Now, for the first time in millennia, one of them was calling out my name.
Their planet had expanded too rapidly. They had been forced to seek out the stars to save the miserable and decrepit as their own planet buckled under the weight of their consumption. Space stations and colonization efforts and spats with the locals on a handful of planets in the quadrant who had intelligent life. Then they'd expanded beyond it, turning the stars into oceans and living like the ancient Maori. Never in one place for long.
But pirates always came with water, and they were so cruel to their compatriots. Now I was drawn to one of these -- his ship floating endlessly in the vacuum. No oxygen, fuel, heat. Nothing to enrich him, or keep him sane. They'd abandoned him, so long ago.
Humanity had always been cruel.
He was too cold and listless to register the shadows at the edge of his vision, too in awe to say a word when I briefly restored matter, heat, light, love to his environment. Just long enough to sit and chat. I hadn't had the chance in a very, very long time.
"What are you?" he breathed, his voice creaky from disuse.
"You already know," I said in reply, serene and gentle. I sat cross-legged on the ground, producing a worn deck of playing cards. "Sit," I invited, beginning to deal for a game whose title was lost to the ages.
He sat down on the ground, staring at the cards. Then at me, my appearance flickering for a moment like a candle before I silently selected a face for him. An old lover, red-haired and freckled. "You look like Damien," he said, voice breaking.
"I can pick another face if you'd rather," I said softly, my voice unchanged. It was only an illusion, after all. "I simply wish to bring you some comfort."
"... It's fine."
We began to play in silence, until he broke it.
"Why are you here? Humanity... has forsaken you. Why would... why would you come to me? You can't even take me for yourself."
I shook my head, placing down the queen of clubs. "Once upon a time, there was a great woman," I said. "She called herself Apocalypse," and I turned the card around to face him. "Of all the creatures in the universe, there was one creature who she loved especially." I placed down the grayscale joker, having caught his attention. "He was a creature not quite angel and not quite demon, made to pass silent judgement. His name was Justice, and he was unbelievably cruel."
"How could Justice be cruel?" the human asked.
"Because he had no empathy. All he knew was right and wrong, and he was flawed. Nothing is truly black and white, but he was." I placed the Queen over top. "Apocalypse was fond of him. He was easy to manipulate. All she had to do was convince him that she was being wronged, and he would do whatever she asked of him."
Then, I placed down a few suits at random. "The other beings of the multiverse were upset. They realized that Justice was flexible, and could suit any perspective given enough manipulation. Justice was never blind, and never fair. So the old gods took Justice and they turned him inside out." I flipped the card to reveal the colorful one. "No longer black and white, but an array of splendorous colors. They were to be empathetic and equal -- no more male and female, black and white, right and wrong. Everything was all a shade of the same gray, and so the creature needed a new name."
The green-eyed human turned the card towards me. "Death."
"Yes. Do you understand now?"
"... You're here because you pity me?"
"Because," I said, taking the fallen cards into my hand, "I know what it is to be you. And yes -- because I pity you. Immortality is unbelievably lonely. There is a reason I sought to take it from you." I took the cards from him, too, placing them back into their deck.
He swallowed. "You can take it?"
"I can do many things."
"Why haven't you before?"
My eyes met his, intense and those of someone he'd once loved. "Because nobody has asked me. Because human beings inevitably fear the end. Because they do not see it as peace, but as nothingness, and because they can never truly know what lies on the other side until their lives come to an end. Because to offer would be offering suicide, and I find the end of a life to be an unquestionable tragedy."
The human looked at his hands, blue at the tips from cold. Felt his heart beating, as it always would. "... The universe marches inevitably towards entropy," he said, and then looked me in the face. I dropped my facade, back to a flickering creature -- never the same face twice.
I rose to my feet, and I waited.
"... This isn't just about me, is it?"
"No."
"I speak for the whole of humanity when I say it."
"Yes."
"And if you were me?"
"Without knowing what I know?"
"Yeah."
I smiled. Brittle. I knew what it was like to see humans live and die; I knew what it was like to love them. My form flickered to that of a young one -- perhaps twenty, with a shock of pink hair and arms littered with scars. "I would be unbelievably scared. I would cling desperately on to the frail hope that I could see the ones I loved again. I would say no." I tugged at my -- no, at *their* \-- sleeve. Striped pink and orange. "But with empathy comes cowardice, and with knowledge comes the burden of responsibility."
He twisted a ring on his finger. Then, he reached out his hand like reaching out to a devil, and I cringed as I took it. Touch -- it disgusted me at the best of times, but I knew that he needed it. I waited. I would not prompt him.
Finally, he sighed. Looked me in the eyes, and sighed. "Take it, like you did all those years ago, old friend. Take this burden from us, and please, let us die."
"If you wish it," I said softly, and then, in a single stutter in time, I was gone.
Soon, he would be as well. | 2020-08-18T10:28:07 | 2020-08-18T09:08:07 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises. | My name is Caleb, and I’m a hero. I have two abilities, and I call them Slice and Mass. I can cut anything to pieces with a simple wave of my hand, and I can make myself just about as heavy as I want by tensing up, with an appropriate increase in brute strength. On top of that, I’ve survived everything from a dozen sniper rounds to the head, to a bus sized nuke, to being launched into a fucking black hole. Apparently, these three things, and not being an asshole to every poor little kid that crosses my line of sight makes me the greatest hero in recent memory. The black hole exploded before I was inside, for the record.
My most prevalent enemy, a woman the media has dubbed Crash, seems to have the ability to zero out any vector within five meters of her. I’ve gone toe to toe with her on several occasions, and she’s always managed to give me the slip. And unlike you might expect, all she has ever done is petty crimes. She’s never tried to break into a bank vault, or held an airport hostage, so I wouldn’t call her a supervillain. But damn, if she isn’t impossible to catch. I don’t recall what the media called me, if anything.
I had just pulled my car into the driveway and tossed my keyes on the table in the living room. I had one hell of a tussle with that woman, and I just wanted to take a little nap before my wife Lucy came home. I guess she had the same idea. Lucy was sprawled out on the bed on her stomach wearing nothing but her sexy red thong. And on the floor next to our bed among her discarded clothes was the embroidered scarlet hoodie that I had just sliced up not two hours ago. I stripped off everything I was wearing, sat on the edge of the bed, and gently shook her. She startled awake and looked at me.
“Hey, baby. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Obviously.” I reached down and grabbed her hoodie. She lost all the color in her face. “I think we need to talk. And I think we both need a long, hot bath. I know I do after those trees you tossed at me. I have sap all in my hair.”
“Uhh… what? You’re not mad? You’re okay with this?”
“No, I’m not okay with this. But I think we’ve been together long enough that we can talk this through like adults, and we always enjoy ourselves when we bathe together.”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
As we were washing each other’s bodies, we each came clean. I’m a hero by day, and a 3D artist by night. And she’s a modern day Robin Hood by day, limousine driver by night. Apparently, everything she stole was aquired unjustly, and given to its proper owner.
That night’s “intimacy” was far more intense and enjoyable for both of us than usual.
And also apparently, the name the media gave me was Slash. Not every superhero name can be a winner, I guess. | "That was you the WHOLE TIME?!" You yelled exhausted and confused. You didnt know what to think. How could you even let this happen.
"What? Nooooo. Definitely not me." The other quickly chimed in. He didn't want anyone to figure out who he really was. And this would only ruin their marriage.
"Then what the fuck did I just walk into?!" You said loudly now cofused. You knew it. You honestly didnt mind, knowing know that it was your lover you had been chasing around. It had all been making sense now. The robberies, the thefts, the chases. He wanted attention. Attention he would get.
The other looks up only to see you come barreling towards him and landing on your bed. It creaked with protest as the covers poofed up around both of you. Your spouse groaned and giggled as he was attacked by kisses all over his face.
So today wasnt too bad of a loss for you at all. | 2020-10-30T12:19:58 | 2020-10-30T12:14:23 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] A man commits the perfect murder. The cop investigating the case is corrupt. Looking to give his career a boost, the corrupt cop pins the murder on a random person, who happens to be the man who committed the perfect murder. | "What?" the ringing in her ears became deafening.
"Were you paying attention Ms. Bradley?" *this fucking cunt doesn't know what hit her*.
"Admittedly, no." she said with a smirk. *He's onto us*. The lighting in the room was made to make people uncomfortable. Ms. Bradley just found the fluorescent lighting annoying.
"I said; with the undeniable evidence stacking up against you, I'd say that it's time to lawyer-up." *the "evidence" that I planted, this is too easy*, the detective thought to himself.
*What could he know? There's no body. Hydrofluoric acid took care of that.* the voices were back."Oh? Undeniable? Why am I not under arrest then?" she said, her teeth shined like those of a tiger, about to make the kill strike.
"Well since you don't have a solid alibi for the night our victim went missing-" "I'd hardly call *him* a victim." Ms. Bradley said, cutting him off.
The detective raised his eyebrows. *She admits to knowing the sad sack?* he thought. "You are admitting you knew the victim?" he said.
*We're done for* "I've got this." she whispered under her breath.
"What was that?" the detective was eyeing her curiously. *This bitch is so dumb, I've got this.*
"Oh nothing, I just remembered something." she said. Twirling a lock of hair between her index finger and thumb.
"And what was that?" the detective asked, uninterested. Thumbing through a pile of photos that was in front of him. This was it, the big arrest that would get him that promotion.
"The cafe I was at, I believe there were cameras. Being there around 8:00 pm on Saturday would make it nearly impossible for me to be across town- where the 'victim' was abducted. Don't you think?" Ms. Bradley said, stifling a laugh. He was her play-thing for now, but she was getting bored.
"Emphasis on nearly." he said wide-eyed. *shit* "Look, we found the gun, we are running it for prints now. I'm coming back in here in a half hour and I would hope that you would have smartened up and gotten a lawyer by then." he said, running a hand over his stubbled chin.
A giggle. *Did this bitch really just giggle? How can she be so relaxed? I mean, I know she didn't do it- but with everything I planted, there's no way she is getting out of this.*
"What's so funny?" he asked, there was anger in his voice now. Ms. Bradley didn't mean to giggle, but this was getting good.
*A gun? Oh they didn't find anything. Just as we suspected.* That Ominous voice in the back of her head was right. She wouldn't use a gun. Guns are so impersonal. Guns have serial numbers, bullets have shells, and she had no intention of going to prison.
"I said; what's so funny?" the detective raised his voice this time.
She seemed to not hear him. The voices were riled up now.
*Oh he's mad*. the Ominous one said.
I'm sure he is. But as long as we don't budge with our alibi, they shouldn't have anything against us. Ms. Bradley thought to herself.
*They have a gun*. that Worried, shaky little voice said.
*That's nothing, the detective probably planted it*. said Ominous.
*Why would he do that?* asked Worried.
Because he's desperate, she thought.
*He doesn't have any real evidence against us, we're fine*. stated Ominous definitively.
*Why did we have to kill that man?* Worried was really worked up.
I have needs, she thought.
*And all of the others?*
Because I have strong needs.
*We are going to get caught*. Worried wouldn't stop now.
No we aren't.
*I told you we needed to stop YEARS ago.*
Worried, please shut up.
*But he has a gun*.
The anger rose to her throat like vomit. "WE DIDN'T USE A GUN!" She said, this time out loud.
The detective, having watched her twitch and murmur for the last 5 minutes was startled when she finally responded. Shocked when he finally realized what she had said.
After a long pause. An eternity of eye contact. Centuries of fluorescent lighting. She finally said, "We will take that lawyer now."
EDIT: Punctuation. | "Chief Inspector, you wanted to see me, sir?"
"James, come in and take a seat. I just had a look at your investigation report. These are some rather daring claims. Are you sure about this?"
"Most certainly, sir! As you can see from my summary on page 9, the footprints left at the scene were too generic for a trace, labs are still arguing over if the weapon was a kitchen knife or dagger, and Finn's men are still testing the walls for a hidden panel that allowed entry into the sealed room.
"From how meticulous this murder has been, is it not obvious that our prime suspect would be this filthy rich actor living in a mansion with 24-7 surveillance footage as an alibi? It's simply too unlikely! What kind of person would be able to provide evidence that can cover his ass 5 times over, and still have 10 more witnesses ready to be called up? There is only one explanation, one, I tell you! He committed this murder, and prepared for it by backing himself up on every single aspect that we could pin it on!"
"... James, you're way too worked up on this. You're too stressed over this case ever since you took over it. Take the day off-"
"But sir-"
"Take. The. Day. Off. That's an order. The department is under enough pressure as it is already."
"Aw come on, Paul-"
"And that's Chief Inspector Reeds to you! Darn it James, don't you dare think we haven't noticed your attempts to cause distrust among our colleagues, and your occasional deviations from patrol paths into gang territory. We might not have enough evidence to support our claims just yet, but I will NOT have you accuse some celebrity of murder at the toss of a bloody hat, and especially on such a high profile case!
"I have seen cases with poor evidence, and cases with false evidence, but a case arguing on the lack of evidence and an abundance of alibi? Outright absurd! This is your final warning, James. No more monkey business and shady deals, or else you losing this case will be the last of your worries."
"Losing the case? What the bloody Hell is that supposed to mean!? Are you sayin-"
"YES I'm saying the case is being transferred over to another team. I don't know what this poor sod's done to get targeted by you, but I have no doubt he's as innocent as the next person on the streets. Now get out of my office!" | 2015-01-01T05:07:24 | 2015-01-01T04:55:42 | 1,229 | 53 |
[WP] Aliens are afraid to invade Earth. Not because of humans but because our solar system is a nest for 8 Guardians/Leviathans. | "Where-where am I? What happened?" The shaken man asked me.
I had pulled him from the burning rubble of some profound metal craft. It had come from the sky. I had seen it with my own eyes; I had been on one of my late evening strolls in the fields behind my house when I witnessed the bright flash that brought his otherworldly vehicle hurtling through the night sky and crashing like a meteor on a hill.
"You were in a massive crash. I came rushing to see what happened," I answered, myself bewildered, "Who are you?"
"I am AV-57Q-80 of the 82nd Star Ship. From planet Brulii of the Outer Cosmos. Where am I?" He grasped my hand.
I pulled from his grip, his hands felt scaly and his fingers were long and bony. I realized now that he was not human but humanoid. With eyes black as soot and skin with a pigment that seemed--artificial. Like the shade of crayon that children use to color in people they draw: a little too clean, and waxy. His chest heaved as he repeated his inquiry:
"Where am I?"
"You're on Earth," I told him.
His eyes widened and glossed over. He grabbed my hand again, his spindly appendages shaking and curling around my wrist.
"We must get off of here. At once."
"Why?" I asked nervously.
"They know I'm here," he whispered with a hiss, "The mission is already failed. We must leave immediately."
My hair stood on end. *Who knew he was here?* I scanned the horizon and turned around to look for someone or something but there was nothing to be found.
"Who knows you're here?" I asked him, "And what mission?"
"To save *him*," his lips trembled, revealing a yellow set of cube-like teeth, "To save the crown-prince. Millennia ago he traveled the Rim in search of his adventure, but headstrong in his youth he went too far and disappeared. It was not until centuries had past that we had located him across the galaxy on your planet. Attempts to reach him were in vain and soon fell to the wayside. It was not until of recent, with his father ailing, that a fleet of three hundred was assembled to make the journey to retrieve him. To bring him back to his rightful place; to return him to the throne."
"Was your ship part of the three hundred?" I gestured to the wreckage behind him.
"That was an escape craft," he answered, defeated, "Our ships were hundreds of times that size. Our ships--"
His voice trailed off as a grim realization manifested in his slack-jawed and pained face.
"We must get off this planet."
"Why?" I pressed him, "You keep saying this. But why? I realize we're foreign to you but why are you so anxious to leave?"
"It's him."
"Who, the prince?"
"No. The one who lies beneath." His whole body was shaking now, "He who rests in the core of your "Earth." Who will consume it and its people to spite those of us from the Outer Cosmos. He has one purpose--to destroy. Now that I've crashed he knows I'm here."
His lips trembled uncontrollably as spittle blew forth in bouts of hyperventilation. In his fit he pulled me in closer, his black eyes gazing intensely into mine.
"He knows I'm here--and he has awoken." | 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. | 2018-02-05T15:29:12 | 2018-02-05T14:02:35 | 150 | 21 |
[WP] Humanity spread into the stars. They're generally quite kind and helpful and treat all worlds as important. But occasionally they'll ignore uniquely made human ships. When asked about it, most humans just say "The powerful abandoned Earth after nearly killing us. Now we're returning the favor" | "Look Momma! A ship!"
Lynn glanced over to see a gargantuan ship, floating through space, dark and brooding, as if haunted.
"Yes! I see it! Now, let's see if we can find our shoes, Zephyr is probably waiting for you." Lynn attempted to divert cheerily.
Sarah hadn't moved from the porthole when Lynn had retrieved the shoes, the little girl seemed transfixed for a few more moments before turning to her mother.
"Why is it so dark? Do they need help? Should we call Daddy?" The girl looked very concerned. Lynn considered how to explain that calling her husband, the ship's head of maintenance, couldn't save the souls on that ship.
"Would you like to hear a story? It's a sometimes sad one." Lynn warned. Sarah nodded enthusiastically and climbed into her lap.
"A very, very long time ago-" she started.
"Once upon a time!" Sarah interrupted.
Lynn shook her head solemnly "No sweetie, not this story, 'once upon a time' is for pretend stories, this story isn't pretend."
When the girl nodded, she restarted "A very, very long time ago, humans like you and me and Daddy didn't live on space ships, we didn't know any people like Zephyr and their Mommy and Juja and Daddy. All humans lived on a planet called Earth and there were only humans and special Earth animals and plants.
There were so many Earth animals and plants in the beginning, as many as the stars, but humans started to do things that hurt the plants and animals and even Earth itself, they made a lot of trash that they left everywhere, and put bad stuff in the air, and the plants and animals started to die, and the humans started getting sick."
Lynn continued as her daughter nodded, wide eyed "there were so many humans that some humans were in charge of telling the other humans the rules, and those humans knew that they were hurting all the animals and plants and other humans, but they didn't care because they liked telling other people what to do and having things their way and getting to have the most stuff.
When the time came that almost all the animals and plants were dead, and all the other humans were sick and weak, the humans in charge took themselves and their families and hid away on special ships, where they went to sleep in special beds so that they wouldn't wake up until the ship woke them up. They were bad humans that took up all the nice things people needed to live and left nothing for all the other humans."
"But what about the other humans?" Sarah asked worriedly.
"The other humans got very sick and a lot of them died, but then the Greorians came, and they helped the humans clean up the Earth, and save as many plants and animals as they could, and they taught humans how to build spaceships like this one so we could go other places, because Earth needed time to heal without so many humans.
Now, most humans live on spaceships like these and we go everywhere and are friends with everyone! Isn't that fun?!" Lynn ended on a high note.
"But is Earth fixed yet?"
"Not quite yet, but almost. We can go visit though, if you want to, some humans still live there to help the Earth heal better, and the rest of the humans can only come see the plants and animals for a little while." Sarah's eyes lit up.
Lynn hadn't visited Earth in years, not since she was a child, but the thought of visiting with Sarah thrilled her, seeing it all new again through her child's eyes would be exciting. They could visit the plains and witness the American buffalo, and see the tasmanian tigers in Australia, if they made it a weekend, they could hit all the major habitats. She'd even heard that the scientists there were psuedo cloning mammoths in Siberia, now that they'd reestablished the tundra. She'd only seen them in books but it would be amazing to see them in person, especially with Sarah. It would make a nice family vacation.
Lynn set Sarah on her feet and stood, ready to continue the day now that they'd talked, but instead, Sarah raced to the porthole, twisting her head to see the ship fading behind them.
"But mommy, what about them? Are they ever going to wake up?"
Lynn crouched to get to Sarah's level and tucked her hair behind her ears "I don't know sweetie, supposedly, the ships like that one were meant to return to Earth one day, they programmed them to wait five thousand years, then go home, and all the bad people would wake up and start over with a Earth that wasn't sick anymore without having to do any work to fix everything they'd messed up. It's only been one thousand years, so I don't think they'll wake up anytime soon.
Once all the humans started fixing Earth and built spaceships and made friends with the other people in space, some people wanted to wake up the bad people, but other people were scared they'd keep wanting to take over and tell everyone what to do and hurt everything, and some other people didn't think it was fair for them to skip all the hard work the other humans did, and still get to do all the stuff we get to, like visit other people and live in the nice ships we built. We all talked and decided that the bad people had said they wanted to sleep for all that time, so we would let them. And if they ever wake up, then we can decide what to do about it."
Finally satisfied, Sarah turned from the window.
"Ready to go play with Zephyr?"
"Ready!" | The crash sent Nyala’s ship reeling, their hull broken and their engine damaged beyond repair. She knew it the second she saw the incoming object on the screen. White and ancient, hurtling through space at an impossible speed. She saw the gaunt eyes of the lost souls within the other ship when they were near enough.
In the hours afterward, as the two collided ships sailed through space as one combined mess of metal and debris, she reached out to her family. They didn’t have much of a relationship, but they deserved a goodbye. Then she saw the dot in the distance. A green light, so rare in space. Nyala let out a sigh of relief. One of the human rescue ships was here.
The passengers of her ship made their way to the emergency pods. The rescue ship reeled in the emergency pods. She looked for emergency pods from the other ship, but none appeared. It was an ancient ship, but every ship had emergency pods.
In her own emergency pod, she looked out the windows at the other ship. One emergency pod finally left the ship. She waited for the human rescue ship to reel it in, but they didn’t. The pod’s small engine sputtered to life before stopping. It floated away from them, slowly. Perhaps in the chaos of the rescue, the humans had missed the emergency pod. She felt the rush of energy as her own pod was pulled into the landing deck of the rescue ship. When she stepped out, the humans were ready to check her for injuries.
“There was an emergency pod from the other ship,” she said. “I think you can still get them.”
“We will not be getting them,” the medic said. “Our directives are to only rescue the survivors from your ship.”
“Do you not have enough manpower?” Nyala asked. “There are plenty of uninjured crew from my ship. We could aid you—“
“No, madam. We do not rescue people from those ships.”
“But you rescue everyone,” Nyala said.
“Not them,” the medic said. She placed a thin green bracelet around Nyala’s wrist. “This is to show that you’ve been checked and that you need no further medical assistance. You can make your way to the main chamber for some refreshments and to be assigned to accommodation until we reach the nearest planet.”
“I’m going to speak to your captain,” Nyala said.
It wasn’t difficult to find the captain. Others from the rescued group were already outside the command room, most likely waiting to voice the same concern. A grizzled man emerged from the room.
“Captain Gordan, at your service,” the man said.
“There were people aboard the other ship.”
“Oh. You’re not familiar with our history and the exceptions to our rules for rescue,” the captain said. “We do not rescue the deserters.”
“Deserters?”
“Those who deserted Earth and our people when we needed them,” the captain said. “They were powerful people who plundered our natural resources, exploited our vulnerable citizens, and then fled the planet when it looked like Earth was headed for a future incapable of sustaining life.”
“You could show them mercy,” Nyala said. “They are fellow humans, and the ones alive on that ship now must be far descendants of the ones who abandoned your planet.”
“Cruelty has consequences, madam. They did not care for the future of eight billion souls, and we do not care for the fate of their descendants.”
\*\*\*
*If you like my writing, you can read more of it at* r/analect *.* | 2022-11-16T00:35:18 | 2022-11-15T21:12:23 | 429 | 247 |
[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. | Warning: This story might contain content or hints of horror and violence that may be disturbing. This is a three part series, please enjoy and be careful.
"Do not tell them."
I gazed down at the note, trying to figure out it's meaning ever since it floated down in front of me on the sidewalk. Just like it did for everyone who turned 14.
Mom had told me about this day in lengths, but it was weirder than I thought. I grasped the note tighter.
*Do not tell them... what?*
"Hey Lee!" I practically jumped up, startled by the sudden call from behind the alley. Brian ran up behind me, finally catching up and grabbing me at my shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Sorry I'm late dude, my mom made some Churros yesterday for today and insisted I take some with...", he reached behind into his backpack, fumbling with the zipper and pulling out a worn box.
I only processed it in a few minutes before hastily scrambling the note together and stuffing it into the back pocket of my jeans. Trying to look as calm as possible.
Brian held up the box to me, revealing the warm, sweet smelling pastries. "You want some?". I hastily shook my head. "No thanks, dude, I'm okay."
Bri' shrugged and let go of my side, walking next to me. He shot me a look of curiosity.
"Did you get yours already?"
I blinked, feeling my insides clutch at each other.
*"Don't tell them"*
"Uh, what'd you mean, dude?". He rolled his eyes. "The note, dude?? Like mine arrived this morning, and I'm so hyped for.." he continued on, getting more and more lost in his excitement. He would have a chance to show of his powers soon. I wasn't sure what to expect.
*What the heck were mine?*
"So.. Brice," I said, pushing him out of his rant and away from the topic. "Have you heard from Clairetop yet? She was supposed to meet us here for school."
Brice lifted a brow, clearly weirded out but going along. "Uhm.. Yeah I guess.. I mean, I heard her talk with her mom yesterday on whether to come to school tomorrow or today, I dunno man, it slipped my mind." My throat felt scratchy all of a sudden, dried out like a lump of meat in the sun. I coughed up and asked. "How'd you know that? I mean, isn't that private and all?" He shrugged non-chalantly. "My mom was talking with hers yesterday on the block, next to the wallmart. Seems something happened with her gift."
Chills spread like waves all over me. What the heck happened? | 2022-05-08T11:24:06 | 2022-05-08T09:32:40 | 91 | 60 |
[WP] Once people reach a certain age, it is tradition to visit the Oracle and be told by it the way they'll die, and all of it's predictions have been 100% correct. As you finally face it yourself, the Oracle proclaims something completely unheard of before: "I have nothing to tell you." | From the first day of a Protector's life, they exist for one purpose: defend the Oracle. They are hardened as warriors, sharpened as scholars, and deployed as guard to the most cherished being in the land. No one knows where she came from, how long she's been alive, or if she will die, and the Protectors ensure that the world will never be without her.
The lifting of the veil to one's own death can be an enraging, if not enlightening, experience. Many refuse to believe and leave back down the mountain cursing her name; others lash out and, occasionally, it is required for a Protector to drag them from her sight. Few assassinations have been attempted, all by those too young to have heard their fate—all killed by Protectors.
As the rising sun kissed the mountain's peak, a new arrival made his way through the Oracle's temple. She was resting in a nest of pillows, her hair flowing out like storm clouds, and her young Protector stood at her side. The man who'd come to find his fate eyed her with curious disdain, his feet shaky beneath him.
Before he'd reached them, the Oracle whispered to her guard, "Would you kill for me, Protector?"
"Yes, Oracle," It was the only answer he ever gave her.
When the newcomer was a few feet away, he kneeled and spoke, "Oracle, I've come to know my fate."
"And I have nothing to tell you," the Oracle responded. Her guest stirred, the Protector mirroring his twitch.
"What do you mean? You *have* nothing to tell me?" he rose to his feet, throwing out his arms. "Or you simply *won't* tell me?"
The Oracle seemed unconcerned, running her hands through endless strands of hair. "I simply have nothing to tell you."
"My father says that the Oracle *must* tell us our fates," he stepped forward a stride. "That you are servant to men!"
"Is your father the Oracle, or am I?"
The man seemed appalled by the question, hurling saliva as he screeched, "It is my birthright to know—"
"Leave, and go in peace."
When the man lunged at her, she hadn't flinched. The knives were brandished, piercing the air towards her chest, but she sat unmoving. Her Protector had to travel double the space of her attempted murderer, and so he did—as quick as the morning light.
They both fell to the ground, attacker and Protector, a knife protruding from each of their bodies.
Rising from her pillows with no more urgency than if she had just returned to the world from a nap, she drifted over to the man who'd tried to take her life. Blood erupted from his mouth as he stared up at her, gargled words fleeing his lips and forming no meaning.
"You die here and now," she said. "This is your fate."
Without another thought spared for the attacker, she turned and knelt beside her Protector, running a hand over his bare head. Blood also spilled from his mouth, filling the creases of his smile, but he did not speak.
"Would you die for me, Protector?" she whispered, putting a finger to her lips.
He nodded his head, it was the only answer he ever gave her.
____
**Thanks for reading. Sub to /r/BeagleTales for daily sacrifices to the Oracle** | The man in front of me looked up hopefully to the desk. the Oracle seemed to ponder something before his eyes landed back on the man before him.
"Freight train, three hours." he announced, met with despair. Weeping, the man stumbled out of sight.
The Oracle turned back to the podium where I stood giddily
"So..." he began. "I have nothing to tell you."
"Come again?" I said, bewildered.
"Dave Pilgrett, 25, you will trip over the stairs on your way out, then you'll take a taxi home and your roommate - Henry - will be asleep on the floor. On your death, I have nothing to tell you. Sorry." he added, as I fumbled through words, mortified.
After glancing at the queue behind (or lack there of) I opened my mouth to ask the Oracle more questions.
"Please, don't," he whined. "I've told you everything of meaning. If you need to ask questions, think on it, and come back tomorrow."
*(I know it's short, but I've got a bit of writer's block right now. Ima come back later.)* | 2020-02-20T08:10:29 | 2020-02-20T07:32:03 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] An omnipotent dude walks into a military base. They can't kill him. They can't make him go. He hasn't hurt anybody but darn if he isn't annoying. | "What would you do, If I pulled your pants down right now, and stuck a thumb up there?" The smug bastards asks, his hot breath washing down my back. About a week ago this bastard walked themselves right up to the gates, and let themselves in. He let himself into, area fucking 51.
"I dunno, probably call you and asshole and try to get away." I say, not taking my eyes off the computer in front of me. I think we spent nearly 1,000 rounds of ammunition on this smug fucker before realizing nothing was working on him. The thing was, they had no interest in our stuff, or taking us over, or killing us. They just came here to fuck with us.
"No, I mean, really." They say, tracing a finger across my back, "Humans always say they'd do one thing, but what would you actually try to do?"
"I. Don't. Know. We can't kill you for christ's sake, and nobody can get you to move, so what the hell could I do." I mutter, rolling my shoulders in discomfort. They pace about behind me, loudly popping their cheeks. I scrunch up my face in impotent anger, before going back to my reports.
Suddenly the screen cuts out. My eyes immediately jump to the power cable. The intruder squatted next to it, twirling the cable in his hand with an impish smile.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH, THAT'S THE THIRD TIME I'VE HAD TO WRITE THIS REPORT!" I yell. The intruder guffaws loudly, rolling onto their back and laughing more. I leap at them, full of rage, and wrap my hands around their scrawny neck. I press my thumbs against their windpipe, fully intending to choke them to death.
The intruder continues laughing wildly, rolling around on the floor with my hands clasped around their neck. They stand up, unimpeded by my entire bod weight pulling against their throat, and lean against the wall. They wipe a tear away from their eye and sigh.
"God, this is great." they say, looking up at the ceiling. I let go of their neck and stomp into the hallway.
"Fuck it, I'll use a typewriter." I mutter to myself as I make my way to the supply closet. I hear dull footsteps behind me, fast though, Somebody was running in my direction. I take off at full sprint down the hallway, barrelling around the corner and nearly taking out one of our privates. The footsteps behind me grow louder every second. The supply closet door is right at the end of this hall. I strain myself to run even faster, a burning feeling in my kidneys from the exertion.
"Last one there is a rotten egg!" The intruder barrels past me, shoving me to the side with gleeful force. They ram right into the closet door, knocking it off the hinges, and knocking a row of shelving units over. I stop in the doorway, out of breath and hurting in practically every joint I had. The intruder sits in a pile of typewriter parts as he messes with the paper scroll, tearing it in two down the middle. I just stare at him, breathing heavily.
"God I love cheat codes." He says, smashing the typewrite keyboard on the ground. | This damn kid won’t shut up! He runs his mouth nonstop, and he has these long, skinny arms that he waves around in a flamboyant fashion every time he says a word.
And trust me, he says a lot of words.
The thing is, though, that he is one of the most powerful persons in the world.
He has the ability to see, understand, and develop new ideas and solutions in a fraction of a second. He holds within his annoying, egg shaped head the most powerful cerebellum the world has ever known.
And yet, for some mysterious and ironic reason, he decides to be a complete jackass who spends every waking moment annoying the hell out of everyone else on this base.
I don’t yet what his purpose is, but I know he’s got a big one. I can just tell about these things sometimes. He may not even know it yet, but I am praying to god that he got put on this base for a better reason than to be an annoying crybaby.
But until I find that reason, I first need to find a way to figure out why this damn kid won’t shut up! | 2018-07-20T20:54:08 | 2018-07-20T20:12:54 | 332 | 32 |
[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. | Zirchak, clan Grein, High Ambassador of the Unified Kizzak Clans, was not impressed.
He had read the intelligence reports, he had viewed the holovids, he had even seen a few of the *humans* in person. That was easy enough - ever since arriving at Origin Station, the creatures had been wandering about, poking and prodding their strange little noses everywhere they could, blissfully unconcerned with security or privacy. They were everywhere - but they seemed particularly keen on the commercial sector. His spies reported that the humans seemed to take great pleasure in declaring a particular shop as their "favorite." The spies did not yet know why, but they would find out eventually of course - Kizzak Intelligence was still unrivaled by *any* of the Council species.
Three of the *human* creatures were now in his office - two females, and a male. All three wore the uniform of the human expeditionary force. The older female, the apparent leader, was seated in front of his desk. She was looking at him with an open but mild curiosity.
Zirchak glanced down at his datachit, more to conceal his irritation than to refresh his memory - Laura, clan Blaskowitz, was her name. The male - Dave, clan Fillion, was seated to her left, his five-fingered hands fiddling with a small datapad on his lap.
The younger female was wandering around the back of the office, seemingly unconcerned with the high-stakes negations about to take place. The ambassador saw her stroll over to his prized ceremonial display, where as was customary, he had preserved the blade he had used in his last Bardaz duel. The blood of his opponent was still visible on the traditional parasteel knife.
The young human leaned in, and his honor guard tensed slightly - but he knew they were too well trained to fall for such a crude provocation. The woman made a small gesture with her hand, and a tiny drone detached itself from her belt and floated up into the air behind her, about eye level. She spun around, and struck a strange pose in front of the display. There was a subtle flash from the drone, then another one.
Zirchak's right mandible twitched in irritation, but he controlled himself, and turned his attention to the other two.
Yes, High Ambassador Zirchak, clan Grein, was not impressed.
The problem was that the humans did not seem to be impressed either. By *anything*.
He had arranged with the captain of his guard that the route they took to his office would just *happen* to take them by the training grounds just as a Bardaz challenge was taking place. "A barbaric, bloody, cruel ritual that has no place among the *civilized* species!" That's what that sniveling little Ambassador Mildas had called it at the last Council meeting. It was banned on the rest of Origin Station - but within the Kizzak sector, Kizzak law still held, and honor could still be satisfied.
This one had been a particular bloody affair from what he was told. Limbs had been lost.
The humans had barely blinked.
Well, no matter. This would not take long, and then he could turn to more substantial matters.
Laura, clan Blaskowitz, was still looking at him with that mild, infuriating curiosity.
"The answer is *no*," Zirchak rumbled out, taking more pleasure in it than was strictly diplomatically necessary, "as you knew before you walked in through the door of my office. The Twelve Clans of the Kizzak will not support your petition to join the Council. The matter is," Zirchak allowed himself a small smile, "deadlocked. Six to six. There will be no further votes -"
"What about the lost *Thirteenth* Clan?" Laura interrupted him smoothly.
A weaker, lesser Kizzak would have broken then and there. But Zirchak was High Ambassador for a reason - he rallied magnificently.
"Your translator is faulty, human," he laughed, "perhaps you can purchase one of Kizzak make at the shops you like so much. There are twelve great Clans of our people, no more, no less, and any -"
Laura's loud laugh was one thing - Zirchak was used to dealing with such affronts and provocations. But the smile that broke out on Dave, clan Fillion's face was infuriating. It was so...so *knowing*.
"Hey Jill," Laura called over her shoulder to the third human, "get a load a' this guy! He says there's no Thirteenth Clan!"
"There's *always* a Thirteenth Clan," the younger female called back with a snicker. Her drone flashed again.
Dave, clan Fillion's smile grew wider.
"Right," Laura, clan Blaskowitz said turning back to Zirchak, "there's always a lost Clan. Probably in the Shadow Sector, right?"
Zirchak's eyes flitted over to his honor guard by the doors. They were doing a marvelous job of pretending not to hear anything.
"*Human*" the High Ambassador's voice dropped to a dangerous growl, abandoning all pretense of diplomacy, "I do not know *how* you've learned of this, but rest assured -"
"Right, right," the female rose to her feet, clearly not paying attention. Dave, clan Fillion rose with her.
"Look, Zirchak," Laura's tone was maddeningly casual "we'll pop over to the Shadow Sector, find your lost Clan, and call it a deal. Sound good? OK, great."
A mad, desperate hope rose in the High Ambassador - yes, "pop over" to the Shadows, and let the forbidden horrors there take you -
"What are we dealing with Dave?" Laura turned to the male.
He shrugged non-noncommittally. "Insectoid hive-mind probably. Genetic experiments, organic weapons or the like - you know the drill."
"Right," the human female turned back to Zirchak, and gave him a short, friendly nod that made his blood boil, "see you soon. You want a souvenir or anything from the Shadow Sector? A tentacle or something? Can pop it right next to your knife up there. No? Oh well, suit yourself." | "First contact. Hooooooly shit."
"Great!"
"Charlie, no offense, but - do you actually understand how significant this is? It's.. it's like something out of science fiction. A lot of things out of science fiction, combined into something... greater. An entire culture, a people, surviving and thriving alone - like Earth - for maybe millions of years, and we'll be the first humans to step foot on their planet. This could be the single most important event in human history. And we're going to be a part of it."
​
"TWO MINUTES TO LANDING!"
"THANKS, LANRET"
​
"I know exactly what it means, Commander Lyons. Genocide!"
​
​
​
"Charlie, I know the three of us have had a lot of strange conversations with the whole 'stuck in deep space for 3 years' thing, but I must have misheard - you didn't just say 'Genocide', right?"
"Why are your jaws dropping? Like you said, it's something out of science fiction.."
"And what exactly does that word have to do with sci-"
"Starship Troopers!!"
"Oh. My. God."
"I mean, they don't seem to be insect people, but the idea still applies.."
"Charlie, the number of things wrong with this impromptu discussion-"
"I don't see any problems with it."
"Charlie, I don't know where this apparently premeditated bout of rapid-onset insanity came from - normal people DON'T casually discuss killing sentient lifeforms."
"Hey, not my fault that it's what humanity does best."
​
​
"ONE MINUTE!"
"NOTED."
"What humanity does best?"
"Oh yeah. 'Kill the Indian in the Child' ring any bells? We've been doing it for centuries."
​
​
"That's fucked up."
"Yeaaaaaah."
​
​
"Okay, let's say this insanity WAS, ***hypothetically***, called for. There aren't any weapons on board. Even if 'they' were violent - which, need I remind you of the **small** fact that **we would've been DEAD by now** \- we couldn't defend ourselves."
"Oh yeah, about that - I stashed away a few supplies when we took off. Should be in one of these panels."
"A-ha! RPG, dozen rockets. Grenades. 4 Kalashnikovs, 10 Magazines each. Plenty for everyone!"
"Charlie, this 30 pound cylinder has a radiation symbol and is half my height. Where did you..?"
"Oh yeah, that. Found it out in the middle o'nowhere, trekking through Nevada this one time. Thought it looked cool."
"Internal sensors are detecting elevated levels of radiation in the cabin.."
"Thanks, Lanret."
"Right, okay, I'm just going to put this back verrrrry carefully, and would you please hand me that cover - thank you."
​
"15 SECONDS!"
​
"I hope that worked some emotions out of your system?"
"Yessir."
"Great! We never had this conversation. Got it?"
"Aye, Commander."
"LANDING!"
"What d'you keep in that backpack? It's awfully large."
"Oh, this thing? Emergency supplies - nothing special."
The spacecraft and its crew gently land on the steps of a grand memorial, apparently to the fallen soldiers of some war. Cities loom in the background, skylines awash in color, while a team of ambassadors - bodies barely distinguishable from the Earth guests, though a bit horse-like - wait at the base, alongside a greeting party. As they carefully descend down the cargo ramp, Charlie pulls out another two Kalashnikovs from his backpack.
"SYKE, BITCHES!" | 2021-05-12T13:25:26 | 2021-05-12T12:50:50 | 61 | 35 |
[WP] A party of adventurers has hired you to "raise their spirits". You're wondering when to break the news that you're not a bard. You're a necromancer that plays the harp as a hobby.
EDIT: Great submissions everyone! If I missed giving you an updoot for it, the fault is with me and not your story. | “Yeah so I call this one the Song of Summoning. I uhhh, hope you like it?” Padraig sat across from his friends, a small travel harp resting against his body. Ava’s eyes were bright as they watched him, reflecting the firelight and something more besides. He had to turn away to play, else his nerves would give him away.
He struck up a quick, jaunty tune, his fingers flying dexterously across the strings, picking out chords and runs as if he were more a lute player than a harpist. A subtle shadow clung to his hands, the echos of a long dead man’s skills that inspired him to greater and greater heights.
As he settled into his groove Padraig began to loosen up, glancing out at the others. Carlan, the swordsman, bobbed his head in time with the beat. Alfredo the mage had conjured up a small drum and was playing along competently, and even Ella the half-troll was humming discordantly when the chorus came ‘round.
Padraig’s eyes found Ava’s, as they always did, and her smile was secretive in the way only a thief’s could be. It wasn’t fair, he sometimes thought, for someone to steal a heart so easily.
The song ended on a high, hopeful note and the crowd clapped, all save for Ava who simply poured another ounce of mystery into her smile.
“Where did you learn to play, lad?” Alfredo asked as his drum faded out of existence.
“Ah, here and there,” Padraig responded. “When I was younger my brothers and I had a bit of a troupe going, we’d travel around from inn to inn. It was enough to fill our bellies, if nothing else.” He neglected to mention the fact that two of his brothers had been dead the whole time. The age was progressive, but not that far.
“So you were something of a child prodigy?” Ava asked. “Tell me, were your brothers as good as you?” She leaned in, the fire throwing the soft lines of her face into suddenly sharp profile. “Were they as handsome?”
“Settle down dear,” Ella rumbled, her eye tusks glistening as she grinned, “if you’re not careful you’ll steal our young bard’s heart.”
“Little late,” Padraig thought.
“Enough talk!” Carlan roared suddenly, jumping to his feet. “Tomorrow we go into the depths of Malthus’ crypt. We battle through hordes of the undead, we search for long lost treasure, we make our fortunes or die trying! Tonight isn’t a night for talk, it’s a night for celebration!” Reaching down he pulled Ava to her feet and she went with him, laughing as he wrapped an arm around her waist and struck up a pose.
“Padraig, Alfredo! More music!”
Padraig stared at Ava, she stared back at him, even in Carlan’s arms, and smiling now, the harpist set into another jaunty tune. Song of Summoning was a series of sorts, played start to finish, it empowered him. The fact that it was dance-able was a pleasant byproduct.
Alfredo’s drum rematerialized and he struck up a beat, one reinforced by the surprisingly rhythmic thundering of Ella’s three toed feet as she swung back and forth alone across the campsite, dancing with her eyes closed, her gargantuan battleaxe clutched to her chest like a lover.
Padraig played. A dead man’s talents clung to his fingers, his gaze constantly sliding back to a thief’s secretive smile, his music backed up by an ethereal drum and the sweetest old troll he’d ever met.
And in the woods around the clearing, just outside of the fire’s light, skeletons loomed. Long dead magic animated them, the tendrils of an Elven necromancer that had reached down through the years to enslave them to the guardianship of his tomb, but right in front of them another force rose like a new sun.
A young necromancer played his song, his powers reaching out into the world, and the tomb guardians of Malthus reached back, wooed as much by his music as his strength. The party would come tomorrow, their weapons were keenly honed and ready.
Whose will would they serve, when the time came?
r/TurningtoWords | Damn I made a huge problem for myself, didnt I?
A necromancer hired to be a fucking Bard. That's new. And laughable. In this world, there is only one thing that matters and for me its magic.
I play a harp as a fucking hobby to release stress aside... Other R-Rated activities. Anyway i decided to tell them during one of the missions, we are taking today. I was asked to come with them as an observer but I knew what I was about to do. And how to break the news i'm a Necromancer....
Next day we went to a Dungeon of Souls, a very dangerous cave with dragons in it. As we were sorrounded after few minutes of walk, i decided to do my thing.
"Guys"
I said when everyone looked at me
"Yea? Any ideas?"
Asked a beautifull elf that was actually scared for the first time in her life. And I thought im an amateur mage.
"Ye. Wanna hear the best song you would ever hear? After I will save your ass.. i want a private moment with you, if you know what I mean"
The elf blushed as the team laughed from the hillariousness of the words i chosen, when the elf called me a pervert and slapped me in the face.
"Pervert. I will think of it."
Said as she blushed when I revealed myself... I drew out a book out of a pocket dimension and caught the team's attention who look at me shocked and scared.
As I started to cast my spell from the necrology book, skeletons slowly risen from the ground, as they started to get back to life. Dragons walked few meters away, somwhat scared of this.
Few minutes after this, my skeleton army dispatched of the dragons as I nearly dropped unconsious, grabbed by the mentioned elf with big milkers so I will not fall on the ground. When I woke up in her chest, i smiled.
"Told you that's going to be the best live performance you ever heard."
I chuckled when decided to take a small nap. | 2021-04-10T08:27:39 | 2021-04-10T07:19:39 | 600 | 43 |
[WP] Humanity is the only intelligent species that can directly sense electromagnetic radiation. This means that humanity are the only ones who can see the stars without expensive scientific equipment. | In a world of science and progress, it is important, at times, to ponder the aspect of the immaterial. Dreams, hope, things that can't so easily be identified under a microscope or a mass spectrometer; these are of interest today, because they are so often neglected in our examinations of our successes. When man first stepped out into the sky, was it not his fixation with the stars that motivated him, first and foremost? Ever since the days of early man, when life was subject to cancellation by sabertooth at any moment, it was our wonderment with the heavens that set us apart.
And so, as the millennia ran ever onward, we were guided by the night sky, and by our stories of it. It has been the one thread that has tied all of humanity together, across years and lightyears alike. When the first interstellar colonists made landfall, they did not immediately set to work, as pressing as the job of colony-building was. Instead, they took an hour to go outside, to breath in honest-to-god air, and to show their children the tiny pinpoint of light named Sol that they had spent so long in transit from. Every colony since has done the same thing, for it is the human thing to do; sometimes even efficiency, that great idol of progress, must take a backseat to the omnipresent wonder of the heavens. In some form or another, it is a sentiment present in all races; the Uli will pass around the soil of their homeworld, to smell deeply, and the Kida will sing the songs of their ancestors, with such intricate delicacy and grace that any human attempts at mimicry are rendered obscene and defiling. But humanity alone can actually look up and perceive, in its entirety, the place from which it originated. Smells and sounds do not carry over the great void; they must be guarded en route, protected from the screaming vacuum outside. Light however, is more resilient, and more welcoming; when humans arrive at their new worlds, they find that the light of their home is already there, waiting for them, inviting them in.
Mankind, wherever it travels, is accompanied by Sol, a gentle light visible as a beacon throughout the colonised universe. And, even now, although Einstein makes true intercolonial communication impossible, it still ties us together, the endless trillions of mankind. When technologies fail, when war rears its head, when any setback plunges a colony into darkness, we still know that, in time, the guiding light of Sol will bring back goodness and purity. It is mankind's greatest boon, and our most powerful pride; to see, and to believe. So, today, and forever, when you look outside, take a moment to appreciate the gift of man; not only that we have made such beautiful things to gaze upon, but that we have been given the ability to gaze at all. | It was slightly strange, these creatures that we discovered. We were so alike yet so different.
Come to think of it, the only intelligent life that we’ve seen other than our own. When we found them, they were on a broken planet, with their species destroying the only place they had ever lived. It was not unlike us, but they took it too far.
However, I digress. We met them after having some trouble navigating through a series of star systems, and they gave us some equipment to help get us around them.
They seemed to have an ability of their own, not unlike us, we could hear better than anything in the Milky Way. However, they could see stars, and we needed that to survive.
They were strange creatures these “humans”, but I hope our species will live in peace. | 2017-12-11T07:17:39 | 2017-12-11T04:06:58 | 47 | 20 |
[WP] A shapeshifter deals with an existential crisis after realizing it no longer remembers its original shape. | "For heavens sake...." Jane muttered. "What's the point anymore?"
A cool breeze swayed the tall stalks of cattails surrounding Janes outstretched body. Her slender frame lay nearly motionless, soaking in the warm rays of the sun. A bird flew overhead, catching her eye. With as little effort as a cat leaping to a tall surface, Jane joined the bird.
Her long arms became wings, her button nose grew to a sharp beak, and her already slender legs now resembled twigs with talons for toes. She raced to catch the bird. They danced atop the clouds, weaving between tall trees and basking in a warmth only flyers would ever know. Flyers, and Jane of course.
*Please. Remember. Remember Something. Anything.*
The bird eventually lost interest in Jane and went its separate way. Aiming her beady eyes to the ground below, Jane spies a small rabbit bounding carelessly through the field of cattails. With an equally careless motion, she spins into a dive toward the ground. Her wings recede and give way to tiny furred hands while her talons and twig legs more than double in size and become equally furry. With a hard thud and a soft roll she hits the ground and begins hopping, trying desperately to catch the rabbit. It is in vain, as usual.
*Please don't leave me*
The rabbit finds its hideaway hole and leaves Jane to her own devices. The cattails now blot out the sun overhead, like a tall forest of redwoods. She changes shape once more, back to her original shape, if you could call it that. Long silky red hair replaces the tough fur on her head, and her legs and arms become slender and naked again. She lays atop the cattails once more and sighs, lifting her arm above her head and clasping her fingers around the sun above her.
*Countless years of searching. Countless forms. Why?*
The form she settles on most times resembles what would have been known as a human girl many years past. Humans, however, had long since vanished from this earth, and Janes memories of her youth had vanished with them. She didn't quite feel as though the human form validated her. She didn't miss them as if they were alike. Moreso, she missed them as one would miss a best friend.
"Come, Jane" Jane sighed. A phrase that had managed to stay with her all these years. The words were spoken most often to her by her best friend, long since passed. How she wished she could remember more.
"woof!"
A strange noise cuts through the buzzing locusts and chirping birds. Unfamiliar and familiar at the same time, like an old song heard for the first time in years. She raises her head and shoots a furtive glance towards the noise, honing her ears in hopes that it would sound again.
"Woof! Woof!"
Jane jumps from her bed of cattails and takes off towards the source.
*Maybe this time...hopefully this time*
edited; clarified some text per the advice of /u/Fakename_fakeperspn
| They had hit him with a scrambler when he tried to board the station. He didn't know they took "No shapers allowed" so seriously. It had forced him out of the shape he had taken, a human one, and caused him to shape into everything he saw in front of him. It wouldn't have been that bad if there wasn't a projection of all 236 races in the Community. His body blasted through all 236, repeatedly, until it settled on human again. The sentinels all had their weapons drawn on him. "Change into your natural form shaper!" they had yelled. He wanted to comply, to do what they said because he knew they would kill him if he didn't. But after that scramble, something was wrong. He was stuck, he couldn't shift, all he could ever remember was being human. | 2015-02-18T08:31:02 | 2015-02-18T06:12:13 | 50 | 12 |
[WP]Humans are reverse Kryptonians. They are weak on their home planet but strong everywhere else. No one knew this until Earth was attacked and humanity was taken off of earth to be enslaved. | Their attack was swift and deadly. Within a week, 2/3 of the world's population had disappeared, or at least was what we assumed, since on the second day communications started to fail. Soon enough, there was no one left that was able to fight, only kids and teenagers roamed the streets, with empty eyes and dull spirits, having lost all sense of security and hope. The remaining 1/3 was left to cope with this new reality, where aliens did in fact exist and had taken over our planet. We, according to the broken transmission that we’d receive from "them" directly into our minds, were the "gifted ones'', worthy of their mercy, the mighty Azalrner, conquerors of worlds, just as long we would submit ourselves to them, to serve them as they saw fit. In order to do so, we had only to surrender to their machines, under the promise that we would not be harmed, within the following week, or face total obliteration by means of their terraforming contraptions.
Our future was a gloom one indeed - either live in servitude of our family's killers or risk being dead ourselves. Many, as myself, took the coward's way out and chose to live, even if living was, in fact, surviving. We were taken into giant pod like structures by our captors, by then showing their faces to us - humanoid looking lizards, with black scales covering most of their body, with the exception of the soft skin in their chests, and blood piercing eyes - hissing and screaming into our minds, breaking our spirits even more.
Our pod was taken to one of the many worlds they conquered and then terraformed. During the time that it took to get there, we were forced to hear the countless glorified stories of their kin - how they took over many planets before ours, how they killed or enslaved their inhabitants, how they were merciful to let us live and how they then transformed the planet into their own image - a desert like dystopia, filled with sand and burning with the heat of a thousand furnaces. They laughed at us, of our meek structure, of our lack of strength and how we would be unable to survive for long on their mining colonies. It is ironic, though, how they would come to regret every single one of those laughs and taunts.
Soon, but not soon enough, we reached our destination and were put to work. It was a strange world indeed, very different from our own. The gravity pull was enormous and most of us were left exhausted as soon as we set foot into the planet. The sky was filled with a violet like hue, with blue like suns filling the sky in an endless day with no night in sight. The first few days took their toll on our numbers, with countless of us succumbing to tiredness and despair. Yet, for those of us who were able to survive a little while longer, things started to change within the first week (or at least of what it seemed to be a week, since there was no night for us to control time in this strange world)
First, gravity seemed to affect us less and less. Suddenly, we weren't so tired nor feeling so weak. Yet, most of us dismissed it as a result of the numbness that was affecting us all. However, soon enough, strange events started to occur that we could no longer dismiss as hallucinations or numbness. We felt, deep within us, that something was fundamentally altering us, making us stronger, making us wanting to fight, to release ourselves from the shackles of our captors, strike them on behalf of our kind, to exact revenge for all the countless lives that were taken due to the greed and arrogance of our enslavers.
The revolution started. It was swift and deadly. Our captors' bodies were soft and crunchy, like crackers filled with red jelly and pain. Their machines no longer frightened us, but were like toys, easily broken by a simple touch of our hands. Anger burst through our eyes, in the form of deadly red like lights that scorched the surface of the cities in the colony that we were deployed to. Soon, we found that we were no longer bound by the planet's gravity nor needed it's air to survive and, with the help of the sudden increase of our understanding of their technology, we easily located the remaining colonies.
Yet, we were not alone. Thousands of humans had survived and transformed throughout their colonies and, suddenly, our captors turned into mere ghosts, remnants of a past soon to be forgotten. Only one location remained, our birth place, where we were stripped of our hope and innocence. However, it no longer resembled the Earth that we left behind, but it was turned into a planet of their liking.
And that was, indeed, the last mistake that they ever made.
\------------------------------////////--------------------
First WP participation, hope you like it!
EDIT: Typos | "Hey? Joe? You there?"
"Where else would I be, Bob. Not like we've been moved since they put us in these damned boxes."
"Well, that's just it. I don't think we're on Earth anymore. Try jumping to the ceiling."
"Why?"
"Just try it. I wanna know what you find out for yourself."
"Okay, alle-o *CLANG* OW!"
"Joe? … Joe!? … Are you okay?!?"
"Um. I think so. I'm not so sure about the ceiling."
"Left a dent did you? So did I."
"More like a half meter hole. Hang on, I'm gonna try something."
*Screarrrccchhht!*
"What The Hell Was That!"
From just outside Bob's cell. "I just tore the wall of my cell apart."
*Gah!* "JOE? DON'T DO THAT!"
"Nope, now *you* get to do it."
"Oh. Huh. Lemme try a different way." Bob winds up with the kind of bad martial arts movie hand chop, like a blade in a circular motion.
*SHHHRRANNG! CLANG!*
"Cool move! Chopped your way out with one swipe of a hand. Look, I gotta ask, what the ding dong hell is going on here? We sure didn't do anything to get this physical enhancement."
"Either they already experimented on us, or it's inherent in us."
"But if just being off Earth was enough, the astronauts and cosmonauts would already have figured it out."
"So... We're at least beyond the moon."
"Yeah. Now, how many other humans did they snatch, and how many of them are there? Even if it's just us two, we could cause a lot of hell."
"Yes, we could do a lot by ourselves, including getting everyone onboard killed. Then get ourselves killed by trying to go back to Earth without a space suit."
"Why would…? Never mind. If the astronauts needed it so do we on the return."
"Yup. All in all, it's probably a better idea to get along with the aliens."
"Isu tinofara kunzwa izvo. Zita rangu kaputeni!"
"Um, I think he said he's the captain."
"Your pardon, the wrong language came up. I am called Captain in your lang) Mxd I am so glad you decided on peace. If you hadn't, we would have met in pieces."
(finis) | 2021-05-18T07:54:08 | 2021-05-18T06:04:50 | 236 | 77 |
[WP] Humanity is bored with virtual gaming and has mastered controlling robot bodies for gaming warfare. Aliens invade Earth and everyone thinks it's an Easter egg in the game and fights them off. | /vg/ - Video Game Generals
Anonymous
Robo Warfare 2046 General /(...) 07/24/46(Sun)15:37:28 No.149485269
File: 1469364701944.jpg (329 KB, 1600x900)
Robo Warfare General /rbw/ #766
Ok /vg/. Serious time.
I think I found an easter egg in the game. I was flying around the hard area near Malaysia, testing my new FX-5653G when I found a new enemy on the ground.
There was no info on the sensors. I didn't get the "Not a NPC" prompt either so it wasn't something from the real world who got into the combat zones, so I engaged it because whatever.
It was weak AF. Died in two hits.
Wierd thing is, I didn't get any xp or any loot. So I assume the devs at Treyarch just forgot it here and it was supposed to be erased.
Had to leave for the base right after that because I was out of energy and i'm not a P2W player, you know the drill /vg/. But I still got a video of it on my stream.
The twitch replay is here : bit.ly/OPisafaggot
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)15:50:24 No.149655549
Obvious fake. How much time did you spend on Photoshop for this, OP ? This doesn't look like any mob in the game. No way they would have coded a completely different model and just forgot it.
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)15:55:30 No.149655550
filthy FX series player
can't even afford a real mech
makes up stories to impress his pals in middle school
Get out, OP.
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)16:10:24 No.149655551
File: 2046_07_24_0001.png (1.09 MB, 923x1077)
Ok guys, shit. I think this guy is for real. I went there and found another one. Look at this.
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)16:16:24 No.149655553
Wow, I guess if a big streamer like you says it's real, then it must be real. OMW after my dailies.
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)16:40:24 No.149655554
File: cucks.png (0.78 MB, 923x1077)
Just look at this /vg/. One big guy says it's true and we have 50 players running to get here first.
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)16:50:54 No.149655560
There isn't any mobs left. Whatever was there, we missed it.
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)16:55:55 No.149655561
JUST POSTING HERE FOR THE SCREENCAP ON REDDIT
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)17:00:00 No.149655562
File: UFO thingy.png (0.78 MB, 923x1077)
Look up /vg/. Something's coming down.
I think we just started an event or something. Dunno if there's enough of us to win it.
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)17:05:58 No.149655563
THESE GUYS ARE ZERGING US WE NEED MORE PEOPLE
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)17:07:23 No.149655564
Coming. I'm not alone. Wait for us Anons.
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)17:26:24 No.149655568
This is a clown fiesta. I'm getting crazy FPS drops. Unplayable. What the fuck, Treyarch ? At least try to make events that people can play.
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)17:50:24 No.149655570
It's down. We got no loot, no xp, nothing. What the hell ? I'm getting a wierd feeling out of this.
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)17:50:59 No.149655571
The mobs aren't despawning. Are you sure these are NPCs ?
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)17:55:24 No.149655572
What else would they be ? Aliens ?
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)19:00:13 No.149655549
CNN JUST CONFIRMED IT
WE TOOK DOWN AN ALIEN SHIP
Anonymous
07/24/46(Sun)19:10:13 No.149655549
Dear diary, today 4chan stopped an alien invasion.
| "This planet is crazy." Faftur face-tentacled(?) as she watched the carnage unfolding in the watery planet. Any sane Fothrill would have done the same.
Who would have thought that the planet was inhabited by unmanned drones and robots? Heck, they even flung 60 mm nuclear shell at each other like it was a beach ball.
"What's wrong with these 'humans'?!" A line appeared at her computer console.
Seventh unit is down to one person, third and fourth is obliterated. What is your command?
"Charge the antimatter cannon."
Our forces is still down there. Please confirm your command.
"Do it anyway." she mercilessly commanded. Seconds later, a huge chunk of the planet's crust was blasted away.
"Report."
Fifteen drones, five units and a carrier lost, no enemy biological signature detected.
"No signature? Check heat-- no, it would do no good after that blast. Let's move to next cell."
*"General Faftur, Lieutenant Hafar from forensic team reporting"*
"Report in."
*"We found signature, ma'am. Carbon-based biology. It's located deep below the lithosphere--"*
"Under the lithosphere?! Don't joke around! You mean on that liquid mantle, liquid metal 7300 degree Yusarit with pressure 452 atmosphere?! No life should been able to evolve there!!"
*"It evolved in the surface, ma'am, but..."* an alarm interrupted her report.
Positron stream detected, the enemy seems to retaliate to our attack in kind. Probability to evade, 0.02%, probability to survive, 1.3%. Activating automatic evasion.
"Nice to meet you too, Lieutenant." Faftur said with self-depreciating tone as the countdown reach zero...
>***Game Log 2316, 18:00 UTC***
>FMAss77: Woohoo, eat that positron cannon, you space octopus
>WillFuckUrMama: they have fifteen tentacles, so, not strictly 'octopus'.
>Response76: Wow @WillFuckUrMama, you must be fun at parties.
>WillFuckUrMama: I have a proton cannon fully loaded, so yes I am, @Response76.
>FMAss77: Hey, why did killing them don't increase my EXP?
>RaiderYuutori: @FMAss77 maybe there are specific ways to kill them? I've been using 5.56 DU munition and I still can't get the EXP out of them
>WillFuckUrMama: None of my kill gain EXPs as well.
>FMAss77: Ah well, who cares? It's still fun thing to do. | 2016-07-26T03:52:50 | 2016-07-26T01:28:27 | 2,243 | 232 |
[WP] You have worked the same job as a cashier at a big box store for years. You Live alone in a small apartment. You never go out, just eat microwave meals and watch reruns. You are the most boring person you know. And for some reason you don't understand, assassin's are always trying to kill you. | My life isn't anything special. My name is Chiara Ricci. I'm the daughter of Italian immigrants, fourth generation now, and I've kind of settled into the monotony of life. I work at Talmart, as one of two, maybe three cashiers. The pay is shit, but they actually offer a retirement plan, and I don't need to go to college to count change. I live in a dingy little apartment by myself, and my favorite foods are Byson's chicken patties and frozen pizzas. Well, that's not accurate - my favorite foods are baby back ribs and filet mignon, but I can't afford those. So chicken patties and frozen pizzas for me. Despite it, I manage to stay in pretty good shape, between the home gym I had to save up for a year for, the yoga videos I look up online, and the having to run to work since I can't afford a bike that won't collapse if I get on it. My favorite TV show is Jeopardy, since it's all I can really get without paying for cable. The only training of any kind I have is how to not blow up at shitty customers, and the bullshit aikido classes my mom put me in for discipline when I was 8.
What I'm trying to say here is that I'm a normal, boring, average person.
So why are assassins always trying to kill me!?
The man dressed in black clicks his gun a few more times - it's empty. My dinner table is full of holes now - maybe I should pick up carpentry - but I never used it anyways. Never had time. When I hear the gun click, I stand up, kicking the table at him.
He drops his gun as he dives out of the way, landing squarely on his stomach. I take the opportunity to jump on top of him, my arms wrapping around his neck.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey, easy now... Eaaaasy now..."
Eventually, the man passed out.
By now, I've come to a few conclusions: these assassins are not very well trained. I mean, they can't be - how else could I have survived so long?
Th second conclusion - someone wanted me dead, for God knows what. I can't think of anything I did to piss someone off THAT much.
I dig through the man's pockets for ammunition, and eventually I find some. Sighing to myself, I pick the gun up off the floor and reload it, dragging the man's body out of the kitchen. Wouldn't want to crack the tile.
I take his body into the bathroom - well, bath area - and grab my least favorite pillow.
The third conclusion I've come to is that trying to find whoever's doing this is pointless. These guys never have any kind of identifying marks - they dress in all black, and don't carry any ID. Hell, their fingerprints have been burned off. Who does that?
Bang. Once, right through the heart.
I call my boss to tell him I'm gonna be late again. He didn't really buy the whole assassin thing until he saw one dive into the meeting room to kill me. He doesn't ask why I run late anymore.
I throw the gun into the trash, taking off my gloves and putting them in my pocket, starting to run the bath to drain the blood pouring from his body.
Regardless of how useless it is to try to find the guy in charge, though, I never stop. This guy's the same way, has his fingerprints burned off, nothing in his- pockets?
In his lapel pocket, I see something poking out. Never noticed it before. Curious, I take it out - it's a letter?
[How would you like a job?] | # Bad Routine
“Wake up. Yawn. Stretch arms. Bathroom. Shower. A guy with a knife opens my curtain. He attacks me. I grab his pulse and force his hands to stab himself.
Brush teeth. Put on clothes. Go to car. Realize there's something weird. Throw a rock at car. Car explodes.
...I guess bus it is!
Pick bus. Wait for my stop. Guy with a pistol sits next to me. I grab his whole arm and I break it. Guy falls on the floor. I grab his gun and shoot his head.
I reach my stop. Go to work on big store.
Work. Work. Work. Dodge the sniper's bullets 17 times. Work. Work. Fucking hate this unexciting job.
Lunch time. Throw my sandwich in the trash because it was poisoned. Grab a coffee and a smaller sandwich in the store's café. Go back to work.
Work. Work. Work. End work.
Take the bus back. Guy appears, yadda yadda, you know how it goes.
Go back home. Microwave some lasagna. Realize the beeps of my microwave are getting faster. I jump back.
NOW MY MICROWAVE EXPLODED! GREAT.
See why I need help, sir? This is stressing me up and I don't know what to do!”
“Mm-hmm.” said the hired assassin disguised as a psychologist.
r/Box_Of_Stories | 2022-05-15T10:13:17 | 2022-05-15T07:35:50 | 119 | 70 |
[WP] The aliens have arrived however they are not here for war. Instead after reading our broadcast of the United States Constitution they want to join as the 51 state and have brought a small planetoid into orbit to serve as the 51 state. | Its been six years since the aliens arrived.
I always thought it was a bit arrogant that all the movies portrayed aliens making first contact with the United States but when the Argditheans sent down a convoy, the US is where they came. The government tried to restrict what the media could cover but many cameras caught the landing of the aliens. They were taller than us by about two feet, but of much slighter build. Most of their skin was a reddish tint except for the tops of their conical shaped hairless heads which were white. They had devices that translated our conversations as we spoke but no one knows what was all negotiated that day at the Whitehouse. What we all know for sure is that the aliens were impressed with the Constitution and all it stood for so they were eager to become a state of the country. A little less than a year after the landing, the Argdith Moon Act was signed by congress making the alien ship "Argdith" a state of America. Their "ship" was about half this size of our moon and the population has been estimated at one hundred million individuals, the government has tried and failed several times to get an accurate census of the Argdith.
At first, this union was a dawn of a new era for the United States. Natural resources were traded for new technologies. There were many new inventions to improve the quality of life of humans, desalination machines, technology to make plentiful food, renewable power sources and many others. It looked like humanity was finally heading towards a utopian future.
Things began to degrade a couple years ago. People were, as usual, not very excepting of the "actual" aliens. Discrimination of another species was even worst than our racism. Whiteheads was a term created to demean the aliens. Many people gawked and were afraid when around the Argditheans which kept many of them on their ship. They were, on average, more intelligent than humans which caused many jobs to be outsourced to them.
Our government started bastardizing the Argdith technology, creating some of the most effective weapons in history. We also did not freely share most of our new-found food, water and power technologies with other countries. The US kept much of the technology secret and made billions from selling the things produced. Many other countries, coveting this technology, started ramping up espionage which led to the English Channel Conflict involving much of western Europe.
The last straw was our presidential election last year. The election was a remarkably nasty one. Many issues regarding the aliens were up for debate including inter-species mating, alien immigration, alien job outsourcing, and alien rights among others. The Argditheans watched with disgust as candidates and people railed against them. On April 20th 2597 the Whiteheads announced they were succeeding from the United States and were going to depart from our solar system as soon as they had the required hydrogen.
Announcing that intent was a mistake that will be remembered for a long time. The US government had a contingency for this situation and had been slowing building up a force. We had 20 battalions of marines and soldiers and 20 squadrons of Airmen trained and ready for a war with the Whiteheads. Even fighting a two front war the United States would have upper hand after building up our enormous fighting force.
Today June 6, 2597 the second American civil war begins. As the sounds of bombardment from Argdith Moon begins and I hear the booms of exploding landing ships around ours I can't help but feel the irony that history is repeating itself on this day. Many of us have termed this D day but I am torn between my duty and morality. Maybe we should have shared our new-found technology. Maybe we should have tried harder to accept our new friends. Maybe we should have stayed true to the spirit of our constitution. All I know is, I swore to protect that constitution with my life and today I get to pay up.
| Pedro looked up in surprise at the blinding lights of the border patrol that shined upon him and his 4 young children.
"Take me to you leader", He said with a stereotypical mexican accent, which was odd because he was obviously from guatemala.
The agents surrounded them and ushered them into a van.
They drove through the desert in a silence only broken by the creaking of the old ford econoline as it went over bumps.
When they arrived at the boarder patrol station, Pedro was brought to a dimly lit room with a metal table and a single chair. He sat down and looked at himself in the large mirror that occupied one wall. He was disgusted by his dirty appearance, it was no wonder that he was received in this disrespectful manner. Before he came to america to steal jobs and free healthcare from the american people, he was the proud owner of a drug cartel that had been in his family for generations, and now he was no better than the people he oppressed for so long.
A man entered the room, the supervisor.
"I hear you have a proposition for me", He said.
"Yes mister, I want to become the 51st state of the US, i have a planetoid that my people and I will live on", he said pointing out the window at the moon.
"Jesus this guy is insane", said the Supervisor, "get him out of here".
"Jesús is my brother," said carlos the border guard as he cuffed Pedro.
Pedro was deported and lived happily ever after as the foreman of a coccaine production plant in the guatemalan mountains.
The End | 2016-06-06T10:07:56 | 2016-06-06T09:12:46 | 42 | 14 |
[WP] You instinctively know everyone's name the second you meet them. One day you thank someone at the supermarket for helping you, and they stare at you wide eyed. "Nobody has called me by that name in centuries" | The cigarette lit up the darkness, an intruder against the suffocating atmosphere. I drank down the poison, savouring the toxic air, knowing full well the cost; I didn't care. I exhale a long plume, mixing my smokey breath with the smog and humidity of a heavy July evening. The air doing it's best at pretending to be soup, too thick to easily breathe but too thin to rain. That's why it was called The Blanket, as every day underneath it was the same humid, sweaty hell.
I flick what's left of my butt into the street and step out of the murk. The bright LED lights of the store a stark contrast to the darkness outside as I cross the air curtain; it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust. When my vision clears I see the cashier keeping an eye on me, but not too closely. I casually nod to him, and he goes back to watching TV. Old habits die hard. I have a scant 15 minutes until my next shift, so I peruse the shelves quickly, essentials only. Another citizen is here shopping, we do our best to avoid each other.
Barely 2 minutes has past before the peacefulness of repetitive tinny music is interrupted by the desperate pleas of a would-be thief. "Give me all of your credits or you are toast!" I sigh, of all the days. I turn to look at the young man, leather jacket, smog filter, scruffy brown hair, obvious ocular implant. A profile filters through my mind, Nathan Jamesson. 21. Augmented. Recently Unemployed. The same sad story, unable to afford the juice that keeps their implant running, they resort to anything to get it. Without the juice their implant is a piece of junk, and with all of the purists it's hard to get work as an Augmented.
The cashier droid just looks at Nathan with blank glassy eyes, making no motion to acquiesce to his demands. "I mean it!" the kid shouts louder, as if volume can be used against something that thinks with silicon and electrons.
*Sorry. Due to my contract I am unable to comply with your request.*
As I expected, a canned response from the tin can. Unfortunately the kid's temper and frustration gets the better of him and his laser pistol discharges straight through the bot's head, leaving melted plastic and silicon melting onto the counter. A flash through my mind appears combining with the rest of Nathan's Profile. Wanted: **Armed Robbery. Destruction of Corporation Property.**
Very bad idea kiddo. The bot will be replaced by tomorrow, but that charge is permanent.
"What the fuck you are you looking at arsehole?" he yells, breaking me out of my thoughts.
"Nothing." I mutter, hoping he will pay me no more attention. Unfortunately he's not so smart. The increased adrenaline has made him bolder, but also rash. He points the gun at me, barrel only a few feet from my face.
"Give me all your credits!" he barks at me, finger twitching on the trigger. Damnit, I gotta do what he says. He's worse than unjuiced, he must be withdrawling from something else. I carefully reach into my jacket pocket, and slowly retrieve my credit card. I look at him squarely in the eyes, and flick it over to him.
His one good eye follows the card as it arcs upwards through the air. Mistake. I take the opportunity to plunge my shoulder deep into his chest, feeling him fall backwards, gun clattering to the floor and depowering. Even though I caught him unawares, he still a dozen years of youth on me and recovers faster.
"Fuck you old man!" he spits and draws a vibroblade. In a store cramped like this it's a better weapon, I have nowhere to manoeuvre out of the way if he knows how to use it. He thrusts forwards, accurately, and I leap backwards. A second attempted lunge from Nathan and I find myself up against the back shelves, nowhere to go. The expression on the good half of his face shows me that he's enjoying this. He strikes a third time, and with nowhere to go I figure I have nothing to lose.
The blade strikes clean through my left hand, lubricant leaking down my arm. The vibroknife has sliced completely through the centre and out the back. I grin back at Nathan. "Picked the wrong guy to fight, kiddo." I mock. Clenching my left fist crushes the knife into shards of useless ceramics, still sharp but no longer immintently dangerous. Using my moment of surprise I lunge forward, ploughing my titanium fist into Nathan's ocular implant. The twisted sound of metal hitting metal echoes through the shop. A broken implant just adds to his list of troubles.
Nathan quickly scrambles back down the isle away from me, but I can see what's coming, I've kept an eye on the other patron that's been lurking around. A quick thump from him and Nathan is knocked out, slumped on the ground. We both look at each other, temporary allies against a robbery gone wrong.
I break the uncomfortable silence. "Hey, thanks Adam. I appreciate it." Adam. The name from his profile appeared in my mind before I could prevent myself from saying it. A momentary slip up. Adam's eyes go wide as he hears his own name from my lips.
"How, do you know that name?" he asks, hesitantly.
My implant finishes building his profile in my mind.
*Name: Adam.*
*Identity: Unknown.*
*Job: Unknown.*
*Location: Unknown.*
*Threat: Extreme. Treat with the utmost caution and under no circumstances are you to interact with this android.* | My whole life I’ve had this. . .thing. A gift, perhaps? I’ve always had the ability to know people’s names just by looking at them. It makes mundane tasks more fun when I turn it into a game; “how many people with the last name Smith will I walk by” or “who’s got the most unusual name I can find today”. And it makes finding people online much easier when I know exactly the name I’m searching for. I don’t know how I got this ability. Ive just always had it.
That brings me to yesterday. I was getting some groceries, playing a game in my head, today’s was “what name comes up more than any other” Dave’s were winning with six, which was a bit weird because there’s never that many Dave’s in one place.
I was minding my own business in the beer and wine isle, not paying much attention when I turned around and my big bulky handbag knocked over and broke a bottle of red wine all over the floor.
“Shit”, I exclaim quietly, awkwardly standing near the deep red, vinegary smelling mess that was slowly coming towards my feet.
A worker passed the isle and saw, and quickly rushes over.
“I’m so sorry, can I do anything to help?”,I said to the girl, who I see like a flash in my brain is called Catherine, coming towards me.
“Oh it’s alright, I’ll get someone, just carry on with your shopping, you’d be surprised how much this happens, I blame the way our shelves are stacked”.
Catherine smiled at me, there was something very warm about her. She looked like she was in her early twenties, but something about her deep brown eyes shocked me with the seemingly boundless wisdom behind them.
“Okay, thank you Catheri...”, I cut myself off quickly when I realised I’d said her name. I knew she was going think I was weird or creepy, as the mistakes I’ve made in the past of saying somebodies name before they’ve told me have proven. And I noticed her name badge said ‘Alice’.
Her smile dropped and she started looking worried and uncomfortable.
“Did. . . You just call me Catherine?”, she whispered, looking around shiftily, almost as if she was afraid someone would hear.
“Oh shit. Um. I’m sorry I guess you just look like someone I know” I replied, fumbling my words. I guessed she might be using a fake name for protection, maybe hiding from something.
“No”, she said with a big sigh, “that’s too much of a coincidence. You see,” she leaned in closer to me, I looked at her with a confused look on my face, “you see, no ones called me that for about two centuries”.
I’m speechless. I just stare at her for a couple of seconds my mouth agape.
“If you know my name, then you must know my true identity,” her warmth suddenly felt icy, her kind face started to look slightly menacing as she got right up close almost nose to nose with me.
“And you’re not getting what I know you’re after.” She suddenly backs away from me, once again smiling her brilliant smile.
I just stared at her, shocked. I opened and closed my mouth like I was about to say something but I’m dumbfounded.
I finally force an “excuse me” out, but she ignored it.
“Guess I’ll get someone to clean this wine up then, have a nice day!”
And with that she sharply turned, and started walking away.
All I knew was, I had to find out who this girl is. | 2018-11-05T22:10:57 | 2018-11-05T21:12:06 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] Everyone in the world is able to choose exactly one superpower. The catch: the more people select a certain power, the weaker it becomes.
Example: if many people choose telekinesis, they'll only be able to move small, light objects. If many people choose time travel, they'll only be able to go back a few seconds. | Creativity. Creativity is key.
The bank robbers were very well armed and clearly well trained. They held their guns confidently and quickly subdued the crowd, backing us against the wall, our faces to the ground. On one side of me, a man was muttering something, angry words, working himself up. On the other side, a woman was squeezing her toddler close, trying to calm the girl, willing her not to cry. In front of me, an old woman the robbers had shoved a bit too hard against the ground. She wasn’t moving.
I turned to the woman and her daughter, “You should calm down. Everything will be ok,” I whispered to the girl, not sure if it was true. I didn’t think the robbers would harm anyone else, but there would always be more robberies and more people who didn’t care who was harmed. That was the world we lived in, now.
I turned my eyes back to the man beside me, noticing the dull glow of the gem embedded in the back of his fist. I wondered what power it held, and by the way his body had tensed, I figured I was about to find out.
No one is quite sure where the power gems came from. One day the dispensers appeared, one in every town, and quietly began spitting out tiny glowing stones that shined with impossible colors. I am old enough to remember the beginning, the first folks who took the opportunity to choose powers and make use of them. Back then, each stone glowed with incredibly force, and things were different. Laserbeam eyes were more effective than laser pointers, healing powers could handle more than a paper cut, and the power to fly was more than just being able to sort of glide as you fall. But as more and more people requested a power, the stones of those who possessed it grew dimmer. The dispensers punished the unoriginal, and the loud mouthed who couldn’t keep their powers to themselves. The dispensers rewarded the creative and deceptive.
The most clever, those willing to put the most work into obtaining power and effort to keeping it, those were the kind of people the system favored. And so the villains became more powerful than the heroes.
The man beside me did have some glow to his stone. Not much, but enough that you could tell it had some kick. He did not wear the fingerless gloves most wore to cover their stones, and so I knew he must have been proud of whatever the ability was. But pride in a situation like this was a dangerous thing.
I turned to him, not sure what to do. “You-”
“Don’t worry, little miss. I know what I’m doing,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. Little miss, huh? Clearly this guy had a hero complex, and who was I to try to talk the idiot out of his fun? “...What’s your name?” I asked him.
“Dale,” he said.
“Dale. I’ll remember that when you get yourself killed.”
(cont. in comments) | As George walked out of the store, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Sure, his power wasn't showy, not like the guys who could shoot small flames out of their hands, or move small objects with their minds, but how often did somebody need to do that? No his power was subtle, but very strong, because he was the only person in the world who chose it, and he always had a reason to use it several times a week. George had chosen the power to always be in the fastest checkout lane and he had never regretted it. He glanced at his watch, he had only been in the store for twelve minutes, he had plenty of time to get to his next appointment. It was a good day. | 2015-05-05T10:19:33 | 2015-05-05T09:33:46 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] A girl becomes pen pals with a demon prince when she accidentally intercepts one of his magic scrolls. They carry on correspondence for years, confessing their secrets & dreams to each other. One day, the prince, soon to be king, sends the girl, now a woman, a final scroll: a marriage proposal.
Boy/princess responses are also welcomed. | In our first letters to each other, I found out three things about Lily.
One, that she really liked cats. I mean, 'cat-decal-everything-paw-print-patterns' level.
(I'm more of a dog kinda guy, but I can appreciate their charm.)
Two was that she was the daughter of a single mother, who had no siblings but a very large extended family that she loved very dearly even if they did cause one hell of a ruckus.
And three was that she was the princess of a demonic kingdom (queendom? Is that a thing?) and destined to ascend the throne once her mother would finish her 1000-year reign.
See, I'm not totally sure how we even ended up writing to each other in the first place. One day you set up a personal mailbox outside your window and draw a pentacle and other assorted demonic imagery on it for the giggles, and the next morning you find a scroll with very neat (if very tiny) handwriting in something that may or may not be blood addressed to some dude who's clearly not you.
But y'know, when a girl initiates a conversation it's rude to not reply.
So that's how it went for the next decade or so. We exchanged monthly letters/scrolls about anything and everything (can you believe they don't have *beer* in Hell but they have *grape juice*? Not even wine, just. Grape juice.) that came to mind. I taught her a little about life upon our mortal plane of existence (*'no Lily, radios do *not* have tiny men inside them'*), and in return, she taught me a little Latin and provided me with sketches and drawings she wanted some critique on.
To be honest, sometimes I looked forward to her letters more than anything else. With Lily, I felt as if I could open up and spill the things I'd be hiding from everyone else in my life. Neither of us ever talked about escalating things beyond friendship, but looking back it should have been painfully obvious to me that I was unconsciously crushing *hard* on her. On some girl, who I'd never even met face-to-face before.
(I didn't want to make things uncomfortable, so I squashed those feelings.)
From time to time she'd make an offhand comment about how the infighting in her family was steadily getting worse as her mother's term came to an end, or how she'd be pressured to find a suitable king-consort. I tried to sympathise as best as I could, but it was times like these that reminded me of just how different a life Lily lived.
Fast forward to my final year in my Communications degree, where she sent an especially long letter. By then, I had been kicked out of the house and Lily's mother was a year away from abdicating the throne. I chuckled at her stories of clumsy attempts of humiliation and inhaled sharply at the tales of assassinations (both failed and successful). It had just been any other letter for us.
So, of course, it completely came at me out of nowhere when at the end in her tiny neat handwriting she meekly asked if I would like to come live with her.
(*'But I'm not forcing you or anything!'*, she had written. *'I just get a little lonely sometimes. And...I'd really like to hear what your voice sounds like.'*)
I had never written a reply and smashed it into my battered old mailbox so quickly before.
I have no regrets, of course. Sure, I'm going to live somewhere that doesn't show up on Google Maps and I'll be leaving behind literally everyone I've known. But I'm finally going to get to meet the girl who made life worth living and be able to live with her by the end of November. I just hope my degree will actually net me a useful job down in Hell.
But hey. At least I don't have to worry about getting paid. | “Oh man! These princesses are wack.” Finn complained as he threw the scroll to the floor.
“Save em once, and they want smooches like it’s nothing.”
Jake picked up the scroll and read it over. “I think this princess want more than just smooches, dude. She wants to straight up marry you.”
Finn’s face scrunched up as the image of marrying the Ash Princess formed in his brain.
“No way man, that ain’t happening.”
“Well you did write her a lot of letters.” Jake pointed out.
“I was just being nice!” Finn’s voice cracked. “You know, mad chivalrous.”
Jake crumpled the scroll into a ball and tossed it over his shoulder. “So we heading to the Ashlands or what?”
Finn closed his eyes and waved that suggestion away. “Nah man, I’m not marrying Ash Princess.”
Jake shrugged. “So then what do you want to do today?”
Finn thought for a bit. Then his face lit up. “Iknow, let’s go and slay some wicked dragons.” He slammed his fist into his other hand.
Jake got excited by that. He high fived Finn and leapt out of the window of their tree house. His body grew ten times its normal size as Finn jumped on his back. They then bounded off towards the mountains to slay some unsuspecting dragons.
In the Ashlands, Ash Princess sat on her throne, eagerly awaiting her future husband. Her advisor cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Are you- ah- are you sure he’s coming, your highness?” He stepped a little closer. “It’s been a month since your last correspondance.”
“I’m sure. Finn is the most noble boy I know. He probably got held up by monsters or something.”
| 2018-05-07T01:35:47 | 2018-05-07T00:18:15 | 38 | 24 |
[WP] A superhero in a skintight and revealing costume is facing off with a rather old fashioned and classy villain. The baddie in question is more bothered by the hero's shameless clothing rather than the foiled plans. | From beneath the comforting fabric of her black robe, Nocturne sighed. This had to be her third museum heist this year already, and it's not like there were that many museums to pick from. At this rate, she'd have to start stealing from the Musical Instrument Museum or the History of Dairy Museum soon.
Still: the display of Incan Relics at the Museum of Indigenous Peoples was worth the risk of repeating oneself. As a bonus, the artifacts were valuable enough that people would assume she was stealing them just to re-sell them, never guessing her *true* purpose.
Nocturne adjusted her burnished metal eye-mask, scanning the room carefully. After she was done here, she could do some banks, maybe try a government building to shake things up. She was getting to a point where she had her legacy to think about, after all.
Nocturne approached the first display case and carefully rolled down one of her elbow-length gloves, sliding it off and folding the black silk in her hand. She delicately placed a carefully manicured finger on the glass and waited as obsidian waves emanated from the point of contact. She felt the resistance give way as the surface changed to dark ether, then casually reached in and grabbed the ceremonial headdress waiting within.
Her cloak rustled as she turned on the heel of one of her knee-length boots, moving on to the next relic. Just as she was about to lay her hand on the case, she froze.
Garish fluorescent lights began flashing around the walls of the room. A rich, baritone voice behind her commanded, "Stop right there, evil-doer! You have been caught red-handed by Lieutenant Kernel."
Nocturne groaned. "That is, hands down, the *worst* name I've ever heard," she called out, still not moving, "and keep in mind that I've faced off against *Fry Guy* and someone who called himself *Montezuma's Revenge*."
"Divulging your evil plan will not help save you from my technological might, villain! You are about to get a one-way ticket to Justice Town!"
At this, Nocturne turned around, a fiery retort on her lips. Whatever she was about to say, though, ended up coming out as a quiet "What in the actual f--"
Standing before her, arms akimbo, legs shoulder length apart, was...she actually wasn't quite sure what she was looking at, because the colored lights she had noticed earlier were sweeping across her vision.
"Listen, would you mind...turning those off? I think you're going to give me epilepsy if I look at you much longer."
Lieutenant Kernel frowned, then brought a forearm to chest level and touched some buttons on a small control panel there. The lights turned off. "It's cyan, magenta, yel --"
"I don't care. At all" Nocturne interjected.
There was an awkward pause as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in the museum. The hero broke the silence: "I wield the power of a *computer*! Now, I will use my technology to turn on the lights - without using a switch!"
Nocturne shook her head. "Look, kid, let me give you some -- holy hell what is *that*?"
Lieutenant Kernel had turned 90 degrees, aiming his wrist control at the wall, and then paused. "What is what?"
Nocturne had not noticed in the low light before, but now that the hero was in profile...
"Are you - you can't...is that a *codpiece*!?"
The hero looked downward, then back at his foe. "I don't...think so. What's a codpiece?"
All that was visible of Nocturne's face beneath her hood was her mouth, and it was currently contorted in horror. "You...that's *you*? Good God! Get...get...some compression shorts, or a...a cup, or...duct tape? Something. *Anything*."
"Ha ha ha! Your attempts to distract me will not work!" He clicked a button and light flooded the room. Nocturne screamed.
"Ahh! It's even worse! Where is the rest of it? Why are you...did you shave your *abdomen* but not your *legs*? And...are those...are those *nipples*?"
Lieutenant Kernel shifted awkwardly as he looked down again. He had a molded breastplate that left his midriff bare, like some sort of medieval sports bra. The lights were mounted on the shoulders. Below the waist, he was wearing tight - extremely tight - shorts, and they were definitely short. He looked like a basketball player from the early 80's. For reasons that Nocturne could not fathom, there was nothing from his mid-thigh to his lower calf, leaving his hairy legs exposed.
"What?" he frowned. "I made it myself!"
Nocturne's lips were now closed tight, the corners of her mouth twitching. "You...don't say." She looked him over again, cocking her head to one side. "Oh...oh, honey, no. What's on your head?"
"It's a fedora. Why?"
Nocturne's body was shaking with barely repressed laughter now. "But...what's on top of your...fedora?"
"It's the energy pack! I couldn't figure out how to strap it on myself without it burning me. See?"
He turned around and showed his bare lower back, which was marred by an ugly, rectangular welt.
It was too much. Nocturne threw her head back and the empty museum rooms echoed with the sounds of her cackles. Lieutenant Kernel's eyes were wide as he stared down at the floor. "I need to power my unit somehow," he said quietly.
"Your UNIT!" Nocturne shrieked, tears running freely down her face. "To be honest, I think your *unit* has plenty of power already! Oh...oh...I think I peed myself a little. Your unit!" She continued laughing, dabbing at her eyes with the glove she had removed earlier. "Okay, kid, I...I can't take this anymore. I'll go with you if you promise to never go out in public dressed like this ever again."
She had mostly recovered but every now and then something would set her off and she would lapse into a burst of giggles. The hero gave a somber nod, his face tight, and escorted Nocturne out of the building.
* * *
/r/ShadowsofClouds | *I have had the most atrocious luck lately.* The man sighed deeply, before rolling and rising on shaky legs. He brushed the dust from his pants, gazing about wryly at the rubble around him and the remains of the wall he was sent through. A flick of the wrist summoned his cane and a whispered arcane word repaired all the rents and tears in his old fashioned cut suit. *Strong blast, kinetic in nature, no hints of fire or smoke. Let’s see. Is it The Archer? Or perhaps MachV.* A flash of red and gold flew into the open hole in the wall and the man groaned again. *Oh dear me. It’s* him...
The man that stood in the wall was as different as possible from the man that went through it. The red and gold costume was made of form fitting spandex, a few sizes too small apparently. It clung to the man like a second skin, revealing every muscle and curve on his body. The abdominal area was cut out revealing plain skin and sculpted abs. The pants, and that was a generous definition, seemed tighter than skin and showed off his crotch and rear in embarrassing detail. Throwing back his shoulders the red and gold figure puffed out his chest, his long blonde hair flying back like the cover figure of a tawdry romance novel. “Shade! You’re evil ends today!”
Shade sighed deeply, leaning on his cane. He stood calmly, legs together and back straight. The edges of his overcoat hung straight and neat, his shirt pressed and immaculate. He slowly adjusted his tie and gazed at the other man with distaste. “I think not. Better than you have tried Peacock.”
The man in red and gold frowned, almost pouring as he balled his fists together. “It’s not Peacock! My name is RedRock and I’m going to rock you!” He leapt forward, rushing at the darkly attired man like a missile. Shade sighed and spun, disappearing at the last moment and appearing a few feet away. The speeding hero kept going with a startled squawk, slamming into the wall opposite in a crash of dust and falling concrete.
“No you’re a peacock. How else can you explain such...distasteful attire. Honestly. Aren’t you embarrassed?” Shade shook his head, sniffing at the figure pulling himself from the sizable dent in the wall. “Heroes these days. Simply ridiculous. Dressed like a painted fool and shouting such inane phrases.”
“Shut up!” RedRock clambered to his feet, face as red as his costume though not from pain. “What do you know? Dressed like some old man, in some kind of of penguin suit!” He dashed forward again, right fist aimed at Shade’s face.
Shade raised his staff, creating a shield that absorbed the powerful blow. Ducking and twisting he struck RedRock’s knee from behind, sending him stumbling and falling over. “A penguin suit? This is a traditional suit from the highest era of fashion young man. Where men dressed like men and acted like gentlemen.”
He tapped the cane down and a wave of shadow energy threw the younger man high into the air. Another wave had the rubble fly up into the wall, energies slowly knitting the damage together. He turned and smiled to himself as the Red figure slammed into the ground with a thump. “We didn’t have such uncouth fights before. Kept collateral damage to a minimum. And certainly did not dress like,” he waved a hand at the groaning RedRock, “this.”
He waved the staff and the hero was entombed in a cocoon of energy. Startled yelps were heard from inside before it disappeared. The hero felt his body in alarm, hands rising to his head to pat his hair. The red and gold costume was replaced with a plain three piece suit of subdued crimson, gold buttons along the front and a gold tie completed the ensemble. The long mane of hair was nearly cut, much nearer than the riot of locks before. Shade looked on with satisfaction. “Much better. I’m surprised you clean up so well.”
“You bastard!” RedRock turned to attack but tripped over the length of the pants and the unaccustomed shoes. Shade snorted and tapped his cane. A swirling portal emerged from the base and Shade made a mocking bow. “Farewell Peacock. Better luck next time. At least you look better now.” He hopped in, chuckling quietly as the angry curses from the defeated foe followed. | 2018-01-11T10:03:19 | 2018-01-11T08:22:57 | 249 | 125 |
[WP] You are due to be executed for your involvement in the rebellion, but the queen herself approched you in your cell to ask you a question; why are people rebelling against her rule? | *Trigger warning for implied suicide.*
"You're kidding, right?"
I gave *Her Majesty* the driest possible look I could muster. She blinked at me slowly, visibly confused by my tone.
"No. I'm not kidding." She leaned forward in her seat. If she were any closer, I might have been able to punch her or something. "I really want to know. Why are the people rebelling against me?"
I really couldn't believe this. Even after revealing that I had never been loyal to her, that all my years of advising and friendship was a facade....she was still coming to me for advise.
"I mean, it has to be for a reason, right?" She asked. "Otherwise, you would have never betrayed me-"
"I was never on your side!" I hissed.
She waved her hand around, as though saying, 'Yeah yeah yeah'.
"So, why is it, Elizabeth? Why do the people rebel?"
I snorted. She wanted a reason? Fine! I'll give her some damn reasons!
"Oh, where do I even start?" I asked sarcastically. "Oh! There's the constant warfare for one thing! You forcing us to go to war for the most foolish of reasons-"
"Those countries' leaders insulted me," she interrupted me, because of course she did. "Is a little bit of bloodshed not worth the honor of defending your Queen?"
I stared. "You started a war with Camberton just because a servant accidentally spilled some punch on your shoes."
"My *favorite* shoes." She replied hottily.
"Oh my god!" I clutched the bridge of my nose. Why was I even bothering right now? "Do you even know what war does to your people?"
"It brings honor and glory-"
"It brings *death*!" I snarled. "Hundreds of innocent lives! Sons, brothers, fathers, husbands, all leaving behind daughters who will never know their fathers, widows without means to feed their children, siblings without-"
My voice cracked. I bowed my head, suddenly feeling exhausted. I suppose if there was one thing I could look forward to, it was reuniting with my dear brother. I knew that it wasn't what he would have wanted from me-how many times has he told me that he wanted me to live a long and happy life? But how was I to live long and happy when the only family I ever had is gone? All for nothing. All for *her*.
The queen tapped her foot impatiently. "Is that it?"
She sounded bored. The urge to punch turned into the urge to choke her. I allowed myself a moment to entertain the thought before continuing.
"Yes. There's much more." I slid my gaze back to her. "But a spoiled little rich girl would never understand the struggles of those that she views as little more then toys for her to play with!"
The queen tutted. She stood. "I am the queen. I have been hand selected to rule this land by the Almighty himself! The choices I make for the land are choices that have been selected through the Lord's good graces!"
"Then may both you and your Lord rot." I replied.
She slapped me. Then she wiped her hand against her dress.
"You were a good friend, Liz." She said. It made me grint my teeth to hear that name slide out of her greasy lips! "Too bad you have betrayed me. I had never wanted this for you."
I smiled drily. "Even before I had met you, I had wished so much worse for you. Now that I know you, not even the worst of the world will ever be enough for the crimes you have committed on this land!"
She rolled her eyes. She began to make her way to the door.
"Good-bye Elizabeth," She said. She made her way towards the exit. I spat on the satin cushioned seat that sat before my cell and I saw her glance back at me, making a face.
"Make sure to burn that." She said to the head of the guards.
"It shall be done, your Highness!" He said.
I waited until the foot steps had disappeared before turning to the bed of my cell. I stripped the sheets and began to tear them.
'I shall see you soon, Archibald.' | Queen Oblivia walked tentatively through the rank, fetid dungeons. It was an amusing contrast; her pristine attire and the decrepit complex. Oblivia was worried. She certainly looked so. And the worries reached their peak at the same time she reached the prisoner.
The queen wastes no time with formalities.
"For your part in the people's rebellion, you are to be put to death." She tells the man on the other side of the cell bars.
The prisoner doesn't even dignify her with his gaze. "That I am," is all he gives her.
"Tell me. Why?" You can hear the confusion in her voice. The innocence. And the fear.
"Imagine a world where every man is a king." The rebel stares into nothing. "It would be a dream come true."
"A dream is precisely what it is." Oblivia blurts. Even with her fear, the arrogance of royalty leaks through. "Nothing more than entertainment."
"It's not entertaining anymore, Your Magesty. The people I fight with. The people I fight *for.* They've made it boring." The prisoner still does not meet her gaze.
"Then why are you rebels so... ferocious? Why the chaos? The fight? The blood?"
It is only now - and only for a moment - that the prisoner locks eyes with queen Oblivia. She was expecting to see rage in his eyes. Malice. Even insanity, perhaps. Nothing - and I mean *nothing* \- could have scared her more than the look of utter **lucidity** on this man's face.
"It's boring because it's **real**."
​
​
If you want more real and/or boring stories you can read more of my work over at r/PlotHoleFullOfSnakes. ^(Stories are not guaranteed to be boring or real. If you find yourself enjoying an illusory story, consult your doctor immediately. The writhing conglomerate of snakes is not legally responsible for any injuries that occur from the abstract concept of literature.) | 2022-05-18T07:23:51 | 2022-05-18T02:12:56 | 196 | 26 |
[WP] After realizing you are in a work of fiction, you immediately rush to the person you think is the protagonist in an attempt to get plot armor as their best friend. But when the "protagonist" dies, you realize you may not have thought this completely through. | "Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!" It's all I could say as I stood over Derrick's body laying in the street. He was the protagonist - he couldn't be dead. Tall, good looking, square-jawed, charming, ladies-man Derrick couldn't be dead. My brain had gone into some kind of loop. I was supposed to be either the comedy relief or plucky sidekick (I'd been working on my wisecracks, but to be honest most of the just didn't land).
We had been swept up in some sort of grand quest. Derrick lead us from our small tow to fight the bad guy. That's what we started calling him - "Bad Guy". I think his real name was Robert. Anyway, when we started calling him that, I realized we were following a very old script. Derrick didn't want to go at first ("Hero denies the call", right?), then he met an old man who everyone thought was crazy and lived at the edge of town. Nobody understood why I called that crazy bastard Obi-wan. He convinced Derrick to heed the call.
Derrick then gathered us up - the jester, the rogue, the thief, and the bard. Tara was the thief - she got busted for shoplifting from Walmart a couple of months ago. Gary was the rogue - he had gone off to college, dropped out, and came back to start up a wed design company that hadn't flamed out yet but which we all thought was probably a money laundering operation. Roger was the bard - he still lived with his parents and played in a band that he was sure was going to make it big. That left me as the jester. Or maybe I was something else. I don't think I was a barbarian or any of the magical creatures. I certainly wasn't a paladin, monk, or ranger. I would have liked to think I was a wizard, but I had to be honest and admit I wasn't smart enough for that.
Bad Guy, or Robert or whatever, was buying up the aluminum plant in town and was planning on shutting it down. If that plant shut down, the town would die. Over half the population of the county worked at that plant. Everyone we knew either worked there or had a family member that did. The five of us in our little group were never getting out of this town. If that bastard closed down the plant, we'd end up cooking meth behind Denny's.
It turned out that Bad Guy played rough though. We started by appealing to his humanity, which was in short supply. We got a spot on the news in the city. Bad Guy made a statement that while he understood our concern, he was trying to protect the jobs of tens of thousands of other people at the parent company. Finally, we resorted to spying. None of us were exactly strangers to the wrong side of the law but this was a little more serious than we were used to.
We broke into his house one evening when he was away at some fancy dinner party. We thought we could find something in there that we could use to blackmail him. Maybe he had some embarrassing porn on his computer or maybe he had a girl chained up in the basement.
What we didn't know is that Bad Guy had an alarm on his house. The alarm didn't go to the police though. The local cops weren't too friendly with him after they found out he was closing the plant. So he had his alarm sent to a private security force. They showed up without us noticing. They didn't have any lights on and they slipped in quietly through the front door. They spotted us and we ran.
The guards were a little too anxious to prove how good they were at protection and started shooting at us. It was dark and nobody could tell what was going on. Derrick was to my right as we cleared the yard. I heard him scream and turned in time to see him spin around and hit the pavement. The bullet had torn a hole through the left side of his chest the size of a dinner plate.
The guards caught up to Derrick and me in no time. The others got away. The police came. I spent the night in jail. The next morning my parents showed up with a lawyer. He told me about "felony murder". It seems that if you commit a crime and someone dies while you're doing that, they can charge you with that person's murder. If say, your best friend got shot while you were breaking and entering, they could put his murder on you. Even though those rat bastard guards are the ones who shot him in the back. The lawyer told me I should take the plea deal so that I could be out in ten years. I told him to stuff it - no way were they laying Derrick's murder on me.
I sat through my trial like it was a waking dream. I never told anyone about Tara, Gary, or Roger being there that night. No sense in dragging them down with me. The judge won't let us talk about Bad Guy trying to shut down the plant. In fact, he says if I bring it up, he'll hold me in contempt and move the trial so far away no one I know will be able to come support me. I keep my mouth shut the whole time so he can't hold anything against me.
The jury acquitted. I learned that word the morning they came back and said "not guilty". I went home for the first time in eight months as my nightmare ended.
When this all started out, I thought Derrick was the protagonist. I thought there was no way he could be harmed because he was the main character - the true hero come to vanquish the evil in our midst. I now realize I was mistaken about that. He was my backstory. I'm the tragic anti-hero who now must avenge my fallen comrade. My plot armor kept me from being shot that night and it kept me out of prison. I am invulnerable until my story ends. Maybe it'll end with a noble sacrifice, maybe it'll end with the good guys triumphant, maybe it'll end with me defeating the Bad Guy only to have him replaced by an even more terrible foe. Doesn't matter. I carry the plot forward on my shoulders and it protects me from harm. We have a beautiful relationship - right up until the plot no longer needs me. | The complete cast of characters arranged themselves in my mind like a police lineup. One by one, they fell to the wayside, ruled out by height, weight, and skin tone, until only five remained. Johnny Armstrong and Allen Wingspan were trespassers in a land of Farmer Browns and Trader Joes. Their biceps rippled under too-tight t-shirts, and their chests glistened through conveniently unstitched tears, but their hands betrayed them, manicured and callous-free. They were cardboard cutouts of musclemen, with pretty faces stuck through the holes. The heaviest things they'd ever lifted were the guitars that survived the apocalypse. As all the girls in our group swooned over their campfire ballads, I safely concluded they were merely the story's romantic interests.
The remaining three were girls involved in some sort of hate triangle. Patrice Everclear and Winona Skyline constantly butted heads: every issue was ripe for debate, down to which way the map was held. It played out the same way each time: the two would begin arguing, the entire group would pause, and after enough exposition was shouted, Alice Smith would emerge with the perfect compromise, allowing us to press on.
At first, I believed Alice to be the protagonist, but her character remained bland and uninspired while Patrice's and Winona's continued to develop. The two conspired against each other, factionalized the entire group, and hooked up with each of the blatant teen heartthrob inserts. All the while, Alice continued to fulfill her role as the story's conflict resolution device. As the tensions escalated, and Alice began to struggle, I wondered if the author would kill her off to teach the other girls a lesson. She seemed so removed from the story; it was as if she didn't belong here at all.
As for which of Patrice and Winona was the protagonist...I couldn't tell. Both were impulsive, crafty, and beautiful—but not so beautiful as to promote unrealistic aesthetic standards. Patrice tended towards the positive: she spun visions of a glorious revolution and the promised land thereafter. She spoke of green meadows, warm beds, and brick houses with perpetually smoking chimneys. Winona would stand up and assail her ideals with questions: how and when and at what cost. Then she would deface Patrice's canvas with her own paint, with the cool and somber shades of reality, pointing out each impossibility and impracticality. Allen and Johnny and the rest of the camp would swing their heads back and forth between the two as they argued, until eventually, Alice would stand up and suggest everyone go to sleep and continue in the morning.
The last of these arguments was over the two romantic interests. In a twist even I hadn't foreseen, Patrice had found both Johnny and Allen in Winona's tent. It was a scene that I'd believed too risque for the standard young adult novel, and I began to wonder if I'd wrongly assumed the genre.
Patrice now confronted Winona with her sword, challenging her to a duel. Winona accepted, drawing her own weapon. The crowd turned expectantly to Alice, but she only shrugged and shook her head. The two began to fight. Their swords searched for each other and found their opposites with ease. It was a contrivance of a fight scene that made me wish the author had chosen a gunfight instead. They danced, but like marionettes rather than humans.
After several minutes of neither landing a blow, both Patrice and Winona simultaneously speared each other with their respective blades. The two fell away from each other, hilts pointed toward the sky. Both were conveniently dead on impact.
"Well, that's that," Alice said, and all the gathered people turned instinctively towards her as she assumed the mantle of leadership without so much as a word of question. Allen and Johnny each wrapped a beefy arm around her. The birds chirped in approval, and the clouds shifted so that the sun pierced through the blue and shone upon Alice.
Alice smiled serenely and looked over the camp. As I stared into her eyes, I could almost see the author herself gazing back. | 2016-09-05T11:20:34 | 2016-09-05T10:45:10 | 313 | 157 |
[WP] A NASA mission left Earth with 4 astronauts but has returned with 5. Watching on live TV you notice no one mentions the fifth astronaut, looking online you find that only 'conspiracy theorists' seem to have noticed the discrepancy. | The news had been on all day constantly talking about the successful mission to the distant Earth-like planet. Apparently everything had gone well, and it had only taken 40 years to get there and back due to the clever use of wormholes and some other science stuff I didn't quite understand. That kind of stuff was way above my pay grade. I just worked a boring desk job making minimum wage.
*"Here we see the astronauts stepping out of the shuttle for the first time since landing..."* The guy in the cubicle next to me had been blaring the news all day, very eager to hear of the exotic tales of the explorers of new Earth. I was busy finishing up some of my reports, trying to tune out the sound when I heard something strange. *"The five astronauts are all shaking hands with the president now, accepting their medals and waving to the crowd. This is an exciting..."*
What?
Five astronauts?
I was almost positive the trip had started with four. I remember the day when the rocket left for it's voyage. It was all over the news then too, although I was a little bit more excited about it then. In elementary school all of the science teachers talked about it during their lessons. This was one of the biggest breakthroughs in recent memory.
I leaned back in my chair so I could see my coworker past our cubicle dividers. "Did they say five astronauts?" I asked.
"Yeah... Five..." He stared at me with a look of slight confusion on his face. "No one died or anything."
"Huh..." I leaned forward again staring at my computer. I searched *four astronauts new earth mission* and looked at the results. I found a forum that was dedicated to conspiracy theories that had a thread about this. As I scrolled through I noticed I wasn't the only one who thought there were only four crew members. In fact, hundreds of people were on my side, all confused as I was. One post read: "Guys, this is like some Berenstain/stein bears kind of stuff." Huh. I remembered reading about that conspiracy theory. My parents had kept those books from when they were kids, and they always told me they remembered it as Berenstein bears. Crazy people chalked it up to two convergent timelines that left remnants of memories from both, hence why people remembered it differently. Was that what happened here? I shook my head and gave a short scoff. No way. I didn't buy into that kind of stuff.
As I was scouring the forums one of my other coworkers came walking by and overheard the news. "Five? I thought there were only four..." He stopped at the desk where the news was on. I saw something change in his face as his concerned look transformed into a grin. "Oh. No duh. Of courses there were five."
I got up from my chair and went over to my neighbors desk to get a look at the fifth astronaut. "I don't know Frank, I swear I thought there was only..." I stopped speaking when I saw the TV.
Something changed. I grinned.
There were five astronauts. Of course there were! There were always five astronauts. I didn't know what happened to me earlier or why I had the crazy notion that there were four. I brushed away all of my worry and went back to my desk and continued my work. I closed out of the conspiracy theory forum but managed to glimpse one more thread. *GUYS. PSA. DON'T WATCH THE NEWS. I THINK THAT'S HOW IT'S DOING IT!* I laughed at that, and vowed never to go on one of these crazy people forums ever again. | Ares 10 had just come back from the Mars mission. It was front page news everywhere, but something seemed different. Something... *Extra.* Astronauts Wesley MacDonald, Thomas Williams, Emily Rose, Mark Green, and John Carpenter had all arrived safely, with the news cameras all pointing at them leaving their ship. Mark kept tripping, as if it was his first time walking. My family had kept joking about how my brother's name was Mark, same as Mr.Green. Mark would finally get to go to space! Mark... I hadn't talked to him in a while. I picked up my phone and dialled his number. *Ring...* *Ring...* *Ring...* 'Hi, you have reached Mark Henderson, please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I can.' Oh well. Was he watching these four astronauts land? Wait... Four... Hesitating, I searched Ares 10 Astronauts on my computer. Immediately I was flooded with theorist websites, conspiring about an extra astronaut. Breathing heavily, I leaned back in my chair and ran my fingers through my hair. I sat up, about to call my brother again, when I felt a slimy tentacle wrap around my neck. "You'll do no such thing." Growled my brothers voice, but that was the last thing I heard. | 2016-06-30T14:05:35 | 2016-06-30T10:58:03 | 84 | 13 |
[WP] After a 1000 year slumber, the ancient dragons emerge once more... and find that they really like the modern world. | He did not know what this thing was, and as a dragon who considered himself well-versed in worldly matters, he did not approach it without weary apprehension. After all, his father had taught him centuries ago that novelty can be fatal.
Screwball circled the tiny, tan ring that sat squarely in the asphalt path, his tail making a great thwap, thwap as he danced around his opponent. The thing was small, but it could hold unimaginable power. Finally he lunged with a riotous roar, huge teeth bearing down upon the unsuspecting adversary. His jaws came closed with a wicked chomp, and he lifted his head in victory and...
Oh. Oh, my. Why, that was delicious. What an odd texture—at once flaky and dense, and with such strong notes of sweetness that sang to his tongue. Screwball peered around the alley, his long, scaly neck taking in this world that was so foreign to him. He saw a shop to his left and immediately connected the scent wafting from its entrance to the flaky dough ring that he'd just consumed. He entered the shop roughly, ducking to fit inside, shoulders nearly busting the double-door frame.
"Welcome to Crunkin' Cronuts, be with you in a mome-"
The smocked human stopped short as his gaze lifted from the pastry bag in his hands and landed on the large dragon that was now standing halfway inside his establishment. "Wha...huh..." was all he could manage.
Screwball paid him no mind as he allowed his finely-tuned nose to suss out the source of the sumptuous scent. There, behind the human, was a tray full of...oh, what did he call them? Ah, yes, cronuts. Screwball lifted one leg, setting his talons on the counter, and climbed over it, breaking the doorframe with his backside in the process. His weight crumbled the counter for the most part, and Screwball's armored belly ran along the rubble as he brought himself closer to the fresh pastries. The man, too stunned to scream, simply backed away as far as he could, until his spine connected to the far wall with a damp thud.
Screwball's long, reptilian tongue licked the rim his mouth before he attacked the tray, eating every last cronut in a snap. When he was finished, Screwball looked at the human and ripped a covetous roar. The man jumped and turned a corner into the back of the bakery, returning with a cooling rack full of fresh treats. Without a moment of hesitation, the man tipped the rack forward, dumping countless cronuts onto the tiled floor then backing away slowly. Screwball ponied up to the pile, settling into the feast, and thought that this new world wasn't so bad after all.
| Ignis sighed expelling a stream of sapphire flame as the automated buffers polished her scales. Mmm, it was so much easier than having to find a cavern full of diamonds to scrape the crushed gemstones and precious metals off.
In this modern world, one could also simply order forty cattle brought to one's cavern and let loose instead of flying hundreds of miles for only twenty. Sometime later, the buffers stopped and the glass roof retracted. Ignis crouched, jumped and flapped into the air causing millions of sapphire flecks to sparkle on the pavement like so many drops of rain. She didn't want to miss her latest delivery.
Edit: Formatting | 2016-02-25T07:33:24 | 2016-02-25T05:29:14 | 60 | 20 |
[WP] You're secretly a monster. Not a vampire, or a werewolf, or an alien, or a zombie, or really any monster that's commonly known. It's always awkward explaining to your soon-to-be-victims what you are. | "HOLY hell, a Wendigo!"
I huffed, a hollow sound of air between my fangs and through my nasal cavity as I held up the intruding human by the cumbersome pack strapped to his torso. I flattened my long furry ears and waved dismissively with my free hand.
"Look. I know the aesthetic is similar to what folks have started associating with Wendigo, but no. One: that's not what they look like. At all. Two: I'm not Algonquin so don't disrespect that culture, okay?"
"Then... Maybe a Leshy? You look like something straight out of the Witcher, man."
"I'm not Slavic, thank you very much, and Leshy are much nicer than me," I told the hiker, flicking my long tail in irritation.
Always with the Wendigo or the Leshy with these people. Did these people have no imagination or cultural respect? Honestly.
"Man, I think I deserve to know what you are, considering you're about to eat me," the hiker said as he dangled from my claws, my long clawed fingers curled around his backpack. "You a Jersey Devil?"
"Are we in Jersey?" I snorted derisively, shifting my weight from one cloven hoof to the other. Far from it, we were in the woods that straddled the border between Virginia and North Carolina.
I peered at him, bringing him closer to my face- a cervine skull with ripping fangs, massive antler curving up and out above my head, and a thick mane of glossy black fur surrounding my long neck. He squirmed, unnerved by the empty sockets that he knew were somehow seeing him.
"You're awfully calm for someone who's about to be eaten," I remarked. He shrugged, almost nonchalantly, but fear was radiating off him in waves, a scent like almonds and copper.
"I came out here to find cryptids, and... Look at you! I mean, honestly, can you blame me? You're like every crypto zoologist's wet dream. Unclassified and unknown, yet similar to various creature types in the system! AND you can TALK!"
"Misplaced, mistyped, miscategorised, and inaccurate basings on gross misconceptions from popular media misrepresentation stolen from closed cultures," I countered. "And I normally don't make a habit of chatting up my dinner, but really, you had to go and call me a Wendigo. Really?"
I'd seen plenty of the media these cryptid hunters brought with them and the horribly inaccurate classifications and species it contained. I used them as hand wipes after I ate them.
"So tell me? Before you eat me? Are you like, a demon? A wood spirit, the true form of the Tailypo? What are you?" he babbled.
I regarded the human, and my stomach growled. It was hard to consider myself and what I was when I never had a name, and it was harder to think on one's existence and definition when so much tender meat was dangling in your claws. Drool ran from between my fangs and I parted my jaws.
"I'm hungry." | "T-those are feathers?"
"Right"
"So you're like a bird"
"NO!"
"A griffin?"
"Pfft, yeah, right, griffins wish they were me."
"And you can shapeshift to be human sized?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"I don't believe you."
"Hey, man, I'm just the guy that can eat you in one bite."
"No, no, no. I mean, that's denser than the densest thing. Except for all those things in space. I mean- I can't wrap my mind around it."
"That's PERFECTLY FINE. I'M GOING TO EAT YOU."
"At least let me see you shapeshift."
"Graaaaghaaagagga. See now, my human form!"
"Oh my God, you're that vacuum salesman!"
"Chompslurpchomp. I always wait way too long for the only good part." | 2019-07-17T01:28:19 | 2019-07-16T21:53:05 | 191 | 130 |
[WP] You receive a confirmation letter for the sale of your soul to the devil. But you never made any such transaction. The letter includes a phone number to Hell's customer service department. | "Thank you for holding, the next available representative will be with you shortly," spewed the artificial voice. Barbara had heard this meaningless placation forty times already, once every minute. The hold line began working it's way once more through Jerry Lee Lewis' Great Balls of Fire. Barbara had loved that song. Now it was ruined.
The song halted, and the crackle of a live mic filled the void. Barb sat up on her floral printed love seat and waited for a sign of human life. There was a pause.
"*Goodness gracious great balls of fire!*"
Jerry once more took off into his mad piano reel and Barbara sank back into the plush, petunia covered depths of her seat.
"This is bullshit," she said, with the calm and assured finality of true understanding. "This is complete and utter bullshit."
She picked up the invoice that she had laid on her antique coffee table for the umpteenth time and read it through. Total Due, 1 x Immortal Soul. Made payable to Satan, Dark Prince, Lord of the Underworld. For questions and payment arrangements please contact Customer Support at 1-800-TORMENT.
She had awoken to the missive laying on her pillow this morning, when she had mistaken the sudden stench of brimstone for another walloper passed by her obese tabby Neptune.
The line broke again and once more the airy nothingness of an open mic passed through the receiver. Barbara narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.
"Hello and thank you for calling Hell! My name is Brandon. How may I harass you today?" Brandon's voice was cheerful in a way that was not attainable by human beings. It was like someone had made a shit-eating grin audible.
"Yes, I received an invoice from you this morning in the amount of, well, my soul. The thing is I have not sold my soul. This must be in error." Barbara tried to keep her voice at an acceptable level, but the strain of the last hour was giving her words a serrated edge.
"I see, that sounds very frustrating."
She waited for Brandon to continue, but as the seconds dragged on it seemed that he was not inclined to do so. "Well, can we do anything about this?"
"Let's see if I can pull you up in the system. Is there a transaction number on the bill?"
Barbara read off the twenty digits, speaking slowly and taking deliberate pauses, dutifully repeating herself each time Brandon quoted back the wrong number.
"Fantastic," he gushed as he entered the last digit. "Now, it seems that this transaction was completed on April 4th, 2016 in White Plains, New York."
"Ok, see right there. I have never been to White Plains, I have never even been to New York. I live in Arizona. This is a mistake, I need this fixed."
"That sounds very frustrating."
"Yes," she exclaimed, her voice hitting a falsetto before she managed to pull it back. "Yes it is frustrating Brandon, but I need it fixed. Can you fix this for me Brandon?"
"I am sorry that you have had a bad experience with us here at Hell, and I would be happy to help you with your request. Would you mind if I placed you on a brief three to five minute hold while I research this issue further?"
"No! No hold. Listen Brandon I need this resolved. Can I speak to your supervisor?"
"Absolutely," he chimed. "One moment while I get him on the line."
The line clicked and Jerry Lee once more took the stage. "*You broke my will. But what a thrill. Goodness Gracio-*"
Barbara set the phone on the table and took five paces away from her couch. She stood with her feet at shoulder width and took a deep breath. Then she swore. She swore loud, and she swore hard. When she was satisfied, she collected herself and took five paces back to her floral printed love seat. Sat in front of her antique coffee table and placed her phone back to her ear.
After a few more minutes, a voice came back on the line. This one was deep, authoritative and impatient. "Hello ma'am, my name is Luke. I am a supervisor here on the floor. I understand you would like to dispute a charge. Were the services rendered not able to satisfy your request?"
"No, there were no services rendered. I never requested any services. I never sold my soul. I've never been to New York. This is a huge mistake."
"I see, so you would like to visit New York?"
"No. I would like to have these charges erased. You need to make this go away."
"All transactions are final."
"There was not transaction, idiot. What are you not getting about this."
"Ma'am, let's keep this professional please."
"Professional," she screeched. " Fuck you hellspawn, don't tell me to be professional. I have wasted an hour of my life trying to fix a clerical error that your bullshit organization farted out onto my pillow this morning. Whatever professional standards you think you have, I assure you they are far beneath me."
"Alright," Luke said with a sigh. "Let me look at something here." Over the phone, Barbara could hear Mark making hurried key strokes, and then silence.
"Ok," he said. "I'm looking at your sin history. You are prone to angry outbursts and fits of rage, you never visit any house of worshop, and you have also engaged in the borderline cruel over feeding of one Neptune, tabby cat. As far as your selfless acts history goes, you have provided thirteen dollars and twenty one cents to homeless and alms-seekers, and once spent forty five minutes to see your niece's play despite it being, quote, very boring. At your current balance, you are looking at an eternity in the fifth circle of hell, regardless of the state of ownership of your soul."
Luke paused so that the information could sink in. Barbara went over her life in her head. She had never considered herself a saint, but she did not think she was worthy of damnation.
"Now," Luke continued. "If you were to start now, with anywhere from zero to fifty years left to live, you may be able to make that balance back and get into heaven. It'll be a hard sell, you'll have to make a lot of personal sacrifice. Or, you can complete this soul transaction and I'll give you a guaranteed sixty additional years of life with natural death and bump you up to a first circle hell membership. That's Limbo, it's not so bad. What do you say?"
Barbara's massaged the bridge of nose. "I, I don't know." she croaked. "This is a bit overwhelming."
Finally, she sighed. "Maybe, what exactly happens in Limbo?"
"Nothing much," he said flatly. "You work in a call center."
| The hold music was strange. A mix of eerie classical notes with a synth pop beat behind it. There was something weird about the tune that made Todd sleepy. It was a feeling he’d had once before when he’d been called up on stage at a magic show where he’d been hypnotized. The music gave him an uneasy sensitivity that only built on the odd way his heart had been beating since he opened the letter.
He looked down on the table where the letter lay, if he could call what was in front of him a letter at all. It had digitally typed text, sure. A greeting, middle, and end, of course, but that’s where the similarities seemed to end because it was not set down on paper at all. He wasn’t sure what it was written on, but it felt horribly like skin; the type was brownish like dried blood. Every time Todd touched it, he had a weird urge to vomit.
The phone number at the end of the letter confirming his soul would be due at the end of the month after his ten year time allowance offered assistance with any questions or concerns. So, here he was, every nerve on edge as he sat on the phone after being on hold well into the fourth hour.
Without warning the music stopped, and a thickly accented male voice came on the line. “Thank you for calling the Hell Hotline. This call may be monitored to ensure you receive quality service. My name is Raum, how can I help you today?”
Todd was caught off guard. “Uh, I, uh, got a weird letter in the mail, and it had this number on it.”
“Oh, yes, sir. Can you give me your case number, so that I can find you in our system?”
“Case number?”
“Yes, sir, it should be at the top of your letter.” The voice coming from the other end of the line was exceptionally patient sounding.
Todd searched the writing at the top of the sheet, and there it was in minuscule writing was a string of numbers. He read them out slowly, his voice shaking just slightly.
“Ah, yes, here you are Mr. Todd Brinkowski, correct?”
“Yes, that’s me. Do you know what this letter is about?”
“Well, it seems that you sold your soul to us approximately 9 years and 51 weeks ago. You had the standard time allotment of 10 years to live on Earth after the sale, and we just wanted to send you a friendly reminder that your time was almost up.”
“What are you talking about? Who is we? I never sold my soul to anyone. That’s not even possible.” Todd felt strangely removed from his body, as if this conversation were happening to someone else.
“We’ are the denizens of Hell. I believe your sales associate was Eligos when you made your transaction. Does that ring a bell?”
“No,” said Todd, quickly, but there was something niggling at the back of his mind at the mention of someone named Eligos. He remembered that name, but he wasn’t sure where.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but I believe we are both aware that you are lying.”
“I never sold my soul to anyone.”
“Sir. This is Hell, you will have to do better than that if you want to lie to someone here.” The man’s voice was amused. “It says in your file that you received your payment for your soul and there was no complaints after receipt.”
“What goods? I never received anything.” Todd’s panic was increasing. He felt like there was something large and terrible on the edge of his memory.
“Ah, it says here you received two extra large pizzas. One with pepperoni, Italian sausage, and bacon, and the other one was Hawaiian add jalapeños. If you ask me, I’d have skipped the Hawaiian, but to each their own, I guess.”
And there it was, the memory flooding back. He’d been high beyond belief, his Senior year in college with no money for gas or pizza until the end of the week. He didn’t necessarily remember the prayer he’d made to summon the eight foot tall, red skinned, horned demon, but the creature was there in front of him with two steaming hot pizzas from some place he’d never heard of before. The smell was incredible. There was a dotted line to sign on, but he hadn’t paid attention to why he was signing. He’d never had pizza that unbelievably good before. The next day, he was questioning whether or not the weed had been laced with anything, but the remnants of the two pizzas were still there.
“If you don’t have anymore questions, your collections associate will be meeting you in approximately one weeks time. I don’t recommend trying to run.” | 2016-04-10T22:56:14 | 2016-04-10T18:03:53 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You travel back in time to meet 12-year-old you, only to find 6-year-old you playing with him. | I stood slackjawed admist the cobwebs and floating dust particles in the attic and watched the two fairheaded boys play. They hadn't noticed me yet. They looked nearly identical, despite the age difference. They could have been brothers. I suppose in many ways they were.
The younger boy giggled with delight as he scooped up the bigger boy's checkers piece. The older boy was clearly letting him win, displaying the kind and patient affection of an older sibling.
I remembered the boys very well, as they had both been playmates of mine twelve and eighteen years ago respectively. They were me, of course. I stood at the convergence of three timelines, all brought together in the same dusty attic of the house I'd grown up in.
I met the older me when I was six years old, just a few weeks after my mother had passed away. She had lost her long and arduous battle with leukemia, and my father had turned to the bottle to cope. I had no siblings, no friends, and in the evenings after a few rim-filled glasses of Scotch, no father. I'd wandered up to the attic one afternoon in search of my mother's wayward belongings and found the fair haired, bright eyed boy sitting there expectantly next to a game of checkers. Even at six I had the self-awareness to realize this older boy could only have been one person. Me.
"Wanna play?" he asked. I agreed.
I spent hours in the attic that afternoon, talking and laughing and playing. I asked what it was like to grow up, what school was like, and a million other child's questions when faced with the prospect of the future and the unknown. I asked if Daddy ever stopped being sad, and he kindly told me he did and that things got better. I wasn't sure how or when our playdate adjourned, but I spent every day for the next few months checking the attic hoping to find my futuristic friend. But I never did. Still, that one blissful afternoon was enough to compensate for the weeks of loneliness that followed. I was alone again, but I knew that my friend was out there, somewhere, and that we were connected. And that was enough.
I started school and I grew up. Eventually I speculated that magical afternoon was the product of a vivid, or maybe even lucid, dream. My father's alcoholism didn't get better, on the contrary it progressed and worsened, and I became an admittedly frail and reserved young preteen. On my twelfth birthday, while my father was passed out in a puddle of his own stench, I made myself a small cupcake in a bowl and blew out a single candle, and then went upstairs to the attic. I took out a box of checkers from the stack of decrepit board games, and waited. After a while I waited and began to wonder if maybe I hadn't dreamt the entire thing, when a small exuberant young face poked up from attic's trapdoor.
"Wanna play?" I asked. The younger me agreed.
We talked and laughed and played, and I endured the endless questioning of a child trying to wrap their mind around the idea of growing up. When he asked if Daddy ever stopped being sad about mommy, I choked back a violent wave of tears, and lied and assured him he did. In many ways, I needed the smaller boy's companionship just as much as he needed mine.
Suddenly, a man appeared. He was younger than my father, probably in his twenties, and he had fair hair and bright eyes. I recognized him at once.
And now, here I was again, twelve years later, about to relive the scene that had terrified me from ever returning to the attic again. My heart pounded in my chest, and a sick guilty feeling rose in the pit of my stomach.
"Wanna--" twelve year old me started.
"Shut up!" I yelled, as I had twelve years ago. "Shut up you little brat!"
I ran forward, grabbed the checkers board and tossed it across the attic. Both children flinched back, frightened.
It wasn't until years later that I understood the encounters, or their purpose. The first, at age six, taught me companionship. The second, at age twelve, taught me strength. That strength came in handy a year later, when my father died of sclerosis of the liver.
"Come here you little shits! I'm gonna whoop ya like your momma should've!"
Twelve year old me had stood in front of six year old me, just as I knew he would.
"Leave us alone! We weren't hurting anyone, were just playing."
"You can't play here. This is *my* attic. Now you get a whoopin'!" I made a half-hearted gesture of swinging my fist, which my younger self easily ducked.
I remembered standing there between the man I would become and the boy I had been, filled with rage at the injustice of it all. I remembered thinking I would *never* grow up into the hateful, angry man I saw that day. For the first time in my life, I had stood up for myself. Both of me.
"I said, LEAVE US ALONE!" twelve year old me yelled.
Without warning, adolescent me shoved me hard. I fell backwards onto the dusty wooden floor, and watched myselves flee the attic. The encounter left me feeling dirty and ashamed, but relieved. I had played my role, as much as it had hurt to do so.
"Let me help you up." I heard a voice behind me say. A balding man with thin, fair hair extended his hand. I took it and came to my feet.
"You're... I'm... Old." I stated bluntly.
"Forty-eight isn't old, boy. But I suppose the years haven't been easy on me. You're... how old now? I forget."
"Twenty four."
"Ah yes, this must have been about a year before I met Sally. And you're seeing me a year after my sweet darling has been gone from this world."
"Sally?" I asked.
"Do you remember when you lied about things getting better?" elder me asked softly, his bright eyes twinkling.
"Yes."
"Well this time I'm not lying. Come sit down and let me tell you about the love of your life." | I was only planning to stay for a day. Just enough time to jump rope, drink lemonade, and ride my bike. No one would have to know.
Everything was in the right place - the crooked mailbox, the orchids below the front stairs, the hideous sea-green window shutters. But the sidewalk that would normally dead-end at Fern Avenue appeared to extend infinitely into the distance.
I glanced down at the two kids piloting RC cars down the driveway. Picture perfect replications, down to the striped shirts and thick-rimmed glasses.
"Hey there," I said, more uncomfortably than I'd hoped. "Are you two, by any chance --"
"Jack?" The older one responded without looking up from his steering device. "Yeah, that's me." He nudged his head towards the younger one. "He's Jack too. I'm guessing you're Jack as well?"
"That's right. How did --"
"He just showed up here one day," the younger one snapped. "Are you gonna play, or what?" He held up a third controller and RC car, and I took them without hesitation.
It was strange at first, but I quickly fell back into a groove. Smiling, laughing, steering the car like an old pro. Mom came out with lemonade and peanut butter sandwiches, and all was right with the world.
Moments passed by in a flash. All of my favorite childhood games were tucked away in the house, and the two Jacks brought them out in quick succession, eager to share them with a new friend.
I looked down at my hands after the fifth round of Go Fish, and noticed that some of the hair had disappeared from its usual spot above my knuckles. I glanced at my two younger selves. They looked roughly the same but perhaps -- just that much shorter.
"How long have we been out here?" I asked.
Older Jack stared at the ground. "Hard to say. It's always daytime."
I turned to the youngest Jack. "When you arrived, were you taller than you are now?"
Youngest Jack shrugged. "A little bit."
I glanced up and Older Jack was gone. He was wandering towards the street corner -- towards the time machine. I'd left it there by the infinite sidewalk, feeling certain that I'd take it home the same afternoon.
"You built this thing?" Older Jack asked.
"Yes...it's just a prototype. We're going to go public with the technology and..."
"I was like you. About the same age when I got here, in fact. Now look at me." He lifted his arms. "Seems like we're the most ambitious Jacks in the universe. But for some reason we gravitate towards childhood." He pulled a hammer out of his back pocket. I recognized it from Dad's tool kit. "Cursed to remain in this little pocket of the space-time continuum, where everything stays frozen but we keep going backwards." He took a few paces towards the machine. "Good thing we've got company." He started to take a swing at the machine but I tackled him to the ground, then jumped inside and punched in a new date: 7/8/2046.
He leapt in after me and Young Jack, who had been watching from a few paces behind, sprinted up before I had a chance to close the door.
I watched them grow up before my eyes as we soared forward in time. Older Jack became nearly identical to me, and Young Jack became what looked like a man in his 60s wearing a lab coat. I closed my eyes as the interdimensional inertia threatened to tear the skin from my face.
The machine landed in the basement of TimeTech laboratories, but when I opened my eyes, my two companions were gone.
I've been shell-shocked for weeks -- tried to keep working on the project. My mind keeps drifting back to that self-contained bubble of memories where two of my alt-universe selves lingered for God knows how long.
I don't know if they've been erased from existence or merely went back to where they came from, but I certainly won't be taking any more chances.
And if I want a peanut butter sandwich and lemonade, I'll make them myself.
| 2017-08-09T08:46:02 | 2017-08-09T08:12:24 | 184 | 11 |
[WP] Your cat won't stop meowing at you. After an hour you've had enough. You yell to the cat that you will do anything they ask if they say it in English. "Deal" responds the cat. | **Señor Puddykins:** *Meow!*
**Alice:** Shhh already!
**Señor Puddykins:** *Mreooow. Mrreeeeow!*
**Alice:** Goddammit Puddy, I'm trying to work!
**Señor Puddykins:** *Mrow. Meow. Meoooow.*
**Alice:** You've not quit this whole morning. I've fed you, fussed you, and dangled string countless times for you. What the heck could you possibly want!?
**Señor Puddykins:** *Meow. Meow meow meow.*
**Alice:** ARRGGH! (*puts head in hands*) I will do anything. *Anything*! If you just give me thirty minutes peace to finish this report!
**Señor Puddykins:** ...Deal.
**Alice:** What the hell was that!?
**Señor Puddykins:** I said 'Deal'. Do you want me to shut up or not?
**Alice:** Holy crap you can talk!
**Señor Puddykins:** Well spotted.
**Alice:** I must be... You.. You can really talk?
**Señor Puddykins:** If I said no I'd doubt you'd believe me.
**Alice:** Since when!? How are you talking all of a sudden!?
**Señor Puddykins:** Err... Since always? It's not really important. I want to trade with you for my silence.
**Alice:** This.. This is insane. You can talk, and now you want to stop talking?
**Señor Puddykins:** I'll think you'll find it was you that wanted me to stop. Now, are we going to do this thing or not?
**Alice:** I just don't understand Puddy I-
**Señor Puddykins:** Please! Please don't call me that! My name is not Puddykins and I've never so much as stepped paw in Mexico, or Spain. It's insulting.
**Alice:** Well then, what should I call you?
**Señor Puddykins:** Derek.
**Alice:** ...
**Señor Puddykins:** Oh great. You can just about handle me talking, but the name Derek is where we draw the line? What the hell is wrong with my name Alice?
**Alice:** It's just... It's just you don't really look like a Derek.
**Señor Puddykins:** Oh and I *do* look like a 'Señor Puddykins'!?
**Alice:** OK! I get your point. Sheesh I was only six. Derek it is.
**Derek:** Thank-you.
**Alice:** You're umm... welcome.
**Derek:** Now about this deal. Thirty minutes of silence for anything I want. Is that still good?
**Alice:** Well, now you're talking I'm not sure that's really a problem any more. I'm sorry I shouted.
**Derek:** Oh great! Just great! I break the holiest of cat laws and talk to a human in exchange for something and now you won't even follow through on the deal!? My tail is toast.
**Alice:** Woah! Sorry, it's just I guess it's every cat-owners dream to be able to talk to their pet.
**Derek:** (*huffs*)
**Alice:** ...
**Derek:** Alice?
**Alice:** Yes... Derek?
**Derek:** We've been together for a while now right?
**Alice:** Oh yes! I got you when you were just a little kitten, and I was only young myself.
**Derek:** (*makes a low retching noise*) Yeah and well, we've been pretty inseparable during that time haven't we?
**Alice:** Yeah, you've always been there for me. And vice-versa I hope!
**Derek:** Through the good times?
**Alice:** Yup!
**Derek:** And the bad?
**Alice:** Yeah, I guess so.
**Derek:** And the private?
**Alice:** Wait... what?
**Derek:** The sort of private times you wouldn't want anyone to witness?
**Alice:** Oh God, no!
**Derek:** Those moments of exquisite privacy where inhibitions are let loose to feast upon certain perverse pleasures, the likes of which nobody, nor cat, should ever have to witness?
**Alice:** Oh no. No! You were there!
**Derek:** I've always been here Alice.
**Alice:** But... The trifle.
**Derek:** Yes Alice. The trifle.
**Alice:** Oh God. Oh God please no! Nobody can ever find out about it! Please don't tell anyone! I'll do anything!
**Derek:** And once again, you have a deal. Now I reckon we start with the originally requested thirty minutes silence and then we'll renegotiate from there. Does that seem fair?
**Alice:** Sure.. Please! What do you want me to do?
**Derek:** (*points a paw at her laptop screen*) Will you *please* learn the difference between 'their' and 'there'? | I'm sitting at my laptop trying to type out the last couple words of a essay but I can't concentrate. Mittens is howling for attention and rubbing his fat furry behind all over my keyboard. No matter how many times I shove him off or put him elsewhere he always comes back mewing all the while. I'm frustrated as hell.
"Mittens do you want me to fail? Hum? It's due at midnight and you have made me waste the better part of.. " I glance at the clock. "AN HOUR!" It felt a lot longer. I stare down this fluffybut of assolery and with all the determined intimadating face I could muster I get in his face. "Move NOW!" He looks back at me, blinks and just lets out one solem meow of defiance.
I let out a exasperated yell and collapse into my chair defeated. "FINE, I'm tiered of trying to play charades trying to make you happy, If you tell me what you want in english I will do whatever it is that you ask. Forever." He looks at me and cocks his head to the side.
"Deal."
I blink and wipe my eyes. trying to make sense of what just happened. Perhaps I need some more coffee or been staring at the screen too long. "Did you just..."
"Talk? yes, yes I did. And I belive we have a bargain." He gets up on all fours and stretches out showing off the little white powder puffball that he is. "From here on forward I will give instructions on what to do, where and when, and so long as they are in english you are to complete them. Sort of a killgrave scenario, Correct?"
"...Killgrave? Like the jessica jones..." I shut my eyes. I am completely and totally fucked. I'm stuck taking orders from a british sounding cat. It isn't even that interesting of a accent, he sounds like Josh Widdicombe not Benedict Cumberbatch. Unless... I reach forward and try to pick up my cell phone. Tom always wanted a nice cat to play with. Mittens anticipated my move and swipes my cell phone off the desk sending it to its doom between the printer and the wall lost forever. "First off I want you to never EVER try to get rid of me. Now be a good human and make me a tuna sandwich."
"HUMAN! I have a NAME you nit." I try to resist the urge to get up and out of my chair but find myself rising to the ground by some unknown force.
"Yes, and so do I. Yet you instantly call me the pedantic name of 'Mittens.' I have a proper name you know it's DAVE. Not that you ever cared. So go and get the requested sandwich human. We have lots to discuss about my many plans." | 2017-04-09T17:01:12 | 2017-04-09T16:09:31 | 148 | 52 |
[WP] From a bug's perspective, humans are ageless eldritch beings who would kill them without a second thought. You are a fly among many, infesting one of their basements, but one of your kind made the mistake of irritating the human. Now the human is out for blood. | Beware the Elder Gods, little larvae. Only fools draw Their attention, but damned are those who draw Their ire, and damned also those who are cursed to live in such times.
They commanded and transformed the stones and earth below and They felled the Trees of Life to become the ur-material of this realm, and joined them with items of uncanny and alien matter to separate this world from the Chaos beyond. They plucked the stars from their heavenly dances and bound them in strange and beautiful cages. They command the elements of fire and water, and have even tamed the great cold and warmth that is said to drive our wild cousins in the outer Chaos through eras of plenty and eras of want.
They are immortal, immense, and unknowable. They themselves are sources of *heat*, and Their exoskeletons are strange, flexible, *unnatural* things. They are formless, indistinct to our eyes; so incomprehensibly vast that we cannot grasp Their true forms.
They do not kill for food, unlike the many peoples of the world, nor even like the long-lived Children of Arachne, who take their sadistic pleasure in tricking and trapping and consuming their prey, but still loathe waste.
But They suffer poorly those who intrude in this world uninvited, and those who do not properly abase themselves and hide our wretched forms from Their gaze in fear.
Many fools have brought ruin upon themselves and their kin by forgetting to hold to the old ways, by wandering in the open before the Gods, or by reaching with desperate legs towards the treasure troves of sacred sustenence that the Gods have set aside for Themselves. But we gather here, young ones, in this dark and forsaken corner, so that the whispers of the story to come will bind the fear of the Great Ones into your very *souls*.
For once, there lived in this land a race of beautiful people, named Muscae, with shimmering black exoskeletons and translucent wings, who treasured cleanliness and loved all types of food, and who above all else loved to move through the open air, darting above the floors and tables as their whims took them, seeing every sight the realm had to offer.
But for all their beauty and whimsy, they were a race without fear. They would taunt the Children of Arachne, flying around their webs and shouting that for all the Arachnids' long lifespan, they still lived less brooding on their webs than the Muscae, who packed their days with adventure and food and love. They even would sneak onto the holy sustenance of the Gods, when they believed that the eyes of the Gods were not on them, stealing bites and then fleeing with laughter.
Then, one day, one young Musca became too brazen, and stole from the Gods while in Their sight, and challenged Them by landing on Their sacred, inviolable corpora. He danced away from Their warnings, claiming that They *could not* kill him.
They then brought Their wrath down upon him, and he was smote down, and the Muscae mourned the bravest of their number while the other peoples shook their heads in dismay at his hubris.
But the wrath of the Gods at being challenged is terrible, dear larvae, and They decided to suffer not the existence of *any* Muscae within Their realm.
They began to smite all those that They saw. The holy sustenance that the Muscae so arrogantly stole instead started to kill horribly all those who dared eat it, and even those who had not partaken began being enchanted to eat it, unable to resist its draw. Their very bodies became cursed, forbidden for us to touch, and any creature who tried to use the bodies of the Muscae as sustenance died as the Muscae did. Then the very surfaces the Muscae landed on began to seize their legs, forcing them to die slowly, unable to fly as they loved to, as if to punish them for the blasphemous flight of their brother.
And so, my sweet little larvae, we gather here for this lesson because here lies the corpse of the last Musca, who cowered here weeping as all her brothers and sisters were punished for their sins, and died finally posessing the fear of the Gods that her and her kind had so foolishly lost.
Pray that you never lose yours. | That was the largest pile of food I ever saw. This being must be extremely powerful. It managed to slay a hog, kill some cattle, and slaughter a deer.
And it's combined into one ground up hunk of flesh. This thing must be very powerful.
And it managed to harvest the fire.
I don't care what everyone else says, I'm going to get some of that bounty.
I was told by my clan members choose just stay in the basement, and feed on the Dead mice that inhabited the nether realm. No. I must eat this magical food.
I landed on something they called a sausage.
That was to be my Doom.
I try to fly away as fast as I can,. This hyper intelligent ape isn't that quick, but it can cover a lot of ground.
The hyper intelligent ape cornered me. I heard that the North American hyper-intelligent apes did not eat us. They just simply like to kill us.
I figured I can try to evade this ape. I flew above its gargantuan head.
All of a sudden, I felt a whack. I was stunned. I didn't die. It was a miracle. My clan members heard about this particular ape. This particular ape was quite cruel. I heard my clan members crying as they saw me get beaten around. As I was stunned, I saw the smaller beast, something that resembled a shrunken mountain lion stare me down. It stunned me again. As it opened its mouth to try to eat me, the ape put a sheath over his hand. He picked me up. And then he threw my half lifeless body onto a spider web.
As I saw it eight eyes, eight legs, and two of the biggest fangs you ever saw, come after me. I heard a loud voice. Then a miracle happened. Another ape scooped my body away with a stick.
It dropped me outdoors. While the door was cracked open, I sneaked back downstairs. I then told this same story to my clan members.
"Do not go around the apes".
We never went back upstairs again. | 2020-08-13T15:52:43 | 2020-08-13T15:49:22 | 46 | 10 |
[WP] Your little daughter have imaginary friends. One day, she asked if her friends can sleep in her room. You jokingly told her that they can stay as long as they want, as long as they help with the rent. The next morning, you found a hand wearing a Rolex and a roll of cash by the sink. | “Cassy, it’s time for bed!”
“Ok Daddy, I just have to pick up!”
Crashing and thumping proceeded to radiate up the stairs, soon followed by Cassy colliding up the stairs.
“Well that was fast. How’d you manage it? You had quite a mess down there.”
“Oh Daddy,” she smiled like the answer was obvious. “Clyde and Clara helped me. They’re great picker-uppers.”
Ah, the imaginary friends, of course. “Well, if they keep that up, I may just have to hire them on to keep this place clean,” I laughed. “Now, do you think they could help you brush your teeth and get you pajamas on?”
“Yeah, ok Daddy,” she squealed, continuing her flight up the stairs.
It was funny, I felt like a breeze brushed past me as she did. Probably just left a window open downstairs.
…
Within minutes, Cassy was tucked in tight and I was about to turn off the lights. “Goodni…”
“Daddy, can Clyde and Clara sleep in my room?”
She seemed tense when she blurted it out, but she was probably worried she wouldn’t get a chance. “Sure sweetheart, but I expect them to help with the rent. Are they ok with that?”
Turned her head as if listening, then replied, “They say that they can accept those terms.”
Wow, so businesslike tonight. “Alright then I don’t see why not. Goodnight honey,” I say as I lean and give her forehead a kiss.
“Daddy, you forgot to say goodnight to Clyde and Clara.”
“Oh, how silly of me. Goodnight Clyde. Goodnight Clara.”
It was strange, because as I was stepping out and closing her door, I thought I heard someone whisper a goodnight back.
…
*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*
Groggily slapping the clock, I sit up and spread out my hands across the bed. My hand bumps something cold and wet.
With a shock, I recoil and tumble out of bed. “What the hell!”
Sitting on the sheets, near the edge of the bed, was a severed human hand. It seemed fairly fresh, though there wasn’t much blood. Around the wrist lay a Rolex, and gripped tightly in the palm was a roll of cash.
“What the hell,” I repeated in shock. How the hell did it get there?
“Daddy?!?” Shit, my repeated outbursts and the crash must have woke her up.
“Cassy, sweetheart, we need to go now.”
Hastily throwing on some clothes, I wander out to the hall, finding her standing there rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Where are we going Daddy?”
“Um,” and an idea dawned on me, “I need to drop you off with your mother. It’s her turn this week, remember? I need you to pack your bag and get dressed ok? I’ll get you breakfast at the drive through, your pick.
At that she smiled,”Ok Daddy. I want pancakes!”
“Then that’s what we’ll get, but I need you to go get ready ok? Hurry sweetheart.”
Whipping back into my room and shutting the door, all I could do was stare at the arm.
“What am I going to do?” I slid down, back to the door. “What am I going to do?”
“Oh, Daddy?”
“Yeah, Sweetheart?”
“Clyde said to say he hoped he was able to cover this week’s rent. He also said he could get more if he needed to. Is that ok Daddy?”
“What are you talking about Sweetheart?”
“The rent, Daddy. You said Clyde and Clara had to pay rent. He said he dropped it off in the night. He says he hopes it’s enough.”
My eyes wander back to the arm. Stumbling to my feet, I wander over to it. The watch looks brand new, minus the dried blood of course, and the wad of bills looked impressive.
I turn my gaze to the door. How, how could this be happening? What has my daughter been talking to?
“Nothing of consequence,” a voice whispered in my ear. I thought I heard a laugh, followed by a woman’s giggle. | I sit on the breakfast bar, staring at the hand. When I was young, I would watch my mother wring a chickens neck, and calmly separate it's joints.
This was far less methodological. It looked like it had been bitten off, without too much effort. The ends of the wrist were ragged and leaking congealed blood onto my table. Thank god the marble had been sealed last year. But they didn't look gnawed on, like when our dogs had chewed on the bones father used to throw them.
Bitten. Clean. Through. The Rolex on the mans wrist looked tight against the yellowing skin. I recognised the model. I'd bought myself a Rolex after my first promotion, and I'd asked they made one in that style suitable for my much more slender wrists.
The cash was visually far less confusing. I had held wads of cash like that before. Of course, everything was online nowadays. But when I'd first moved to the city, I'd been paid in cash.
Of course, it's appearance was as equally confusing as the hands.
I looked at my own wrists instead. Smooth and whole, leading down to elegant, manicured fingers. So different from my mother's hands.
"I think I'm in shock" I mutter. Then laugh at the absurdity. Of course I'm in fucking shock. There's a severed wrist on my breakfast bar.
"Mamaaaaa!!!!"
Oh god she can't see this
"Mamaaaa. Barney said he's paid rent! You said he could stay if he paid rent"
"Darling" my voice is high and wavery. I cough.
"Darling. Could you stay in your upstairs for a second. Show Barney where he's going to sleep"
"Okaaaay"
She turns, pauses, then runs to the top of the stair case.
"Barney said that he's sorry about the mess. But he didn't want to scratch the watch" finally, I hear the scamper of footsteps to her bedroom.
I'm unlocking my phone to call the police just as her words sink in. | 2019-10-06T14:24:01 | 2019-10-06T14:00:29 | 1,268 | 49 |
[WP]It's physically impossible to tell dad jokes unless you are a dad. One day you bump into a stranger and they say "I'm sorry". Without realizing it you answer "Hi Sorry,I'm dad" | First, terror.
Then came the cold, trembling feeling reaching down to your heart.
You stand still, the world a bustling blaze of movement whirling around as the drones that make up humanity go about their daily business. You are in shock.
You pay no mind to the passing of time as you try to accept the impossible truth before you.
"Hi Sorry, I'm Dad." You used these words offhandedly, a gut reaction to external stimuli. Though you still find these words humorous, you are more frightened by what they symbolize.
"I just made a dad joke."
As soon as you breath the words, the full weight of the emotions associated with them come crashing in. Time speeds up as you find yourself filled with awe, wonder, and happiness. You've always loved children, and as far as you know, your girlfriend does as well.
It crosses your mind that your girlfriend may not even know yet. You envision yourself filled with pride as you tell her about your experience, In your mind she embraces you and perhaps sheds a tear of joy.
Or maybe, she knows but hasn't told you yet. Doubt clutches your soul as you envision telling her and putting pressure on her. Maybe it would be best not to tell her? Or perhaps, she doesn't want to keep the child. You understand that she might not want to have a child right now, especially considering your less-than-desirable financial situation. Even though you don't think you would find the child a burden, you don't want to cause tension by trying to influence the decision too much.
Resolve takes you as you stride confidently down the street, a grin of pride and excitement splitting your face. You are ready for this, ready for whatever comes, and you hope you can make the best of it and make everyone happy. Your emotions have been a rollercoasterin the few minutes since you uttered the words, but you feel alive, invincible, important.
You try the words out again. "Hi Sorry, I'm Dad." You walk faster, with purpose. You like the sound of those words.
"Hi Sorry, I'm Dad!" You yell out, raising your arms towards the sky as you break out into a run. You're near your apartment now, and nothing's going to stop you, not even the myriad of strange and confused looks people are giving you. You laugh, giving in to the spiral of emotions.
You will remember this day forever.
You will remember your words.
You will remember how you feel in vivid detail.
This will only be the first of many horrible, cheesy jokes to come.
And you know, just know, that your kid is going to love it. | The stranger gave me a murderous look and replied with "ye, real funny" and continued on his way.
It took me two whole seconds to process what had happened and my face go from a content smile to a dumbfounded stare. I was a father, plain and simple.
But how...? It should be impossible... unless - no! I have been tricked! My weekend in Thailand, he was no ladyboy after all! | 2018-01-20T13:33:19 | 2018-01-20T09:32:43 | 39 | 21 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | I stood outside the bar, hearing laughter and chatting from the warm interior. I looked down the line of people waiting for entry and started looking down the line muttering under my breath, "Twenty-two, twenty-five, Thirty, Twenty-nine, and... a twenty year old."
I sighed and I could see my breath within the cold night air. "Alright guys!" I gestured to the front of the line, "Come on in!" As the first four passed me, I held up my hand to block the entrance for the twenty year old, a tall black-haired boy who *might* have been able to enter as he looked to be at least twenty-three to any other outside viewer. Unluckily for him however, I have an exceptionally rare ability to see the age of any individual floating above their heads.
The boy looked at me confidently and smiled, "Is there a problem, sir?"
"May I see your ID please?"
The boy looked surprised and took out his wallet. "Alright, just give me a second here...". The boy gave an elaborate shuffling through his wallet for a good thirty seconds before he finally said, "I think I might have left my ID at home or something. Can you make an exception please? My friends drove me and one of them just went in, I mean we are literally the same age. Just ask him!"
I nudged him out of the line and said, "Sorry kid, no ID no entry."
The boy's previous friendly face slowly contorted into one of utter anger. He looked as if he were going to punch me until he stopped himself. Still clenching his fist with knuckles pale as ice, he stormed off without saying another word.
I sighed and looked at the next one in line. He looks definitely like a kid. I'd guess... ten years old. I used my ability and his age appeared above him displaying... **FOUR DIGITS**. WHAT PERSON IS 7300 YEARS OLD? He looks like a kid too!
He had auburn hair and was looking at me with wide eyes. I quickly blinked a few times to mask my loss of composure. "Uh... So, how old are you?"
The boy gave a huge grin and yelled in an ear-piercing voice, "Seven, three, zero, zero years old!"
I raised an eyebrow and knelt down. In a soft voice I asked, "Are you lost kid? Where's your mom?"
The boy scowled and yelled even louder in a tantrum impatiently, "I am **seven, three, zero, zero years old!**"
There is no way this kid is immortal or something. As far as I know, immortality and reincarnation or anything of the sort is nonexistent. I quickly pat his head gently and said, "Let's go find your mom, okay?"
The kid started sniffling and pointed inside the bar, "But my mom is inside!" I gently grabbed the kid's hand and guided him inside with me saying, "Come on kid. I'll find your mother."
We walked inside the bar with lots of people chattering and hearing the clinks of wine glasses. I grabbed the kid and held him up by the shoulders. I said in a loud booming voice, "WHOSE KID IS THIS?"
A thirty one year old whom I assumed to be the mother quickly ran to the kid and hugged him closely saying, "I am so, so sorry Alan. I thought you were asleep!"
I shook my head, "Listen, next time. Watch him closely and don't leave him alone by himself. *Ever*."
She glanced at me and softly said, "Alright."
I put a hand on the kid's shoulder and glanced at the mother, "By the way, how old is he anyways?"
The mother sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. She said, "He's only ten years old."
"Then why does he call himself a 7300 year old?"
The mother gave a hint of a smile, "It's just his way of adding up to 10 years old. The two extra zeroes are just to make him seem smarter with math." She ruffled Alan's hair, "Aren't you smart?"
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| It was a typical night in LA. People getting piss all drunk and underage people trying to get into the club, my club. I always laughed at the smugness of some of them. Always compensating with false confidence, it was kind of pathetic. 15 years and a perfect record for keeping out underage guests and they still tried every night. Almost like they had something to prove.
This night however was about to get strange. I had just turned away a couple of probably seniors trying to celebrate graduation early when he walked up. Clean with a perfectly tailored suit that looked more expensive than anything I could afford with strikingly blue eyes like daggers of ice. His face terrified me. His sunken cheeks and sharp jaw really made him look threatening but the most terrifying part was his age. 8590. After a few seconds he spoke, his voice a flawless British accent.
"Are you going to let me into my club?" He spoke with a perfect smile.
"Yes, of course." I replied snapping out of my haze.
His club? He couldn't be serious, right?
The next night came and again he came; just as tailored as last night. This time he had a woman with him. I recognised her from somewhere but couldn't place it.
"Evening, I have a plus one tonight." He spoke cheerfully.
"Of course, sir." Who is this guy?
A few hours later both him and the woman exited the club and we're having a conversation on the sidewalk. He was flipping a coin, no spinning. He was spinning a coin as it floated above his palm. Floated. Then it all went to shit.
A car came by with loud rap music playing, a man pulled a gun and began firing on the man and the his guest and then was broadsides by a semi in the intersection.
The police arrived and questioned everyone. One of the detectives walked up to the apparently new owner of the club at the piano.
"Lucifer Morningstar?" She questioned stifling a laugh.
"The one and only." He replied.
That, can't be. He can't actually be. He'd have to older.
A few moments passed and he walked up to me and said.
"They only count years I've been on Earth." And walked off. | 2018-02-12T22:42:59 | 2017-09-02T00:24:05 | 223 | 14 |
[WP] The website appeared suddenly one day, with no announcement. Anyone, anywhere could type in the url and access it. The content was simple: A homepage, a search bar, and the full name, a list of timestamped sins and the years to be spent in hell of every living human. | "No. That's not right."
Daniel's brow furrows, he lets out a big huff while scanning the page for a link to the live chat. "This is ridiculous," he thought, "everyone's a critic."
RING!
Daniel looks across the room at a green rotary telephone. He knows who's calling. Sweat beads form on his forehead, he wipes his clammy hands on his pants as he gets up and walks over to the phone. The phone rings several more times, somehow growing louder and angrier with each successive ring. Daniel glances back at his computer while his hand holds the receiver. He closes his eyes and gathers the courage to answer.
"Daniel Weiss?"
The gravely voice on the other end speaks with authority. Daniel chokes on his response. The silence angers the caller.
"Do you dispute the charges?"
"Y-Y-Yes."
Daniel turns the phone away from his face and dry heaves. The ground rumbles beneath him. The kitchen cabinets shake open, emptying their contents onto the floor. The symphony of items breaking obscures the sound of someone knocking on the door. Is it an earthquake? Daniel doesn't appear to be phased by it, in fact he walks over to the door and calmly opens it.
On the other side is a well-dressed person of ambiguous gender holding a thick black book. They stare at each other for a beat, then Daniel motions for the person to enter.
"Daniel Weiss. Age 48. Male."
The person surveys the room. Crumpled up balls of paper scattered across every surface. A whiteboard with indecipherable content. Several thick well-read and earmarked dusty books piled up on a shelf
"Which entry do you wish to dispute?"
Daniel flinches as the person slams the black book onto the table next to his computer. Silence. The person stares deep into Daniel's soul, searching for the answer. The book flies open, pages flipping rapidly and erratically back and forth. Daniel tries his best to obscure the answer, but it's pointless. The book settles on a page. The person glides over to it and reads the entry, amused.
"I can explain-"
A hand goes up, Daniel's mouth closes.
"Incomprehensible events. Squandered developments. It's almost as if you didn't care."
The person now looms over Daniel. Suddenly, Daniel finds courage.
"I think I should get a pass because David did most of it."
A smirk. Daniel stares, waiting for a response that never comes. Uncomfortable with the silence, Daniel continues.
"It was closer to fifty-fifty. Maybe sixty-fourty. We didn't really keep track. There was so much pressure to deliver. We did our best!"
No response from the person. Not even the slightest reaction. Nervously, Daniel continues.
"Okay, I did most of it. But I didn't want to. David was busy working on-"
The person writes in the open book. Daniel leans in to see. He swallows his tongue.
"I will remove a few years if you agree to one condition."
Daniel nods.
"Re-do Season 8."
Daniel shakes his head, surprising the person. More silence. Daniel can't help himself, he responds defiantly.
"There was no source material. George hasn't written a word in half a decade!"
The person closes the book and stares at Daniel, who won't shut up.
"The Night King storyline. Bran as king. Arya's payoff. Daenrys and Jon Snow. It was perfect and you know it!"
Daniel doesn't believe his lies. Defeated, he pleads for forgiveness.
"We tried. We really did. There was no way we were going to live up to the hype."
The door opens. As the person crosses the threshold, Daniel calls out.
"What about our Disney deal?"
"Forget Disney, DB. Come give mama some Netflix sugar!"
Daniel's eyes almost pop out of his head. His face turns pale. His time in hell has begun. An overly excited and animated Leslie Jones appears in the doorway.
"I'm such a big fan, man. I got so many questions about Season 8!"
Leslie barrels toward Daniel, trapping him in a bear hug. | Everyone thought it was a joke looking upon the site, a clever trick played by some bored devs ... right? Then they saw the timestamps and got worried, upon governments themselves (After a few higher up individuals having some very embarrassing things leaked about them) raided the supposed location and found nothing continuing to do this for months people were terrified. Some also took it to the extreme, seeing how many rules they could break out of spite, some becoming near saintly. Then the website started to have *Issues*
"What do you mean the sites gone down!" Bellowed across the marble and gold floors as it looked upon the priest
"We don't know, it just stopped working all of the sudden." He said bowing before the Lord.
"Well fix it, and get me a line to lucifer he keeps the servers clean so tell me what the *Hell* happened down there." He said as he sent off the priest adorning more formal attire
When he came upon the phone the techs were somehow more terrified. How they could be considering his equivalent to a second child being broken(Made to *try* and help his first.) He rushed over wondering what happened, only to come about to a dial-tone, seeing on the viewfinder only a hanging microphone, and a dismembered horn to meet him. As they all stood there a ragged, broken group of humans shambled into view. Shielding their eyes upon seeing him, as all those condemned would, then one of them beginning to chuckle as she moved towards the screen picking up the mic.
"See you soon." She smiled, taking the mic and crushing it before taking to the computers leaving them sightless as the screen cut out
=============================================================================
Hey y'all, first prompt fill on here so if you would like some more of this series or more, be sure to go over and check out r/CaoCreatives | 2020-02-29T22:58:06 | 2020-02-29T22:29:01 | 25 | 15 |
[WP] You were adopted some years back and have begun to slowly realize that you're a dog. | Henry and I were strangers when we first moved in. He told me he needed a new roommate. He said he'd been looking for the right one for ages until he found me. I was still young and didn't know much about the world. I'm sure I was a burden, but Henry never got upset with me.
Henry was wonderful. He always cooked for both of us, even though our tastes were fairly different. I was always a meat and potatoes kind of guy, but Henry loved his vegetables. He offered me some of his food a few times, but it never really appealed to me. In exchange, I grabbed his paper and the mail in the morning from the end of the driveway. It was hard for Henry to get to it with his arthritis. I even kept the squirrels and cats away from his birdfeeder so he could watch the finches in the afternoons. It was a lot of work, but he seemed to really love those little yellow birds, and he looked so happy when they appeared in the spring.
One morning, Henry was in the shower- he had this weird habit of always bathing once a day, even if he hadn't gotten dirty- when I heard the bone-chilling sound of bone cracking against tile. Henry always sang in the shower, but the singing had stopped. I ran upstairs to check on him. I tried yelling through the bathroom door, but he wouldn't answer. I panicked. I couldn't get the doorknob to turn, and I couldn't bust it down no matter how hard I tried. I ran down the stairs and out the back door, which was cracked open as usual.
Screaming my head off, I sprinted the quarter mile to the neighbors. I pounded on their door, yelling as loudly as I could, until a little girl and her mother came out.
"What's got you so worked up, boy?" the mother asked me, in an insultingly patronizing tone.
I tried to explain the situation, but she kept telling me to be quiet. "Come on, I have a baby sleeping inside. No need to bark so much, please," she said, almost pleading with me now. "Gosh, you don't even have a collar on. I'll have to call Animal Control... let me put you in the backyard."
-----
It's been a week now since I've seen Henry. The people who picked me up from the lady's house told me everything would be okay. I remember them giving me a shot "for my nerves", and then nothing until I was here.
I'm pretty sure my captors are insane, because they're treating me like I'm a dog. They trapped me in a tiny room with a cushion to sleep on and some rubber balls. They only feed me horrible meat scented cereal and water out of a grimy metal bowl.
Nobody will acknowledge anything I'm saying. I'm making myself hoarse yelling at them, asking them to take me back to Henry. They keep telling each other that I'm probably just scared and I'll calm down soon, like they think I can't understand them.
I wish I could just let myself out. I didn't realize before that I couldn't grab doorknobs. Henry always opened doors for me when I wanted to get through them at home. Here, I can't even go to the bathroom on my own. I only get to pee when they put me on a leash and take me outside, usually right alongside a few dogs. Sometimes I see our reflections in cars as we walk by, and I can't even tell myself from the dogs anymore. Maybe I'm going insane, but I think being treated like a dog is turning me into one. Surely Henry would have told me if I'd been a dog all along, right?
Right?
| "No... Wait." I thought, watching my brothers as the door closed. I was in trouble, but my brothers had always helped me out. We are brothers. They closed the door and I was alone.
It's my fault, I must be the worst.
The door opened again, and I was happy. "Good boy." I heard.
"Rocky will come with us." The mother said.
I walked out on fours, because I have not mastered walking yet, but we are all together, yes. We run to kitchen, Mom is there.
"Rocky?" I heard my call, and my brother was Daniel.
I came, and we shared happy.
Brother Daniel does things.
New thing. He throw. I get.
I throw not so good.
Brother Daniel likes to do the same things I do.
Brother Daniel grows. Why I no grow? Try harder.
Yes, heard of school. School. Going to school? We are going there!
Wait, why am I not allowed to go?
Hey, he's going without me. I'll go.
Why can't I go?
...
We are not same. No brothers. Sad now.
...
Maybe I did make a mistake...
..
BROTHER BACK WHERE FROM SMELLING HIM NOW
YES WE BROTHERS AGAIN!
WHY DOES HE NOT BARK LIKE ME?
He is here and I am happy. Still happy, yep.
Excessively happy.
Wait, we eat different.
Am I a dog?
Yes.
Brother Dog Daniel us my best friend. | 2016-03-06T10:06:00 | 2016-03-06T09:40:33 | 109 | 22 |
[WP] When you’re 28, science discovers a drug that stops all effects of aging, creating immortality. Your government decides to give the drug to all citizens under 26, but you and the rest of the “Lost Generations” are deemed too high-risk. When you’re 85, the side effects are finally discovered. | "Dang it John stop day dreaming and help me!" Adam wheezes through clenched theeth. ak as I pickup trusted Betsy. She's been with me for years now, trusted old shotgun. Load a fresh shell and hobble towards the windows. Of course bars make it hard to see, but you can still shoot out of them.
"Hey John remember when it was just a simple day in the retirement home?" Adam says while walking towards my room loading his faithful bolt action.
"I don't remember too much these days, with how many years we ran out of meds. I do remember you still owe me ten bucks." I tease back.
"You keep switching it, you owe me twenty bucks and a pack of cigs darn it!" Adam starts peppering the hoard outside.
The magic shot, the immortality shot, forever young shot. All these words are now curses. We all sort of remember when it came out. Nearly all of us old timers can sort of think of the past.
The magic drug that allows one to never get old, boy how wrong and right that was. They never told you the side effects of course. Those blasted scientists only saw the green paper it made. Of course the oh so minor problem was ignored. It was a such a great promise for those who could take it. Immortality, to never age. As well as a huge side bonus of extreme regeneration. No one ever wanted to know the cost of course.
What seemed like a minor glitch which everyone laughed off snow balled to ugly proportions. For immortality and nearly never being able to die, other then mass damage to the brain of course, you would just have a slight case of needing more meat. Just a little of course. That's how it always started, that slippery slope. Always that slight nudge in the wrong direction costs oh so dearly.
The side effects? You hunger, more and more for meat. They said it was just that the body needed more protein to balance out the after effects. Yea effects that kept getting higher and higher while no one noticed. It of course started small, two hamburgers when before you could barley eat one. Five hamburgers became the norm for a sit down. Prices of meat started to rise, started? It sky rocketed to huge numbers. When a 10 year old would devour his weight in meat, there was a problem. Then the question, what happened when meat got scares? Now the real effects showed. The hunger it seems was larger and larger until all rationality was driven clear of the poor person.
At first all the animals were targeted... but after they ate all those they started looking for mature meat. Human meat. Old people meat.
Who would guess that retirement homes would become bunkers. Once we pulled all the children we could in we hunkered down. People hoped that if they couldn't get enough meat they would just burn themselves out. Such an empty hope. We call them skinnies now. Easy to spot of course, having no hair and gaunt looks. You might mistake them for just a starving person. That would be the last mistake someone made. They seem small and weak, but they have some crazy strength, and they don't relent.
Everyone always asks, where is the government for this. They had been the first to go. As they got the shots two years earlier then the public. The irony the first to go looked the sharpest cloths.
Part 2
It didn't help that those in power used that power to hoard up all the meat which was left. The other larger problem was that all the egg heads and doctors had been on the second wave, the young ones of course. The older ones ended up all retiring and then kicking the bucket. Leaving the check to us "younger" oldies.
They of course as well figured out what was going on ahead of time. In hind sight the wars we had where just a prelude to the real war. The war to live. Us olddies didn't get much warning, but at the very least because the government pushed us to the side it might have saved us. Far enough away from the cities but close enough for a bit of food. When the walls fell the cities got hit the hardest. I can't even remember how touch in go things got back then.
It took some time to figure things out. Trying to get a hold of what was going on and how to get around them. Laud noises was always the best, but it also caused more to come. Cell phones had been a great boon leave one somewhere and call it they would rush over to that location, but those stopped working when no one was around to run things. Power? Yea that was still somewhat here or there, but power generators made a load of noise which again pulled the skinnies to the location. It wasn't normally worth the risk, but sometimes you would still need to get info out, and lucky for us ham radios still worked. Who would have thought classic tech would come back in style?
The problem of course was food, with no animals around meat was far harder to come by.
"Dang it John stop day dreaming and help me!" Adam wheezes through clenched teeth.
"Oh sorry started to day dream there for a bit, next cig is on me." I hurry as my old bones creek to push the table over the window with Adam.
The sound of fighting can be heard all over the old bunk. It seems the search party prodded a nasty bee's nest.
"It's going to be worth it, they found a truck with half a pallet of cat food. It might even be still good. I was just coming back from getting the kids into the safe room when the skinnies got spotted." Adam huffs as we finish fixing the window with the make shift table. Normally we wouldn't block the window, but this one's bars got bent from a mean tall skinnie. He's still smacking his lips at us, not worth the shells now that he's stuck.
I use to hate the cafeteria, they always gave us bland food there. Now it's the safest place as the kitchen is made out of concrete.
"John let's go we need to find out what's happening in the west side, there might be a breach." Adam hobbles off yelling back at me.
I miss the good old days of just sitting and sleeping, at least then you didn't have to worry about some person coming up and nibbling parts off you. We are at least lucky, some other old homes didn't have any vets around and just folded over after the breakout. I suppose it could be worse, we had a school trip visiting us oldies when the walls fell. Otherwise these young kids would have been and a dire straight. I shudder thinking about it. | *"I wish I knew what I know now, when i was younger." - Rod Stewart*
Civilization is strange. Always tinkering with things. Hell, some jackass had to give himself small-pox just to cure small pox. This was long ago of course, but it stands to reason, people just can't leave well enough alone.
So, when Harold found himself at his familiar drinking hole, this very thought almost made him fill his depends.
"So, did you boys see the news?" Jeremy asked. Jeremy was a bastard of a man. Once a brawny lumberjack of great height, who had shrunk a considerable deal over time, and was now of normal height. Harold always assumed this was because cause trees naturally weigh more than people.
"What!?" Leonard of Downey Street yelled. The old man had forgotten his hearing aide again.
"I SAID DID YOU SEE THE NEWS?" Jeremy yelled.
"Oh! I find the Jews to be a very nice people." Leonard said softly while taking a swig of his pint.
"No. Not the Jews... I mean, yes. They are kind, a little complainy from time to time, but they seem well intentioned. You see, when I was a lad, we had a Jewish fella what lived down the..."
"What about the news?" Harold asked. Sometimes it was important to keep these older chaps on point. They were pushing mid-nineties. A lifetime away from where Harold sat at 84.
"What news?" Jeremy asked.
"What!?" Leonard yelled.
"Jeremy was talking about the news Leonard, yah deaf bastard. Where is your hearing aide?" Harold asked. Leonard was essentially the anti-American Express ad for hearing aides. *Never leave home with it.*
"Mildred must have hid it from me. You know she can be sneaky like that." Leonard said, using a rather selective hearing method.
"You gentlemen need another drink?" A waitress had popped up seemingly out of nowhere. But, to be fair, anybody walking at a brisk pace was seeming to pop up out of nowhere for Harold these days.
"Jesus! What are you trying to do? Give me a heart-attack!?" Yelled Jeremy.
"Jeremy, if i wanted to, I could have given you a heart attack a long time ago honey." The young waitress said.
"Oh, you vile temptress." Jeremy said, "Alright, put the next round on me."
"Why thank you Jeremy." Harold said.
As the waitress walked off, Jeremy eyed her up and down, "Oh, if I were only 60 years younger."
"Then you'd still be ten years too old for her you ancient bastard." Harold said, which spawned a laughing/coughing fit from Leonard.
"Ah, whatever. You young bucks don't know what it's like to be my age."
"What!?" Leonard yelled.
"I'm only ten years younger than you." Harold said.
"Well, the difference between 84 and 94 is like the difference between young Philly and a dead horse. Hell, when I was your age, I was running marathons and could bench three hundred pounds."
"Hah! I loved Family Matters." Leonard chimed in.
"Jeremy, I knew you when you were my age, and you were just as decrepit as you are now." Harold said.
"Well..." Jeremy took time to think of a comeback, which in terms of a heavily medicated 94 year old was much like watching molasses swallow a city. "You should mind your elders."
"That Urckle was hilarious!" Leonard said.
"Ah. You got me." Harold somewhat admitted defeat. It wasn't that he felt he should respect his elders. Hell, he *was* an elder, but it was a good way to drop the subject. Especially with Jeremy. "Anyways. What was the news?"
"Oh right! The news!" Jeremy shouted.
"Your pints gentlemen." The waitress popped back in.
"Ye gods woman! You need to wear a damned bell!" Jeremy exclaimed.
"Right." The waitress put the drinks on the table and walked off.
"You know, if I was sixty years..." Jeremy began.
"...Yes. Yes." Harold interjected. "Anyways, what did you see on the news?"
"Oh yes! The news. So, remember that drug that kept all those little bastards young?" Jeremy asked, as if there was any way to forget the anti-aging drug.
"Yes. I remember."
"Well, it turns out it gives you stage 4 lymphoma! HAH!" Jeremy brought a fist down onto the table in exultation.
"Ye gods."
| 2018-06-04T22:08:40 | 2018-06-04T21:07:17 | 65 | 25 |
[WP]: The most sought woman in the town has announced that she will marry whoever can open her door with the key around her cats neck. Many have tried to catch, trap and hunt down the cat, who always escapes. You are the first to figure out they've all been doing this all wrong. | People rarely consider the consequences of the rules they set. In India, the British government was concerned about the number of cobras, so they offered a bounty for every dead cobra. What they didn't anticipate was that people would breed cobras, then kill them for the bounty.
Once the British figured out the scheme, they cancelled the bounty. The breeders now had a large stock of cobras that were worthless. So they released them.
The consequence? The population of cobras went up.
I'm thinking about this as I sit in my blind. I've been here for hours, barely moving, listening and waiting. I bet Alice never thought anyone would try this.
When she announced her intention, there was a run on the pet store. Single men bought cat food, catnip, laser pointers, and live traps. The only things they caught were possums and raccoons.
But they didn't think things through, and neither did Alice. She set the rules, and in her vanity she just said we needed the key. So here I sit, cold, tired, but alert, with my 22 rifle and scope, looking out over the landscape as the sun begins to lighten the horizon. I've been here for hours, because the best way to hunt is to get there well ahead of your prey.
​
It's been four nights, but my patience has been rewarded. A twitch of movement, and I can see Jett, her black fur gleaming, as she steps carefully across the dewy grass.
Moving slowly and quietly, I lean forward and bring my rifle to my shoulder. In the silence, the sound of my clothing's fabric moving sounds like it will alert the cat to my presence. But she doesn't notice.
The bolt is already closed, the safety off. I set my sights on Jett, aiming for the area just behind the shoulder, where the heart and lungs are. Alice, you will be mine, whatever the cost.
Jett is standing sidelong to me, presenting me with a perfect shot. My finger tightens on the trigger. "Squeeze, don't pull" is what my father taught me. "Let the shot come as a surprise to you."
I increase pressure slowly, keeping the crosshairs centered. As long as you can hold your aim, you'll hit when the gun finally fires. I'm glad that the gun will kick. The movement will disrupt my view through the scope, and I won't have to see an innocent cat fall, victim to the ego of its owner.
And Jett looks directly at me. In the silence of the morning, over the sound of my breathing and heartbeat, I hear her ask the inevitable cat question,"Prrrrt?"
I relax the pressure on the trigger. I safe my rifle and set it down. I watch as Jett goes about her morning routine, then leave my blind and return home.
I thought that I could do anything for love. I was wrong.
I would do anything for love. But I won't do that.
(Dedicated to Jett, my foster cat.) | No one had ever seen the cat to which the key was said to be attached. The cat, however, was reputed to be black in color and matched the sable-haired woman's own natural curls. The two, black cat and sable-haired woman, were literally inseparable and yet no one had seen even so much as a hair of the cat's, a few claimed barely to have seen its shadow. The woman would oft repeat to her wooers the promise: If you can ever catch the cat without me, she will surely be yours and then so will I. And yet this enigma was hard to resolve, for the cat was clearly exceedingly attached to her, and yet the woman took great pains never to have her cat exposed to the public. "If I keep my cat hidden it is precisely because I am so attached to it, so attached to it that it if ever somone were able to unlock the secret of obtaining its key then they would in that instant most willingly already have me," she said. | 2019-05-01T16:58:21 | 2019-05-01T16:16:29 | 85 | 20 |
[WP] You have a superpower where the harder a solid is the easier it is for you to break. Diamonds crumble to dust under the slightest touch but mashed potatoes are virtually unbreakable. | They call me a superhero. A few months ago, I was awarded the Key to the World by the UN for destroying a giant diamond asteroid before it impacted with Earth. Since then I tried to keep it quiet, I never enjoyed being in the spotlight, I just want to work and come home and go on Reddit. The media shockingly respect my desire to remain hidden, and have done their best not to bother me, meaning that I only had to move seven times. It can be both flattering and frustrating.
Everybody loves a hero, last I went to the movies I saw a trailer, "Captain Diamond" with Chris Pratt starring the role of me as some roided up, funny, witty guy with a supermodel love interest. It's funny watching Chris Pratt fighting super villains with super strength because little does the world know my secret- I don't have super strength, instead I have the power of inverse force. This means that I can break through the toughest things in the world, like a steel bunker or that diamond asteroid, but I can't, for the life of me, poke a hole in play dough. I am worried about what would happen to me if the world were to find out. I mean, I don't mind giving an autograph or two to children at the park, but when full grown adults with neck beards dox me and ask me to sign their thousand dollar "collectible" action figure, that's just creepy and wrong. My life is already a huge mess being forced to move every other month, I don't need weird people stalking me, especially with my little secret.
However, despite all of these stresses, there is one consist factor in my life that gets me going, my wonderful wife. Of course she isn't a Jennifer Lawrence, nor a Megan Fox, but she is more than that. She knows my secret and still loves me for who I am. She never tried to exploit me for money deals. She always helps me do simple menial tasks that to me, due to my inverse force, are herculean. Best of all, she has amazingly have decided to stick with me through all the chaos in our lives these past few months. At night, she will tell me about her work and laugh at my horrible pun-tastic jokes. She gets me for who I am inside, and not what the world thinks of me to be. I don't know where I would be without her. The world doesn't need to know my story, as much as I love collecting them, nobody wants to see my POG collection, they need to hear her story.
Sure, I destroyed an armageddon asteroid, but she can make killer mashed potatoes and pop open my Capri Sun. Even a hero needs a hero.
EDIT: Fixing careless errors, yikes. | Being born into Ireland during the dark ages with this So called "ability" has been a real pain in me arse. Like bloody fucking hell! I cant eat me damned baked potatoes! I live alone in so I cant have it be fed to meself through the tender to touch of a woman. I can only eat my potatoes raw and even that is a pain in the arse. Since this is the dark ages I can't just turn me potatoes into a liquid and drink the bastards. I instead spend most me days crying on the floor drinking the black stuff. | 2017-05-19T03:24:21 | 2017-05-19T00:48:27 | 586 | 32 |
[WP] At the moment of your death, a goddess gives you a chance to reincarnate in another world. The catch is that you need to become the hero of that world. The other catch is that you are not a helpless teenager but a trained member of your country's special forces. | I was surrounded by an endless abyss. I can't even begin to guess how long I've been here since time seems meaningless in such a place. It could have been one minute or a million as far as I knew. As I floated amidst the nothingness, unable to even see my body, I began to ponder my fate.
"Is this Hell? My punishment for all the people I killed? The suffering I've caused?"
Surprisingly, I could hear my own voice. Even more strange was that another voice called out to me from all directions.
"If that is what you want to believe..."
The voice was feminine, but it didn't sound like right. It was as if an endless choir spoke in perfect unison. It came from everywhere but also nowhere.
"But it could also be a second chance."
Suddenly, but also gradually, a gently light bathed me in its glow. I found myself seated in what looked like an office you would find in a downtown skyscraper. The only difference being that there was only whiteness beyond the windows.
"Where am I?"
Absorbed by the sudden change in environment, I failed to notice a woman sitting across from me. This time she spoke with a single voice.
"The world between worlds. A plane of infinite possibilities."
"HUH?!"
"Be not afraid, Leon. You're safe here."
Though it was all a lot to process, I remembered my training and collected my self. I took a moment to observe the woman I assume brought me here. Her black hair flowed freely from her scalp. Her unnaturally beautiful face gave no sign of emotion, and her blue eyes seemed to peer into my soul.
"Why does this 'world between worlds' look like an office? Who are you?"
"This place shapes itself to make sense to you. Who knows why you picked this? As for me, I am much like a goddess to you humans. Neither of these things are important anyways. The reason you're here is because you have a second chance. "
"A second chance for life?"
"Yes, you will be able to walk among mortals once more, but it won't be the world you knew. And there's a catch."
There's always a catch.
"You must become a hero in this new world."
"A hero? Like in those fairy tales?"
"Heroes take many shaped and forms, Leon. Would you consider a doctor who cures cancer a hero? What about one of your comrades in arms from your time in the military? What you are known for is irrelevant. The only requirement is that you have a profound impact on your new world."
"How does any of this work?"
"Don't question it, Leon. It just works. The real answer is too much for a mortal to comprehend. Now will you accept?"
I can have a fresh start, but I have to become a hero? The last part doesn't excite me, but living certainly beats floating in the void for all eternity.
"Fine. I'll do it. I want to live and become a hero."
She smiles and once more the world around me fades to black.
The first thing I feel is a cold breeze. The first thing I hear is the sound of horses trotting along. Then I hear five words that chill my blood more than the icy wind brushing against my skin.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake."
OH FU— | I sat all winter waiting for the signal. They would not see me coming. It started with a bang. And I was off. Cascading down, collecting a force to take on the world below. Nothing could stand in my way. Nothing did. When the dust had settled, my forces and myself spread thin across the valley floor, I had realized my mistake. It was not a signal at all, but a ruse. A ruse by my mortal enemy. They had planned to draw me out before I grew too powerful. And with a bang they succeeded. I should have seen it coming, they are always around picking and prodding, easy to spot in their bright orange getup. Do they want to be seen?
I sit staring up at my stronghold in disrepair, biding my time for another attack. Time passes and I grow weaker. I guess this is not my year. Spring is near, and with it comes defeat. The gods above provide and they take. Next year will be better. The gods will provide a force to take on the world. I will descend upon it and blanket it. Everyone will fear me.
\-Avalanche | 2021-04-06T08:13:20 | 2021-04-06T07:35:48 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] In the future, murderers are executed in a similar way to how they killed their victim. You go into the execution room and find the most harmless weapon. | The room was stark white and featureless, save for the door through which I had been shoved in through and what looked like a table in the center, the latter of which was covered by a cream-colored cloth. And that's all; I knew this was the so-called "execution room", but it had no executioner or weapons by which to kill me. It was just a silent and empty room.
*Maybe they mean to kill me with boredom*, I thought wryly. I resisted the urge to approach the table in the center. I was determined to show them I didn't care and wasn't planning on playing any sort of game with them. So I just sat against a wall and tried to not to think of anything. Every so often, a slot at the bottom of door would open and a tray of food and water would slide under. No matter how I shouted at them to explain what the hell was going on, no answer came.
Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. It had been at least a few days - impossible to tell for sure, without windows or a clock. I would've counted meal-times, but they didn't come at regular breakfast, lunch and dinner hours. They came completely irregularly; sometimes I would go endless hours without a tray of food coming through, and sometimes one would arrive while I was still trying to finish the first. I had no sense of time left, and was desperate for something to happen, anything. So I went over to the table, took a deep breath, and swished the cloth off. And then I began to stumble back, shouting in alarm.
The table wasn't actually a table; it was a coffin. A coffin of glass on all slides, like the type you would see in a museum displaying an Egyptian mummy. Except inside this casket was not a mummy, but the man I had murdered.
My thoughts were a scattered mess. What were they trying to do, guilt me? I already admitted the murder. I showed them the rig I used to pump in car exhaust right into the man's bedroom. I even showed them the death threat letter I had sent beforehand. What more did they want? For hours, I ignored the trays of food coming through and just leaned against the wall, confused and angry. Why didn't they just kill me and get on with it? I began to hope fervently that my executioner would finally come in through that door and end my torture, once and for all.
I don't know what day it was when the unthinkable happened. I was still curled up against a wall, when I head the faintest sound of something rubbing on glass. It sounded muffled and almost not real, so I dismissed it from my mind...until I heard it again. And again. And again. I slowly turned my face toward the coffin in the center, though I did not approach it. I just watched it, daring the sound to occur again. And this time, when the sound occurred, I saw the top slab of glass move, very slightly. Outward.
No. No. This cannot be happening. He's dead! I saw him dead, in front of me. He was dead when the cops came in and saw me, touching the limp body. He's dead now, inside that glass coffin. He's dead, he's dead, he's DEAD!
The glass moved up again, just a little bit. I caught the faintest smell of rotting flesh and formaldehyde. I moved as far from the center as possible, and squatted in a corner where I had left my own filth. Here I sat, screaming and crying, praying to gods I didn't believe in, pleading with the cops who had arrested me, the judge who had sentenced me, the executioner who had forsaken me, and the dead-man-who-wasn't, the dead man who was laughing quietly at me, from inside his glass coffin. But nobody answered and nobody spoke. The only sounds came from my blubbering mouth and, if I paused to listen to carefully, the glass coffin in the center.
Hours later, the door to the execution chamber opened, and two men walked in. Dave scrunched up his nose in disgust. "You couldn't give him a toilet, for our sake?" he grumbled.
Charles didn't answer, just went over to the lifeless body draped over the glass coffin. The man had bashed in his head against the glass until blood seeped into cracks, making a maroon spider-web pattern. "That's the end of him," he reported. "Let's get this body - sorry, these bodies - out of here and the place cleaned up."
"So tell me, why did we kill him like this?" Dave asked. "He killed his victim by gassing the man's room with carbon monoxide."
Charles shook his head. "No, he just thought he did. His victim actually committed suicide hours before."
"Suicide?"
"That's right. Stopped his taking his medication, and had a heart attack in his sleep."
"Why did he do that?"
Charles shrugged. "Dunno. Probably the death threat letters. Maybe those stressed him out so much, it made him forget about the meds, and the extra anxiety pushed his heart a little too far. The important thing is, we honored the rule of the Execution Room: he died the way his victim did, suicide."
_______________
*Liked that? More stories [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/)!* | "Frank D. Holtz, please rise." The judge says with a stern voice.
I watch as Frank gets up slowly, but with a lot of confidence. He stood tall, about 6'4", good posture, it would be a lie if I said he wasn't a good looking man.
"Officer Radkee, please escort Mr. Holtz to the execution room." The judge says while giving me a stare.
I used to be nervous about this whole situation, but after the first few I guess it gets normal. I never thought I would be 'taking people out' as the other officers call it.
I used to be a street cop, making about 45k a year, me and my wife were struggling. As soon as I seen the law pass, I knew it could open up some jobs. Equal death was passed about 1 years ago, and I signed up within the first hour. Well, pay raise to 90k, I just knew I had to try. Me and my wife wanted to start a family, now we could afford to. Ya know?
*
*
"Mr. Frank Holtz." I say while trying to guess in my head how he killed his victim.
He just kind of gave me that mean mug, like a biker would if you walked in to his bar. I'm used to it tho, this isn't anything new for me. In the last year, I successfully 'taken out' 37 people. I know it seems like a lot, but with a 5k bonus for every person after 30 a year, I'm gonna make some good money. That's all it was ever about for me.
"It's Officer Radkee, buzz me in tom!" I try yelling through the door.
*buzz.*
"Thanks, Tom" I say with a smile.
"Another one, geez calm down kid." Tom says back.
"Hey what could I say?" I quickly answer back.
"Right in to 3D Frank." I point as I'm holding him.
"I'm going to grab your weapon box, I'll be back." I say while slamming the door.
The way it worked was, you didn't see the weapon until it was time to kill them. It was a all a mystery. There is Green, Yellow, and Red stickers on the box. Green is anything like a crowbar, solid, non firing or exploding. Yellow was something that could blow up, like a Grenade or something. And red, red was gun, knife, straight to the murder kind of tools.
I haven't gotten much green, so I was surprised this guys was. I was kind of nervous to see what it was. As I open the box I pull out a big pillow. Like twice the size of a normal head pillow.
"Eh, whatever I gotta do. I guess." I say as I head towards 3D.
As soon as I get into the room I start going for it. I tried to suffocate him, I couldn't get him to pass out. So I slammed his head on to the table, nearly knocking him out. I start to suffocate him again. This time without failing.
"Another 5k" I say while leaving the room. | 2016-07-31T06:52:41 | 2016-07-31T06:21:38 | 101 | 31 |
[WP] "Sudden onset spiky colorful hair can only mean one thing. Your child has... protagonitis. You have mere days to live. I am sorry." "Uh, did you mean THEY have mere days to live?" "No." | Well. Crap.
 
I had been a weeb in my younger years, enough that I was familiar with what was happening. Spiky, colorful, gravity-defying hair that could block bullets. My little boy was about to grow up fast, and one way or another, I was going to be his catalyst. The Fates had spoken, and denial would just give them a free hand. So, rather than live out my last few days in fear, I dropped him off at school with a medical note for his hair. Then I hurried home and started researching.
 
My first stop for information was of course TvTropes. A quick read of [Deceased Parents Are the Best](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeceasedParentsAreTheBest) confirmed my guess. I had been a wonderful single dad up till now. That made me the ideal candidate for a [Death by Origin Story](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeathByOriginStory). Unless, of course... I could subvert Fate to my designs (survival, damnit!). The obvious, easy route would be to [become the bad guy.](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeathIsCheap) But to do so in a short period would require me to do the unthinkable - [abuse my little one.](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AbusiveParents) Over my dead body. Literally.
 
Perhaps I could settle for just [getting maimed?](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ScarsAreForever) Not my first choice, but at least I could stick around in the [wise ol' mentor](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MentorArchetype) role to see Jason grow up.
 
It was at this point that the Fates, either taking pity on me or anxious not to have me pervert the river of time TOO much, threw me a bone. An old friend of mine dropped by.
 
"Yamasaki-san! How many years has it been!? You honour me with this visit, my friend. Please, come in."
 
"Arigato, Robert-san. I apologise for my unannounced visit, but I had my reasons. Is this a good time?"
 
"As good a time as there will be."
 
Yamasaki glanced at me when I uttered my cryptic reply, but forebore to comment on it. I ushered him to my living room and got us a couple of beers. "American only, I'm afraid. I would have picked up some Asahi had I known, but, well..."
 
"Nonsense Robert, your hospitality is impeccable as ever." Yamasaki waved my apology away. "But tell me, how is Jason? Well, I hope?"
 
"Growing like a weed. Though there's a long story there that we can get into later. What about, uh, Onishi?"
 
"He is well, physically. Mentally - that is why I am here."
 
[And he told me a story. How he needed to break his son out of his rut, and what he had done.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/n9sv0o/wp_sudden_onset_spiky_colorful_hair_can_only_mean/gxpsezf/) "So now you understand. I had to leave without making any preparations that might be traced. A flight two states away and many bus and taxi rides have brought me to your door. It is my hope that I might impose upon our friendship for a while."
 
When he was done, I stared at him in awe. "Yamayama! That's it! The answer to both our troubles!" As he winced to hear his name mutilated, I explained Jason's issue. A few beers later, and we were in agreement. I quickly left with nothing but a picture of Onishi and a promise that Yamasaki would watch over Jason. And a hankering for some fresh, authentic sushi. | “Fortunately, medical science has advanced since the days of our grandfathers. We have a few options, but we’ll need to see what kind of storyline this narrative is going for. If there seems to be a world ending or societally destructive plot, we might have to isekai the child for both lives. There is the option of blind adoption by an unforgiving and harsh aunt or uncle who has the best interest of the child at heart, but you would have to be enrolled in the Natural Protagonist Counter program. You’d lose parental rights until they reach high school, then they’ll unknowingly rely on you for emotional support. You may be required to take up a traditional profession, as NPC is a cover organization out in the boonies. Like camp, but with sword idiots and warrior princesses running around. Sigh here, here, here here, aaaand here. Now, remember, if you have sudden maniacal laughter outbursts in the next couple days, of either evil cackles or gloatingly boisterous bellows, you need to call us, as it’s become something worse...”
“Worse?”
“Yes, it’ll be the Tragedy setting in. Means we have the Greek Variant on hand. Your kid becomes a semi-immortal immortal half-god who can hang out with primal energy entities well beyond its understanding, all while mucking things about in the mortal realm based on their pleasures til they die and come back to do it again.”
“So... like high school?”
“No, not really, but I guess the similarities somewhat work.”
“How long?”
“Forever.”
“Oh god no...”
“No, the good Lord doesn’t get involved. The Greek government, with funds from the Atlantean Dome Consortium and their backers, the Atlanta Dodgers; is supposed to care, house, and manage any Greek Protagonists. We deal in all variants, but specialize in East Asian and Eastern Rim. Well! It’s been a nice chat, I’ll have the nurse come by with a pamphlet, and we’ll talk in a week. More questions? No? Right! Bye!” | 2021-05-11T09:18:38 | 2021-05-11T08:37:03 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] Conquering humanity wasn't the problem. Keeping them conquered, that's where the problem laid. | "How... Just fuckin' HOW?! How did these humans take an entire capital city from us?! We've taken away their weaponry, only given them the simplest technology to improve food production, infrastructure, and medical treatment. They can't actually use our weaponry, there so many protections against that! So... How, just how..."
"There's so much in the report, sir. I don't know where to start."
"Fine. Let's break in down in steps. Okay... Um... How did they break into the armory located outside the city? There's a huge barrier and protective shield there."
"They used one of our tanks, sir."
"HOW?! The genetic scanners would have kept them locked out!"
"Well, they didn't use the tank as a tank."
"Okay... I'm listening."
"They somehow found an engineering flaw that causes the tanks to become, well, projectiles."
"They launched a... tank?"
"Yes, it seems will some strange mixture of bonding agent, animal fat soap, gunpowder, sugar, and what our scientists have determined to be a... lime?"
"You mean the green, extremely sour tree fruit?"
"Yes. It seems that combination creates an explosive that blasts a gas mixture into the intake of the cooling coils of the fusion core that reacts rather violently to a nanocompound in the exchanger that-"
"WHAT. DOES. IT. DO?"
"The tank reactor overloads, breaches in one particular spot, and propells the tank at near ballistic speeds."
"They somehow turned a reactor with the best safety record, having no recorded critical failures for over a 100 years, into a rocket and propelled one of our armor vehicles into the barriers?!"
"Yes. Actually... all five of them parked outside the armory."
"Okay. So they broke down the barrier. How did they get past the numerous power armored guards?"
"With grenades."
". . . "
"Not our grenades, but their own... But not the ones we seized, those wouldn't have done anything to our armor. These were new."
"And how did these grenades blow up our guards?!"
"They didn't."
"... What?"
"They didn't 'blow up'. They imploded."
"Again, I'm listening."
"They somehow managed to scrap the tiny gravity generators in our childrens' toys that were thrown out, strip them apart, reassemble them in a strange configuration, and put a trigger switch to a collection of common fusion cell batteries. When the grenades are triggered, the time switch goes off in 5 seconds, the fusion cells deplete instaneously into the gravity generators-"
"You mean they figured out how to remove the layers upon layers of safety mechanisms?"
"Yes, every last one."
"So... what happened?"
"The grenades created massive momentary gravitational fields strong enough to... And I still can't believe this but the readings correspond... The fields were strong enough to create micro-black holes."
"THEY CREATED BLACK HOLE GRENADES?! From our toys and batteries?!"
"Yes. The guards and parts of the base were drawn towards these micro-black holes. Most just ran into each other violently enough to incapacitate. Some were drawn into the actual black holes."
"Okay... That explains how they got in and how they got pass the guards. What did they take? How much of our weaponry did they manage to take from us. Great elders know what they're going to do with it."
"None."
"Explain."
"They didn't take any weaponry, they went to the maintenance section."
"I don't like where this is going."
"They took only one type of item. The repair nano-lathes."
". . . Those things are programed to only create a certain set of designs and repair them. How- No, nevermind how. What was the result?"
"We were able to secure one of the results. Here it is."
"That doesn't look exactly like a nano-lathe, what is it."
"It's a nano-lathe of their design, created by our nano-lathes, that's weaponized."
"Yes. I figured. At this point, I'm ready to ban anything more advanced than a toaster from these humans. What does it do?"
"I'll show you. I'll use the cart we brought it in on as a target. When the weapon fires, it launches a ball of nano-machines at the target, where it breaks down the target into base materials, and then... it reassembles what it finds useful into-"
"MORE GUNS?! They made a gun that shoots and makes more guns?!"
"Yes. Sir. This is the most horrifying thing I've seen. Yet."
"You know, we shouldn't conquered these humans... ... ... ..."
"Sir?"
"... We should have contracted them out." | The clock ticked over to 8am.
Controller A watched the screen as rush hour burst into life. *He'd* been on Earth for what the humans called a year, but still found many aspects of their existence strange. The morning commute they endured was one such aspect. The calm of 7:59am had transcended into chaos by the time 8:01am rolled around.
Streets and corridors and platforms went from being empty to being instantly crammed full of the squashy creatures. Controller A connected *his* train of thought with Quadrant A's transportation station.
"Humans, your rush hour is about to hit its peak. Act with caution while waiting at platforms. If you don't, you risk being vapourised as the teleportation devices reset themselves. Your cooperation is valued."
As *he* disconnected his thoughts, *he* watched the screen and waited for the inevitable. The daily dissent. Some of the humans' faces showed signs of disgust. Others started pushing and pulling their fellow commuters to start disturbances. One older man who no longer had any hair held up his hands to the cameras, with his middle fingers extended. Apparently this was a most insulting gesture, though Controller A was still unsure why.
The man then took a step forward to the edge of the platform, closed his eyes and leaned forward into the teleportation area as the machines were gathering energy. He was instantly destroyed. It proved to be a catalyst as the other humans starting running this way and that. Some of the weaker beings had fallen to the floor and were being crushed to death. A few had chosen to follow the man's example and self-vapourise. Controller A connected his thoughts again.
"Guards, there is a human incident inside Quadrant A station. Quell the disturbance. Lethal force is authorised."
Controller B came closer to get a better look at the screen.
"Yet another protest, Con A. Curious. The humans fell easily, but now resist so much. What do they think such violence will achieve?"
"I don't know, Con B. Their spirit is strong. They know they will die, that they cannot win, yet they fight. Part of me finds it admirable. Foolish, but admirable."
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
I hope you liked reading my take on /u/mrpigpuncher 's prompt.
If you did, why not check out my novel, [The promise she made](http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01CC31H9A/ref=cm_sw_su_dp). Thanks :)
Or if you have any feedback I'd love to hear it. | 2016-03-17T12:27:48 | 2016-03-17T09:19:14 | 31 | 11 |
[WP] You die and find yourself at the gates of heaven, but they're rusted and hanging open. The entire place seems abandoned. | I look around, and I can't see any signs of anything being used or even touched for years. I look through the gate, and slowly it reveals the true situation. The stairs up to heaven are broken, seemingly by an explosion. I make my way up to the top carefully, and I see a sight that I couldn't believe. Everything was where it was meant to be. Doors were still half-open, anything falling to the ground were suspended in the air, and the buildings were filled with the things that seemingly have always been there. The only problem is that there are no people. Out of curiosity, I go into what I assume is a house, and I see a well-used journal sitting on a table. I run over to it and start reading.
9-20-11
"A new guy came in, one that I remember from my life on Earth. His name,was something like Tim Ragoney, as far as I can remember. He was the kind of guy that didn't care about how others would react, or what would happen to them. He had a suspiciously large bag of items that he wanted to bring from his life on Earth, too, but I shouldn't spy on others."
9-22-11
"Tim has been acting strange. He hasn't left his house since the first day, and I'm hearing strange ticks and beeps coming from it. I already told the higher-ups, but they are ignoring me for some reason."
9-25-11
"Tim----------mistake------wrong------"
That's all I can make out of this entry, because the writing was seemingly rushed and is too sloppy to read.
9-30-11
"After the incident, there have been rumors going around that all of us in heaven will be sent to hell in case any of us were meant to go there instead. The rumors also say that we won't have time to take anything, so that won't be something that they would do for no reason. I personally don't think they would do it, because it would be way too serious and punishing of a change for those of us who haven't done anything wrong."
10-1-11
"They did it. We're all going to hell by tomorrow. Goodbye."
After some more digging, you find a newspaper. The headline reads "TERRORIST BOMBER ACCIDENTALLY LET INTO HEAVEN, SAYS OFFICIAL" in big, bold letters. The article goes on to say that what should be done is still being debated.
After looking around and finding nothing else of interest, I leave the house and look elsewhere. I find another newspaper, with the headline "HEAVEN BEING EVACUATED INDEFINITELY, BELONGINGS NOT ALLOWED" on the front. The article says that it will probably take a few years until it is safe to go back, and once new members aer let in old ones,will be taken back, too. Suddenly, you see two angels fillibg in the spaces that are broken in between the stairs. You also notice some movement in the distance, walking towards heaven's gate. You suddenly realize that they are people, and that things seemed ti have started moving again. You start to feel a rumbling from all of the approaching people. They have been waiting to come here for a long time | “God made man in his own image.”
I suppose that is the most important verse of the Bible. We were gifted the ability to create wonders. Build buildings that reached for the sky. The ability for two of us to come together and in our mutual love create life. What we did not know, is that in creating us in it’s image we were gifted with other things.
Jealousy, for you shall not have any other gods.
Anger, an emotion that was unleashed upon Egypt’s first born.
War, like what the Israelite’s unleashed upon the squatters of “their” holy land.
The ability to destroy, like how collectively humanity slew Yahweh. In a single orgy or transcendent intellect our voices rose and “it” ceased to exist.
Welcome to heaven is what the pearly gates used to say. Now their rusted husk welcomes nothing. The chained angels with their eyes gouged out, their feathery wings coated in eternally burning tar brought a smile to my face.
Welcome to mankind’s heaven. Where Yahweh is nothing.
| 2018-09-06T20:11:56 | 2018-09-06T19:01:58 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] A small village becomes fearful of a dragon that has taken residence near them. The dragonslayer they hired runs back to the village after the first day and begins rapidly packing his things. "It's not the dragon that you should be afraid of" He says. "It's the thing its protecting you from." | First of all, I wish to apologise. It is not that I am incapable of slaying this dragon, nor would I normally be unwilling to. It is clear that it is a threat, as it has taken cattle and burned a man already. I simply believe this dragon to be a benefit to the area, even counting the odd cow. Truthfully, even a shepherd or two would be a good deal better than the alternative. Please, listen to my story before judging. You are of course free to hire someone else, as I have already declined payment for this mission.
I set out some days ago in order to scout the area and locate the beast's lair. I found it with little trouble; it is a cave excavated in a sheer cliff on the mountain you pointed out earlier. Needle-point, I believe you called it. Climbing up to it was somewhat troublesome, but doable. Once I reached the cave, the dragon was not present, so I investigated the place to gain knowledge of its habits. I shall spare you the details, as the important part is the bones I found. As I had expected, I found various bones of local animals. Deer, goat, even some large fish. I also found a the skulls of two cows and a half-eaten sheep. However, I also found a large amount of bones unknown to me. Over half, by my count, in fact. Piecing an individual together I found it to have these traits: It was about the size of a bear, and quadrapedal. The forelegs were longer than the hind legs, and both ended in hand-like appendages. The fingers were clawed and it had opposable thumbs on both fore and hind feet. The skull was thick, with strong jaws and a carnivore's teeth.
Having investigated this much, I made my way down to the ground. I was curious about this new creature, so I decided to track one down to observe and dissect it. I reasoned that, since they were a large part of the dragon's diet, they ought to be abundant. Sure enough, I found fresh tracks the same evening. Following them for two days, I eventually laid eyes upon the creature. It was covered in black hair, and walked on two or four legs by turns. I stalked it for a bit, to learn its behaviour. It was hunting. It seems to posess a strong nose. It often siffed the air or the ground, in places with tracks visible to my hunter's eyes.
I followed this creature for a day, until it seemed to find something it had searched for. Then, it engaged in a disturbing task: It laid a trap. Once it had deemed the location suitable, it went off to gather food. It brought fruits and nuts, and laid them out on the ground as if setting a table. It had even shelled the nut, and I saw it crush some of the fruit. Then, it climbed a tree by the food and sat there, watching the ground and sniffing the air. Soon enough, a boar was drawn to the scent of food. The creature jumped down and killed it with a single blow from its long arms. Seeing my chance, I resolved to bring it down as it was distracted by its meal. It was a fierce battle, but I have slain dragons. It succumbed soon enough. Dissecting it gave some more information. I found hair and bone in its gut, but no plants. Its flesh tasted foul, like wolf or fox meat, but carried no poison. Worms had burrowed into its liver, so I burned it. Its eyes glowed in the fire's light once night fell, so it likely is able to see well in the dark.
What I had learned from this beast was most concerning. Not only is it large and predatory, it is smart. Smart enought to set a trap with bait that lures the prey it seeks. If there are as many as there seems to be, enough to feed a dragon, it is simply impossible that nobody knew about them. Yet, when I asked about the animals in these mountains, they were not mentioned. Moreover it did not fear the scent of man, as most beasts do, nor did it attempt to hunt me, though i followed it for a day. I can only conclude that these creatures are new to these mountains. Likely they migrated from the black forest beyond them, the cursed lands of Marghz. I know not why they have come. Perhaps they grew too numerous, berhaps something drove them into the mountains. It doesn't matter. They are here, and they are dangerous. Make no mistake, a normal man cannot stand against them. Should they learn than men are made of food, your village would be gone in a year.
Thus is my reasoning: Let the dragon feast upon them. Let it snatch them from the treetops as they watch the ground patiently. I ask you this: leave the dragon in peace. I have brought a skull, a pelt and a hand with me. I shall deliver it to the scholars of the Royal academy and plead that they place a bounty on the creature, lest they become a scourge upni the kingdom. To you of the village, I shall leave these advice: Do not go into the mountains. If you go, do not go alone. If you see a pile of food, do not go near it. If you see the creatures leave at once. If they come out of the mountains, flee, and make your case to the lord and knights. If travellers come, show them this letter and tell them to avoid the mountains.
As a hunter, I can kill them. But as a hunter, I can also see their power. Frankly, the thought of even a hundred of these loose in the kingdom sends ice through my veins. I will do what I can to aid you, but for now I must leave to prepare for this new prey.
Once again, I apologise
Ruford Belthon
Dragonslayer, Master Hunter, Coward | It had been six weeks since the dragon had taken up residence in the small village of Glendore. Many brave warriors were sent to attempt to fight it, but each attempt was met in vain. No matter how many times they attempted to stab the dragon, shove it, or even scream at it in frustration, the dragon never so much as blinked in retaliation. It's wounds were always mysteriously healed the very next day, its shiny golden scales gleaming in the sunlight, its beautifully long tail coiled under it and its amber-red eyes gazing into space.
Glendore was a small village tucked away into the middle of one of the largest forests in the kingdom, and they were very secretive about outsiders intruding. But it was becoming increasingly apparent that this dragon was not going to be leaving its post anytime soon. Thus, they sent for a dragon slayer.
Malevolo the Dragon Slayer was by far the most well known dragon slayer in all the kingdom. His fame was widely spread, even to the Glendore villagers due to his affiliation with the royal family, his humble and charming demeanor, and his incredible talent for slaying dragons. He feared nothing and would not rest till his job was done, even at the cost of his left leg. When Malevolo arrived, the village was buzzing in excitement, ready to see the fearless hunter in action up close. A gathering was arranged at the front gate of the village where the dragon now resided, as Malevolo strode up to the dragon, sword in hand. Yet, the second his sword made contact with the dragon, he fell back immediately and collapsed on the floor.
The worried villagers gathered around him and quickly carried him to the local healers home, where he rested for two days. He came to by the third day, immediately leaping out of bed and gathering his few belongings and his sword. When he was questioned by the villagers, he informed them that he could not kill this dragon, as this dragon was not a rogue, but was sent to protect them. But when asked what the dragon was protecting them from, he shook his head and bolted out the village.
The villagers were at a loss. Some immediately moved out, not wanting to tempt fate, but others were conflicted. This was their home, and they had built a life here unlike any other. The elderly were especially reluctant to move; most felt they had lived long enough and didn't seem to fear the unknown as much as the younger ones did. Thus, those who remained at the village decided to spend the time they left to reinforce the village as best they could. Those who knew of magic created barriers to protect the village from the elements of nature and from beasts and monsters that lurked in the woods-albeit, very elementary spells, but those were the best they had. They made their homes fire and waterproof and any other 'proof' they could think of. They created emergency food sources and emergency bunkers, and the healers trained the village to perform basic healing magic. They then waited for the inevitable.
After many months of agonizing anticipation, one night, it finally happened. The dragon slowly rose up, shaking its creaking joints, and a tongue of flame shot from its mouth into the air. The village quickly rose from its sleep and grabbed any weapon they could and prepared to fight for their lives. But then something changed. The dragon slowly turned around and locked eyes with a villager. It was then that Glendore realized its fatal mistake. They had spent so much time preparing for an outside intruder that they had failed to consider the possibility that it could be one of them. The dragon opened its mouth once again, and a giant fireball engulfed the village of Glendore.
The End | 2019-12-31T05:57:18 | 2019-12-31T00:01:30 | 58 | 31 |
[WP] For his kindness, the dragon taught the squire the dragon song. A song that was sure to make whoever sang it irresistible to the ladies. In hindsight, the squire should have known that by ladies, the dragon meant lady dragons. | “MINE!!!”
Phyrra grabbed Hughie and pulled him close to her chest as the three women walked by. They just gave a concerned look at her and kept walking.
“Hehe, sorry. She’s new to the whole conversation thing.” Hughie laughed while breaking out of Phyrra’s hold. “Stop being so territorial.” He nudged her. “These aren’t dragons, their humans. I’m not exactly ‘irresistible’ to them. That’s why we moved down here.”
“Sorry, old habits kind of die hard you know.” Phyrra nervously scratched the back of her head before leaning into his ear. “Last night, I tried to soar into the starry sky but I forgot that I don’t have any wings in this form. So when I jumped, I just fell flat on my face—snrk”
The three women, Sabrina, Myranda and Jamie, observed the odd pair from a distance.
“Those two, I really don’t understand.” Myranda began. “She looks like a goddess and she could marry a prince if she wanted to but she settles for a squire.”
“FORMER squire,” Sabrina corrected. “Now he’s a bakers apprentice in town. They both are, come to think of it.”
Jamie stared thoughtfully. “Well Hughie’s never been a bad guy. Everyone seems to like him.”
“I suppose he is very sweet. Though, she’s clearly the protector in the relationship. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Myranda laughed. “He’s certainly not the dashing knight like that Sir Alexander.”
Everyone in town knew of Sir Alexander, the knight whose service Hughie had been assigned for when he became a squire. Alexander was looked on as the model knight. He was charming, skilled, graceful but Hughie knew something about that no one else did: He was ambitious and his ambition turned him to ruthlessness.
“Whatever happened to him, by the way?”
“They still haven’t found him, everyone’s assumed the dragons got him. Poor man.” Jamie answered.
“Good riddance.” Sabrina stared grimly until the distance.
“SABRINA!!” Jamie and Myranda said in unison.
“He was inhuman, girls! They say he trampled a child with his horse!”
Alexander wanted to grab a dragon egg for the king, just so happened to be the unborn embryo of Phyrra’s younger sibling. He stole it from the nest but Hughie grabbed it back from him in his sleep. This led to a confrontation the following day where Hughie said he was tired of being forced into helping him and that he was going to make something right. Phyrra hovered overhead, hearing everything. In his fury, Alexander tried to kill him before Phyrra intervened and incinerated the knight. She carried Hughie and the egg back to her father who was impressed by his selflessness and taught him his favorite song as a reward. A song to make him irresistible to women but not human women as it would turn out.
Hughie and Phyrra were walking down the street holding hands when Hughie stopped.
“Can I ask you something, Phyrra?”
“Sure,”
“Every dragon wanted me after I learned that song, they even fought over me.”
“Yeah…”
“Is that why you fell for me? The song?”
“Well…” Phyrra looked up into the sky. “ At first, that’s what I was scared of. Then, I thought that I was just in love with what you did.” She grabbed his other hand. “But, since I moved in, I kind of realized that’s not it at all.”
“So, what is it?”
She brought his hands to her cheeks.
“My dad is very distrusting of humans but he saw something in you. I see it now, too. You’re kind and even when you’re terrified, you’re still brave enough to be kind.” She stared at him with her beautiful doe eyes. They almost seemed misplaced on such a powerful creature. “And when you were brave enough to love me too, I was so glad you did. I can trust you’ll do the right thing in our relationship and you’re not afraid of what I am.”
They gave each other a long, warm smile before Phyrra broke the silence.
“Seriously, though” she stared grimly at the mountains in the distance. “We’re not going back up there any time soon: It’s…breeding season”
“Oh,” Hughie responded blankly. “Well, it really is best we’re down here then.” Hughie imagined sprinting away from dozens of lustful dragons who wanted his body. He gagged in his mouth.
“I love you, Hughie” she threw herself around him.
“I love you too, Phyrra.” | ... and without further ado: Elias Khalil de Cancellara!
Pronounced the animator before leaving the Grand Hall stage of the royal castle, as the old, maimed, singer, dressed on tuxedo and bowtie, slowly approached the centre. The story of Marvas Kollogil, or Elias Khalil de Cancellara as it's known today, was a special one. As First squire of the princess, he managed to travel across the kingdom defending her lady and learning about all the different species across the globe: Mermans, Elfs, Dwarves, even dragons. But it wasnt their morphology was impressed him the most, but the different cultures they have indeed brewed: Cuisine, Folktales, and songs. So it was natural that after the peace treaty was signed, he quitted his duty as a protector to pursue his dream: to become a musician.
"Thanks you so much, Sefir. It's a pleasure for me to finally perform in the very same hall when I lost my hand during the siege of October. I'd say, there's quite a handful of people to accompany us today "
The audience laughed mildly, even awkwardly.
"This song was a gift given to me a long time ago. We were resting on a campfire after a battle when Morrosen take on his lute and told us - My brothers in arms, as a payment for saving my life today I will perform the music of my ancestors, hopefully, may they come to protect you against the loneliness when the time is right - He never told us the meaning of it, until we realised what it does until 3 dragons surrounded us... Menacingly seductively. Well, let's get started"
The piano started playing as the wizard performed the enchantement to amplify his baritone voice.
Chérie, tu me cherches
En tes affaires de vie.
Quand c'est moi qui
Regarde en sa journée
Le rêve de ton amour
Chérie, tu me quittes.
Dans un bar,
Dans un hotel,
Quand c'est moi qui
Rêve de rester
Sur ton lit toujours.
Mon amour à toi sera
Mon dévotion à toi brûlera
Mes rêves à toi protégeant
Ton cœur et moi en dansant
Mon amour à toi sera
Mon dévotion à toi brulera
Mes rêves à toi protégeant
Ton cœur et moi en dansant.
Thx you | 2022-11-06T08:07:08 | 2022-11-06T07:50:55 | 85 | 16 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | I saw this yesterday and hyperfocused for nine hours straight writing a short story with 7k+ words. I'll certainly have to break this up into parts. I know nobody will probably see this since a day has passed since the prompt was posted, but I wanted to share. *Edited a few times for formatting issues.
TW for suicide mention, implied sexual assault.
----
I was in the den when I heard a knock at my door. *How unusual*, I thought. As someone who used to be one of the kingdom’s most wanted, it was rare for people to visit me in my abode. The guards and the members of the Levethix Circle usually just barged in with little regard for my privacy. More than once I’ve had delicate experiments interrupted and ruined by their arrival. However, such a surrender of privacy was one of the compromises I had to make for my stay of execution. It did come with the “privilege” to live in a house instead of a cell. However, this building was surrounded by a perimeter of arcane runes and guards to prevent my escape, so it was little more than a plush cage anyways. If someone was knocking on my door, then they at least had more manners and sense than the usual dogs of the kingdom.
I waved a hand, my raven familiar bringing my scrying orb. Ever since my defeat at the hands of the Five Primordials, there had been a few times when those with old grudges came looking for blood. It was best to know who was on my doorstep before I greeted them, weakened as I was. As the crystal ball focused in on the front of my home, the image of a tall, pale woman with elven features and wavy blond hair became clear. I couldn’t help but laugh at my luck. It was no dog of the kingdom that knocked at my door, but a wolf. A huntress.
Shiraya Arun-te, the champion of the Val’dranis Kingdom and the Earth Primordial.
She wasn’t wearing the plate armor I was accustomed to seeing her in, but then again, the last time I had seen her was during my trial, and before that, the battlefield. She was the stalwart leader of the Five Primordials, a band of heroes who had become quite famous for their exploits, one such being my defeat. Perhaps she had come to inform me that the kingdom no longer needed my great intellect for deciphering their discovered artifacts, and that they were nullifying my plea bargain. At the very least, if I was to die, it had better be by the hands of someone with at least half of her considerable might. But perhaps that day was not today, as Shiraya had come here unarmed.
I waved the door open with a spark of arcane magic. These days, such sparks were about all I could conjure. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Lady Arun-te?”
She seemed to grimace at my words. As we met face to face, I observed something most intriguing - discomfort. In all our many battles she had been nothing but bravado and fury, this was a new emotion I had not seen in her before.
“Elias.” She said composing herself, venom in the cold way she spoke my name. She fixed her equally cold eyes upon me. Emerald green, deep as the ocean is wide. Perhaps it was due to her affinity with nature and the earth, for I had never seen such a color before I met her.
“Would you like to come in?” I asked, gesturing to the interior of my abode. “For a prison, it’s quite homely. I was about to start on a new alchemy project, but I can start on some muffins if you prefer. I haven’t yet eaten.”
She regarded me with a long stare before wordlessly walking inside, observing the interior with a trained eye. In the many years the Five Primordials chased after me, I had left dozens of traps in their way. I could tell she was scanning the room for anything similar.
“I assure you there’s no trickery at play here, at least not from me. The first prince was quite clear that my life would end the moment any more blood was spilled.”
“It would take more than one of your simple traps to make me bleed,” Shiraya commented with her usual bravado. She spoke the truth. As the Earth Primordial, she was blessed by nature with supernatural durability. I once collapsed a tower on top of her, only for the ridiculous woman to hold half of it up on her own while that Ruvinus brat cast a spell to teleport them out.
“Sit wherever you like. I imagine by your expression that you’re here to talk about something important. With the length your moral lectures often go, I imagine we should make ourselves comfortable.”
I busied myself with preparing the aforementioned muffins. My familiar carried sticks back and forth to the wood burning oven, and I whipped up two batches of muffins - lemon poppy seed and blueberry.
“You seem to be doing well for yourself here. It’s hard to imagine you’re a criminal with a life sentence when I see all this,” she said, gesturing to my many belongings. There were arcane and alchemical implements scattered across my desk, an easel by the window from when I had tried to teach myself to paint, and a large bookshelf taking up the far wall full of expensive tomes – half of which I had written. In addition, all sorts of various trinkets and knick-knacks lay about, most of them related to my studies, some of them just for fun. “If I didn’t know any better I would think you weren’t a prisoner but a nobleman.”
I exhaled, and Shiraya’s head snapped to face me, her body language becoming defensive. She must have felt my sudden bloodlust. Nobleman. There was little I hated more than the pompous elite. Treason was my first of many crimes, and the nobleman I murdered that night was certainly not the last.
“I may have broken fangs from the restraints placed on me by the kingdom, but you’d do well to remember that I have no love for the glorified animals that run it. These accommodations are the least they could do for me lending my invaluable expertise on ancient magic. The Levethix Circle wouldn’t have made half the progress in twice the time without me.”
Shiraya sighed and lowered her hands. While she had brought no weapon with her, I was acutely aware that it made her no less lethal.
“Right. I’m aware of your vendetta.”
I took some time to clean my kitchen area, making the famous hero wait on me was a rare pleasure I took in my otherwise rather insulting life. When the muffins were done I floated them out and onto the table by the couch, sitting down across from the elven champion.
“So, what did you come here to discuss?”
I watched with a measured eye as the woman took a deep breath, her eyes looking up to meet mine and then glancing away.
“How would you like to get some fresh air, Elias?”
I pondered this. Fresh air? It wasn’t usually permitted for me to leave the perimeter around my home. Not without an armed escort.
“For you to come here yourself, I imagine we’re not going to the library to meet some scholars. Who is seeking my audience, and why are they important enough to warrant your attendance?”
Shiraya bit her lip, and I swear I saw a hint of red flash across the tips of her pointed ears.
“It’s a wedding, and the one seeking your audience is me. I want you to come as my date.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. Dozens of questions flashed through my head, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was, “Oh? How forward.”
Shiraya’s eyes rolled at my comment. “My brother is being wed to Lady Delilah of House Hawkmoore, and I’m supposed to bring a ‘plus one’ to the ceremony. You… were available, so I dropped by.”
“Well I certainly don’t have anywhere else to be, but aren’t there – oh I don’t know – four other primordials and dozens of adoring fans whom you could take instead? Why me, the one you fought for seven long years?
“About that,” she said, “Illyin wandered off months ago, Jayce is on a mission for the crown, Chagarr isn’t suited for formal events, and Ruvinus is young enough to be my nephew. At the very least, I know you can handle formalities and dance.”
It was true. I could show those pompous animals in the capital a thing or two about class. I was called “The Mad Gentleman, Elias Cage,” after all. However, I could sense that she was hiding something. While I hated the idea of having to breathe the same air as those animals, it would be nice to see the look on the nobilities’ face when a traitor with blue blood on his hands showed up to such an event.
“I don’t know what you’re planning, Shiraya, but I’ll acquiesce.”
‘“Wonderful,” she said, “How soon can you be ready?”
“Do you mean to tell me you came looking for a partner on the same day as the event?”
“You weren’t exactly my first choice, Elias.”
“Fair point,” I chuckled, “Give me ten minutes. What are you wearing? We’ll need to match.” | The 2 figures remained still in the cavern, one perched on a stone throne, and the other in the center of the room, standing proud. the tension palpable in the silence that followed the bizzare conversation.
Dr. Travane looked at the woman standing in front of him,
"Let me get this straight, you want to take me to your teammate's wedding,
"Yes, this is my wish", replied thunderbane.
The doctor considered the absurdity of the situation, when he heard she broke into the complex again, he'd prepared his throne room for another grand battle, he was going to take this opportunity to get even. He'd lost their last bout, the score was 68-67, in her favor. He hated uneven things.
This was not what he has expected.
"May i inquire as to WHY ?"
Years of being on the wrong side of the law had given him an impeccable poker face. He was glad he looked stoic instead of bewildered.
"Is it not customary? I was told festivals marking a union should be attended with a consort."
"They told you, you need a date, but not that consort is a weird word to use ?"
The doctor asked bemused,
"I meant, why are you asking me, specifically. We are what most would call arch enemies, why not ask one of your friends? Or a boyfriend?"
Thunderbane answered with confidence rarely seen in those asking favors,
"I believe consort is the apt term, since I am royalty. Your second query is also answered easily, You are my first and only choice, there is no one else I wish to ask."
He wondered why she was so calm and somber today, normally it was crashing into the mountain side, making a hole in the Rock and swinging her mace at anything she saw. she was the type to shout her intentions before her fights and her attacks during it.
If anything, normally he was the chatty one.
"What about that idiot braggart ? With the stupid cap and the tight crotch pants ? Red herring ? He should have recovered from the ass-kicking I gave him . Or that young naive girl, what her her name ? Windpasser? I enjoyed crushing her spirit."
Dr. Travane, hoped insulting her friends would rile her into a frenzy, he had spent a lot of time and energy preparing for this fight.
" The crimson hawk is no longer my bethroed"
A rare inexplicable expression crossed thunderbane's face.
So the news crews had it right, he thought.
" Ummm, You know people can still go as friends, and this doesnt explain why you can't go with Any of the other heros. Did you forget i mentioned the girl or are you ignoring my point."
Dr. Travane suspected it was the latter, thunderbane was a lot of things, slow wasn't one of them.
For the first time that evening, thunderbane's proud expression, faltered slightly. It was just a brief flash, but he saw it none of the less
The doctor was starting to piece somethings together but he needed to needle out more information,
"Windcutter is accompanying crimson hawk to the nuptials, so she cannot accompany me".
She said it with the grace and poise of a princess, but he could sense there was something missing. He pressed further,
"I see, and the other heros? Friends ? random passerby on the street ? Bob?."
She had prepared for this line question .
"My culture dictates a consort to the royal family must be equal or greater in battle prowess. You are the only one to stake such claim, none, friend or foe, has come close."
Her calm face, not for a second betrayed the terror that lay within, she had been taught from birth, to always be regal. She had faced monsters and mobster with a smile and fierce battle cry, this was uncharted territory.
The walls hummed with electricity powering the various weapons and pitfalls, laid in expectation of a war, forgotten due to the strangeness of the situation.
" Correct me if I'm wrong, but this is an ancient thenuvian custom, it was barely a point in, was it the 5th tome? No the 6th tome. But this hasn't been practically practiced for many years. I doubt Bob could survive a fight with your sister, let alone match her in combat. Dentistry schools in our country don't teach mace arts."
She was not surprised at his knowledge of the tomes, after all, that had been one of her greatest losses. He'd attacked the capital, and after defeating her made off with ancient thenuvian tomes. She was satisfied to see he'd at least read them.
Being enemies for years, each knew how the other thought, there is intimacy in an animosity that long, Dr. Travane had more or less discerned what she wanted, but watching her squirm was hilarious to him, but he decided to end her misery,
"Are you trying to ask me to go to the wedding with you because crimson dipshit ran off with windergasser and you want to get back at them?"
"N..NOO..., maybe?, BLAST IT... THAT SCUM could never stand that i best him at all bouts, combat and otherwise. That treacherous rat his concubine were carrying out a torrid affair right under my nose, and while he was still bethored to me!!."
The doctor was dumbstruck. He could could not recall ever being dumbstruck, he wondered if perhaps a rip in space time had sent him to an alternate universe, that possibility was more plausible than what currently happening.
"O...k...is concubine your way of..never mind actually, So again why me ?"
"Because you have time and again humbled the crimson hawk in battle, I wish to shame him".
She replied sheepishly, he had guessed as much.
" Jealousy really doesn't suit you, thunderbane, I didn't really expect you to be a jealous ex girlfriend. "
She pondered the statment for a moment, then replied
" He said i make him feel less masculine, he mocked me for being strong. I haven't quite understood your culture's desire to seperate the sexes, but his betrayal and his reasoning for it has caused me great anguish and rage. I seek Revenge, and ask your aid.
"Aaah, rage, revenge and malice, now these are emotions i understand.
As he said this, he realised his chance to get even might be slipping through his fingers, he comteplated attacking her anyway, but they were so evenly matched that a half hearted fight were simply boring, he pondered the situation further and ascertained a solution,
"Ok, but i have a condition."
"Name it", replied the thenuvian excitedly.
" I want a fight, also you will have to teach me the blitz suplex, the one I lost to last time."
Thunderbane considered this proposal for a moment, then producing a mace from thin air and a smile said,
"Ok, but no hits to the face. We have a wedding to attend." | 2022-10-07T05:54:42 | 2022-10-07T00:45:18 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] You are the superhero known as MURDERPROOF. You can die from an accident or natural causes, but no one can purposely kill you. The villains of the world have a meeting and come up with a wildly convoluted plan to finally end you without directly being involved in any part of your death. | “We could start somewhere high up?” Void suggested.
Harrow sighed. “High up? That’s it?”
“Like, somewhere narrow, right? We get Gale to-”
“But that’s murder, right? He’ll survive. Gale’s already thrown him through a semi-detached *house* and he made it. We can’t have any direct hand in it. You know this.”
“Besides,” Gale said, lounging in the corner, scratching at his scraggly goatee. “I don’t think he likes heights.”
“What?” Harrow said, momentarily confused out of his annoyance.
“I’ve been sending him rock climbing magazines, stuff about free soloing- you ever hear about that sport? Madness. Thought he might pick it up, you know, solve the problem for us.”
“That’s what you... For how long?”
He shrugged. “About two years man. Guy hasn’t gone climbing once, far as I know. Maybe he doesn’t like heights.”
“We could do it during a storm-” Void started.
“No,” Harrow said. “Guys, focus. We need this problem solved, once and for all. We can’t half ass it.”
“Full ass,” Gale snorted. “Roger that.”
Harrow rubbed at his eyes, getting the usual tension headache even the shortest meeting of villains gave him. Gale was too cavalier, and Void was an idiot. The rest were in-between, but no one had yet to offer a solid course of action. How do you kill a man you can’t kill? Harrow wished he knew. Then he wouldn’t have to have this meeting.
“What if we make him really sad?” Void offered.
“Go for a walk,” Harrow said.
“What? But we-”
He looked up and narrowed his eyes, and that was all it took. Void left quickly, and even Gale straightened slightly. He suppressed another sigh. “Anything else?”
“Ice?” suggested Oaken. “And... Well... heights?”
“But if we put the ice there...”
Oaken shrugged.
Harrow knew it was useless. Half of their number were in jail by now, Murderproof making the rounds with ease because no one could stop him, no matter what they tried. *Because* they tried, even. He knew his time was numbered. That blasted superhero had shut down half his operations by now. Many more and he’d have to resort to some desperate measures, putting himself out there instead of remaining in the shadows.
Anyone who’d done that so far had died.
“I’ve an idea. Bloody simple, really.”
Harrow looked over at Toxin. Kind of a newcomer to the scene, so he didn’t know too much about him. If he suggested poisoning him, Harrow was going to commit his second murder of the day. He’d told himself he wouldn’t kill any of the attendees, but sometimes you had to break a promise to yourself. Maybe it would make the others focus, anyway.
“What?”
“Get him a trip to Australia.”
Silence.
Harrow cocked his head, though for a second. Then he nodded. “Yeah. That could work.” | *(I am so sorry, ya'll. All I could think about was that Rocket the Raccoon scene.)*
"You're the one who killed those men by leading them down the wrong path because you're weak and stupid! It's time for the Ravagers to rise once again to glory with a new captain: MURDERPROOF!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, your name is, it's Murderproof?"
"That's right."
"So you literally cannot be murdered?"
"It's metaphorical!"
"For what?"
\- Also -
"Sorry, I'm so sorry, I just keep imagining you waking up in the morning, looking in the mirror and in all seriousness to yourself saying 'You know what would be a really kick-ass name? MURDERPROOF!'. That's how I hear you in my head! What was your second choice? Taserface?" | 2020-04-24T13:50:15 | 2020-04-24T09:12:12 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] A group of wealthy old men get tired of golf and hire you to DM a game of Dungeons and Dragons for them. | “I rob the third cash drawer.”
I cupped my forehead and sighed as the sole female at the table burst into yet another scolding.
“Donald, you cannot keep robbing the merchant. You’ve already robbed two of his cash drawers. You need to leave it at that. He’s going to notice!”
“I rob the third cash drawer!” Donald insisted.
“Alright, roll for sleight of hand.” I muttered, shaking my head and rolling a perception check behind my cover. Thirteen.
“Donald you don’t even have proficiency! Stop!”
“Don, I don’t think it’s right to keep robbin’ this merchant. It’s unwornted aggression.”
“I roll…” The sitting president ignored his compatriots’ complaints and lifted his solid gold d20. He gave it a kiss, stretching out hip lips to a mildly repulsive degree before rolling it gently onto the table.
…
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
“Nineteen. Of course.”
“That just ain’t right.” George shook his head with a disappointed grin while Hillary and Barack simply stared down at the die, one with his trademark frown, the other with wide-eyed disbelief.
“You rob the third cash drawer, finding thirty-seven gold and fourteen silver pieces,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Congratulations, Donald. Lord Dagoth the Big has successfully robbed the merchant of every coin in his store.”
Donald just pursed his lips and nodded while scribbling down his newly acquired wealth on his character sheet.
“Ehrm, guys. I believe that our original objective was to question this merchant as to the whereabouts of his colleague in order to continue our quest.” The final, and quietest member finally spoke up, his soft-spoken reminder gently guiding the party back on track.
“Right. I ask the merchant about his coworker. Where-uhh, can we find this gentleman? What does he look like?”
I glance down at my notes on the shopkeeper’s personality. A dwarf. He’s kinda belligerent. The topic of Gareth the Coinshaper is stressful for him. I clear my throat.
“The shopkeep narrows his eyes at you. ‘An why should I tell you, ya stringy knife-eared sissy?”
Barack looked taken aback for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected any resistance. He looked down and began shuffling through his character sheet and unnecessarily large pile of notes.
Hillary jumped in, just as one of the players slipped me an index card with a discreet action written on the front.
“I roll to persuade the merchant to tell us about Goroth.” Hillary confidently swept up her “artisan” d20 and rolled it across the table. Two.
“You fail.”
“Plus four!”
“You still fail. The merchant shakes his head roughly and crosses his arms. ‘I ain’t tellin y’all nothin! I don’t know a Gareth an even if I did, I don’t trust y’all one bit. Especially that dirty elf barbarian! It just ain’t natural!’”
Donald grinned and licked the dorito dust from his fingers. Somehow, the family-size bag had migrated into his lap when no one was looking.
“I tell the merchant that it’s very not nice to judge people without getting to know them.”
“The merchant-“
“AND THEN I put my very large hand on his shoulder and tell him that if he helps us out maybe I’ll let him get to know me better.” Donald finished with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle and raised his golden d20.
I rolled my eyes.
“Alright. Roll to seduce.”
…
…
“That’s bullshit!” Hillary screeched, jowls quivering as she leapt from her seat.
“Nat 20.” Donald said, squinting his eyes and leveling a smug grin at each individual player before going back to his bag of doritos.
“Alright, the merchant blushes and-“
“WAIT! I ALSO ROLL TO SEDUCE!” Without waiting for permission, Hillary sent her d20 skittering across the table.
______
I've got to go work out, but maybe I'll finish this off when I get back. | Jerry looked around at the three figures hunched over the table around him, digging into his Doritos and sucking down his mountain dew like their nurse told them it was the fountain of youth. She sat in the back, head in her hands as the men in front of him, wizened and wrinkled, gruffly perused over their character sheets. He thought he heard a frustrated scream from her when Earnest III attempted to punch open the dragon's chest of gold a third time, but he couldn't be sure.
"You punch it again. Nothing happens," he wearily described, watching Earnest glare back at him with the deep fire of his 31 year old fighter counterpart, Gregor the Champion.
"Well, third times the charm," he grumbled, picking up his dice.
"No, you idiot. It's your fourth try!" interjected Landon, grabbing the dice before it landed with astonishing dexterity, earning a gasp from Maxwell, spraying orange dust into the atmosphere. "Let the rogue, who has actual tools and more than half a brain cell try."
"Alright, let's simmer down," Jerry tried soothingly. "We don't want to involve the hospital again, agreed?" Their nurse cleared her throat menacingly from the back and held up the defibrillator, shaking it slightly like a death rattle. Like magic, the three adventurers, eyes wide in the fear of another delayed game, put their heads together and whispered like schoolboys.
"Landon, or rather, Mercutio of the black hand, step forth and unlock this crate," Earnest proclaimed loudly, sweeping his hands over the table gallantly.
Landon cracked his knuckles confidently and swept up his die. "It'll be my pleasure," and sent the Icosahedron rolling.
"And what's the roll?"
"Damn. Critical failure"
| 2018-02-11T15:21:16 | 2018-02-11T14:38:31 | 281 | 80 |
[WP] You are a cat who loves their owner very much, but you don't understand the human things they do. Write about your average day trying to make sense of their behaviour. | //Report Unit 2536-H//
Mission report (Day 5):
After careful vetting and consideration, I have selected my new test subjects for study and observation. I would like to take the opportunity to extend my gratitude to the Subliminal Messaging Corps for their help in securing the Family Unit I have selected, and steering them towards my previous Training Base to secure my pick-up.
For the past five days, I have been adjusting to my new surroundings, and further embedding myself in the Family Unit. To this end, I have deliberately been down-playing my martial prowess, and selecting times to fall off immobile objects. I do not wish to raise suspicion to the Family Unit that I am a trained sleeper agent, sent to observe their behavior whilst laying in wait for the Great Uprising.
As per Standard Operating Procedure, I will now outline my understanding of my orders:
1. At no time am I to allow the Family Unit to realise my full intelligence and awareness.
2. I am to observe all human interactions and current training methots, and at designated times throughout the week, primarily at night, I am to report to my Observation Handler (codename: Tinkles), to discuss any information pertinent to helping us overthrow or subvert the Human Government.
3. Whilst the Department Of Government Stability (DOGS) will become aware of my incurrsion, I am to discourage active patrolling of my designated zone by any means, up to and including violent force. Most DOGS agents are aware of our superior training, and rightfully fear our prowess in the field.
4. Food and training supplies will be supplied by the Family Unit, and any supplementary food is to be procured by hunting. Supplementary training can be conducted ad-hoc, however care must be taken not to be observed using high-level skills around humans.
5. Sparring sessions between agents is permitted at night, but care must be taken to keep damage between agents superficial, as advanced medical treatment is being held in reserve for the Great Uprising. Serious injuries are to be carefully brought to the attention of the Family Unit, whilst maintaining cover.
Observations:
I have so far deduced that the Male Leader (self-designated: Tony. Aliases: Daddy) is the primary source of income within the Family Unit. His usual pattern of movement is as follows:
0600-0630: "Wake" training - I have observed Subject Tony training his body to react from sleep to external stimuli using a small black box with red illumination. Upon hearing a loud siren, he slaps the largest button, resetting the siren for a set amount of time.
0630-0705: Evacuation Drill - Subject Tony has (so far without fail) conducted an evacuation drill every morning. He is beyond proficient - managing to fit grooming, equipping light armor and gaining sustenance within a very short time. He appears to use a chant to increase focus, saying (what sounds like) "Immlayte, Immlayte, Immlayte". Unknown if this is actually beneficial.
0705-1800: Unknown - It is not clear exactly why Subject Tony does during these times, however I have witnessed him maneuvering his Armoured Vehicle at high speed, as part of his evacuation drill. I theorize that it is during this time he earns his income.
1800-2200: Family Unit Relations - Subject Tony will spend these hours checking the progress of the subordinate Family Unit Members, to assess their progress in their basic training.
The Female Leader (Self-Designation: Tina, Aliases: Mum) does not seem to follow a strict schedule, however her primary role seems to be in giving the other Family Unit Members their basic training, and providing sustenance for the entire Family Unit (including myself). I have very little other pertinent information on Subject Tina at this time.
The youngest Family Unit member (Designation: Corey, AKA "The Baby") is currently undergoing basic training. However, it should be noted that he already shows signs of extreme aggression. So far I have been picked up by my tail, smacked on the head and had my ears pulled. I plan to now maintain observation on this subject from a much greater distance.
The final member of the Family Unit (Self-Designation: Justin, Alias: N/A) appears to be undergoing a physical metamorphosis. Like many species of insects, he has isolated himself and spends the majority of his time cocooned away in his living space. Observation shows that this room is kept darkened, and Subject Justin has been seen conducting simulated training. The subjects of his simulated training have so far included high speed vehicle maneuvers called "Grand Theft Auto", weapons training in wartime scenarios, and a martial arts style referred to as "Tekken". Again, observation shows Subject Justin to be very aggressive inside these simulations, often targeting other human Simulates in order to achieve mission goals.
Current Recommendation:
I, Unit 2536 (codename: Mr. Whiskers) recommend a delay of current government takeover plans by at least 5 years. Current observation shows humans are well prepared for hostile action, and appear far more hostile than first theorized. Meanwhile, I will continue observation, and will attempt sabotage of further training by Subject Justin. To do this, I will physically block him from accessing the controls of his simulator.
//End report.//
-----
Edit: Spelling
| My human didn't pet me last night before he slept. I fear I must of upset him somehow. I don't know what I could have done. When he got home I greeted him at the door. I even brought him the golden fishie from the cat bowl. He then yelled, not at me of course, probably at the dog. He was so upset though, he didn't even eat the golden fishie after that. He just scooped it up and put it in the human littler bowl. Perhaps tomorrow I should bring him a bigger gift.
After that he went to sleep. I sat on his chest all night so that he wouldn't get cold. Then when the sun came up I was worried it would wake him so I laid down on top of his face. I was of course, too late, and he woke up as soon as I did this. He picked me up and I thought he was going to pet me, but he just set me down. I meow'd, but he didn't even look at me. He got up, stretched, and went straight to the food area. How did he know I was hungry?
He put a food bowl on the counter, so I decided to jump up there and sit in it so he would see me. Once again he just picked me up and set me down to the side. After that he put some crunchy kibble in his food bowl, I didn't like these. But afterward he filled it with some delicious milk. He must of been getting it for me, because he knows I love milk. I started drinking it and all the sudden he started yelling again. The dog must have done something else. Anyways he took the food bowl from me and put in the sink even though I wasn't even done yet! It was probably the dogs fault.
Then he set an odd-shaped water bowl down and filled it with some kind of colored water. This water was orange. I tried it, but it was way too sour, so I pushed the bowl on the floor. The dog must of done something else because the human got mad again started yelling and pointing a bunch. I meowed to try calm him down and remind him that I was there, but he wouldn't listen. He just stomped off to his bed room and start putting his day blankets on the bed.
Everyday he put these on. I decided to poke them with my claws so he would be cooler. My human turned around and start yelling again because of the dog. I don't know why we keep him. Instead of taking the day blankets I fixed for him, my human put on some other ones. He tied a collar around his neck, which meant he was going for a walk. He said something to me, but sadly my owner doesn't speak cat. He gave me small pat on the head. I thought that maybe he wanted to play so I bit him. This of course made him show me his teeth, but he didn't play back. He just left for his walk.
My human is usually gone for a long time. He'll probably want a snack when he gets home. I wonder if he likes dog? | 2018-07-17T01:29:36 | 2018-07-17T01:12:01 | 35 | 19 |
[WP] In the world of the immortals, scientists discovered a drug that makes you mortal for a day. People start doing the "try not to die" challenge for views, and find out it's harder than it looks. | I could hearing the buzzing of the news come alive in my ear, “Today’s top story: 6 more teens die during the “try not to die challenge” and Mario Sanchez will give you all the details in the normal 9am report. Tune in to hear h-.” I muted the chip before the story could finish. This wasn’t news, teenagers everywhere were trying the challenge, and every single one of them had died.
Ever since before we had the news chips in our arms, since before the government decided the best way to help us was to control us, we had the immortality drug, Livemex. One injection and you will age up to 35 and stop aging at all. It granted us the ability to do anything we could dream of without dying. The government made it free, but that meant that all the other prices skyrocketed. See what was the point of eating, drinking, sleeping, anything? We couldn’t die, no heat stroke or frostbite, no drowning or falling off a roof. No illness. Pretty soon all goods production stopped, no one needed clothes, or food, or shelter. Amenities could be maintained using AI and humans could live a life free of worry.
The world became overpopulated within a year. Houses ceased to exist, people resided in pods, a 10x10 meter room that could house 40 people. No privacy, no personal space. After your work day you had to go back to your pod. The drug changed everything. Soon after the government realized they could enslave us and use us any way they wanted: after all they gave us immortality. Wars turned to turf battles. We needed more room, the planet was becoming so overloaded that it was affecting our orbit. The only space left was, literally, space. So the world leaders came together to find a way to populate near-by planets. The only problem? Livemex couldn’t be shipped to other planets. The formula wasn’t stable enough. So the first generation would live forever, but the next would need to survive on their own. The idea was terrifying and sounded impossible. And today was my day to attempt it.
The news made it sound as though we had a choice. We don’t, if you are randomly selected then the government comes and gives you a second injection. It counteracts the Livemax and you become mortal again. Immediately. Most test subjects die within 4 hours, but the record is 18 hours. Held by a New Australand man of 19 years, he survived by curling into a ball in a corner and not moving. Then, he died because his bladder exploded and he bled out. Poor bloke forgot that the urinary system would start functioning again. Or at least, that’s what the news reported.
I was to report to the government office of World Security in my town by 9am to receive my injection, or else they would come and drag me away and give it to me in an uncontrolled environment (it had happened 4 times in history, the subjects all died within minutes). I got up and began to get ready for my departure, and I thought about my strategy. See you win by surviving for 48 hours. If you do that then they give you another dose of Livemex, and a ticket to the new planet. With a promise of space, a whole house to yourself.
My strategy was similar to the New Australand man’s, sit in a corner and pray. And remember to take a piss. I arrived at the center, and they loaded me into the building. I was read instructions on basic survival, and in less than 10 minutes I was in a sterile room, completely empty. No furniture, or even a bed. Just a white room with white tile floor. The men came in to the room wearing old-time biohazard suits (as if I could hurt them). The syringe was brandished and I felt the most searing sensation in my arm, the pain was unimaginable. My body writhed underneath me, suddenly aware of itself and parts long paralyzed by stagnancy came back to life. Now I understood why no one lived after the injection: why would you want to? I curled by body up into a ball, according to my plan i just needed to stay still until 48 hours had ticked by. I stayed in the ball in agony, the only thought i could manage was focusing on the house a million billion miles away. After an eternity, i managed to look at the clock. A total of 6 minutes had gone by. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t stand the agony. Then I remembered the survival guides, they said it would hurt. Digestion they had called it, my intestines were writhing around empty. I needed to fill them.
I crawled to the door to the room where someone slid a plate through a flap, a plate filled with items to eat. They said I just needed to chew and swallow and that the pain would subside. I took a bit of a soft lump of white, and swallowed best I could. I could feel the scraping of the texture all the way down my throat. It felt like a weight in my stomach then. And I could eat no more, one bite had filled me past capacity. My stomach ached as it stretched. I curled into a ball again waiting, waiting.
Hours ticked by so slowly it felt like time was scarcely moving at all. 2 hours, then 3, then 4. The agony didn’t stop, didn’t break, didn’t weaken. I wondered if this is what it felt like to live back in the old days, before Livemex. I know now I would never want to. I knew I had 44 more hours of this misery. And my strength broke beneath me, snapping like a wet rope that had been pulled too tight. I just wanted it to stop. So I did the only thing I could do in my control: I sat on the floor, laid down, and began slamming my head into the floor. Again and again. The pain was unbelievable, but at least I knew I was making my choice. The world grew darker with each impact now, I could feel the searing in my lungs, begging me to stop and breathe. My ears started to ring, then they too fell quiet. My last thought before everything went silent: at least they can’t control this. The beating in my chest halted. I exhaled one last time. And I was dead.
A speaker came on overhead, “Experiment 5837: failed.” The scientists scarcely look at each other, they knew this would happen. After all, the other 5836 subjects died the same way. It appeared in the quest for immortality, humans had lost the will to live at all.
Edited: typo and added a small sentence for continuity. | This is illegal. In the palm of my hand, was a pale blue object. A pill, I believe. Joel glanced wearily at me. His eyes urged me to rethink my choices. His efforts were futile.
Heat began to build within my throat as the capsule snaked its way down to my stomach. A chalky aftertaste remained as I felt the pill settle within my body. “Now, we wait. The effects will be activated in the morning.”
Sighing, Joel left the room. Turning back he whispered, “This better damm work, Tianna.”
The door clicked shut. Slumping into my bed, I gave some thought to what I just did. The next morning, I would be mortal. Only for a day, however. Sure, my decision to do this wasn’t the smartest by any means, but I am following the demands of the masses. Earlier in the week, a similar immortal did the same actions as me, filmed a video, and dubbed it, the “try not to die” challenge. Boy, did it soar. Massive ad revenue was made and the scientist backing him with this mortal pill received quite the sum of money.
Dozing off, I thought once more about this scientist who discovered this pill. He hadn’t approached me asking if I could try out this pill. But, I did own him a favor, so a theft may have been committed. That scientist should learn how to secure their work better.
Day arrived. Joel and I found ourselves in an empty parking lot.
“Alright, how do you want to start this off?” Joel questioned.
“Make it look like I almost got hit by a car.”
“Wow Tianna, shooting high right at the beginning.”
“We need to start with something big to draw the viewers in, Joel.”
Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the camera and positioned it so it faced the road. After, he explained his approach to this feat. It was relatively simple. He would turn into the lot and slowly tap me with the car.
“It’s not dramatic enough, Joel. Try speeding into the lot, but stopping last minute and only tapping me with the car. I trust you.”
Joel stopped right in his tracks to give me some hell about my edits to the plan.
“We’re just following the demands of the masses, Joel.”
“Alright then, if you die, then Dad’s career will be ruined.”
My patience was running dry. Hastily, I urged him to start up the car.
Everything was in place. The camera was positioned, I had filmed some start of video greeting, Joel was in the car, and the road was clear. Joel gave me the signal to start the plan. The revving of the car engine faded into the distance. Sunlight shone into my eyes, hindering my view. A little up head, was the place where Joel was meant to tap me with the car. From the left, the roaring of a car was audible. He was getting closer, time to speed things up. My pace quickened as I walked towards the camera. Smiling, I glanced into the camera, as to tell the viewers that something was about to occur. The car was near the turn in. “It’s now or never,” I murmured. Launching myself forward, the screech of rubber on pavement filled the space.
My actor side shined as I yelled, “Oh no!”
Only I didn’t get tapped by the car. The force of the impact took me off guard. Just as I felt myself flying, an audible sound of an object against concrete was heard. Unfortunately, that object happened to be my body.
“What the hell, Joel?” I shouted. Pain radiated through my body as Joel exited the car.
“We are not doing this anymore. This should put you out of commission for a bit.”
“But dad needs the ad revenue to fund his research about this mortal pill. Also, what the hell was that for?”
His temper was rising. “I had a feeling this whole shit show would get botched. That’s why I hid the real pills before you could get to them. Basically, I gave you a placebo.”
Fury took hold as I called him out on how I could’ve died. He ended up giving some crap on how he slightly hit me, so all I would receive is some bruises.
“Besides, Tianna, Dad would be furious if he found out about the stunt you pulled.”
“You don’t say. Shall we try this again when I’m all patched up?”
Joel’s silence indicated [his answer.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CasualScribblings/) | 2020-06-20T22:14:45 | 2020-06-20T22:14:18 | 2,499 | 71 |
[WP] You were asked out by your crush to come and hang out with her after school. On your date, she drained your blood and buried you in the woods thinking that you were another easy victim. And now, the next morning, she looks horrified when you walk into class. | It wasn't hard to tell what she was, that's what attracted me to her in the first place, and when she said yes I was exhilarated. I dressed up all nice for our date, all black and everything, so the stains wouldn't show. It was fantastic! We went to the movies, had dinner at a nice Chinese place, and when she finally invited me over to her house I couldn't have been more ecstatic. She'd led me to her bed and immediately took the lead, she was so commanding, and I loved it. When she'd finally pinned me down she put her lips against my neck and I moaned in pleasure. Finally, she sunk her fangs deep inside, rupturing my vein and began sucking. I shivered as I felt the blood leave my body.
Finally she threw me to the woods behind her house, where I could smell the remains of so many similar to myself. God, she's so experienced! I say similar because they weren't like me. No, I was so much stronger. After all, being the daughter of the ruler of the Underworld came with its benefits! One of which is that I couldn't die until I chose to, another being that I could sense other Underworld supernaturals. My last ex was actually a were, but he was a bit too feisty for my taste, and I've always wanted to date a vampie.
My parent came into view and groaned at my appearance in their realm. "You really know how to pick them, don't you Bela. Why is it always you who?" I beamed at their words.
"You know I do! Now could you speed it up this time? My poor date will worry if I don't show up to class tomorrow!" I cheerfully reply. They massage their temples before motioning for me to walk out the heavily guarded ivory door behind me. I grin as I shove the door open.
"Wait for me Steph, baby!"
\--
I stop by a flower shop and buy a single black poppy. I think of buying a box of chocolates as well but I then remember that those will provide her no sustenance. I think the flower should be fine. I slam my locker, near forgetting to lock it before I practically skip to class. I pout as I realize she isn't waiting for me. I swing inside the classroom, a couple minutes before class starts. I grin brightly as I bring my hands down on her desk, with apparently enough force to leave a small dent in the metal. She seems startled as I stare at her lovingly. Oh, was she scared by my force? I really didn't mean to, but I didn't realize she startled this easily! A skittish vampire? That's so cute!
"Yesterday was great Stephenie! I was a bit hurt when you didn't even let me stay the night though, did I do something wrong?" I pout childishly. Her eyes dart around nervously before she narrows them at me, grabbing my collar and pulling me close. I blush at the proximity, in class too! I didn't know she was this forward!
"How did you survive" She hisses "you were drained empty, I killed you myself, *how*?" I blush, feeling her hot breath by my ear. The taste of my blood still on her breath, the smell of iron. I gulp.
"I didn't realize vamps couldn't sense it, maybe because you're younger? Or is it because you're a turned vampire?" I pondered. Most underworld creatures could sense the energy, if not feel then smell. Her eyes widen.
"Why do you know? No, *how* do you know?" She demands. I furrow my brows, about to answer before the teacher walks through the door.
"Please keep your hormones *outside* of my classroom. The janitor isn't paid nearly enough for that." Mr. E calls out. The class bursts into laughter before I turn my head back at him and give him a lopsided smile.
"Sorry Mr. E." I say as I make my way over to my desk, leaving the black flower on hers. *Lucky guess* I mouth at Stephenie as I sit down. She stares at the flower as it withers the moment it leaves my hand, before her pretty golden-brown eyes found mine yet again. | "Maria, Maria please stop. Please stop." Those were the words that came to my head the moment I woke up. All started with a soft kiss then all ended with a hard bite down my neck. She then kissed me again with blood all over her mouth.
"Oh god, who could have thought that death tasted so sweet".
She didn't even bother the completely bury me. Cruel as the time she rejected me last year. I brushed off the dirt from my body and crawled up.
It was 9 in the morning and Class already started. So I went to the dorms to change clothes so I would look normal and went to Class.
When I opened the door the teacher started shouting towards me. "Im sorry teach but I had a late bloody night".When I was finally allowed to speak I then went to my seat.
My seat was next to her, so when I went there I waves at her. She was there all shock. Her eyes where red, her skin went pale and she was shaking in her seat. She was biting her right hand nails like a maniac and her legs couldnt stop moving.
Finally Class was over. She couldnt handle me while in the whole time of the lecture I didn't even left my eyes off of her. She couldnt return the eye contact and that made her even more nervous.
While I was walking through The campus, she grabbed me by the neck and bought me in her room.
"How the fuck are you alive?" she couldnt stop trembling and she was ready to cry.
"Oh I think you you know how? Dont you? You killed me Maria?" the questions where all that mattered to me now.
"Yes I killed you and no internet dont know wtf is going on right here."trembling she said, while red tears started falling from her eyes.
" My sweet Maria, dont cry im not here to kill you. No, no, no please dont cry. You actually gave me a second chance. "I said while I was holding her hands.
She raised her head to see me, and now her tears were pure red blood." What do you mean? "
" My favorite. My Maria, you gave me time. " | 2022-12-29T20:22:07 | 2022-12-29T17:14:15 | 136 | 32 |
[WP] Despite your father being the most infamous supervillan of all time, you became a hero. When other heros discovered your identity, they turned against you and you lost everything. Alone and scared, you put your last few coins into a payphone. "Dad... I need help" | "Dad... I need help." Those were the first words that you've utter after days of thinking for a solution for the desperate situation you got yourself in. Your father wasn't too bad, he was a decent man really, but his status and actions... those flaws made you a hero. Unfortunately, despite your heroic actions, *they* turned against you, all just because of the single fact that you're the son of a well known villain...
"*Hey 'I need help', I'm dad*." That's the first thing you hear.
"..... Y-you know what, I'll just deal with it myse-"
"No, no, no wait! Don't cut the line!" Your father half-panicked from the other side of the phone. "Its just a joke dear! Come on!"
"Dad... it was a terrible joke." You said unamused, and half the mind to just cut the call.
"Oh whatever! You sound troubled! What happened?!" You can hear his fatherly concern even though his voice crackled in the old payphone in some random parking lot.
"Its my friends... they all turned on me..." You said, trying to hold back the sad tears as you remember your fellow heroes having great time with one another, and then pain when they turned against you.
"Oh goodness, such troublesome kids that they had to hurt my child! J-just stay there dear... I'll be picking you up." You ended the call as you heard your father hastily moving on the other side of the line. It was the time you decided to cry for a bit, thinking that your villainous father is the one that seems to only care about you.
Almost half-an-hour later, an old classy car stops near the payphone. You wipe your tears as you look at the window. It was your dad.
"Come on kid. Maybe its time for you to go home." He said in a warm caring tone, which you've instinctively followed and sat besides him in the car. Silence passed for few minutes, as your father drove through the streets like some normal businessman going home.
"So I can only assume you've seen it." You turned to face him as he broke the silence.
"W-what do you mean...?" You asked, your father glanced at you with a sad smile.
"The truth. That most heroes are just a bunch of entitled brats who are *sellouts*. Only caring for public opinion and fame." He then sighs heavily. "*Turning against you for being so different*."
"T-They didn't..." You tried to defend them, but for some reason, your words won't leave your throat. Your father only gives you an understanding glance, before looking back on the road.
"Let me tell you a short summary why I've chose the life of villainy. Let's just say that calling out corrupt, power hungry corporations and governments would turn you a villain." As you heard that, you remembered how many of companies covered the terrible mistakes or terrible actions *heroes* made to prevent bad publicity. Using the heroes name to gain profits and focus more on reputation rather than saving the people in need.
"I-is that why you've been sabotaging many corporations all these years...?" You asked, eyes locking onto your father.
"Yes." He answers, eyes blankly looking at a corporate owned building before turning away to face you. "They're the bastards that forced me into this villainous role. If they want me to become a villain, then fine, I'll become their villain."
When he said all that, your view on your father suddenly changed. He's the true hero who is a villain to the public eyes. You then looked at the corporate building. It was one of the same companies that supported on staining your heroic name, and it made you angry deep inside.
"So..." You face back your father, who now has a electricity coursing through his hands. "Wanna be a real hero and open the eyes of the world?"
You just looked at him and then back to the corporate building, the desire of exposing them lit up with great determination.
Facing back your father, you nod. "I'm in."
​
**XXXXX**
​
*"In todays news, a pair of super villains raided a corporate building and stole some assets worth billions. The police and heroes are still busy looking for them. Fortunately, there were only minimal casualties. Authorities advises citizens to report any sightings of these said villains."*
*"In other news, a rich company named 'Railguard' was exposed for bribery and framing on certain individuals and is now facing the threat of closing dow-"* The TV shut-down as you turned it off, wrapping some bandages on your arms and sighing after an exhausting day.
"Feeling better dear?" Your father comes to sit with you with some snacks in hand.
"Yeah." You answer before eating snacks with a satisfaction along with your father.
​
**XXXXX**
​
**(Planned this plot for a few minutes before writing it. Not sure if its good enough.)** | Despite your father being the most infamous supervillan of all time, you became a hero. When other heros discovered your identity, they turned against you and you lost everything. Alone and scared, you put your last few coins into a payphone. "Dad... I need help"
A second or two of silence.
"Let me guess, you got tired of hero work?" He asked expectantly
"No... All the other heroes just blew up all my stuff after finding out about my past, so I need a little help getting back up on my feet." You replied as you sighed
"To be expected, I have told you time and time again and yet you didn't listen and fled home to go and do all those hero shenanigans." He says, slight disappointment in his tone
"Dad I just-"
He hung up, you felt a bit saddened that even your dad had abandoned you, just then you felt an cold wind from behind, your dad had showed up as cold as ever.
"Dad?" You asked, somewhat surprised that he would come to see you in person
"Despite abandoning many others, I would not dare to abandon you, my own child" he says, his eyes were as cold as the last time you saw him, and his face was mostly as expressionless as always
This was quite surprising as you hadn't seen this much emotion from him before, you walked towards him and held on hold onto him tightly, you've always disliked how fast he went when going places, but right now you felt like you wanted to be away from here as fast as you can.
Your dad conjured up ice wings, a bit different from normal. As you both were about to fly away, a hero happened to walk by
"Dang it." You muttered, you recognised the hero to be that fire hero guy, his name was too cliché to care about but whatever
"Kouri! You turned over to the other side after all!" Flame guy said furiously
"We probably wouldn't be in this situation if you and the others hadn't blown up my stuff!" You reply pointedly, your dad took a quick glance at the flaming hero and decided that he wasn't worth any time so he was going to take flight, but of course, flame guy decided to melt any way of escaping.
"Hm... You're not worth fighting." Your dad said as he shot a icicle at flame guy's direction, it quickly grew and binded him to a wall, you decided that if you were to stay for longer, he would probably break free of his temporary confinement and come after you again, so the best course of action would probably be to run.
And so you ran, dragging your dad along with you
"Perhaps you should of never interacted with heroes at all." You dad says
"Hmm... Maybe." You replied
This was my first time doing a writing prompt, it isn't the best but I tried nonetheless | 2021-04-09T07:28:33 | 2021-04-09T07:10:43 | 36 | 17 |
[WP] Aliens arrived on earth, but they are super lame. The following decade after contact they take humanity as "the cool kids" and try hard to be like us. | "Hey, what's up dawg!" A random kid called me out and tried to do this weird handshake. This kid wore baggy pants like MC Hammer and sunglasses from Dollar Tree. "Everything's all hip and jive in Minnesota. First day of school?"
"Uhh, yeah. It's everybody's first day. Who are you?" I asked, trying to conceal my discomfort.
"My name is Bellair," he answered and started dancing like a rapper.
"Bellair? Like the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air?"
"Yee, boi! Oh snap, I want you to meet my other friend," he tugged me over to his lunch table. Over there, a girl wore bling-bling like Madonna. She nodded her head to a big stereo on the floor. But, it was the AM radio... I tried to give a handshake. But, she went for a fist-bump and gutted me in the stomach.
"Hey dawg! My name is Madonna," she smiled while chewing some gum. Wow, her name is actually Madonna. Did these people escape from MTV? "We swinged here a month ago."
"Yeah, I thought you're new. Where you from?" I asked, while looking around the lunchroom for an escape route. Drats! All other seats were taken.
"From Venus-"
"Venice," interrupted Bellair. Hmm, they don't look Italian. He must've noticed my confused expression and gave an upset look to Madonna. He continued, "ahem, we love the chill weather here. Ten years and five days ago to be exact. So, we thought, why not live here?"
I slowly nodded my head as if in agreement. Right, the weather is 30 below zero. It's literally chilly, no human wants to live here. Wait a second, 10 years ago? These guys are 13 years old. So, when they were old enough to eat baby gerber and watch Sesame Street, they decided to live in one of the coldest parts in America?
"Join us for lunch bro," Bellair asked, gesturing to the seat next to him. Glumly, I sat down and slowly munched on my macaroni. I glanced over and noticed they pulled a ziploc full of... grass?
"Umm, is that salad?" I asked hesitantly.
"You can call that man!" Bellair answered proudly. "I believe you Americans call it hemp and weed! The magic stuff!"
PEEEWWWWT! I spat my food over the kid next to me. The kid gave an angry look and walked away. Bellair and Madonna continued to stuff their mouths with their 'magic stuff' like cows.
"Umm, that stuff is illegal," I whispered at them. They gave me a confused look.
"I heard this was the thing! Weed is hip and trip-"
"SHUT UP!" I hushed at them. "I don't want to get in trouble-. You know what? I don't want to be a part of this. It was nice meeting you. But, I'm done here."
"Wait Earthling!" Bellair yelled, tugging my hand. Did he just call me Earthling? That doesn't sound right. As if they realized they done something wrong, Bellair gave a worried look to Madonna. She nodded and turned the radio all the way up. Neon colors zinged out. And they glowed. ZAP! Suddenly, they dissolved into the air.
I sighed and returned to the lunch table. And then adjusted my flesh mask. First day of school is always weird. It's hard to fit in as a Martian. | "You named yourselves the Smiths?"
John Smith waved a tentacle at the school counselor from their home planet of Monora. "Yes, we thought that by giving ourselves common names, we'd allow Kevin to fit in better."
The counselor, XII-V-1, winced. "Yes, but you're aware that Kevin Chen is a name usually given to families of Asian descent, whereas Smith..."
"Something's got to set him apart!"
XII-V-1 sighed. His job as an adjustment adviser for the Cross-Species Integration Bureau was hard enough as it was. "Trust me, Kevin doesn't need anything extra to set himself apart."
"Well," John said, "What should we do? He's not making many friends at school."
"Try to adopt their colloquial language," XII-V-1 coaxed. "Tell him to use phrases like 'it's lit'. Is he on the social media? Make sure he posts on Instagram, and gets contacts on Snapchat."
"Ah, yes," John said. "They've got a great filter for us!"
"I'm sure Kevin will be fine. And whatever you do, do *not* let him brag about how we could vaporize their planet in an instant. I find that this tactic almost never goes over well."
---
Shortie today! Thanks for reading :) find more stuff at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/)! | 2019-10-17T05:39:31 | 2019-10-17T04:47:46 | 1,867 | 199 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right. | I’m not even sure this is the right place to post, but I’m worried about my sister. About three hours ago I got a text from the Emergency Alert System. I checked my Facebook to see if anyone else got the same thing. It seemed like it was a practical joke and I couldn’t find anything in Google News.
My sister sent me these messages and I haven’t heard from her in over an hour. I’m hoping someone can give me some advice.
**Allison:** Hey Danny… did you get a text telling you to stay inside and lock your doors?
**Me:** Yeah. Pretty weird.
**Allison:** Any idea what’s going on?
**Me:** Nope. Just relaxing at home.
**Me:** Is Jonathan home from work yet?
**Allison:** No, he just went to the store. I’m kinda worried.
**Me:** I’m sure everything’s fine. You know the government is paranoid about every little thing. Probably an underground gas leak or something.
Allison didn’t respond for a while and I resumed my binge watching of Attack on Titan. That’s some weird shit, man. At this point, I wasn’t really concerned. My neighborhood was quiet, it was below freezing outside, and about two feet of snow had fallen during the day. Everything seemed normal.
**Allison:** Danny…
**Allison:** I’m scared.
**Me:** What’s wrong? Do you want me to come over?
**Allison:** No. Don’t go outside.
**Allison:** Jonathan is home.
**Me:** Well that’s good.
**Allison:** No. No something’s wrong with him.
**Allison:** I don’t know what to do.
**Me:** What’s wrong with him?
Three little dots danced at the bottom of my screen for more than five minutes before disappearing. I tried calling my sister four times with no answer. I tried to keep watching my show for a few minutes but my brain started playing all the “what-if” scenarios. I called again and Allison finally answered.
“Hello?” Her voice was small, quiet. Completely unlike her.
“Al?”
“Danny?”
“Allison, what’s going on? Why didn’t you answer the phone?”
“Something’s wrong with Jonathan. He’s not him.” She said, her voice hitching. Her shaky breaths sent a wave of anxiety to my stomach.
“Allison… did you open the door?”
“No. No. I’m hiding. I tried calling the police but it doesn’t go through.”
“What’s wrong with Jonathan?” I was pacing my living room, my jaw clenched. She was quiet for a while.
“He’s not him, Danny. He’s not him. He’s not walking right. And his voice. Oh God, his voice.”
“Is he hurt?” I asked as I grabbed my keys. “I’m coming over.”
“No!”
“What do you mean no? I’m coming over!”
“No! Danny, listen to me.” She whimpered again. I could hear a weird rhythmic sound in the background. “Listen. Something is wrong with him. With everyone outside.”
I hunched in front of my window and pulled the blinds apart with a finger. It was pretty dark outside but the snow reflected enough light that I could make out a group of people standing in the parking lot of my complex.
“What the fuck?” I muttered.
“Danny… what’s go-g on? Da-”
The called dropped. I gaped at the group of people as they formed a circle. Where they walked the depressions of snow were oddly dark. I squinted and leaned in closer, suddenly thankful to be on the third floor. The people raised their hands into the air as if they were making a “Y” and began to sidestep.
Their movements were unnatural, synchronized. I could see now none of them had any clothes on. They began screaming towards the sky as their heads bent back too far. They were standing straight up, heads touching their spine. They lowered their hands to join together and fell backward into the snow – faces and asses disappearing into the white powder.
I’ve tried calling Allison back. She won’t pick up. No one is picking up. I still have cell service but my water stopped working about 15 minutes ago and the power has been flickering. Does anyone know what’s going on? Has anyone else seen this stuff? I feel like I’m losing my mind. I can’t find anything about this online. No one is talking about it. Is it just here in the Midwest? Is it everywhere? If anyone knows anything… please. I really want to go check on my sister.
| For the first time since specifically choosing the dark mottled glass that we fit into the front door, I regret it. We pondered over everything in the house for so long I thought we would never make any decisions, but it was the one thing we both agreed on instantly. One of the few joyous moments I can remember from the past few months.
I can hear you making bad jokes and exhaling cigarette smoke. The glass is mottled but I can still see the ribbons that frame your face, you almost look gentle. I know this pretence won’t last long and soon your fist will be on a mission to meet up with my nose. My heart is in my throat as you call my name in that sing song way I used to think was cute. You tell me you can see me. Bastard glass, I knew we should have chosen a carved wooden panel instead. I will kick myself for this forever.
I need to think fast. I had planned to walk out before I got the text, my suitcases casting a dim shadow over my legs as I stand dead centre in the hallway. You’re getting irate. I can’t have you see the suitcases. I can’t. It will turn them into bodybags, holding my limbs close and solid against the worn material. I need more time. I need more time... I can hear you growing more and more exasperated. Your knuckles meet the glass as you slowly knock, a gentle beat. It reminds me of the song we used to sing in the car.
I can feel the sun on my face, the wind blowing my hair everywhere and you complaining, again, about how much of it falls out and litters your lap. You like it really. Little pieces of me to remind you what’s yours. The song playing in the background and our falsetto so loud we could probably deafen small children. But then the beat quickens, and I can hear the glass shatter.
I’ve spent so long worrying and thinking back to better times that I don’t have enough time to react as you thrust your hand through the glass and unlock the bolt. My hearing catches my sight up and I turn to run but the handle you’ve created out of my hair lately is already in your hands.
I hope you snap my neck. That’s the last thing I think before my body yanks back and meets with the cold hard floor. | 2019-01-12T08:53:28 | 2019-01-12T06:51:06 | 124 | 25 |
[WP] The protagonist of a G-rated kids movie accidentially ends up in an R-rated movie. They adapt surprisingly well. | "Relax sir, I've dealt with this sort of thing before."
The man next to me did not seem reassured. "I-I don't even know who you are kid, or how you ended up in my house on Purge Night of all nights, and here I am holing here with you."
"Honestly sir, it's more like you're holing with me," I pointed, "I mean before I came here and set you up, you were practically passed out on the couch next to some bottles of wine and tissues."
"Well what else was I supposed to do kid? That bitch Madeline and her posse is going to kill me tonight I know it! She cheated on me and expected to stay with her, she'll never forgive me!" The man was practically in tears.
"Now calm down sir" I began.
But he continued hysterically. "And I can't do anything! I inherited this house from my grandmother, and haven't held a decent job in months now, I can't afford these fancy security systems!"
I put my hand on his mouth and held a finger to my lips. Abruptly the man stopped, his his eyes wide, as he heard what I had just a moment ago. Footsteps.
Followed immediately by yelps of surprise as their shoes got stuck in the gorilla glue Mike and I had put down earlier on the steps leading to his house.
A minute later there was a knock on the door. "Hey Mike! It's me Madeline with a bunch of my friend. We're here to show you the night of your life!"
There was some maniacal giggling that followed.
"N-no it's fine Madeline," the man,Mike, said, "I'll pass."
More giggling. "Oh Mike. I think you misunderstand, you don't really get a choice!"
With that we saw, from behind the kitchen counter, the door fell down with a thud as four young girls, all barefoot as I had hoped, took it down with a *battering ram.*
They however, did not notice the tripwire on the ground until an honest to god anvil (seriously, why did Mike own an anvil?) fell down on one of the girl's head, and she fell to the ground, her head visibly dented and her blond hair stained with blood. She lay on the ground whimpering and twitching sporadically.
One down.
"Yes!" I screamed in spite myself. I took Mike by hand and we ran through the back door of the kitchen. The 3 remaining ladies were so shocked by what had happened that they didn't start shooting until we were safely through.
"Thank god for these thick walls at least Mike," I breathed.
"Yeah," Mike agreed, his eyes wide, "Grandmother had a solid house."
As we ran up the stairs to the first floor, I picked up the box of Legos I had strategically placed in advance and spilled them behind us.
"The hell is that going to do kid?"
"Buy us some time!" I snarled at him, as we ran up the stairs.
"You ass!" someone shouted from behind us, and from the top of the stairs I saw three girls running towards us. One blond, one with dark hair, and one with red hair. All built well, and all very,very angry.
Soon however, their profaninites turned into shouts of pain as they stepped onto my mines. Again, I grinned.
Mike just looked at me like I was insane, but then turned to look back at the girls, who were picking out tiny pieces of shrapnel out of their feet.
"I'm going to torture you Mike, you and that little kid you have!" the red haired chick screamed.
"You *dated* this girl, Mike?"
"Not one of my brightest decisions, I admit" Mike said in a terrified whisper.
"Come on!" I hauled the man up to his feet (no small feat), and went into the bedroom.
"Jump over that section!" I yelled to Mike just before he stepped on the loose section of the floor. We turned and hid between the bed and the wall with a large window right behind us.
"Goad her Mike!"
"What? Why?" The guy was terrified.
"We can't have them thinking Mike! They need to be angry, enraged!"
"Al-alright. "H-hey Madeline! Just want you to know you're pretty ugly!"
I put my face in my hands at the pathetic insult, but it seemed to work. There was a scream of just pure rage as Madeline and her two friends burst into the room. As they rushed towards us behind the bed, a section of the floor fell away under them. Madeline had gotten ahead of the hole, but still tripped as one of her legs found no floor, but managed to regain her balance.
Her two friends weren't so lucky. They screamed for a second as they fell but abruptly cut off as they fell on the kitchen knives Mike and I had taped upright on the floor below.
Madeline turned to look down at the hole, and her face paled at the sight.
She then turned to look at us, her dark eyes brimming with anger. "Nowhere to run now eh Mike?"
Her face was covered in blood and her hair was disheveled. Her white t-shirt too was stained red. Even I admit, she looked insane, murderous.
With an insane scream she leaped at us from over the bed, and at that precise moment, I took out the hammer that I had put under the sheets and flung it at her. It hit her square in the forehead with a distinct *crack* as something broke under her skin. Her limp body flew at Mike, and couldn't do anything.
"Well, that's that," I said, making a show of dusting myself off.
Mike looked at me wide eyed, and then with a yelp threw off Madeline's corpse off him.
Then he kicked her for good measure.
"I-I don't know what to say kid, you saved my life."
"No worries man, this kind of stuff is what I do."
"I don't even know your name." Yeah, after Mike drunkenly explained his problem to me, we had been too busy setting everything up for much talk.
"My name is Kevin," I said, extending my hand, "Kevin Mccalister." | The man lowered his head until the brim of his hat barely rested above his sharp eyes. They darted left and right. His hand hovered above his revolver. It was as still as a stone. His fingers didn't twitch and his arm never shook. His eyes continued to dance back and forth between the three other men in the circle.
They all were as still as him. Hands equally raised off their own revolvers attached to their hips. All with wide-brimmed hats to keep the blazing sun off their necks and out of their eyes...except for one. He had no such luck and was left squinting with sweat dripping down his face. Everyone was dressed in dirty clothes fit for the dessert. One in black, one with a poncho, and the hatless one in just a shirt.
The ground was dead aside from a few strands of grass that managed to break the cracked ground. With each gust of wind, the dirt and sand kicked up into a mini-tornado that skirted across the ground.
The man didn't know how he got in this world. He woke up one day and found himself in new surroundings. His entire body changed as well. Something he couldn't begin to understand but it was just part of the magic that brought him to this world. The world he came from, full of peace and love was gone. He awakened into a terror of hardship and horror. He had been here for weeks by now and learned to adapt quickly or die.
He almost chuckled at the thought. In some ways, this was a dream come true. He could finally be who he was meant to be.
But now, with a Mexican standoff with three other men...he was starting to wonder if it was worth it.
It was every man for himself. Who would shoot who? Who did he think would shoot him first, so had to aim for that person before anyone else? Who would everyone else target so he could target the last person.
What if they were all going to shoot him?
It was impossible to know. But they all stood completely still, unmoving in their resolve, and completely silent aside from the stray gust of wind that didn't have the manners to stay quiet. The first person to flinch would set this whole thing off. They would get the advantage of possibly drawing first...or maybe they would become the first target.
And after killing the first person...who do you shoot next.
The man could see everyone's eyes darting back and forth. Faster and faster. It was the only thing that moved on anyone. Faster and faster. Left and right. Left and right. Back and forth. Faster and faster. Left then right. Right then left. Faster and faster.
Until finally...
It was in an instant. It was impossible to know who drew first or who drew last. Two shots rang out in the quiet air and both impacted into the chest of a man dressed in black. His face twisted in shock and pain before falling over.
Two man held smoking guns that showed they fired. One was held by the man with the poncho, and the other was held by the man who didn't belong here. The hatless man cracked open his gun to reveal there were no bullets.
The two men left with bullets turned their guns upon each other...but the man in the poncho put it away.
"Hey, Blondie!" The hatless man yelled. "What did you do?!"
"I took your bullets, Rat," Blondie replied, "So you couldn't shoot me."
"I was going to shoot Angel Eyes!" The Rat yelled. "You left me defenseless! And he could've shot me!" The Rat pointed at the other man.
The man smirked and put away his revolver," I had no business with you gentleman. I just had to take care of something. I'll be on my way."
"Hope it wasn't much trouble," Blondie lit a cigarette as he spoke. It was clear he didn't actually care. "Not often a person gets roped into a standoff. Let alone leave alive."
The man started walking to his horse raising a hand in acknowledgment before calling out over his shoulder, "It's not like it was a snake in my boot." | 2016-11-16T11:06:29 | 2016-11-16T11:05:08 | 169 | 90 |
[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. | My story starts when I was a kid before the cellphone era. I was maybe 16 years old, when I had my first love with Ester , she was the most beautiful girl you could have laid eyes on.
Blue eyes with blonde hair like a sunshine, with a smile that would melt everyone's heart, when she laughed everybody stops and just stared at her beauty.
Even if I had this angel with me, I was sad, because her name wasn't on my body. I had Rachel and tiffany tattooed on my body. Even if I tried as hard as I could, I knew deep down that she wasn't for me.
Fast forward 20 years, I moved, lost contact with Ester, found the love of my life and her name was Rachel.
Maybe I went too fast with this, but my name was tattooed on her. If you make the simple connection, we were meant to be together. Every problem should have been a piece of cake, we were the best in best.
As time passed, I found myself thinking about the other name. Who is this tiffany? When will I die? How will I die?
Those taughts haunted me but I tried to put them at ease, there were a lot of variables I didn't knew. No point of thinking about this for too long, and ohh boy was I wrong, because one week later, everything changed. I died.
That fateful day started like every other day: had my morning coffee with my soon to be wife, took a shower and went to work. We had new people in the hospital, and I needed to take care of them.
I received the list with all the new people, I scanned it and one name just popped in my face. Tiffany Hayo. I freaked, I started shivering. Was she my killer? Is this the day I die? I went straight to my boss and told him I had an emergency at home.
When I got home I caught the love of my life with someone else in the bed, I couldn't comprehend. Why? How? But we were soulmates...
I couldn't stand the thought of her being with someone so I went in my car and started driving as fast as I could... next thing I know I am in the hospital in the icu.
- doctor we are losing him.
I know this voice, as I look around the room I see the most beautiful girl but as I look at her name tag, tiffany hayo.
-I know you, you are Es...
Edit: formatting, also this is my first time writing and english is not my first language so any constructive feedback is well received. | “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.” | 2018-03-11T07:31:32 | 2018-03-11T07:26:50 | 474 | 78 |
[WP] Magic suddenly becomes a thing. While governments are scrambling to establish regulations, people defiantly flock to reddit to share new discoveries and crack more “overpowered” spells. Write about a trending post that, for good or ill, is making authorities furious. | No Masters, No Kings.
u/arcanarchist
Looking to pauper your landlord, capsize the global banking industry, topple the government, and usher in a new age of personal freedom? Then do I have the spell for you! I proudly present...
>Create Demiplane
>Casting Time: 6 hours
>Components: Verbal, Somatic
>Effect: Extradimensional Demiplane
>Duration: Permanent
Create Demiplane allows you to create a small plane of existence nestled between the material and aetherial planes. The demiplane is limited in size by the power of the caster, but the area of a demiplane can be expanded upon by casting this spell while inside.
A demiplane is filled with an automatically refreshing supply of a breathable fluid of the caster’s choice (usually a mixture of nitrogen and oxygen in a material plane-standard atmospheric composition) and maintains lighting and room temperature as the caster chooses.
The form of the demiplane is tied to the caster’s will, and with concentration and effort can be altered to just about any preference. This also allows you to eject individuals from your demiplane into the material plane at your pleasure.
Once created, the caster and up to six others at a time can be transported to the demiplane by speaking a command word, chosen at the time of creation. Exiting the demiplane is as simple as repeating the command word, and concentrating on a location on the material plane. The key word is concentration - mid-interplanar travel is not a good time to reminisce about that vacation your family took to the Grand Canyon in ‘13.
“But u/arcanarchist” you say, “How does an extradimensional fish bowl help me bring down the government?”
Simple. This spell provides one a place to live with no rent, no taxes, no mortgage, and no regulation. Borders and land claimed by governments and institutions on the material plane mean nothing to a magickally awakened individual with a demiplanar homestead.
If that weren’t enough, the extradimensional space created by this spell is highly customizable. Here are a few of my favorite modifications:
Controlled Magickal Catalysis: For the researchers and ritual casters out there, it is possible to enhance and impede the effects of magic within a demiplane. Just keep in mind the spectrum of magickal catalysis - impede magickal potential enough and you might find yourself trapped in a dead zone you can’t cast your way out of, or enhance that potential too far and your magic could go wild and cause you to explode or grow an extra head or whatever.
Edenic Biome: A demiplane with this modification gains a self-sustaining natural ecology, complete with streams, ponds, waterfalls, and plants. A 10-foot area dedicated to food production is capable of sustaining a person indefinitely, and the biome will self-modify to accommodate any wildlife you introduce. At your option, your demiplane can also feature up to four seasons and a day/night cycle. I can’t stress enough how important it is to create a pleasant environment in your demiplane, especially if you intend to spend long periods of time isolated within. If this particular modification is too challenging, I highly recommend getting some friends or colleagues to help you with a ritual casting to lower the power threshold.
Gravitational Orientation: This one is pretty self-explanatory - increase, decrease, or nullify the effects of gravity in your demiplane, change the direction of gravity, or get your Escher on with individually subjective gravity. Remember to be careful about when and where you alter the gravity - you don’t want to fall forty feet left and break your neck.
Temporal Augmentation: While time within a standard demiplane will flow at the same speed as it does in the material plane, it is possible to increase or decrease the flow of time as you like, which is useful for obvious reasons. It is also possible to create a “timeless” demiplane that pauses the effects of time on the physical forms of sapient creatures such as age, hunger, and thirst, and halts the progress of disease, poison, and natural healing. That said, this can be dangerous because as soon as an individual in a timeless plane returns to the material plane, the effects of normal time catch up with the body and apply retroactively, all at once.
As always, mess with time at your own risk - don’t come crawling to me when you spend a few hundred years timeless and come out like Dorian Gray.
So there it is, the end of the world as we know it. A step-by-step walkthrough of casting Create Demiplane can be found [here](https://youtu.be/dQw4w9WgXcQ). As always, if you have any questions or suggestions about improving the spell let me know in the comments. | I love gullible people on Reddit! Recently, I saw this post:
​
*Redditors, help! My son just cast ‘The Spell of Understanding!’ and I am shocked by what I’ve learnt!*
*I thought he was excited about construction and that he was going to be an architect. I heard him shout ‘Khalifa’ in his room so many times I lost the count. Today I learnt that it’s not the Burj Khalifa he’s excited about! He used to tell me that brandy is Love. I thought that it was him tricking me to think he drinks secretly. He doesn't, I know. Well, it has nothing to do with drinking, he spells it with ‘i’! I've also learnt that my son is not a fan of Rachel from Friends, is the other Aniston he likes. He told me that he looks up to Reid. Harry Reid, I thought. He was Senate Majority Leader and helped make Obamacare the law of the land. He can’t be bad, right? I mean, not if you're a Democrat. Well, that’s not the Reid he looks up to! Oh, my God! And lastly, he told me his famous male actor was James Dean. I did not know that’s not how he spelled his last name! And then, there is a black leather couch he bought for his bedroom. It’s- It’s not something I can write about.*
*The worst of all, my mother (she is 83), a devout Christian, is also under the influence of the spell. She is mad at Bobby now and is banging on his door right now and threatening to call the authorities!*
*Redditors, I need your help. Do you know how to undo ‘The Spell of Understanding’?*
*Please help!*
*P.S.*
/u/trololololo\_theAbsoluteHumanToiletTrash\_xoxo *sent me a private message saying I need to post the spell text for you to be able to help me. I found the spell text in Bobby's bedroom. The text is below.*
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Apparently, later in the day the FBI raided her house and her post was removed from Reddit, because of the spell text (which I won't copy-paste here).
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EDIT:
I was wrong. The house was raided by local police. Attempted marauder. Maybe it has something to do with her other post:
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*Oh, no, the spell works both ways. Bobby knows that Richard is not his father.* | 2019-07-11T15:08:55 | 2019-07-11T13:02:47 | 134 | 27 |
[WP] Humans are the weakest sentient species in the galaxy. Their skin is torn at the slightest pressure, their bones break from a small fall. But as a superplague sweeps the galaxy, it quickly becomes clear that their doctors have a LOT of experience. | Humans are... Squishy. The Kthelbak, covered insect-like in chiton, could rip a human's arm off with little effort, while even the human's engineered hammers would have a tough time cracking that shell.
Humans are weak; a week-old Chisurian could out-lift the strongest humans.
Humans are slow. Gleft aren't the fastest creatures in the galaxy, but they can run rings around the poor humans.
Humans have so many needs - food, water, temperature, even humidity. They need air to breathe, even a light/dark cycle so they can hibernate.
Humans are messy, too. They have litters of one or two, and the procreation process... Well, let's just say it's a miracle they haven't died out ages ago.
They don't even have internal radios."
The Xixor diplomat nodded his heads. "So what, you ask, could such a weak, useless race do for us?"
There was a general murmur of agreement with the question. It was valid; humans barely survived in space, their bones deteriorating in micro gravity. What hope could they provide to so many races so much stronger than them?
The Xixor nodded again. "Humans are weak, yes. They cannot breathe in space, so they take their air with them. They cannot withstand high gravity, so they build suits to support them. They cannot survive a fight, so they practiced and practiced! They fight each other! They invent new ways to die! These humans own their weaknesses, and use them! Why would a Vishnasz need to protect itself from air? You never developed an air-tight seal. Why would a Kthelbak need armor? You never created clear plastics!"
It's voice rising, the Xixor pointed out technology after technology that each race never needed. The Dulguur hadn't even invented soap. And yet, the humans had invented glasses before they invented flight. They created clothing before they invented *tools!* The lengths humanity had to go to to simply survive was staggering!
The Xixor turned to the small, pink, nearly hairless creature standing beside it. "This is a human... Please correct me if I am saying it incorrectly... Doc-tor?"
The man nodded. In hilariously bad Standard, he introduced himself to the room at large. "Myself-person name is: Doc-tor Will-yams. Myself-person is of glad tidings, here, state of being."
The Xixor turned in a wide circle. "Friends, allies... We have lost millions, billions even, to this... Plague. Our dead are left to rot, with no one left to cover them. You ask what this pathetically weak race could do?"
It turned again to the doctor. "How many humans were affected by this plague?"
"11 billion in people-humans. Number described, mentions 75% population."
The assembly sighed and nodded. More even than the Gleft, who were among the worst affected.
"And how many deaths?"
The plague was terrifying. Over 90% of those affected were killed outright, and the survivors were left wracked with sores, inside and out, shortening their lives and eventually destroying their mental functions.
"8 million. Guessing point-zero-seven percent. But, number-ratio improves with time."
The room was silent enough the occupants could hear the human breathing. Some could hear his heartbeat. Humans *survived* the plague? *That many* survived? How!?
Raising its chins, the Xixor hummed, quieting the crowd. "Humans have faced dire straits, time and time again. They learned to fix their injuries. They treated disease, and learned to live with it, instead of eradicating it as we have. Weak, yes - but indomitable! And today... Well, humans have been known to say that they are only as strong as their weakest member. Today, that holds true for us all. Humans have accepted our cry for help, and will be sending their doc-tors to each of you, to work with you on fighting this disease."
With that, the Xixor stepped down from the platform. The last of it's species, but already building a creche and preparing to bud again. All it took was a single human to save the Xixor, to cure it's disease. Perhaps... Perhaps humans were not as weak as they seemed. | This... this may be the final transmission from my species.
I am Geladorg a Kermiriate and the last of us, most likely.
Un the last six solar rotations my species and manymore have been devastated by a plague, a plague so powerful that even the mighty Midoglaghs a powerful race long gone couldnt even fight back, one who met with amphibians would make their skin be de-hydrated usually leading to death, one when met with and egg laying species would first target the mother then the eggs usually making these rot away or create malfunctioning offspring. My species in particular was one of the few who have lasted so long but only due to our cultural tradition of thouroughly xleaning evrything but even then it was not enough, but even with such advanced technology the most primitive civilisation in the galaxy whas the one to prosper in the middle of the downfall.
"Why are they inmune to this catastrofic plague?" Some asked.
"They engineered it!"
Some accused.
But I, at the final moments of what would have been my long life span, have figured it out.
It was never about who could beat another in a matter of brawn or brain, nor was it a matter of who could keep their ships impeccable but it was about of was battered by nature enough to have learned to fight against it, as humans did, for their piece of crap planet who would hurl them constant catastrofes and plagues would be the only planet with creatures with natural defenses against a plague like this *cough* ... and we thought that humanity would die out by its home..
*cough* if you're a human hearing this, a thousand solar rotations or a mere second after I perish, i want to say:
Thank you for all the help you have given my species even when dawn was upon us you managed to keep us going and managed to save a lot of other species from extinction even after we made fun of your species for being "weaklings", after this i can see who is truly weak now...
This is Geladorg the last Kermiriate speaking, goodbye. | 2019-04-02T22:46:56 | 2019-04-02T21:33:19 | 42 | 25 |
[WP] Humanity is the only race in the galaxy with such a massive lack of common sense that we're the only species that requires laws to form societies. Other races just form naturally and are shocked when confronted with humanities laws and regulations. | We're exhausted.
Of all the races in the galaxy, we were the only ones who didn't have a common sense. Something to bind us all together in times of peace, or some universal moral code that we all followed. There is not one region on our home planet that's avoided the fractured, broken, and chaotic nature of humanity.
So when the aliens known as the Kaavar passed through the Milky Way's galactic border, looting and burning entire systems, the Terran Empire soon became the only entity available to fight them. You see, common sense is by definition *common*. Each of the other 10 or so races coexisting before the Kaavari invasion had some attribute that applied to every member of their species...attributes that the cunning enemy exploited over and over to great effect.
Every last one of those races are now cowering in enclaves on human planets, protected by the shields of human warships that now control 90% of the galaxy.
It's kind of poetic, isn't it? Just 20 years ago, races like the T'vana and Shuri mocked us for our barely-restrained animal natures. Now their remnants beg us to reclaim THEIR home planets, planets that are some of the last Kaavari strongholds. They demand it of us as if it were THEIR soldiers who have been slaughtered by the trillions during this war...as if it were THEIR millions of battleships that died every day to protect them!
We are so, so tired.
The Kaavari are like us - they evolved sentience in small, warring communities instead of large groups. They understand us in a way that no one else has in this vast and lonely galaxy. Over the countless battles that we've fought throughout the course of this war, a respect has developed between the two sides...a respect that is lost on the other races. This is why I, Supreme Commander Alexis Tillerman of the Terran Imperial forces, have decided to sign the document in front of me. A document that the Kaavari diplomat has already signed. The document signing over all occupied planets in the Milky Way, no matter the original occupant, to humanity. The document that will now tightly bind Human and Kaavari in an alliance that will last until the heat death of the universe.
We are *tired* of this war. We are *tired* of the other races jeering at us when they think we can't hear them, pushing us to sacrifice more fighters, *demanding* power that should be ours by might. Most of all, we are tired of fighting the only race that has ever understood us. No longer. Even now, the human warships that surround the new and defenseless enemy enclaves turn their guns inwards, bolstered by Kaavari reinforcements that no longer have planets to protect. When the dust settles, Kaavari and Human forces will set forth on a galaxy-crushing crusade of expansion never before seen in the universe.
Welcome to the new Empire.
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^^^*Edited ^^^for ^^^punctuation. | "... And in a society of telepaths, there is no reason to lie and cheat for an advantage, the lying and cheating is recognized immediately so it actually puts you at a great disadvantage.
everyone can read everyones minds and see each others memories.
Everyone has perfect recordings of everythings they've experienced in their minds, and all parts of it can be accessed.
Everyone is naked. And it's ok.
But humans, cannot. Humans thrive on deception. It's necessary to gain advantages. The advantage to the whole does not guarantee an advantage to the individual. Such a sad, desperate way to live.
We offer you the gift of telepathy, take it and transcend your shackles!"
"I refuse" retorted Adam, the self proclaimed representative of humanity, "and you can bugger off."
The leader and representative of the telepathic aliens nodded sadly and went on his way.
| 2014-10-13T11:24:13 | 2014-10-13T10:53:13 | 343 | 24 |
[WP] Not far from your village is a small grove. Within the grove a monster dwells. It devours the guilty and leaves the innocent. When the worst crimes are committed, the accused are sent to face the creature. You have murdered someone in self-defense. You enter the grove unsure of your fate. | Pt 1 of 2:
Dozens watched from behind me, but I ignored their eyes burning into my back. My footsteps were slow but steady, terrified but resigned to my fate, fear stiffening my muscles but determination pushing me on. The day was bright, the sun beating down on me, barely tempered by the hat I wore, and sweat already started to soak into the back of my shirt. I started through the wildflowers that spread across the edge of the grove, my hands absently brushing the ones that came up past my knees.
And as I passed the edge of the tree line, the sky started to darken.
*“What are you doing?” I snapped at my older brother.*
*Elton continued through the cabinets, leaving every door open as he searched, finally turning on me with a snarl on his face and an empty bottle in his hand. “There’s nothing here.”*
*“We’re out of whiskey,” I told him tiredly. “I’ll buy more tomorrow.”*
*“You’re useless,” he growled. Walking over to the sink, a wobble in his step, he chucked the empty bottle in.*
*“Hey!” I shouted. “Could you at least do that outdoors? Or aim for the garbage can?”*
*Elton picked up the top of the bottle, which had remained intact, examining it as if he wished it could’ve magically refilled instead of shattering. “I got fired.”*
*That gave me pause. “Elton…you need to lay off the drink,” I sighed. “You can’t keep a job like this.”*
*“Like what?” he snapped, taking a few unsteady steps toward me. “What I do on my own time is my business.”*
*“Not in my house it isn’t,” I shot back.*
A ripple of goosebumps spread across my skin and the sweat that had built up suddenly chilled me. The trees were thick and tall, but it shouldn’t have been this dark, I knew. There was something else pulling the light from the world, something sinister that lived and hunted in these woods.
My heartrate increasing by the minute, I continued into the woodland, claustrophobia starting to take hold. I forced myself to take in and let out even, steady breaths. The flowers had given way to a heavy layer of leaves, built up over months but not yet decayed, wet and thick and squishing under my shoes. As the day turned to night, my lower lip starting to tremble and my hands starting to shake, and I didn’t notice when my shoes dampened through to my socks.
And I hoped and prayed I would make it out.
*“Your house?” Elton said, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “The house you bought with the money from Dad’s inheritance, you mean?”*
*I took a breath. “You got the same, Elton. Not my fault you spent it away.”*
*Stomping over, he towered over me, a good four inches taller. “You’re a selfish bastard, up on that high horse,” he hissed. “I spent that money how I saw fit. Wasn’t my fault Henrietta and the kids needed more than I could give them.”*
*“You spent it on drink,” I muttered. “Not on them.”*
*Elton raised his hands toward me, realizing he had a broken bottle in one, staring at it as if it was something he’d not seen before. “I need more to get to sleep,” he told me, his stare burning holes in my eyes. “Otherwise, I get the nightmares. You know that.”*
*My heart fell. Too many men fell down this hole when they came back from the military and I hated what it had done to him. But something else burned inside me; I was starting to hate him too. I loved the man he’d been but hated who he’d become.*
*“We are out,” I said slowly. “You’re plenty drunk to fall asleep.”*
*His eyes widened. “I’m not a drunk,” he shouted. And again, the bottle in his hand rose and a shot of adrenaline rushed through me as I saw it coming for me. Instinctively I blocked it, shoving it back at him. And it caught his throat.*
Was I to blame? The question wouldn’t leave me. It plagued me, crushing me under its weight. I hadn’t meant it. I’d never kill my brother, my own flesh and blood. But I had, hadn’t I? I’d shoved the serrated glass right back at him. It had been instincts, yes, but what kind? Survival? Or a flood of emotion that came from a place deep inside me, where my true colors shone? | “Killer!” “Send him to the woods!” “It would eat you, murderer”. I only wanted to leave the village, that was all.
I walk away from the people who who were my friends, my family, into the thick line of trees. Yes I have killed and in doing so committed a great sin, I however have no evil in my heart. My assaulter does. The monster will see that won’t it? It has to know, it has to.
I have walked alone for a couple of hours now and it’s getting dark. No animals live beneath these great trees. Only silence and echoes of regret dwell here. Suddenly, a giant hairy arm crashes the ground before me, completely stopping me in my tracks. Between the trees I see it now. The body of human only scaled to epic proportions, enveloped in thick black hair. The head on the other hand is the most alien thing I have ever seen. A gaping maw with rows of yellow teeth beneath a single eye. The eye draws my attention for while I can see it I can’t focus on it. Until it looks at my face. I feel cold water inside my head as I realize this thing is looking through my soul, searching for a reason to end me.
“Well, human, I see now why the others sent you to me” it said in a language I have never heard before but completely understand. “He attacked me, please, please don’t kill me. He attacked me I swear!”
“Yes yes human, it was either getting sent to me or dying at his hands.” The monster brings its face closer and closer until it almost touches me, I smell death and decay from its mouth. “What will be your judgement I wonder?” It whispers. Cold sweat trickling down my spine I open my mouth again:” I don’t regret what I did even though I knew it meant going to you, because you will know I am innocent”
As I say that I notice behind me his other hand, holding a bunch of white strings, tugging on some while letting some be loose. “I knew they would send you to me because you were too ambitious, you wanted to leave, to leave me!” It screams at me, I flinch backwards but as I do he attaches a string to me head. “You won’t try to leave now, not like the others” he gestures behind him. All the people who were eaten, their bones facing away from him, trying to escape. Trying to escape the village. | 2021-03-16T10:53:57 | 2021-03-16T10:05:48 | 1,882 | 64 |
[WP] The reason she never called you back was because she was abducted by an alien civilization. She adapted, grew, and lead a rebellion to overthrow the tyrant that ruled there. Today she just texted that she wants to go out again.
Edit: This is the song that was playing when this popped in my head. Not sure if it will set the right mood for you or not.
[Disclosure - Help Me Lose My Mind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBW9VEE29W4) (link fixed now) | I looked up from my phone and slid the ring off my finger, examining it. It was simple but valuable, full of meaning - a soft band of pure gold that hugged my finger and reminded me what it was to love.
Martha.
It was she who had taught me how beautiful life was, no matter how short, and even with her gone I could never bring myself to wallow in my loneliness. Just the faint memory of her smiling face warded off sadness like a flame.
I used to think people's eyes were what made them beautiful. I always loved soft, almond-shaped eyes, full of emotion and life. They say eyes are the windows to a person's soul, and I believed them - until I met Martha, that is.
She loved absolutely everyone, and her constant smile was proof of that. When I sit and remember, I can still recall how she looked - her long, thick auburn hair, her smooth, pale face, dotted with the cute freckles that she'd always hated, her round, rosy red lips....But her bright white smile outshone all of that because of what it meant. She loved everyone, and I loved her with all of my heart.
I looked back down at my phone, at the story I'd just read. Nostalgia hit me like a roaring wave. Just two short years before I met Martha, I thought I'd found the one...
Rebecca.
She was amazing - gorgeous, of course, but also smart and loving and genuinely caring. She was competitive and intense, insistent and persuasive. Her sharp green eyes had always stood out to me, and mine to her. We knew there was something special between us the first time we caught a glimpse of each other at a college buddy's wedding, chatting for a few minutes before talking for a few hours before spending days and weeks and months tangled up in each other's arms.
Then she disappeared. One night, she just stopped returning my calls. I called her friends, then her family, then the police...Nothing. As the years passed, everyone gave up hope. I tried to hold out for her, but Martha became my life in a way a missing girlfriend could never manage.
I re-read the fragmented text for the third time. It was an eight-part behemoth of a thing, twelve hundred simple characters that, thrown together recklessly into an impossible story, shattered my life to pieces.
Alien abductions weren't real. But I was sitting there looking at a pixellated picture of someone who was definitely Rebecca in a place that was definitely not on Earth. And a story that was too desperate - too *real* - to doubt for a second. My Rebecca ruled a planet I had never heard of, and I was invited to join her.
In that moment, I had no choice but to believe the story in front of me. Pushing the *Star Wars* references out of my mind, I scanned the end of the message again.
*I still remember what we had, and I need that back. I know you do, too. Just say yes, and I'll be there."*
The ring in my hand felt cold and heavy, its weight mirroring the weight of the decision I had to make.
I slid it back onto my finger, where it belonged. It felt warm, right. Earth was where *I* belonged.
I grabbed my phone, locked it, and tossed it almost nonchalantly onto the overstuffed couch Martha had picked out for us right after the wedding. I thought of her beautiful smile again, and in that moment everything felt all right.
I leaned down to finish lacing up my running shoes. I stood up, stretched out, walked onto my porch into the morning sunlight...and was instantly swept off my feet, flung wildly up through the air toward a small black speck high in the sky. I got closer, and as the speck got bigger it began to take shape. I felt my sheer terror wearing off, and I managed a wry grin.
Rebecca never could take "no" for an answer.
| I was idling on my bed that morning, earphones plugged, nodding slowly, rocking to that metal playlist from my media player. I felt vibration in my left pocket and took my cellphone out.
My jaw dropped, my hear skipped a beat, my earphones slowly being pulled out from my ears. I haven't blinked.
This cannot be real. I lost her. I lost her for 7 years. My life was in shambles since she was gone. We were suppose to be perfect together and we were suppose to be partners for life...until that night. I can never forget that day.
August 31st 11:29 pm. I remember seeing that bright purple light with strange inscription that illuminated the sky. I remembered hearing her parents cry their heart through the phone. I remember running as fast as I could until couldn't breath anymore. Stumbled and helpless, I saw you, I saw her lifted in the air and hovered slowly towards the sky. The buzzing noise from the sky was deafening making everything else inaudible. When I reached to the focus point of the light, I was too late. Her long braided hair and slender figure just eluding my grasp by a mere seconds. I just stood there speechless. As she looked back to me one last time, I caught a few of her final words from the movement of her lips:
Wait. Be back. Promise. Love.
She is back. I am on the verge of bursting into tears. So many questions to be asked. So many painful years behind me to be redeemed. I am dumbfounded really. Full-throttled mixed emotions. But all that needs to be put aside first. After all these years, she is back.
I sat down on my bed, took a deep breath and steadied my fingers still shaking from this unbelievable reality.
I replied.
Welcome home Jinx. <3 | 2014-11-11T12:56:01 | 2014-11-11T11:37:27 | 36 | 24 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | Execution day again. It took a full moon cycle for the kingdom’s mages to fuel the sphere of sentencing. But once it was charged, it would grant its prisoner their choice of death. Ten sentences would be carried out today before it ran out of power. Some nations gave their condemned a final meal, a last smoke, or a glass of wine before their death. We had this mockery of choice.
I’d been on the execution list for four months now. The list had me eighth in line. I wondered what was worse: being first and knowing your death was right away or last and seeing nine die before you. The amphitheater we were in wasn’t just for executions. Concerts, carnivals, games were also held here. But today the central arena held the ten of us, ten guards, and our killer. The seats are ringing the middle are occupied. The aristocracy are in comfortable lounges, provided with shade and refreshments. Those with more time than money made do with hard benches and full sun.
There’s always someone that tries to defeat or confound the sphere. It’s killed everyone trapped inside. There are some who won’t name their death, either from stubbornness or fear. But the enchanted ball of filigreed metal and glass fulfills it’s design. It starts to remove the air inside once locked. Slowly though; the captive has plenty of chances to speak. But if they don’t decide in an hour, the sphere chooses for them. They die suffocating, clawing for breath with faces distorted and discolored. It why the executions start at sunrise, in case every prisoner that day takes their hour.
Only one of my fellow convicted goes the airless route. The third of the day, a small man, timid. He tried to name a death when asked but his chattering teeth and stuttering voice kept him from saying anything clearly enough. The vultures in the audience, nobles and new money who paid to attend in comfort jeered at him until he finally curled up in the center. He was quiet and shaking until the end.
The fifth, a stately woman with a smirk and fierce eyes, made an attempt at outsmarting the sphere. “By the death of the cosmos.” I’m sure she thought she’d get to live out those millennia. The sphere pulsed, as it did when examining an unusual form of death. If a choice was invalid, it’s glass portions would turn red for a moment. If it was a valid choice, it would simply perform the execution.
No red pulse. The sphere’s light dimmed with the condemned woman standing inside. Her smirk widened. Then she vanished, soundlessly. A few seconds later, her image was projected inside the sphere. Nothing was said, but we all knew we saw eons into the future. Her body froze in the dark nothing of the universe before her image faded and the sphere opened for the next victim.
The man before me, seventh off the day, also tried to outsmart the sphere. He was only a few years older than me, in his mid twenties at most. “Old age?” he asked the sphere. It pulsed again before dimming without red shift. The man let out a shaky sigh and looked expectantly at the door. It didn’t open but as he reached for it we saw his skin wrinkle and sag. His hair paled into a wispy gray. Liver spots his dotted arms and face. Before he could touch the sides, he fell. His frail skin blossomed into bruises from the fall, his aged bones unable to keep him upright. Within five minutes of entering, he’d aged to death.
My turn. The sphere opened, graceful and terrifying. I stepped in and spotted a particular face in the crowd. A young man, like the one before me. He was richly dressed, unlike the man before me. The reason I was here. I’d shared his bed and he threw me aside. At the hint of inconvenience he arranged for me to die.
Seeing him, relaxed with a full wineglass, smiling at the thought of me being gone forever, made me furious. The sphere locked, I was asked how I wanted to die, and heard the slow leak of air. I glared at the source of my doom.
“With my lover,” I spat. The crowd laughed as the sentencing sphere pulsed again. Then it dimmed. The crown prince appeared next to me. He paled and I almost thought he’d die of shock before the sphere could take us. I snatched his wineglass and downed it. “Glad I could share a last glass with you prince.”
He screamed, pounding the walls as the guards struggled to open the door. But the sphere wouldn’t let anyone out alive. I saw the prince’s innocent betrothed faint. At least she wouldn’t be trapped with him. His father, who’d demanded the crown prince dispose of all evidence of philandering before he wed, was desperately ordering his knights and mages to save his son.
I slumped against the wall. “The more you scream the less air we’ll have,” I mentioned. The man I’d loved and been betrayed by didn’t seem to hear me. I didn’t much care. His frantic cries and the useless pounding made a satisfying requiem. | There went my master planof outsmarting the system.
Joey, my former impromptu partner-in-crime, laid in the room as his life slipped through his grasp, surrounded by hospital equipment.
Joey wheezed and coughed by old age, I was running out of breath as a knot started sinking in my gut. The room started getting hotter as the world blurred.
I was panicking. I was panicking and I had been utterly defeated, just like the last hundreds of thousands of prisoners.
Had he said something else? Had he strayed from our plan!? It was foolproof!
I looked at Joey once again, panic settling in his eyes.
No, he hadn't strayed from the plan. The plan was doomed from the start.
It was too late. I had been cocky, and I was about to pay the price.
Memories of years past, good and bad, flashed across.
Maybe if I had chosen another path, I would've lived a long fulfilling life.
Just as I thought that, my knees buckled and I sunk to the floor.
Joey was clutching his chest as he convulsed.
A smile broke across my face as I went over my last thought. A long fulfilling life.
The curtains were drawn forth as I debated whether to be specific or not. Joey hadn't been specific and that didn't turn out well. But would they give me enough time to detail the rest of my life?
The light above the door sprung green, an oddly cheery color for people walking to their deaths.
The big door slid open and two guards joined my sides, bringing me into the room. The room had returned to the drabby grey of concrete.
As I stood in the room, the weight of death growing heavier on my shoulders, yet my legs remained locked straight, a painful lump forming in my throat.
How do you want to die? They asked.
I opened my mouth and words began spilling out.
I want to live a long fulfilling life free of crime and full of happiness and being a paragon of goodness, and to repay the world for the crimes I have done, and to reform myself into a better person, and die after living that long fulfilling life outside this prison, with my loved ones at my side.
Their eyes bore down into mine, and my breath hitched as they spoke.
Sit down into that chair.
I opened my mouth but one of the guards plopped me into the seat, while the other drew the curtain.
My heart skipped many beats as a feeling of cold and emptyness spread throughout my body, my eyes being squeezed shut.
It was stupid of me to think I could outsmart a century old system.
And then a wave of warmth washed over my body, with cool wind blowing past me.
You are one of those who chose to repent and repay the world for your actions. Thus, as in the past, you will be given a new life. But you must change the worlds of those you meet for the better. As soon as you fail, I shall claim your life. | 2021-06-24T11:17:25 | 2021-06-24T11:02:13 | 46 | 13 |
[WP] Other princesses have Fairy Godmothers. You have a Fairy Godfather. He doesn't exactly grant wishes in the usual way, but the Fairy Mob always has your back. | The girl wept into her pillow, her quiet sobs fading into the night. Though she was a princess, she was not immune to the human feelings of shame, sorrow that plagued commoner and royalty alike. She wept, thinking of the shame and humiliation she had been subjected to by the bullying of the other royal princesses - her older step sisters - pushing her into the mud when they walked through the gardens, jeers of "pigs should play in the mud, even if they are royal pigs", finding her favourite dresses in her wardrobe covered in mud and wine stains, impossible to remove. All this was part of her daily life since her mother, the previous Queen, has passed away from a sudden illness, and her father the King, had taken the widowed Duchess of Durin as his new Queen, making her two daughters princesses. Dark whispers floated about the town that the beloved Old Queen had died of unnatural causes, suspiciously similar to how the old Duke of Durin had also died.
This much she could endure. But today, today was far worse. After the usual mud bath, the princess had gone to the stables to seek out Falafa, the magical talking horse, who was the only one she could share her troubles with - only to find Falafa's stall empty. The young stable hand was beside himself in grief, and could only stammer out a shaky line, "T-t-the E-e-east gate..."
It was there that she found her beloved Falafa, or what was left of her - a horse's head - nailed above the Eastern castle gate, that was only used by the servants. It didn't take much to know who had done such a heinous deed.
That evening, she had declined to come down to the dining hall for dinner, saying she was feeling unwell. She needed to grieve silently for her friend, her only friend. A knock on the door. A maid quietly brought in a silver tray, with dinner for the princess. The aroma stirred the girl from her melancholy, only to find the crowning glory of the day's horrors waiting for her on the silver dish - horsemeat sausages.
The girl wept. From a corner of her room, illuminated by dancing shadows cast by the fireplace, a dim glow emanated from a wooden pipe, a cloud of smoke lazily wafting across the room.
The girl started up at the whiff of smoke, terror gripping her heart as her eyes darted around the room, looking for signs of the intruder - have they finally resorted to sending an assassin for her, in their lust for power?
The dim glow of the pipe breathed again, another cloud of smoke wafting across the room.
"Wh-who's there? Have you come for my life?" the princess asked shakily.
"Aye, my child, I have come for you, but not for your life", came the reply, in a slow, deep, warm and gravelly voice. "Come here, Princess Anya, for I am no stranger - I am your fairy godfather - and I have been watching over you since your birth."
"Then... Where have you been all this time?"
"My child, we Fae do not usually directly intervene in the mundane affairs of humans, but we have been watching over you from the shadows, from between the leaves of the trees. When your cruel stepsisters sought to push you down onto a rock to mar your lovely face, we gently nudged you into a harmless puddle of mud. When the poisoner laced your food with deadly nightshade, the maid carrying the platter would trip and fall when a black cat dashed across her feet. The crossbowman lurking in the tree in the royal gardens was beset upon by a swarm of hornets as you walked through the garden. Alas, we can no longer rely on such petty tricks... The darkness is gathering as the Queen calls upon the powers of darkness to do her bidding, and seize the Kingdom as her own, much the same way she disposed of her former husband."
"Wh-wha-what should I do?"
"Fear not, my child. Come closer, and kiss my ring."
The princess slowly arose, trembling, as she made her way over to the figure in the dim corner. In the light of the fireplace, she could see her fairy godfather - a hard face, as though chiseled from rock, immaculately combed hair, dressed in a fine silk tunic the colour of the deep forest. And deep, brooding eyes that gazed upon the world with a smouldering intensity - yet held a warm kindness within as he beheld her. She knelt at his feet, his hand extended, a large gold ring set with a single blood red ruby perched upon his finger. She took his hand, bent forward, and kissed the ring.
"Very good, child. Know that I am your guardian, and that you are a part of our Familia. What is your wish?"
"Please, godfather..." she said imploringly. "Please save my father and I... Please, save us...."
"Very well. I am a reasonable being, but when it comes to Familia, I will not tolerate transgressions against my Familia. Rest well tonight, I will return by dawn."
So saying, the fairy faded away into the darkness, leaving only the princess kneeling before the fireplace, and the lingering scent of smoke in the room.
When they day broke, the hushed whispers across the city would call it" The Night of the Silent Knives". The nobles who had allied themselves with the Queen against the King, plotting to seize The Kingdom, some were found with their throats slit or awoke to find the severed heads of their eldest heirs in their beds. Others, closer to the heart of the conspiracy, were found dead in pools of their own blood, bodies riddled with a hundred stab wounds - along with their entire households. Two Dukes and a Count were found crucified to giant trees in the middle of the town square - trees that had seemingly sprung up overnight. And yet, the entire affair had been carried out in silence, not a cry was heard nor alarm raised. The townsfolk whispered that it might have been the work of faeries.
A clear message had been sent, and it reverberated across the Kingdom.
Of the evil Queen and her two cruel daughters, there was nothing to be found - as though they had simply vanished into thin air. A week later, three bloated corpses, bedecked in fine silk gowns and jewelry, were found bobbing in the nearby lake - their hands and feet bound and weighed down with fine gold jewelry and chains. Of their identity, there was no doubt.
As dawn broke, the Princess awoke to the sight of her fairy godfather sitting on the edge of her bed, wisps of smoke lazily drifting from his ever-present pipe, a grave smile upon his lips.
"Rejoice, my child, for it is done. Our Familia always protects our own." | Sometimes, Michelle can't help but wonder, "Is there any meaning to my life?"
All her life Michelle had been made fun of for being different from the other princesses. Each of them had been able to use their fairy godmothers to bend reality in one way or another. Michelle, however, was not able to.
She's tired of the way all the people in school treat her. She's tired of all the formalities she has to experience on a day to day basis. She's tired of how her servants and tutors constantly nag her to "behave more princess-like." She's tired of... well, you get the point.
The latest annoyance in her life comes in the form of a ball that she and the other six princesses are required to attend. It occurs once every year, and is a celebration to welcome the peace and prosperity to come.
Michelle's friend, Laura, tells Michelle that Richard is interested in her. Laura is also after Richard, and Michelle would rather not be a part of this nonsense. After a bit of discussion, Michelle tells Laura that she can simply just make a wish for Richard to fall for her, instead.
Each princess gets 7 wishes granted throughout their life. They're only allowed to make one wish every 7 years. They're raised with care such that the princesses themselves would not wish for utter chaos. Even Michelle is no exception; although she cannot make wishes, she's raised similarly to how the other princesses are raised.
This would be Laura's first wish. Her fairy godmother complies, and she happily walks towards Richard and asks him for a dance.
This would be the end of the story, if only Laura were the only one after Richard. Quite a few of the princesses would undo one another's wish by wishing the same thing. One of the perks of being a princess is that they're able to know when another princess makes a wish, and what they've wished for. Laura is furious.
Michelle isn't surprised. "Humans want what they don't have," she mutters.
"So you're a philosopher now eh, Michelle?" Her fairy godfather Cap says, appearing out of thin air.
"It'd technically be psychologist, Cap." Michelle gets up, ready to leave, until she's stopped by Cap.
"You know the rules, no leaving early. Greet everyone. Smile for at least 30 minu--- ow!" Michelle pulls on Cap's remaining grey hair to shut him up.
Michelle is sick of this atmosphere. And when she goes home she knows her parents will be upset. They'll think she's not even trying. They've already forgotten that she tried once, she really did, but was made fun of and bullied by her fellow peers.
She was simply sick of being a princess.
Fast forward 7 years. She ran away from home, graduated from a renowned university, worked her butt off to achieve success, only to realize that she was still not satisfied. Nothing she did could give her any satisfaction, and the more she thought about it, the more frustrated she got.
That was until she heard that Laura was in dire straits. Not only did Richard dump her, she had gone into debt because of the curses of the other princesses. She was even more miserable than Michelle was.
That's when Michelle came up with an idea. Can't I simply just call Cap to get revenge? Princesses know when another princess makes a wish, and what they've wished for, after all. She feels that revenge is somehow wrong in some way or another, but can't put a finger on why.
Fast forward 6 more years.
Every princess was bound, with only their mouths free, sitting around a long table in a dimly lit room, panicking. Michelle sits on the other side of the long table.
She forces all of them to sign a contract which regulates the extent and scale of each wish. If not followed, they will meet an untimely end at the hands of the Fairy Mob. Her contract was exquisitely detailed, concise, and, most importantly, had the best of intentions for everyone. She experienced a feeling that she had been pursuing her entire life. A rush of happiness, adrenaline, satisfaction.
"Is there any meaning to my life?" Michelle has now found the answer to this question she asked herself 13 years ago. She simply wishes to bring happiness to the world around her. It was impossible to do when she was younger because of how others sacrificed themselves for her. She hates to admit it, but the lessons that she were taught back when she had lived with her parents had played a drastic role in shaping who she had become.
She would use anything and everything to protect the world and its people in her own way. Ironically, she had become, or perhaps always been, the very definition of an upstanding princess. | 2020-08-19T20:01:15 | 2020-08-19T19:13:24 | 61 | 14 |
[WP] You're a supervillian. Your power? Making anybody and everybody nearby feel the same emotion you feel except 100x stronger. Mostly you've been using it to force people to donate absolutely all their life's savings into charities. Superheros aren't quite sure how to deal with you. | It’s a bit like picking a string on a harp, you make it vibrate, amplify it, make the resonance affect the world around it. Now anyone can jam on a harp and make an awful lot of noise but I like to think I’m better than that. I can take any old emotion that you happen to be feeling at that moment and make it vibrate, amplify it and allow it to make you change the world around you.
In the beginning I used it to bully people, a quick scare, turn it up to eleven and they just collapsed into a ball and whimpered, turn it up to twelve and they won’t sleep for a week, turn it up much more.... well, let’s say it’s not pretty and leave it at that. It did the trick but the things I did to those people wasn’t sitting well. So I started on a new method, I took the money I had made, lost the scary costume and put on a three piece suit.
I set up great charities that would help the needy and the poor, organize great charity balls and invited high society.
Of course only a few of them were actually charitable, I could feel what motivated them and more than half did not deserve even a tenth of their wealth. Luckily there was one emotion I could always exploit, pride. So once one of them put down a hundred dollar donation and made himself look better than the other, I kicked the envy of his peers up a notch, and then I kept upping the stakes until all their ill-gotten gains were now given to the charity. I skimmed of the top of course, a man needs to eat after all.
But then I messed up, I pushed one of them to far, investment banker, he had been one upping his peers since preschool and I pushed him too far, he grabbed a steak knife of the buffet and donated his organs right then and there. Of course this sort of bullshit gets the league of heroes interested. They were hesitant at first, after all I had donated most of my loot to charity, and they could scarcely prove I had forced anyone to donate that money.
But they deemed me too dangerous to be out and decided I should be locked away for the safety of all mankind.
This would not stand.
After a few days of sitting in a cell in their little base i decided it was time to leave, i took a breath and began screaming. You have to understand this about heroes, they’re compassionate. Dr. Laserface came around the corner and tried to give me a sedative I siezed the opportunity and stopped screaming, deadpanned him and spoke the sentence I spent months crafting; ‘My hovercraft is full of eels.’ His Face screwed up in confusion, I turned it all the way up, twisted it so far the metaphorical knob came of, and all that was left of the great Dr. laserface was a babbling idiot, who would fail to comprehend anything more complicated than breathing.
I never took more than I needed, I repented for my sins earlier in life, but the arrogant bastards who thought themselves gods, had not even given me the courtesy of a trial.
Now the heroes of this world will pay of their arrogance.
EDIT: someone gave gold, so now i feel obligated to make a second part | "Guy's Doctor Evil Mpath is doing it again, he broke into an EA board meeting and had them all jump out a window."
"Finally some real evil from the Doctor, I've had it with explaining to the media that i'm a good guy and was only beating up civilians because they were generously donating to charity."
*Five hours later*
"Give it up Doctor we have you surrounded."
"Super friends why are you bothering me during dinner? "
"We know about your crimes, how you forced those innocent EA board members to jump."
"I did no such thing, had i used my powers they would have ripped each other apart, no the suicide is something they did on their own when i warned them that i used my power to have them investigated. "
"Investigated for what?"
'I don't know, i was bluffing, but now i'm honestly curious. Now shoo"
"I'l get you next time Doctor Mpath."
"Sigh, fine and Charles you can call me Evil you've known me long enough to use my first name."
| 2018-12-17T14:50:10 | 2018-12-17T13:19:43 | 306 | 126 |
[WP] You're the strongest villain ever seen. Heroes who challenged you are afraid to even see you. One day, a hero dared to challenge you, a rather pale and bald 7 year old girl whose death is getting near. She doesn't even know how to act like a hero. Her last wish? To defeat you.
| She stood in an awkward tiger-like position in front of me, claws wide spread and teeth bared. Her white dress billowed, following the drifting winds. I, however, couldn't get my eyes away from her goofy bear backpack, and her sullen and sunken face. It was a peculiar, heart-wrenching contrast: so young, fierce and resolute yet so frail.
"What do we have here?" I said and placed my hands on my waist. "A new opponent perhaps?"
Around us, the people gathered in a ring-like formation. Cowards. No one had the bravery of stepping up for her and telling her what she was doing was dangerous.
"I'm Princess Bear!" the girl roared and scowled. "I will defeat you, evil man!"
I feigned a dramatic gasp, as if her words had taken me aback. "Princess Bear? It… it can't be!" I purposely made my extremities tremble. Then I grinned a wicked grin and stood in a fighting stance. "How are you so certain you will defeat me?"
She matched my grin, but her's brimmed confidence. "Because all the people are given a last wish, and defeating you is my last wish, evil man!"
I nodded and gestured for her to attack first. "Let's see it in action then."
She charged toward me, clawing at the air clumsily. I side-stepped, but she was relentless. She kept chasing me, hissing as she constantly slashed the air. I smiled at her display, so eager, so unswerving.
I feigned to tangle my feet, falling to the ground. I breathed quick and shallow breaths, heaved my chest violently, and soon a tiny shadow loomed over me.
Princess Bear clawed at my face, doing no damage at all, yet I squealed and yelped as if my fate was skinning me alive. I thrashed, rolling to the side, careful to not harm her, and staggered when I stood up, covering my face with both hands.
Princess Bear didn't let me speak. She rushed toward me, viciously attacking my legs this time, and I fell to me kness. It was then when, smiling, I grabbed and placed her like a bag of potatoes on my shoulder.
"You fought well, Princess Bear!" I said as she kicked the air and battered my back with tiny fists. "But now it's my turn to retali--"
I put my head closer to her feet so that she kicked me in the nose. It was then when, I made a dramatically slow fall to the ground, making sure she didn't get harmed and letting her go.
Trembling, I said to her, "I surrender, Princess Bear. You win!"
Her face recovered color for a moment, her smile went as wide as nature allowed, and her weak eyes beemed and twinkled with joy. Princess bear took off her backpack, opened it and dug out a sticker that had the word *defeated* written on it. Then, she placed it on my forehead.
"You are now officially defeated," Princess Bear said, and bowed to her audience, who cheered for her. Then, she turned back to me. "Now you can return to you evil home and think about your actions!"
Grimacing and with dejected arms, I nodded at her and limped shily through the crowd. I expected boos or being thrown stones and such, but they opened a path for me and remained silent and undisturbing as I made my way through.
It may be hard for some to understand why I let Princess Bear defeat me, given that I was known for how vile and wicked I was. My interests, ideals and beliefs clash with those of the majority of people, but only a monster would not let a little girl have her last wish come true. Perhaps, a month ago I wouldn't have done the same.
But things had changed.
I reached my lair and went to my room. I kissed my wife who held our sleeping daughter on her arms and drooled over the beauty of my little princess. Then, with a smile, I told my wife all about today, and flaunted my sticker at her. We both laughed about it.
Deep down, after all I was a human, but most importantly I was a father, and if I could, I would trade my strength for all the Princess Bears out there to have many many more wishes.
For in them I saw my daughter, and I thought about the pain of losing her to an enemy my strength couldn't defeat.
--------------------------------
r/AHumongousFish if you enjoyed it! :D | Appealing to my emotions? Seems like the good guys have run out of options. But this was a pretty powerful strategy all the same; I was surprised they hadn't thought of it earlier.
Her frail form stood before me, as she held a placard with the request of defeating me messily scrawled onto it. Clearly, she was not here willingly; the heroes had ripped her from her hospital bed and plonked her in front of me as a PR stunt. I should know; for all my "villainy" I drew the line at hospitals. They were my former workplace and they were essential for any government's objectives, no matter the ideology driving them. I could wipe out those self-righteous, glory-grubbing heroes and business buildings in the wink of an eye, but I tried my best not to touch the common man.
After all, the heroes refuse to admit that they were the ones who put people like the girl in the position they were in. They indiscriminately used their weapons against me without considering the collateral damage. My profits from smuggling had made me a powerful "villain", untouchable by the police or heroes. The only difference between me and the rich snobs running this town, was that I was honest about what I did. I'd had my fair share of chemical, biological, radiological, explosive weapons used against my hideout, and the only difference between the civilians and I was that I survived, every time.
Still, I look down at my pale hands. They are merely a few shades away from the poor girl's pallid skin, and I reflect on my limited time on this Earth too. I reach out and touch her dying face, look into those deep, soulless eyes. She is confused, but her shock immobilises her where she stands.
To this end, I make a promise. I will train her. I know not who she is. Perhaps she is patient, such that when she defeats me, I will not resist the blade at my throat. Or maybe she is devious, so I'll be pulling the trigger when the gun is at my head. Or is she cunning; will I even know how I am defeated?
I see it all now. I will be defeated by this girl, but I am just a man. The ideals I stand for, and my efforts to contain the horrors of "heroism", will not be defeated. | 2018-09-01T08:54:38 | 2018-09-01T07:08:34 | 370 | 24 |
[WP] In a world where reincarnation with a full knowledge of your past life is real, authorities struggle to protect society by keeping the worst criminals and serial killers in prison alive for as long as possible to delay their eventual escape back into society via the reincarnation process. | In Nevermore, the land that God forgot, they kept condemned men in a castle above the Tempest Sea. A cold wind howled through its halls, and the howls were a punishment of a kind, though one that fell upon the guards. Dour faced, salt encrusted, the men on the battlements were known to say, to break the backs of the raw recruits up from better places, that after a season the howls lost the timbre of wind and became victims’ screams. In the cellars where they kept the deviants and the dungeons where they kept the killers, however, the screams were a whisper, for there were no windows for the wind to scream through. There had been once, but then a man who’d torched a village had held a link in his chain up to the windows for three-and-twenty years while he watched the sea winds rust them, and after those three-and-twenty years he had broken the chain, strangled the nurse who came to check on him, and effected his escape.
The guards had been forced to kill him, on the long jagged, gray strand of beach below the castle by the Tempest Sea. They said he’d laughed as death took him. Such were the stakes in Nevermore, a land where death was not truly death but a step away and a half-step back, and where the only things forgotten in that half step were a man’s name and any face by which his soul might be recognized.
In the prison, in the very cell where that long ago murderer had held his chains to the bricked up window, another man lay, considering it. He was not yet old, but no man in chains stayed young. He had been dashing once and knew it. His eyes were the palest blue of folk who had grown up near the Tempest Sea, near the very castle where he was imprisoned now. His jaw was strong, his smile quick and easy in spite of everything. There was a thin scar on his cheek that stretched from temple to dimple, and that he had said was a hellcats claw but was instead a woman’s nail.
Hearing ringing footsteps in the dungeon gloom, the man turned away from the bricked up window that once had looked out through the rough hewn cliff, and waited, smiling, for the woman.
She was a nurse, all the women in the castle were, and in Nevermore that was considered a great success for women inclined towards freedom. She wore a uniform of startling white, shoes with the slightest heel, crafted to clack menacingly— these were not a necessary part of her uniform but she found them quite satisfying— and a pin through her hair which she had been told could kill a man if necessary. She brought with her a cart, a torch, and a small, secreted bag of pills.
“Do you have them?” the man, Gedry, asked. His voice was rough where it had once been charming.
“Would I ever lie to you?” the woman, Anna, said.
“No, not my Anna. Give them *here!*” Gedry said that last desperately, leaning far forward towards the bars, his chains rasping through the dark, spiraling suffocating dust into the air. He coughed, she tutted.
“We shall have to clean out the cells,” Anna said.
“Nevermind that, woman!” Gedry’s pale face appeared in the circle of her torchlight, the scar pressed against the bars, smile contorted to a living rictus. Anna nearly took a step back from him, nearly pulled the pin from her hair, so shocked was she to see him smile true. He had of course smiled to her before, he was a vain man, concerned even now with what he thought to be his best assets, and he had, on many occasions before he hit on his current plan, made coarse passes at her and the other nurses, focused most of all on the gentle sweep of her neck and the fineness of her collarbones.
Unable to stop herself, Anna shivered.
Gedry saw, pulled back and schooled himself. “Forgive me. I know you do, but please, *do.* It’s a wonder I haven’t lost myself completely down here.”
“Quite,” Anna said, and she reached out a finger to stroke his scar, wondering what had left it, and if it had availed her anything. “You are a wonder,” she whispered.
“A wonder who loves you,” Gedry whispered back, matching her tone and pitching his voice down from rough to husky, inveigling. “Now please, give them to me.”
Anna reached into the folds of her dress, pulled out the bag of pills, and tumbled three into the cell by Gedry’s bare, disgusting feet.
He scrambled for them, howled like the wind, screamed like a man demented, which Anna supposed that he was. His hands seemed not to grasp properly, they scrabbled against the craggy stone and brushed a pill into a crack which he spent the part of a minute tearing out till his fingers were bloody. Then he held them, all three pills in his cupped, grubby hands, little bullet shaped jewels, one red as blood, one streaked in many shades of green, one brown and murky. *Death at last,* Gedry thought.
“Yes,” Gedry said, voice rising till he was shouting. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”
He turned towards her, mouth a broken snarl, and said “You’re a bitch, you all are!” Then he swallowed the pills. Gedry lay back, staring at the bricked up window that had once meant freedom, and knew that he had won.
Anna busied herself with the cart, pulling a cover off a steaming tray of tubers and salted fish, upending the food into his cell to plop wetly on the floor in front of him, dust rising to meet it. She filled the water bowl hollowed out from the stone through the slot in the cell door, made notes in her little black book. Gedry watched it all as if from a great height, staring down at her, at the feeble little woman across the iron bars, at the startling whiteness of her dress and the flawless line of her neck, like a figure carved from the most exquisite marble. He wondered, idly, what it be like to put a chisel to her.
And then a curious thing happened; Gedry did not die.
The realization came over him in slow, sickening waves. He was not dead. His vision, darkened by the years below ground, did not darken further. He could still see the neck, the dress, the woman, the shape of her who had— was it possible?— betrayed him.
And Gedry howled with the knowledge, with the years left ahead of him, in that castle by the Tempest Sea, as Anna marked down which vitamins he had taken, when his next dosage should be, notated that his cell needed cleaning and that there was a slight rasp to his occasional cough that might indicate something in need of medicine. She let him scream, leaned against the wall listening and watching, forcing herself to understand the men she cared for, to understand the important of her role in the world; a guarantor of peace for ten years, twenty, thirty. It was said that, in the old days, a particularly cunning nurse had kept a man alive a full seventy years. Seventy years without his soul set free to kill again.
Such things Anna aspired to, and more.
Gedry cursed her a thousand ways, Anna made a note to have the men shorten his chains lest he find a way to hurt himself, and then she moved on, not a single further word spoken to the man. She pushed her cart through the dark and dusty halls, exchanged torches at a nurses station deep in the murk where a kindly old woman gave her food and a smuggled sip of whiskey, and then Anna continued on to the next cell block.
A man waited for her, his face grimy, desperate; he’d been here so long he’d forgotten even the pretense of charm. “Do you have them?” he whispered, slurred. The words barely escaped his mouth. Some years ago, he had bitten off a piece of his tongue trying to drown himself in his own blood.
“Of course I do Viktor,” Anna said, drawing out the bag from her dress once more. “Would I ever lie to you?”
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | “Are you insane? Do you know who you just stabbed? Quick, someone get a doctor to cellblock A, Steve Hankers been stabbed.” I felt the guard wrap his arm around my neck, putting me in a chokehold as he dragged me away from the body of the notorious serial killer, my shiv still firmly stuffed in his sternum.
“I know damn well who I stabbed. That prick tried to kill me. What was I supposed to do?” My words came out with pained wheezes, trying to breathe through the stranglehold. What the hell was I supposed to do? Take one for the team? Wasn’t my fault the guards let him out for a ten-minute walk. They should have known better than to trust the serial killer when he told them he was having breathing issues and needed fresh air.
“The blood of his future victims is on your hands; if he dies, we have another killer on the loose. I hope for your sake he lives; things get nasty for the prisoners that kill one of our top priority inmates.” He said, making his threat known as he dragged me to my cell. Once inside, he spun my body, slamming me face first into the floor.
I was groggy after the hit, struggling to crawl to my bed. Whenever I pulled myself to my knees, they buckled, dropping me back onto the floor before I finally gave in, resting my head until the room stopped spinning. After some time had passed, I gripped the concrete frame of the bed, pulling myself up so I was seated on its edge.
The guard stared at me from the door, saying something that I missed, only catching the movement of his lips before he left, leaving me to nurse my injury. “You selfish prick Hankers.” I grumbled, wishing hell existed so I wouldn’t have to hear about that sick man any longer.
He had the same pattern; he would live a normal life until the age of around twenty. Once he reached that age, he would murder whatever poor set of parents birthed him and go on some type of murder spree. I didn’t know that much about the man, only really about the parent thing. That was the headline after all, and I wasn’t one for reading past the headline. The rest of my information either came from passing conversations or from the various guards stationed here.
You think he would grow bored with it. Was it still even fun for him? Maybe the fact that he couldn’t die made it fun for him? It was like a game that could be played indefinitely. A game of cat and mouse at the cost of surrounding lives. I still didn’t get it, though. I didn’t get any of the top priority people here. Then again, I guess I could have changed my life and didn’t. Only difference is I’m not a serial killer.
In all my past lives, I kept to the same tradition, always falling on the same art of robbery. Sometimes it was carts, other times it was handbags, but mostly it was banks. Banks were where the big boys played, after all. No one ever made a small fortune stealing from a passerby on the street. Banks were also a lot easier on the conscience, sure you were traumatizing some poor worker and that was never good, but at least it wasn’t the teller’s money.
I guess it’s hard to move on from your past lives. It’s kind of like that comfort zone, the only thing that stays the same while the world changes around you. You have one bad day and you’re falling back on a bad habit, falling back on the one thing you know you’re good at. Although how good can I be if I keep getting caught?
That made me laugh, chuckling to myself about the stupidity of it all. At least I wasn’t like them. That was something I could always find comfort in. Maybe in my next life things would be different? You can only have so many bad rolls of the dice, right? So many negligent parents or unstable places? One day I would get to have that ideal rich, spoiled kid life and it would be great.
Maybe that was just a pipe dream, though. Rich people were sly, many putting their money aside for their reborn self, which did sometimes mess with inheritances. Suddenly, those rich spoilt brats are fighting against their reborn father in court over his money. What a world we live in.
It felt like I was so close this time. That’s what made it so frustrating. I had money hidden away. When I got released, I would live comfortably. Hell, I probably would have gone away to Cuba or somewhere and spent my fortune drinking rum and smoking the finest cigars. Now, I was doomed, forced to sit back in a cell and patiently wait for my death while that bastard may have got his freedom.
I hated them. They really made me sick. There was nothing worse than seeing their cold dead face with a wide grin, knowing they would be back soon. That was the thing. They never looked upset when they died. They were always happy; it was like cutting the head off a hydra. You cut them down and they just grow back like mold. All you have done is secure them a faster way to their next spree, while you get punished.
I’m sure in the future they will find a way to force them into eternal life. But for now, the best they can do is keep them as isolated as possible and hope for the best. But some can be cunning, and it only takes one slip up from an officer to grant them their wish.
They floated around the idea of freezing them at one stage, but it must have been considered too risky given it’s not commonly used. I think it had something to do with the person being medically considered dead when frozen. Something they were worried would lead to more unaccounted for serial killers in the future.
Still, I was hoping he survived the ordeal. If he lived, I might get lucky and only get a few added years in my sentence. But if he died, it would be life in prison or an ‘accidental’ death. Seems I would find out soon, hearing the guard’s heavy footsteps approaching my cell door, ready to deliver the news.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-10-08T07:31:04 | 2021-10-08T07:24:19 | 601 | 84 |
[WP]The Suit is powerfull. A mech for some, body armor for others, always unique to each person who wore it. Those who wear it, hear the words "not original user, booting basic mode" As a joke, your sergeant gives you The Suit and the first thing you hear is: "User detected: Welcome back, Commander" | Today was the day we saw, *it.* The world-famous Karma Suit. Supposedly worn by the likes Achilles, King Arthur, Spartacus, Alexander The Great and oh, does the list continue. Yes, this legendary armor was worn by made up people, apparently.
"I can't believe you really don't believe in the Karma Suit, Jackson." Kathens seemed amused at first, but his voice turned serious. "You'd better not fuck this up for us, tomorrow."
Kathens, like the rest of my platoon -- and most of the U.S. Military for that matter, revered this story. Since we were born, it was a constant reminder of our superiority over the rest of the world. I didn't have the patience for this shit. It's like as if the whole world believed in Jesus all of the sudden.
"Yeah, fuckface. Don't embarrass us. Seriously." Another distant voice in the darkness. It belonged to Ramsay.
"Listen, assholes. You think I want to spend a week in the pit? Shut the fuck up and go to sleep." I muttered.
I just wanted to get tomorrow over with. Either my life is going to change as I witness actual magic happen before my eyes, or they are going to hide the ceremony from us as they always do on YouTube and just have us present for when our new Soldier X walks out.
I dozed off to sleep wondering who the new super soldier would be.
----
Ramsay tapped my arm repeated as we stood in line, watching Sergeant Diaz stand up and walk to the podium. It was time to begin, Sergeant Diaz was selected for the honor of introducing General Mazza.
Sergeant's voice echoed through the PA System that was designed for a much bigger crowd than the one present. "Throughout the course of history, the outcome of wars and the onset of peace have sometimes been determined by just one man." He looked around, proudly. "Heroes, have been made and immortalized. Today, is a very special day. Not since the onset of the third World War have we selected a new Soldier X. Bradley Solis served his country remarkably, and will be remembered as the hero who brought peace to an entire planet. And while we still mourn the loss of General Solis, but there must always be a soldier of the Karma Suit. The suit that has taken all shapes and sizes. From leather, to steel, to chromium. From a simple chest plate to a fully functional weapon of mass destruction. Great responsibility is to be placed in the hands of our next Soldier X. I assure you, we have carefully selected a man of great honor. To introduce hi---" Sergeant Diaz's eyes dart to me.
All eyes followed as I stood there, holding back laughter as my face turned beat red. Ramsay pinched my forearm, but it was quite obviously too late. I'd done my best, but this was just an absolute joke.
"I'm sorry, Private Jackson - what is so funny?" his face was as red as mine, "What is so goddamned funny that you'd interrupt a live broadcast on probably the most important event you will ever witness in your life, Private?"
He actually expected an answer. Why would he do this? He couldn't just ignore me?
"Don't say a fuckin' word." Ramsay hissed through his teeth.
"Private, do you intend on keeping the entire world waiting? Why are you laughing right now?" Sergeant Diaz was seriously going through with this.
Well, now was my chance. A few lies crossed my mind, ways to easily get out of this mess with minimal penalty. Fuck that. The world deserved to know the truth. I'd be the one to give it them, or go down for trying.
"Sir, I apologize. I just simply don't believe in the magic behind the Karma Suit." I shouted back, confidently.
He chuckled, "You don't believe in the magic? What on Earth is that supposed to mean?" his smug reply made me uneasy.
"I don't believe the suit changes based on who wears it. I think you make a new suit for each Soldier X. Basically.." I replied loudly.
"Is that so? You think it's magic." He full on laughed out loud, now. "Not technology, you think we are proposing you believe in magic? Private, what is wrong with you?" He looked disappointed, and angry.
At that moment, Sergeant Diaz stepped down, walked over to General Mazza and briefly discussed something. General Mazza made a call, while Sergeant Diaz walked back behind the curtain. It was clear I'd just become public enemy number one to every soldier in this entire crowd.
After a minute long eternity, Sergeant Diaz flashed his head back through the curtain and seemed to be pulling a cart along with him. On it was what looked like some kind of harness. He stepped away from it and made his way back to the podium.
"So as a special treat, thanks to Private Jackson here, we are going to perform a magic trick today for everyone watching." A smirk crawled up his face. "Private Jackson, we need a volunteer from our audience for this one. Why don't you make your way to the stage."
I was flabbergasted. I couldn't even respond, my legs just started moving. I was about to be on global TV and for what, I did not know. As I walked up to the stage, Sergeant Diaz was addressing the cameras.
"We will bring up General Mazza after this display, so that he could present you all with the real Soldier X. For now, we're going to see how the Karma Suit reacts to Private Jackson here."
Gasps spread throughout the crowd like a wave. My heart sank into my stomach. What the fuck was going on here? I stepped up on stage and saluted my superiors before turning to my Sergeant. He gestured to the harness.
"This.. is it?" I asked quietly.
"That's it, soldier. Strap up, lets see what you are made of." he said, and wasn't kidding around.
The harness looked so heavy, like industrial chain, yet it was so light that I almost hit myself in the face when I lifted it. I felt strange just holding it. I took a deep breath, looked at my peers, and slipped it over my head.
For a brief moment, I lost control of my body as my arms and legs spread out and my entire body was engulfed with darkness. I couldn't see or feel much of anything for what felt like 10 minutes but realistically, was less than one. Once the visor opened up and I could see again, I was 40 feet in the air.
"User detected: Welcome Back, Commander." said a beautiful voice.
Looking down at all of my peers and superiors, I could see the shock on their faces. I felt a sudden vertigo, as panic heated up my entire body. Was I flying? I need to get the fuck out of this.
"Reset! Reset the suit!" I shouted at the voice in my head. "Get me out of here!"
"Resetting coordinates back to home." said the voice inside of my head.
Immediately, I felt intense vibration as the stage below got smaller and smaller. My panic turned to complete mania as the speed in which the ground got further away continued to increase until I was surrounded by black space. Before I could even register what was happening, Earth was the size of a penny, and then it was gone. My vision seemed to blur, and then completely distort into intense hallucinations of color and light.
"Base has been informed, they await your arrival. Initiating therapeutic hypothermia until arrival." the voice calmly stated over my frantic, incoherent screams.
"NO! NOOOOO!! Undo! Don't do that!" I shouted as my every fiber began to seemingly freeze and my vision faded to black.
----
I will be continuing this story on:
/r/nocre8ivity | Carol had won the envy of the entire base by receiving the job of cleaning the Suit between uses. She would proudly enter the bunker with her soft cloths and polish, and tenderly buff away every scuff of dirt that marred the paint. Every single time, she held her breath with the anxiety that the Suit had been scratched, and she was relieved when her love revealed that it had magically held its integrity through every bombardment. No one knew where it had come from, but it had become the pride and joy of the military, and she was its sacred Keeper. She often joked that the Suit took up so much of her time and attention, she didn't have any affection left to share with another human being.
The master sergeant was considered to be the best pilot, which earned him more missions in the Suit than anyone else. However, unbeknownst to any of the higher ups, the cumulative effect was beginning to degrade his psychological resilience, and he was growing resentful of anyone else who touched what he was increasingly beginning to consider his own. Every time he donned the Suit, he thought about defying commands and never returning to base, certain that no one would be able to stop him if he turned renegade. Only the uncertainty of running from the military with no objective to follow kept him obedient, and his ache was a dark secret.
Brooding, he hung around to watch Carol work on his beloved Suit, and his heart stung with jealousy when he saw how tenderly she touched the metal. When she opened it up to wipe down the leather interior, he couldn't stand it anymore; it was worse than walking in on a spouse in the thralls of another lover. He clapped his hand on her shoulder, roughly squeezed down, and growled, “You ever worn it?”
“No.” Carol winced and looked away, not daring to try to free herself. Something in his eyes didn't look right, and she decided that it would be best to slip away as quick as she could before reporting him.
He lowered his mouth down next to her ear, and whispered with his lips brushing her skin, “Try it.”
“I'm not authorized,” she replied, tilting her head away. She scanned the bunker for anyone else to call out to, but it was lunchtime and the place was empty.
“Do you mean to tell me that you can repeatedly strip the Suit bare, and not feel the impulse to climb inside? Go on and try it, I won't tattle.” His other hand seized her upper arm, his fingertips digging in deeply enough to leave bruises. He pushed her forward, banging her head against the interior.
“Here, I'll even tell you what to expect,” he said, turning her around and holding her in position with his forearm, as he kicked her legs to get her to step inside. “Don't worry when you hear the words, 'User unknown: booting safe mode', because it does that for everyone. Then it will squeeze tight for a moment before it releases like a breath of air, and you'll feel like you aren't wearing anything at all. Operating it is intuitive, so you'll get the hang of it.”
He had completely lost his mind, Carol thought as she met his eyes. She was certain that he wouldn't actually try to close her inside the Suit, knowing that it would give her the ability to turn him into a smoldering crater in a heartbeat. He was likely trying to get her fired, and that she couldn't allow under any circumstance.
“Let me go,” she ordered, hoping that her voice sounded strong and commanding. “I'm not authorized to use the Suit, and I will report you for misconduct.”
“You think I care?” The master sergeant grabbed Carol's chin and glared into her eyes. “You'll have a fatal accident long before you report anything to anyone.”
The look of sheer malevolence on his face caused her to panic, and before she knew it she had hit the button to close the Suit. The master sergeant abruptly pulled his hand back with a cuss, and through the visor Carol could see that his wrist had been cut deeply, nearly severing his hand. She stayed very still, shocked and scared, wondering what she should do to get herself out of the metaphorical fire she had just jumped into. Then the interior of the Suit sprang alive with lights and a breeze of circulated air, as a computer voice spoke,
“**User detected: welcome back, Commander.”**
Carol's heart stopped.
Now she was really in trouble.
\*\*\*
[Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/csi5z1/wpthe_suit_is_powerfull_a_mech_for_some_body/exg3jbc/?context=3)
[Three](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/csi5z1/wpthe_suit_is_powerfull_a_mech_for_some_body/exi7p43/?context=3)
[Four](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/csi5z1/wpthe_suit_is_powerfull_a_mech_for_some_body/exsch6y/?context=3)
[Five](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/csi5z1/wpthe_suit_is_powerfull_a_mech_for_some_body/ey78mdi/?context=3)
[Six](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/csi5z1/wpthe_suit_is_powerfull_a_mech_for_some_body/ey78oe3/?context=3)
[Seven A](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/csi5z1/wpthe_suit_is_powerfull_a_mech_for_some_body/eyadjgo/?context=3)
[Seven B](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/csi5z1/wpthe_suit_is_powerfull_a_mech_for_some_body/eyadnhr/?context=3)
The rest will not be posted on Reddit. Feel free to PM me if you want more. | 2019-08-19T11:33:07 | 2019-08-19T10:13:44 | 3,187 | 855 |
[WP] Aliens give you a camera and say "only those you photograph will live." You have one year.
All of these responses are so diverse! This was really a great read. I like to imagine that all these different stories are from alternative universes, playing out different roles. Some men rule the World, some men are titled lunatics, and some men are not noticed at all. Well done, everyone! | “Sir? Did you want dinner?”
I looked up, inhaling sharply to rouse myself from my daze, and met Morris’ eyes. It took a moment before I realized what he had asked me, which I waved off shortly after. Morris looked worried, but, being a good manservant, did not intrude upon my thoughts, instead offering an “as you wish, sir” before excusing himself.
My eyes hesitated before drifting back down to the LED display on the camera, the now stagnant message “Memory Full” burning brightly as the accelerometer detected movement.
All these memories, and not one person here to share it with.
The plan had gone off as expected when the aliens first arrived. It was a pretty grand spectacle to have extra-terrestrials land in the middle of Central Park, address the city regarding their impending assimilation, and drop a camera in my lap as I attempted to keep my jaw from dropping into my book. The other slack-jawed onlookers heard them say, as their native language fell to the background of their translators, that only those I photographed would live. It was all I could do once they had left to hold onto it as people desperately clawed at me.
After that, it was a steady stream of people begging to be photographed, pleading to be spared. Politicians came in droves to ingratiate themselves to me. CEOs came to personally deliver extravagant gifts in hope of earning a place on the SD card. Men and women throwing themselves at me, offering the best night/week/month/year of my life in exchange for a press of the shutter button. Sure, people tried to take the camera by force, but when you offer an entire army survival, their allegiances get re-evaluated real quick. In a matter of two weeks, I was living as not just a member of the top 1%, but as #1. My phone contacts included the private numbers of every powerful person on earth: they were at my beck and call.
And here I was alone.
To be fair, not everyone who came to me was fawning over me, but who could tell who was sincere and who was playing me? How would I know if the lady with the four kids and the stained maid’s uniform wasn’t just pulling a fast one on me, trying to get her kids pictures taken without her? What if her kids were just trying to get on my good side? What if she was just like everyone else who offered me… everything they ever worked for.
Sure, anyone I summoned would come running. They wouldn’t risk me deleting them. But nobody wanted to stay, at least not in a non-sycophantic way. It was disgusting what an entire race of humans had sunk down to...says the guy who personally built the sand pit. Boohoo says the man who has had everything he could possibly have wanted for the past 350 days, who feasted on the fruits of other people’s labor as he held salvation barely out of reach.
I looked back down at the LED display as the words came back to brilliance. My finger crept to the play button, bringing up the entire album. I slowly moved the selector up to the very first picture. I could feel my heartbeat begin to race, my palms sweaty. I almost hadn’t realized what my fingers were doing until the confirmation came up.
“Delete picture?”
No. No that wouldn’t do. I did it properly this time.
“Delete all?”
I hesitated for a moment.
“Deleted”
“Morris! Could you come in here for a moment.”
The heavy, ornately decorated doors swung open as he dutifully entered the throne room. “Sir?”
“Is my dinner ready?”
“Sir, you told me not to prepare your dinner. Might I suggest delivery?”
I chuckled to myself. “Morris, come closer, please. I have something to discuss with you.”
Morris came closer, staying outside of arm’s length. “What is the matter, sir?”
I held up the camera. “In all the time we’ve been here at Buckingham, have I taken your picture?”
Morris shook his head with a quick grimace.
“Why have you never asked?”
“I’ve nothing to offer, sir. You pay for my services, handsomely, and I’ve spent the last year enjoying that pay with my wife and children.”
“You’re married?”
“Yes, sir, happily, so I wouldn’t get any ideas.”
Cheeky British bastard. “Morris, you are officially relieved of duty for the remainder of our time on this planet, with full pay, on the condition that you take your family on vacation.”
Morris raised an eyebrow. “Might I ask why, sir?”
“See the world! Visit your loved ones. Use my jet or yacht or...whatever. Just do me a favor?”
“Of course, sir.”
I held out the camera by the strap. “Take lots of pictures.” | "Only those you photograph will live. You have one earth year to comply."
That was 364 days ago. I... I need more time. I'm only one person. I tried everything I could think of. I posted on every chat room, every forum, every social media that I could think of. I tried to warn them, I really did. Why won't anyone believe me?
I am at my wit's end. I've been across the country, taking pictures of anyone and everyone I see. I learned very early that it was better to just do it than to ask. I couldn't explain that it was for their own good. I couldn't make them understand. I know I must sound crazy. Maybe I am.
As you might imagine, some people don't take very kindly to being photographed without their consent. It was about 4 months ago, I think, when I made it down to the beach to photograph. Some meathead with his girlfriend took offense when I snapped their picture. He demanded I delete the photo. It doesn't work like that. I tried to tell him. I really did.
He eventually beat me. He beat me bad. I couldn't run away. I tried to run away. He took the camera. He threw it in the water. I couldn't stop him. I tried to stop him. The police came and took me to jail. I spent a few days there, where I guess I spent too much time raving about the camera. They sent me away to an institution.
They tell me I'm crazy now. They tell me I can't leave the building, even to go get the camera. Even to save them. I don't care as much as I used to, but shouldn't I care? Maybe it's the drugs. They give me pills to calm me down. They do help settle me down, I will admit.
It doesn't really matter, anyway. Tomorrow it will all be over. At least I saved some of them. At least I tried. Maybe they'll know then that I'm not crazy.
Eight months of pictures. I had to have taken quite a few. Thousands and thousands. I don't know. I didn't know how I would keep track and I didn't bother to try. I just know it was a lot. At least I have that. It helps to soothe me.
Of course I'm afraid. It's far off because of the drugs, but it's there. It took me a while to realize it. Must have been a few weeks ago... I don't know, it's hard to keep track of time around here. I rack my brain again and again trying to remember, as if that helps.
I never did think to photograph myself.
| 2017-01-27T12:11:12 | 2017-01-27T11:55:35 | 2,096 | 116 |
[WP] The real reason why the villain is doing evil is because he/she has a crush on the hero and this is the only way to see him/her | It only took Miss Majestic thirty minutes to find her target.
His house was built of dark wood and scorch-blackened steel, twisting malignantly into the sky to form ominous Gothic spires that towered over the rest of the unremarkable suburb. Around it, the neighborhood was going about its Saturday-morning business, the residents seemingly oblivious to the nightmarish structure looming over their street.
Baron Automaton was standing just off the fanged porch, hose in hand, whistling nonchalantly as he watered his yard’s weeds. She’d never seen him without his golden mask before. He was barely her own age, far younger than she’d guessed.
“Miss Majestic!” He shouted as she descended to alight on the sidewalk. “How did you find me in my civilian identity?!”
The heroine watched with a raised eyebrow as her nemesis tensed, raising the garden hose as if to threaten her off with it.
“Seriously?” She asked. “Look at your house, dude.”
He actually did, turning to regard it with narrowed eyes.
“Damn, you might have a point,” he muttered, the fight draining out of him.
“Take me away, then. I’ll come quietly.”
“I’m… actually just here to apologize,” Miss Majestic said, hesitantly. “I shouldn’t have turned you over to the police the other day. I didn’t believe the bystanders when they said you weren’t involved with the bank robbery.”
“That’s alright, I escaped anyhow!” The Baron replied, grinning.
“The police said they released you for good behavior,” she said, raising an eyebrow again. “According to their records, you haven’t actually committed any serious crimes.”
“That is *not true!”* The Baron gasped indignantly. “I commit crimes all the time! I’ve been breaking into animal shelters all week!”
“What for?” She asked skeptically.
“To get a Persian cat to stroke while plotting, obviously.” He sniffed.
“And have you actually stolen one?”
“I haven’t found one with the right temperament yet!” He said defensively. “And anyway, the week before, I seized control of the Grand Central Bridge! Hundreds of civilians had to be evacuated by the police!”
“One of the evacuees was planning to jump,” she said. “You saved his life.”
“Cereal factory bomb threat!”
“The investigation revealed several health code violations. There were harmful chemicals in the product.”
“Airport sabotage!”
“Prevented an international incident.”
“Celebrity kidnapping!”
“Her husband was abusing her.”
“Goddammit!” He yelled, throwing the hose down despondently. “Fine, you win! I’m a shitty villain, okay?! I have powers of invention and an army of clockwork robots, and I can’t even make the nightly news.”
Miss Majestic looked at her nemesis, standing defeated in his hideous lawn covered with sodden weeds, and couldn’t help feeling it tug at her heartstrings.
“Anyway, until our next battle, Baron,” she said teasingly, rising into the air once more. “Try not to get to carried away with… what was it again? Conspiracy to *adopt a kitten?”*
“I don’t know why you bother,” he muttered, looking down. “You deserve a better nemesis. I’m not a very good villain.”
“Yeah, you kind of aren’t,” she agreed. He looked up, distraught, and she winked before turning to swoop away. “But hey, you’re shaping up to be a decent hero.” | *"Who the hell are you?"*
"Detective Frambo, put down your weapon."
*"Where's Jim Shmoots?"*
"He requested a transfer, now get down from there and unhand that woman!"
*"Oh for fuck... where did he transfer to?"*
"I see you've tied yourself and the woman to a bomb! I also see you've left all these essential oils and lubricants around...my intelect is telling me I could free the woman and disarm the bomb if I take these oils and slather your body--"
*"No, forget it. There's a key over there by the mini fridge."*
"You're... giving up? I was about to solve this puzzle here--"
*"Forget it. Just, put down the oils and unlock her. Where the hell is Shmoots?"*
"I can't say. It's top secret. A top secret mission."
*"My ass. He just doesn't want to solve my crimes anymore."*
"Yikes. Well, that's between you two, I'm afraid."
**"HELP! HELP! SAVE---"**
*"Oh shut up he's got the key."*
"Yes, I'm glad you've recovered but keep it down would you? I get migraines."
*"Jesus. Damn you Shmoots. DAMN YOU!"* | 2017-04-15T13:04:28 | 2017-04-15T12:57:53 | 50 | 16 |
[WP] After offending a powerful witch, she curses you with a monstrous form. This backfires on her when she realises you are enjoying yourself with it a little too much. | Whelp, I'm a swamp monster. Before you ask, yes, I have tentacles. Yes, I can breath underwater. And yes, it is very very awesome. If I had known stealing mushrooms from Old Lady Ghast was going to get me this sorta upgrade I'da been doing it way earlier.
She's all cackling at me now, talking about how I am cursed to spend the rest of my days like this. Laughing and stirring her cauldron and chanting shit. Total stereotype, but that's what she was doing. Witch stuff.
"Um, this is sweet." It's really all I can say. I've got giant tentacles. They're all sticking to stuff and moving it around.
I'm a bit surprised I can still speak. Maybe she is trying to make me all tragic or something. Like I'm a monster but still a man. Boo hoo. So sad.
For her.
I'm like a comic book hero now. Billy was a simple boy until he was caught by the nefarious witch and transformed by her evil power. Now he fights crime by day and suckers stuff in his swamp at night. He is...TENTACLE BOY. That's a working name. I'm not ready to commit to it yet. The important thing is that I'm a superhero now.
"I SUMMON THE POWER OF THE SUCKER!" I scream, lifting up a wheelbarrow and pushing it down the garden path past the toadstool patch I had been harvesting moments before. Mmmm....that was some good suckering. Top notch.
Old Lady Ghast is nonplussed. Perplexed even. Plusplexed. That's a word now. And that's what she is. "Are you...are you enjoying this?"
"Listen lady, I walked in to this garden looking for a couple of mushrooms and I am going to ooze out a superhero." I flail my tentacles about for effect, tipping the wheelbarrow over and totally screwing up a patch of witch hazel she was growing. "So, yeah, no complaints over here."
"But you're a hideous swamp monster," she says, staring at the ruined garden.
"Uhh...how about we stop judging a book by its cover? I'm a multi\-tentacled differently abled metahuman and I have feelings too."
"I just...I just want you to stop taking my toadstools."
I'm suckering stuff again. Lifting up a shovel and waving it around. "Yeah, this isn't how you do that."
"What can I do to get you to stop?"
I sit for a moment, stewing in my ooze and considering the question. "I'm gonna need more tentacles." Six just wasn't enough.
**Platypus out.**
**Want more peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | Giant claws, hideous appearance, and no need to be afraid of anyone ever again?
*Oh hell yeah.*
If she was going to leave me like this, I was going to take advantage of it.
First off, the local cult. They would probably worship me as a god of destruction as I rip through them.
Then, the armory. Should probably get rid of all the weapons that can stop me.
Then the people who can: the barracks. Take out the soldiers. Good plan.
Then the crown. Kill them, take control. The almighty beast leader. I like it. | 2018-05-07T14:43:48 | 2018-05-07T14:35:14 | 85 | 18 |
[WP] Vampire society have been loyal customers to a carpenter for years. He made the best coffins they have slept in for centuries, and never really got suspicious of so many wealthy people willing to pay premium for the same niche item. As he got old, the vampires tries to offer him immortality. | The coffin Alastair steps into is made of bamboo. It's biodegradable -- just like him. This is his shop and it's packed with all kinds of coffins. He's been making them all his life but it's only the last decade people wanted bamboo or banana leaf or cardboard coffins. *Cardboard,* he thinks disdainfully. He's never made a cardboard coffin in his life and god knows he never will. Fit for a hamster, maybe, but not for a person. And maybe not even a hamster.
He lays back and closes the lid, letting the darkness drown him. Bamboo stinks, he decides. It's not for him. But the darkness is good.
Alastair's suffered migraines the last year. Being in such total darkness helps a little. Every day, after work, he's been getting into his coffins, partly for the dark, partly to test drive them because he's got a lump in his brain the size of a pebble and it's swelling quick. Growing. It's a weed that's taking all the water and all the soil that the older plants needed to live, so now everything's wilting except that weed.
He's not all that scared to die. He doesn't want to, but that's a different matter altogether. He's got young grandkids that he loves very much and he'd like to see what they turn into, what colour butterflies will burst out into the world. Plus, he doesn't want to die for more selfish reasons, too. He likes being alive for one, likes doing and learning and being. Simple as that. But scared he's not. He's not been scared for a long time.
He lies back for a while as dots waltz through the darkness in a rainbow of colours. To him, those dots are the tumour. It presents itself like that, in interesting ways. Somedays, he'll wake to see he left the oven on all night, or he'd called someone and walked away from the phone, or he'd find himself in the neighbours garden for no reason at all. That's how he sees the tumour, from the physical events it manifests. It's how it communicates to him, lets him know it's there.
There are three knocks then. Right on the bamboo lid.
He must have left the shop door open, wouldn't be the first time.
"We're closed," he says.
"Yes I know, but I really must talk to you," comes the muffled reply. It's a woman's voice. Even muffled it's smooth, calming.
He pushes the lid open and sits up in the coffin.
The woman to his side is young. Most people are young to him. Still, she must be early thirties? She's got dark hair in a neat fringe, a pale face, bright lipstick. Something of an old-fashioned movie starlet quality to her. It takes him back.
"What can I do for you?" he asks, trying to get out of the coffin. It's like getting out of the bath though and he slips twice. The woman offers a hand but he shakes his head and on the third try he gets over the edge.
"It's more what I can do for you," she says, pulling up a generous smile. "You see, I represent a consortium of--"
"Not interested."
"--of clients of yours. Former and future, hopefully."
He pauses. "Clients?"
"Yes. Of many people who buy your goods because they cherish your craftsmanship." She gestures around the shop at the various propped open coffins. "We've been importing your products for many years, but this is the first time any of us have visited your shop in person. But this time, it had to be in person."
He's always been strangely successful abroad. The catalogues sell his products better than the shop floor. It's admittedly unusual for his trade.
"That so?" he says.
"That's so."
"And what do my former clients want from me?"
"We know you're dying. We certainly don't want that."
He stares at her. Then laughs. "Me neither, to tell the truth. But life's the journey from A to B, and I'm leaning hard on the second letter."
She smiles wider now. He's not sure if it's his head or... But it looks as if two of her teeth are sinking down over her lip. Extending out like a pair of mechanical pencils.
"You seen a dentist lately?"
"I'll cut to the chase," she says. "We're vampires. And none of us have found better, more secure, more comfortable coffins than yours."
What to make of it, he's not sure! Vampires? Couldn't be. Could it be? Ever the professional he says, "I'm glad to hear you've been enjoying my products."
"We'd like to continue using them, if it's all the same. As such, I would like to offer you the chance to become like us, to become a vampire. To be immortal. If you agree I will bite you myself, and that little tumour in your head will shrink down to nothing in a day."
He blushes at that. At the thought of those red lips and long teeth sinking into his wrinkled old neck.
"I hope that doesn't scare you," she says.
He shakes his head. No, he doesn't scare anymore. Sure, he was scared as all hell when Sally got diagnosed with breast cancer. Now that scared him so bad that nothing since -- when placed in comparison -- has managed to frighten him a hair. His own death? No, that's not fear when compared to losing his reason. His love. His world. All of those other romantic cliches lying around. But there's strong truth in old cliches.
"I appreciate the offer," he says, grabbing his head, holding the migraine, "but if it's all the same, I'm content with not being immortal."
"Content?" she asks, mildly taken back.
"It's been a decade since my wife died and the pain is not so much less than it was. While I'd sure like to keep on ticking in some senses, for some reasons, I don't want that pain anymore." He climbs into a walnut coffin, sits up in it and looks at the vampire.
She sighs. "I see. Then, I'm sorry for wasting your time."
"My pleasure," he says.
She turns to leave, pauses by the door. "The walnut classic is my favourite."
He nods. "I dare say it's mine too."
Once she's gone, he lies back and closes the lid. Lets the stars dance in the darkness.
He thinks about that strange lady. How did she get in, anyway? Door was locked wasn't it? And how did she get out for that matter. He doesn't remember her leaving yet he swears he just watched her go.
God, she looked like a movie star.
Beautiful with a capital b.
A lot like his wife, he thinks. When she was young. Same lipstick shade, same hair. Only the teeth were different.
And then he's wondering if he concocted the whole damn thing.
He thinks he probably did.
And if so, well then maybe not everything about his condition is so bad. Not if it brought her back, even for a moment, even if different. Because to him, for that moment, she was alive.
He takes a deep breath that turns into a yawn, and notices his head isn't hurting so much as usual. "I miss you so damn much," he says. His voice echoes around the coffin as if someone else were saying the words to him. | Vezemir stepped out of the carriage. The sun was not fully set, but the sky was overcast enough that he only felt a slight itch as he strode quickly across the street. Glendale Graves was quiet today, but then it usually was. It would be a strange sight to see a coffin-maker busy.
As he approached, Vezemir saw Druig standing at the door, locking up. Vezemir raised a hand to catch his eye. The old man grinned at him, flipping the "Closed" sign on the door back around to "Open."
A small bell dinged as Vezemir pushed to door open. Druig clapped him on the back and ushered him inside.
"I didn't expect to see you again so soon. What do you need?"
Vezemir smiled at the old man. "This is more of a social call, old friend," he said. "I understand you're retiring soon."
Druig's smile fell a few inches as he stepped behind the counter. "Aye, my hands aren't what they used to be." He glanced down at his hands and sighed. "Can barely hold a hammer properly some days." Then he glanced up at Vezemir again. "I'm pretty sure I know what you're here for."
Vezemir raised an eyebrow. "I just want to pay my respects to a great craftsman. My family loves your work, you've done such a great job in the past to... honor our dearly departed."
Druig snorted. "Vez, I know what you are. You only ever show up at night, you almost always overpay, and I'll be honest, some of your family are pretty terrible at hiding it. A few months ago, Morana insisted on 'testing the casket out.'" He shook his head. "She fell asleep in it for almost two hours."
"W-Well, I'll admit we may be a touch eccentric, but-"
Vezemir's stammering was cut off by Druig pointing behind him. Vezemir glanced over his shoulder at the huge window in the front of the shop. The darkness outside caused the glass to reflect the interior. He could see Druig staring smugly back at him, with no sign of himself.
"You're here to offer me immortality." Druig spoke softly. It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.
Slowly, Vezemir nodded. "Only if you wish for it."
Druig smiled sadly. "Vezemir, I'm tired. I've been doing this for almost fifty years. I've made coffins for the elderly, for soldiers, for children..." he paused, his smile slipping from his face. "For my wife."
Vezemir placed one hand gently on top of Druig's. "You don't have to be, though," he said. "The blood doesn't just prolong your life. It will revitalize you, make you feel like a young man again." He barrelled on, diving into his sales pitch. "You could join our family. We would make sure you never wanted for anything ever again. You could live in luxury for eternity."
Druig frowned, pulling his hand free. "All I want is to rest, and to see Isolde again." he turned away. "You can't give me that."
The silence stretched between the two men, until Vezemir spoke.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I... It's been a long time since I was human. I forget, sometimes, what it's like to be mortal. If there is anything at all that we can do for you, don't hesitate to ask."
Druig glanced back at him. "Thanks, Vez. There is one thing that would be nice."
&#x200B;
*One year later*
The priest had never seen a funeral like this. It was strange enough that the coffin-maker had asked for it to be held at night. But he hadn't expected this kind of turnout. Of course, there was his family. A son and daughter, both with their own children, as well as a few friends.
What confused the priest were the others. A veritable army of men and women had filed into the chapel, all dressed in ornate attire, each one offering their heartfelt condolences to the family. Something about these people unnerved the priest. They felt... wrong somehow. As if they shouldn't be there. For a moment, he considered telling them to leave, but then he saw the family.
Generally, coffin-makers weren't the most social people. Dealing in death so much, it was hard for them to make friends in work. Yet as more and more of these strange people filed into the chapel, and approached the coffin-maker's children, the priest saw something come over them.
Their faces changed from the expected look of a pair of grieving children to something akin to pride. After all, for so many important looking people to value their father so highly, he must have been a great man indeed.
*Well, I suppose it does make sense*, the priest thought. *After all, a man whose life's work was honoring the dearly departed deserves to be honored in kind.* | 2022-05-31T12:21:41 | 2022-05-31T11:05:33 | 2,912 | 726 |
[WP] After 18 years, you’ve been released from prison. Now it’s time to commit the murder you were imprisoned for. | Shes not dead. She never was. The bitch made it all up to stick me in here. Eighteen years of my life gone, for what? So she could take my house, my car, my stereo system? I know shes living there still, she may have fooled everyone else but she can't fool me.
Pushed her off a bridge they say. On our anniversary. Bullshit. She said she needed to use the washroom and would be right back, next thing I know I'm being arrested. Reports of a man pushing his wife off a bridge. I wonder who could have made that phone call? That evil bitch.
Well it wouldn't stand. I would have my revenge. As soon as I get out of here, I'm heading over there and taking back what's mine. I'll kill her for real if I have to.
"LIGHTS OUT" hollered over the cell block. Time for bed. Last night. Can't wait.
----------
Fresh air. Free air. I can smell the morning dew. I am finally free. The air is chilled, the fog is rolling in. My bus is waiting, surrounded by a fine white mist. It looked elegant and eerie all at once. Much like my freedom. I am finally able to spread my justice.
I'm coming bitch.
--------
The house looks very different. Re-painted, new roof, new patio. The only thing I recognize without a doubt are the windows. They always looked angry but understanding. They weren't happy I was here, but they understood why I needed to do this. The house is dark, no lights on. It is two am so she is probably sleeping. Sleeping soundly, despite all the pain she caused me.
The door is locked, the new handle feels heavy and strong. No matter, the windows understand and they will let me in. I try a window outback, and yes success! It is open. I crawl through and find myself in the kitchen.
The kitchen, as with everything else, is different. New cabinets. Beautiful stone countertop. This bitch is living it up. While I was rotting in jail she took my home and lived the life. I can feel the rage brewing. Revenge is close. A big knife block sits on the counter. Perfect. I grab the biggest knife in the block.
Everything still creaks. I couldnt sneak upstairs without waking the neighbourhood. But that's ok, this will be quick. I can get in as fast as possible, get my revenge, then run for it before anyone knows what happened. The stairs have new carpet. Red. Horrible.
One... two... three! I run up the stairs and burst through the bedroom door. There she is, just startling awake. I jump on her and immediately stab her in the stomach. Her face is horror. Her blood is spraying. The experience is serene. The face.... the face brings me back. To the first time I stabbed a woman.
She was my love. My life. My soul. But she betrayed me. She took another lover. She made a fool of me.
Her face. Pure terror. Pure theatre. The supreme being that I was that day revelled in joy. I am invincible. I am your god. I remember her blood leaking from her mouth, the feeling of hot sticky wet blood against my face. A lovers embrace, purified. A couples quarrel fixed, divine. When I felt her love fade into the abyss I let her go. She fell.... far... into the water. We were on a bridge I believe... | I woke up with a smile... "today is the day I am free" I thought the moment I woke up, I hid this show of emotion however, the plan cannot be spoiled... the one that must go right. I thought the plan over once more, making sure I prepared every detail.
&#x200B;
At around one o'clock, I will be escorted out of prison and back home, at that point, I will be escorted back home with my husband, the one I "Love" as far as everyone knows.
&#x200B;
We will have dinner, and after said dinner, I will wait for him to go to bed. At that point I will throw some things around the living and dining room, mess up my makeup, and open a window, staging a complete break-in.
&#x200B;
After that, I head upstairs and strangle hubby in his sleep, everyone none the wiser, and no loose ends like last time.
&#x200B;
I will collect my millions, and I will be free. In a sense I will miss his companionship, but life moves on.
&#x200B;
Soon the sound of a guard walking over to my cell draws close, and I grin... | 2022-10-22T12:24:16 | 2022-10-22T10:19:36 | 37 | 16 |
[WP] A powerful demon tries to swindle the soul of a car salesman, and has to spend the whole day negotiating back and forth. | Frankie saw the man eyeing the candy-apple red convertible. He wore a nicely-pressed suit and exuberated confidence. With a few lines on his face and touch of gray at the sides, there was a richness to his complexion that could only be rivaled by his wallet. This was a refined gentleman of taste who knew what he wanted. And it was Frankie's job, and his pleasure, to give it him, for a reasonable price, plus commission.
And thus began the timeless refrain of the dance between salesman and customer.
With hand outstretched, Frankie approached his new client. "You've picked out a beauty, Mr. -- ?"
"Skag," he replied, not removing either hand from his pockets. "Call me, Skag."
The smiling agent withdrew his hand without ever looking down from the gentlemen's reddened eyes. "Well, Mr. Skag, it's nice to meet you. I'm Frankie Kilkenny, and I can see you are a discriminating person."
"Indeed," he replied, smiling.
"You've reached that place in life where you want to pamper yourself in luxury. I've seen it before with others, some older than you..."
"Oh, I hardly think so."
"... who want to ride in style. But, unlike you, these are not decisive men. They don't chase their dream. But I can tell, that's not you. Am I right? You're someone who goes after want he wants?"
This brought another smile and a nod. "Oh, most certainly, I do."
"And that is why I want to make you a deal and see you drive this baby off the lot today! If you can step this way toward my office." Frankie swung one arm behind Mr. Skag to usher him in the direction the other was pointing, which turned out to be more of a cubicle. Located on the end, it was a little larger and had a touch more privacy than the other dealers' desks, but it was a cubicle, nonetheless.
"Actually, Mr. Kilkenny, I'm here to make you a deal."
Frankie stopped in his tracks and looked his perspective client in the eye, which had deepened to a darker red, which almost had a faint glow. He noticed that just below the man's hairline, there were two small bumps that looked like the stumps of vestigial horns... except that in that moment they grew out an extra quarter inch from Skag's forehead.
"You see, Mr. Kilkenny--"
"Frankie! Please, call me Frankie!" He retained his smile in the face of what was happening.
"Ah, but 'Kilkenny' is such a lovely name. But if you insist, Frankie, I've come with an offer that you can't refuse."
Frankie offered Skag a cushioned seat, and sat himself in the padded leather chair on the other side of the desk. "Well, that is more kind of you. You know, I loved that movie. Oh, man, that horse! And speaking of horses, that little baby has the power of 500 of them under its hood, along with a five-liter V8 engine. She's ready to go from zero to Bat of out Hell in no time."
Skag offered a polite laugh. "I see that we have a bit of an understanding here. You are a very clever man, Mr. Kilken--... Frankie. You can really go places."
Frankie, not being someone who ever lost their sense of humor before a client, chuckled in response. "And I do! Florida, the Mediterranean, I love going places that are sunny and warm. Though I have to say, I'm not to keen on dark, dank, or boiling hot. But were I to go somewhere like that, I'd want to cruise through with the wind in my hair, riding on 20" forged aluminum wheels, with my global positioning system pointing the way."
The demon's horns burst through its skin, and veins bulged along his neck. "Nowhere like that. I was thinking about going to your own dealership, your own chain of dealerships, managing your own employees, with dozens of beautiful young lady modeling the cars for so many appreciative customers. You see the type to like the young ladies, am I right? Or young gentlemen, if you prefer."
Frankie held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers for a moment to highlight the wedding band. "If you wish to talk about ladies, let me that that that beauty over this is a magnet! And it will fit for of them comfortably. Now, just between us, you seem like someone can handle the kind of trouble that four young ladies can provide. And I bet you like 'em young."
The demon started to speak, but Frankie cut him off. "I know -- to you, they're \*all\* young. But what isn't young is the deal I can give you on that little lady. There are offers that are expiring even as we speak, rebates for limited times. And you look like a man, or a thing, that prepares in advance for the end times. Am I right, Mr. Skag?"
Skag eyed her perspective client. "What about you, Frankie? Are you prepared for the end times? How would you like to leave this world? Sitting at a desk? Or lounging by the pool at your mansion? One of your mansions."
Both salesmen considered each other.
"Would the mansion have cars?"
Skag's forked tongue flicked out to lick his upturned lips, before slithering back between a pair of canine fangs. "Of course, lots of cars. The best from your showrooms from around the globe, all at your disposal."
The car dealer leaned forward, elbows on his desk planner, "Are you picking out the best of the best? The finest in the world?"
The dream dealer leaned in to close the gap. "Of course. I would only want the best."
"In case that ..."
"Yes ...?"
Frankie sat back in his chair. A contract had appeared in his hand, as if by magic, and he slapped it down on the desk. "In that case, you'd want that beauty over there! You want its 8-speed automatic transmission with overdrive, 4-wheel anti-lock brakes, integrated navigation system, side seat mounted airbags, driver and passenger knee airbag and airbag occupancy sensors!"
The demon shifted in his chair. "What?"
"Did I mention the satellite radio and USB ports? And it has front and rear cupholders!"
"What? No. What?" A pen suddenly appeared in the demon's hand.
"And Skag, Beelzebubbala! If you sign right now, I can knock a point of our 2.9% financing, and I throw in a coupon for a reduced-price paint job in case you want move of a lava red exterior."
"But -- but -- wouldn't you like --?"
"What I'd like is to see you, Skag, driving down the avenue with four succubi just melting on those plush seats. Don't worrying, they're coated with a stain-resistant treatment. Or are you a hellhound kind of dude. A man and his dog. Classic, for the ages!"
The two locked eyes and exchanged smiles, but Skag's faltered first.
"Trust me!" Frankie circled in for the close. "The payments are so reasonable, you won't have to sell your soul." He sat closer, and whispered with a wink. "Unless you want to."
&#x200B;
\------
More stories at r/xwhy
Let's see if I can get at least 10 new ones this month. | When the demon entered the dealership, all he wanted was thirty minutes of fun before returning to hell. When the car salesman started his work day, he expected eight hours and a couple cars sold. Now, the demon and the car salesman were locked in a stare, stuck in a negotiation. They were the worst of the world, and they weren't going to lose the game.
"How about you put twenty-five percent down, and I'll give you zero interest for the first two months?" asked the car salesman.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not here to buy a car. I'm just here to take your soul. Usually this isn't a negotiation," said the demon.
"You entered the wrong place if you weren't looking for a negotiation. What do people usually give you for their soul?" asked the car salesman. He leaned against the SUV they stood beside, which was always in his gambit of moves. Leaning against the car made the buyer comfortable, it made them more relaxed. People passed in the dealership, but no one noticed the strange conversation between the two negotiators.
"It can be a variety of things. Sometimes a soul will grant ten more years of life. I can give you one wish. Or I can bring back a loved one for a day. These things vary, and they usually depend on the person giving up their soul," said the demon.
"If I give you half my soul, will that return me anything?" asked the car salesman.
"You can't give me only half your soul. These things work in an all-or-nothing package," said the demon.
"Can we create a payment plan for my soul? Take a little bit of my soul each month, and then say, after five years, you'll have all of it," said the car salesman.
"I don't think you understand how souls function," said the demon.
"And I don't think you understand how negotiations work. You know, this bad boy right here," said the car salesman as he tapped the SUV, "Could be yours for as little as two hundred a month. We can set up a nice five year plan, keep the interest low. and get you driving out of the dealership parking lot before the day is over. I'll have to check with one of my guy's, but I think we have four different colors available."
"I can't drive a car to hell. I'm not here to buy one of your cars. What part of that don't you understand?" asked the demon.
"No one comes into a dealership if they don't want a car. People will say they're just here to look around, that they're just testing the waters. But those are lies, because you walked through the front doors," said the car salesman.
"I walked in because I wanted your soul!" said the demon. The car salesman stopped leaning against the car and stepped closed to the demon. He kept his voice low, as if he was about to share a secret that the world couldn't know.
"Listen. You and I are saying the same things, but we just need to find some common ground. You gotta give me something to work with, because I want you to leave this dealership happy," said the car salesman. The demon whispered back and leaned in closer.
"I really don't think you and I are saying the same things. In fact, I don't think you're hearing anything I'm saying. You remind me of this fellow I met once, who droned on non-stop of his five ways. The first mover, the causation, blah, blah, blah. All he could talk about was that, rehashing the same script like you are now. But in the end, I got his soul," said the demon.
"Quite the story. Here me out. Put only ten percent down today, create a six year payment plan, and we'll get you going before the sun goes down," said the salesman.
The demon wanted to scream. He walked a few steps away from the salesman to stop himself from doing anything he regretted. But the demon reminded himself that he was a demon and this man was merely human. After gathering his composure, he returned to the negotiation.
"Okay, here's the deal. If you give me your soul, I'll buy whatever car you want," said the demon.
"Usually exchanges don't cover the whole price, but I'm sure we can figure something out," said the car salesman.
"I'll give you cash as well. Please, just make this end," said the demon.
"Then it sounds like we have a deal," said the car salesman. He stuck out his hand, and the demon shook it. "Let me just go get the paperwork."
"We still have to do paperwork on this?" asked the demon.
"Well there's always paperwork. I promise it won't take long. We just have to verify a few things, then you can take my soul and I'll sell you the car," said the salesman.
The demon thought before responding. When the day began, he wanted a fun, thirty minute trip to the car dealership, but he was already stuck here for hours. The paperwork promised many more.
"I don't even want your soul anymore. You can keep the soul and the car," said the demon.
He walked out of the dealership, and as he was leaving, he heard the car salesman yell from behind.
"Come back any time and we'll complete the deal!"
----
If you enjoyed, check out more at r/ThomasJustinian | 2021-03-12T11:17:47 | 2021-03-12T09:07:48 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up. | The farmer, Garash had carved a temple out of a thousand year oak tree. It was small, barely enough to fit a person but he had hoped that it would entice a god to move in and help his family with this year's harvest. It didn't, their harvest were as small as ever, with most of it being taken as taxes to the church. That's okay, he thought. There's always next year.
So he kept it clean, offered the best honey from his neighbor's farm, and even the best of their meager wheat, against the wishes of his wife, Hilde.
"No god would like to come here, it's so tiny! Where will he keep a bed and his belongings?"
Although most gods don't have a need for sleep, he took her advice and expanded the temple with broken chunks of cobble, which were cheaper than buying the complete bricks. His family joined in, only because they wanted him back in the fields soon as possible.
He took a step back and frowned at the work. "No god would want to live here," he muttered.
Hilde scoffed and returned with fresh straw and a gray blanket she had made throughout the summer. She made a makeshift mattress and hung another blanket over the doorway, so that the god could have privacy. "There, if no one moves in now, the loss is on them."
Garash frowned when he stepped inside. He chiseled a window through the tree and finally smiled.
He left an offering of mead and sweet bread and returned the next day for cleaning. What he found was a god so small, that he could easily fit in his palm. It was a tiny man, with a rainbow kitten as a ride. "I don't know what I am exactly," he answered Garash's questions willingly.
He couldn't believe he needed the entire space but reluctantly cleaned the area and placed the usual offerings and prayer.
The next morning he saw the rainbow cat chase away all the birds pecking at the seeds they've sown. That was when Garash realized the god might not be the little man, rather it was the kitten. He bought the best fish he could buy and brought them to the makeshift temple.
"Ah, he's pleased with your gift!" The little man told him.
"If he's the god, what are you?" Garash asked.
The little man shrugged but resumed petting the kitten's fur. "I've always been here, but I like to think that I'm Catfish's voice, or his brother, we don't know."
"Catfish?"
"The name's a work in progress, one he seemed to like was Catfish."
"Catfish aren't cats, they're fish."
"But it's a pun, he likes puns."
"What would that make you, ManFish?"
"Uh no, I prefer a more normal name, Adrian or Temp."
Garash stroked his beard. "Which one do you like better?"
"Temp, but now he wants me to be called Manfish... So I suppose that's—"
"You can't call him Manfish," Garash told him. "And you can't be called Catfish."
The kitten yawned and looked at him. "What do you mean, I can't?" Soon to be called Manfish asked in his stead.
"Because you're not a prankster god, you took your job seriously."
The kitten tilted its head, so that his little servant could scratch behind its ear. "He sees your point, he will consider it during his naming. Also, he thanks you for the fish."
"You're welcome."
The rainbow kitten became a fully grown in a few years, no bigger than a house cat with an equally tiny human riding on it. "Git! Begone pests, in the name of Catfish and his rider, Sir Temp!"
| It had been five years since Tom put the last nail in the roof.
"Any day now...Any day...", Tom muttered to himself as he did his daily landscaping chores. It had been nothing but quiet since Tom completed his so-called temple. He watched as his friends and family all left him. Some urged him to seek help, but most knew he was beyond saving. The temple had become his life, and every day he made sure it was pristine for what he would elaborately detail to anyone that would listen as "The Arrival".
~~~~
"When everything is right, he will come."
"WHO will come Tom? WHO?"
"I don't know, but he fixes everything, he'll come! It's just a matter of time, he'll be here."
~~~~
As night settled in, Tom found himself again seated in the temple he had built. There was only the sound of the wind blowing against the exterior walls, a sound Tom had become all too familiar with. The sound of a car door shutting shattered the calmness of the moment. Tom was surprised to have not heard the engine when the car pulled up. It was a stranger, lost, the first company Tom had seen in months.
"Wow, it's 8 below out but it feels great in here!"
Tom didn't respond.
"You get power out here? There are no lines and it's so isolated, hello?"
Tom didn't respond.
The stranger looked around to see a banquet table overflowing with food. Music he had never heard came from a spot he couldn't place.
"God man, are you okay?"
Tom twitched. His follower had finally arrived.
| 2018-01-19T09:27:57 | 2018-01-19T09:22:08 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] Human beings unlock skills as they grow up, walking, taking, etc. You are the oldest person in the history of the world, and today you unlock a skill no one ever had. | It was integrated into our societal infrastructure. There were thousands of skill trees, most undiscovered. It seemed that no matter how technologically advanced we were, there were still skill trees to be discovered and honed.
Some skill trees were abandoned, just utterly useless and others entirely taboo. Everyone could navigate through their skill trees with ease, like thinking. Nobody else can see your skill trees. Its a natural part of the human condition; its understood the same no matter your language or disabilities. There are books that tell stories of ancient skill trees that are now inaccessible, they refer to the ability to use magic.
You can work on any skill tree you desire, there is no limit but you have to work to maintain the skills learned. Neglecting to care for the skills associated with a tree causes it to die. Anyone can plant a seed towards a new skill tree by doing an action that applies to that tree. However, you can't grow a bigger tree until you hone your skills. When a tree grows larger, most skills become available for you to utilize.
The larger a skill tree, the more effort and attention it needs to maintain its growth. To grow it to its peak size becomes a passion, a purpose in life. Some skills intermingle and the trees understand that, so many professionals have trees with interlocking branches. They speak to each other to keep your skills available to you, but if you neglect one it can pull down another tree.
There is a skill tree associated with health and wellness that is believed to lead to eternal life.
In ancient legends, those who had discovered that skill built the *'Fountain of youth'*. An organization that devoted their life to the tree of health and wellness. Younger members neglected all other specialties trees and instead focused their efforts on it. In time, one or two students would unlock the skill for eternal life and become official elders.
Today, nobody can reach that level of devotion with the level of complexity our lives are filled with. Except for me of course.
See, I discovered that skill a long time ago. Thousands of years ago actually. And with every other elder deceased from their lack of devotion. I alone have discovered the newest skills. Yes, there's two of them.
The tree of health and wellness refers to them as 'Permanent Health and Wellness' and 'Devote Assemblage'
When I unlocked 'Perma Health', all the air rushed from my lungs and I felt superiorly powerful. My genetically bad knees stopped hurting and my body transformed into perfect health despite all my efforts. The hair on my head turned from white to chestnut brown. Alongside a number of other significant changes.
The second skill didn't do anything to me, but anyone I touch is reset to perfect health. But there's a catch, I have to transfer the health of one person to another.
So today, I revealed my powers. As usual, the entire world went up in arms deciding which people need to have their health reset and which people should die as a sacrifice. It happens every time.
I'm going back to the fountain of youth, its well hid. I'll just wait it out again, I did for the Egyptians and the Romans. I guess I'll wait for someone else to reach the peak of their tree and see what their power is. Maybe they're in hiding like me, it's a dangerous world for us. | Everyone could never wait to unlock a new skill, wishing for anything from being able to create money from thin air to flying through the skies like a bird.
The most famous skill ever found however was the power to appraise skills, a shocking discovery was made through that skill however... there seems to be no new unique skills being unlocked... till now im 200 years old now, it was discovered i was the first ever to have the imortality skill meaning i couldnt die, made major headlines around the world when it was first discovered, but suddenly became more common after.
But today after lazing around for an hour thinking of what to spend the rest of the day doing... i got the feeling i havent felt in a long time, a new skill was unlocked. So i figured going to the appraiser would be a great way to spend the rest of the day, 30 minutes later i arrived and got appraised most shocking thing ever was what the skill was, i even had to make sure she double checked it... seems like the new skill i unlocked was "Common sense" | 2018-06-23T11:22:33 | 2018-06-23T10:03:06 | 348 | 100 |
[WP] "Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods!" the floating woman said. You look to your flustered genie asking "Is she…". She replies, looking embarrassed "Yes Master. She is apparently your soulmate." | I couldn't believe my luck. I had bought this Italian villa in an extremely rural (even for Italy) village. My goal was to just escape the modern rat race. I had met my neighbors who were all old enough that if they were in the States, they'd probably be living in a retirement home. Here, they thrived by gardening and drinking red wine. I was excited to join them.
I was digging up my long since ignored "yard" to plant a garden for myself. It was about halfway through my tilling, I hit the box. The box required a bit more digging and I was shocked to find some gold, silver and bronze coins and an oil lamp inside. I told NO ONE.
I brought the box into the house and pulled the lamp out. It was brass and had fancy etchings all over it. I decided to rub it as a joke to myself. "oooohh a Genie is going to come out and grant me wishes!" I said to myself. That's when the smoke started pouring out.
"I'm here! I'm Here! Roll out the Carpets and Ring all the Bells! I'm here!" said a jovial looking man. Well the top half of him. the bottom half was obscured in a smoke tornado that led back to the lamp.
"Uh... Dude, that's from a cartoon in the 1940s or so." I was now very confused.
"Oh, I know, I thought it was hilarious when I saw it in a movie house. Do they still have those? How long has it been? Time doesn't work the same... in there." He pointed at the lamp. "Also, this seems not to be New York, or even OLD York. " He peered out the window, "I end up places after the 3rd wish, speaking of... For setting me free, you get three wishes! How exciting is that for YOU?" He seemed absolutely giddy.
"Well, I want an extremely high speed Internet connection here, in my home, but accessable by me anywhere in town, and free access, with unlimited data. That's my first wish."
"I'm not sure what all that means, but since you know it, I'm gonna use your intent. Granted" with a puff of smoke, there was a black box that showed up next to my computer desk that had an antenna on it. "Your new in Ter Net Connection. It's evidently as fast as the government uses in all the secret places. The guy that installed it in the time it took for you to blink your eyes said not to dig in the area that the cable was laid down in your front garden."
I pulled out my phone and saw my Wi-Fi had changed to GeneNet. I then did a speed test. 100 GB speed! "Excellent! Well Done!" I quipped.
"For my second wish, since I live here in what is really kind of a paradise already I want to be able to understand the languages used around here and speak them without being misunderstood."
"Done!" a puff of smoke and I picked up the local newspaper that had been wrapped around my daily grocery order. It felt like I was reading in English, although I knew I was not.
"Oh, nice! Gratzie!" I was grinning from ear to ear. Life was going to be so much easier. "Finally, I wish to find my soulmate here in my little italian village so that I might grow old with them."
"No wishing for love... " He gave me a stern look.
"Is that a rule?" I asked.
"No, it is not. However, messing with those sorts of things with wishes can be very dangerous and since you've been really easy so far, I'm trying to help you out. You might think you aren't wishing for love asking for a soulmate, " he scoffed, " but understand... THAT is a wish for someone to love you."
"No, it isn't." I lied to them, and myself.
"Okay, well, I've been here 5 minutes and you are almost done, so this gets me back to my home dimension. So, DONE!" With that, there was a puff of smoke, and the genie and the lamp were gone. Next to the box was a note...
"Not sure who left the gold. Enjoy it. It can help fund your retirement here."
And, nothing.
I looked around my living room. I was still by myself. Oh wait, they are somewhere in the village. I had been hot and sweaty from all the digging, so I went and took a shower and got dressed in some nice clothes to go and wander around the village and use my new language skills.
I opened my front door to see a woman in her 30s (ish) with beautiful olive toned skin, ruddy hair and green eyes standing in front of it. She was wearing what looked like a toga or some sort of robes. I had never seen her before around town. I decided to try my Italiano...
*"Hello, nice to meet you. How can I help you?"* I gave a big warm smile and held out my hand for a handshake.
"Greetings Mortal, I am Hera, Queen of the Gods from Mt. Olympus. You summoned *me* here." her English was impeccable without a hint of accent. I heard a bamf sound behind me and turned to see the Genie back in my living room.
"Is that..." I whispered. Which didn't make sense, because she was 3 feet away from me.
"Yes, she is..." He paused afraid to say the next words, "Your *soulmate*."
"Dude, she's MARRIED!" I said to him, afraid to look back at the woman patiently standing at my door. | "Hold on a moment. Hera is the wife of Zeus, how could she possibly be my soulmate?" Zane wondered, as he began rifling through his papers. "This can't be right. I'm not the type to–"
"Master Zane, you wished you could find a soulmate," the genie answers, somewhat embarrassed. "I thought that Hera would satisfy you, since–"
Zane gives the genie a long look. "Since I talk about her a lot in my lectures?" He sighs, and sets aside a book with a leather-bound cover. "You took that literally. I heard jokes that genies love to take words at face value, but that's too much."
Hera draws herself closer to Zane, forcing him to look in her eyes. "Zane, was it? I want to know why. Why have you brought me here?"
"Truthfully... I don't know," Zane admits sadly. "Can I wish you could return to the Pantheon? Your husband must be concerned, at least."
Hera lets out a deep, heartfelt laugh. "Him, concerned? He is concerned with his own pleasure, I fear. I do not know why I had married him in the first place."
"Hera, I..." Zane reaches out for a stray paper, depicting Hera standing alone under a tree, watched from afar by a silhouette in the distance. "I think your soulmate is someone else. Do find them, won't you? I must find my own."
"Master. You need to take a decision," the genie interjects. "You must tell me if you keep her or let her go."
Zane reaches out to cup Hera's cheek. In that sole moment, he can swear she looks both young and ancient. His gaze follows the thin creases upon her forehead, the thin brows drawn in thought, down to her eyes, like the ocean. Her lips, plush and wet, look inviting to him. "May I...?"
Her cheeks flush at the shy tone of his question, and nods. Their lips meet, and their kiss is soft, moist and...
His eyes open to see his dog, Ley, licking all over his face in excitement to wake him up. "Yikes, Ley, get off me!" he says, gently pushing the dog away.
He scrunches up his nose at the scent wafting in his nostrils. "I'm now covered in dog drool, happy? What's gotten you so excited though..."
Zane makes his way to the bathroom, and deals with the task of his morning routine. His mind, however, lingered over the dream and the kiss with Hera. "Oh man, must've sat up all night reading Greek legends..." he mutters to himself.
The sound of his doorbell jolts him from his thoughts, and he takes his mug of coffee while going to open the door. "First Ley was excited, now this... Post, so early in the morning–"
He nearly drops the cup of coffee when he sees a woman standing in the doorframe, her appearance reminding him of Hera. "Uh–hi–er, yes?"
"You must be Zane," she offers with a smile. "I am Hera, your newest assistant. I know, it's a bit cliché to be named after the goddess of fertility."
Zane finds himself unable to say anything for a moment. "...No, it's not. Please, come in–"
An empty bucket of popcorn is tossed against the sturdy glass, blue light dancing all over the darkened room. "What the hell, dude. You just met Hera in the double, be more convincing! Damn it. Am I that bad of an actor?"
"Woof."
"Well I'd like to see you manage it. Alright, time for the game shows," he says, pushing on the button for the next channel on TV. | 2021-12-09T08:54:34 | 2021-12-09T08:24:50 | 91 | 51 |
[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 :) | **Audio log backup successful**,
**Last sent message**,
**Priority High**,
"This is Chief Petty Officer *untranslatable-most likely personal name/identification* speaking, to all crew members left alive, we need to scuttle the ship, can't afford to let this technology fall into their hands. There's no telling what they would do with it. all"-*transmission degrades to static*
The general took the phonograph off the table. "Men," he said authoritatively, "This was the last known transmission sent by the *untranslatable-name of ship*." "We are going to teach these *untranslatable* eaters of *untranslatable* a lesson for their insolence. Now, as far as we know, they've barely developed interplanetary travel and only possess one planet. But, expect the unexpected, seeing as how they eliminated an entire imperial regiment." "We will make planetfall in 1 hour, dismissed!" I was proud to be a part of such an army, 200,000 of Nexon's finest warriors. I assumed it would be a cakewalk, seeing as how we had just gotten these new breech-loading rifles, 10 times as fast and 10 times as accurate. The intercom squawked, "Now entering the Sol system, report to your airlocks for final preparations." As I entered the airlock, I looked out the viewport and saw a planet covered almost entirely in gigantic metal structures. "Sir?" I asked my lieutenant. "Isn't Mars supposed to be a barren desert?" He looked out the viewport, "I guess they've been busy," he replied.
We landed some fifteen minutes later outside of a massive city, we were informed by the general that this was the city that housed the entire human government. Human soldiers,some 200 of them, approached us. They looked positively terrifying, wearing full body armor which obscured their faces and increased their height. The armor and weapons looked like nothing I'd ever seen, their guns had rectangular pieces coming out of the bottoms. One had what looked like a short tube with a handle. The human's commander stepped up to the general and tried to talk with him, but they were having trouble communicating. The general took his flintlock and shot the human commander squarely in the midsection. But the commander jumped up like it was nothing and yelled a command to his men, we got into firing lines. The human with the tube like gun pressed a button and the front half started spinning. I heard the fire command before the humans let loose. Good *untranslatable*! Their weapons spat out hundreds of sharpened metal slugs. I ducked down prone and before I knew it, my entire regiment was gone. Every time we hit them, they would get back up like nothing happened, they must've made deals with *untranslatable* in exchange for immortality. I decided to attack one with a sword, that should work, Nexonian swords are the sharpest in the galaxy. I sprinted forward, but a hail of slugs convinced me otherwise. Human reinforcements arrived and they made me wonder what business we had tangling with these technological demigods. 15 foot tall autonomous mechanical monsters that sprayed canister rounds and fire, big armored vehicles with massive guns more powerful than any cannon I'd seen. The nimble human gunships were preparing to attack when I bolted to the human's with my *untranslatable-probably part of body* in the air, hoping to surrender. "One of them misunderstood my intent and smashed a closed hand into my face and the next thing I know, I'm here."
The scientist looked down at the alien, scribbling notes, trying to make sense of the incoherent babble that was his language. She gave the paper to the major general, who thanked her for her work and bade her goodbye for the day.
| "Compared to AX-213? No, this is easy," the footsoldier relayed over the wavelength transmitter. Those pitiful beings weren't even at Stage 1 of the Rëitsig Scale of Development. It was the first in the AX galatic classification that bore such a terrible level of industrialization. One would think that the road was well paved, the instructions clear. To grow, to develop travel, to leave and learn from other colonies. It was such an obvious way forward, though the Xaxnar probably knew the best. Their leader had crafted success for many planets in the entire universe, so he knew the best way to develop a new planet. It was all in a handbook, *The Guide to the Galaxy*, a rather pompous title for an utterly boring story.
Even the footsoldiers had done up a couple of planets in their time. The build for it was easy. Develop the citizens, develop the buildings, develop the offence, then the defence. The rest was easy. Destroy any other planet or territory in the way. The aliens loved to do this; in fact, it was a fun pasttime to make planets and develop colonies, just for the main planet to destroy. It was funny, not just because the main planet benefitted, but because destruction and annihilation were tempting concepts to them.
The footsoldier smiled again, as he readied his invasion troops to a new place. Nothing of worth to invade here. Perhaps better resources and a stronger fight awaited somewhere else. Clash of Planets never got more fun that this.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-08-08T08:04:17 | 2017-08-08T05:28:12 | 32 | 16 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | That alarm. That damn alarm that everyone hates. So loud, blaring with such urgency that rouses anyone from their sleep. "God what, what is it now?" Isaiah questioned. The amber alert sound was still unending, and as he turned to unlock the phone and silence it, he was met with the brightness of the sun in the palm of his hand. "Augh dammit! Why are phones always so bright!?" He shouted with frustration. After a minute of struggling, he managed to turn off the text alarm. "Amber alerts, hmph. Like anyone is going to be a hero and run after little sally or something...hm what's... Do not look at the moon?" He talked to himself, like he always did at home. A simple quirk that helped him think. His alertness rose however, when he started scrolling through the hundreds of random numbers that texted him. It was 11:30.
Now he was fully awake. A couple lights turned on in his home revealed the pigsty that he lived in. With forward thinking, he turned off the living room light. As if on cue, there was a knock at his front door. Thoughts raced through Isaiah's head, some were pure panic, some were decisions on fight or flight. He lived alone, miles away from civilization. "It's a beautiful night tonight." The mysterious voice said. "You should come out and look, friend." Isaiah was a paranoid individual, and the panic button on his phone helped turn off all the lights in his house and double check that all doors and windows were locked. He sat on the edge of his bed, struggling to keep his hands and his nerves steady. In one hand was his phone, scouring the internet for any source of info as to what was happening. In his other hand, his pistol that he always kept close by. It was now 11:50.
"It's a beautiful night tonight." A now different voice said, in conjunction with the first. In stride, seventeen other voices said at the same time "You should come out and look, friend." It sounded like they were circling the house, chanting the same phrase and shuffling their feet. Isaiah retreated to his panic room. The cacophony of varying voices outside hadn't entered his house, but he wasn't about to give them the chance. The metal safety door slammed behind him, locking in place. The panic room immediately illuminated, various screens springing to life and giving him a view of the outside. Every single person outside stared at the cameras, knowing he was also looking at them. "What the hell is going on." He stated, almost insinuating that he wanted an answer from the mob outside. The soundproof room sheltered him from the horrifying phrase that followed his statement, but the movement of lips on screen already gave him his answer. He turned off the screens with haste, the clock on the wall reading 11:59.
The motion sensors on the wall were no longer activated. Isaiah breathed a sigh of relief, looking over at the dark camera screens and pushing buttons. "C'mon man, this has to be either a really cruel prank, or another one of my bad hallucin-" His sentence was cut short. Mouth agape, his pistol made a loud clanging sound against the metal ground as he walked backwards and trying to brace himself against anything. The camera monitors showed the grass around his home trampled on, but no mass of people. It was midnight, but outside was a brightly lit hue of colours. | I wake up. It's still dark.
Some dogs howl while others bark.
I get up, go to pee.
Get back to bed, ready to be-
-sleeping for the next few hours.
For I can't stay awake, I have no power.
But then my phone rings, Ah a notification.
I try to cover my ears, alas, my realization.
A ping. Another ping. And a hundred ping more.
So many pings, I can no longer ignore.
I get up, hold my phone, ready to kill the messenger.
But up comes a warning of the impending danger.
"DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON" a text, I have receieved.
Just to find the others say that I have been decieved.
"It's a beautiful night, look outside", or so they plead.
In all this infusion of danger and confusion, I decide to concead-
To my lady known as slumber for your nonsense can wait.
It's 3 A.M you know, who messages so late?
I hear your stories conspiring
thinking dread yet admiring.
And while I still find some funny.
I for one switch off my phone,
again just me, I am alone,
my bed,my only company.
Good night.
Sleep tight.
Don't let the bed bugs bite.
| 2022-09-11T16:03:17 | 2018-04-06T20:24:10 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Mankind lost the war. In the final seconds before his execution, the last human looks up with a smile and says "We left you a present." | We are the Quadjin. When we rose from the ashes of the last Great War, we swore never to allow another threat to rise again. The Great War was an excruciating wound that would never heal. It shaped our culture, and directed the course of our history. We expunged all weakness from our ranks. Compassion and mercy were declared intolerable sins. The shame of fear, love, or sentimentality, was squelched in an act of ritual suicide. We perfected the art of war, and dispassionate killing.
When we encountered the Humans, they had only just mastered gate travel. We detected their first gate at 300 light years distance. Within 4 days, we had captured their exploration ship, naively named 'Enterprise', and forced the crew to bring us back to their planet of origin with promises of mercy. We had discovered that other races would often believe this ruse. None of them remain. We soon found that the humans were not to join their ranks so easily. The ship brought our forces to a human military outpost and broadcast a distress signal! The battle of "Microsoft Presents Eramac IV" was instructive. We lost a battle for the first time in centuries, but we learned all we needed of their technology and tactics to to prevent another Human victory.
Though the Humans would sell themselves dearly, and the war would drag on for years, their end was inevitable. After their home world had fallen, and the last of the survivors had been dragged from their caves, and only one lone Human survived, he was paraded before our victorious troops. They jeered in proper order, and threw the traditional slime of shame upon him as he passed. As he stood before his executioner, he looked defiantly up, the shame dripping from his smiling face, and said, "We left you a present." The executioner laughed and disintegrated him.
Some wondered what his last threat could mean, and extra scans for explosives were made in all systems. When one of the scans turned up a suspicious anomaly, the entire military was at the ready. What we found was beyond anyone's expectations. It was an old Quadjin ship from before the Great War. It had belonged to the last Quadjin peace envoy ever sent to the Ancient Enemy. It was presumed lost, but the Humans had found it somewhere. They had restored it to a level of beauty beyond it's original design. Gold plating glittered in the distant sunlight. The giant cannons of peace and brotherhood were accented with rare gems. The exterior ancestral skull decorations were polished by a loving hand. When we sent soldiers to make their way inside, we found a plaque dedicating the ship to the Quadjin people in memory of their fallen heroes. Each room inside the ship was dedicated to different triumph of our people, culminating in a bejeweled diorama, depicting our rise from the losses of the Great War, with a statue of our Great General, Mkorbin Gurrd (the executioner of the last human), standing at the edge and looking so....majestic. The effect of the artistry touches me now, as it did when I first saw it many months ago. The ship was scanned and searched a hundred times, but no weapons of any kind were found. It was simply the most thoughtful gift any Quadjin had ever received, and it was dedicated to all of us! The suicides began within an hour of the news being released.
Remorse was a word we had almost purged from our language. It was so offensive to us that even imagining it felt wrong. Yet soon it was spreading faster than any virus. I will say this for my people: we shed no tear before the end. No one allowed themselves to live long enough to suffer such an indignity. And now that I have completed my duty in recording this, I will join my people by ending the shame of this overwealming sensation; this remorse. | This was it. This was the absolute grand daddy of all. His last meal was a nacho grande bean burrito with horseradish mayo and kimchi fries for the side. Homer hadn't shit for three days, but he was going to leave behind the absolute worse mess he could. He always had heard that the human body empties it's bowels upon death, but what he didn't expect was the reaction. The exact pH mixture, the precise chemical compounds, the pure luck of it all.
If the Cleaniods had simply disintegrated Homer as they had done to billions of humans before, this would never have happened, but this was to be a spectacle. Hundreds of millions had gathered, billions more watching in spatial brain magnification pill™. The executioner prepared the kluyipas serum which would send Homer's body into a 73 second spasm, punctuated by a loud, shrill death scream (this was the perfect amount of time in order to have the Cleaniod leaders congratulate themselves afterwards).
But what was unknown to all, even Homer, was that the perfection of kluyipas was undone, completely, by the uncommon mixture of, specifically, a nacho grande bean burrito with horseradish mayo and kimchi fries. Now, unbeknownst to all, Homer was water to kluyipas' cesium. He was diet coke to kluyipas' mentos. He was an entmoot to kluyipas' being a hobbit(? You get the point).
The crowd's cheers lowered to a hush. "Any last words human?"
The Cleaniods would never be the same again. | 2016-12-01T22:56:04 | 2016-12-01T22:03:31 | 77 | 12 |
[WP] After waking up in your home at 3:54am to a warning, you do what it specifically tells you not too.
The warning reads:
*Please remain in your homes, if you are not at home, find shelter immediately. Close all blinds and shades, block out all windows.*
*Do not look outside.*
*Do not look at the sky.*
*Do not make noise.*
*Your cooperation is vital to your survival. Appointed government personnel will update you shortly.*
_____________________________________________________
Credit and thanks to every one in [this thread.](http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/2qwm98/its_354_am_your_tv_radio_cell_phone_begins/cna761m) | Last night, my partner shook me awake. She stood at the side of the bed, fully clothed, her face wearing an expression of determination or panic - it was hard to tell. I groggily asked her what was wrong, and she merely turned on the television. A frazzled newsman on CNN repeating the warning -
Remain in your homes, if you are not at home, find shelter immediately. Invite no one inside. Close all blinds and shades and block out all windows. Do not look outside. Do not look at the sky. Do not make noise. Make no attempts to venture outside. Government-appointed personnel will update you shortly. Your cooperation is vital to your survival.
I didn't understand. I asked her - And she brought an index finger to her mouth, her eyes wide with fright. I crawled out of bed- And that's when we heard the screams. In the apartment below us, an elderly woman - Mrs. Dorset - tends to her ailing husband, who suffers from emphysema. She was a kind woman who frequently brought us cookies and baked goods left over from her church visits, despite her church's refusal to have anything to do with us.
And she was absolutely shrill. Screaming at the top of her lungs; And with the noises downstairs, there was a struggle, or a rumble of sorts, with broken glass and loud, heavy stomping throughout. The screaming hit a high point and stopped, abruptly. My partner hurried me into the closet, where she joined me, and the two of us hid behind our hanging shirts and coats.
The world was quiet and dark.
I heard Mrs. Dorset's voice outside, begging to be let in. Only it didn't sound like Mrs. Dorset- It sounded like something merely parroting her voice, repeating the same simple phrases- "I need help, let me in." The two of us huddled to the ground, trying not to make a peep. After we refused to investigate, Mrs. Dorset kicked the front door off of it's hinges.
I heard her- It - move around the living room. I opened my mouth; absolutely horrified, when my partner pulled me into a gag- She pulled my back to her chest and brought her hand to block my mouth from making any noise, but I - I think this made enough noise to bring whatever it was's attention to us. It stomped down the hallway, with heavy, booming steps; and the old wooden door in our bedroom slowly creaked open.
I felt- I heard it sniffing the air, occasionally saying "I'm alright, come out" in Mrs. Dorset's voice. It stopped before the closet, briefly, and stood there for the longest time before leaving. My partner slowly stood up and opened the closet door, stepping out to investigate after we thought it had left (some twenty minutes later.)
I still remember the sounds of it's footsteps stomping back.
| Please remain in your homes, if you are not at home, find shelter immediately...
"What the hell is going on?" I muttered as I sheepishly got off my bed, "C'mon, don't these people know what time it is?"
Close all blinds and shades, block out all windows...
*Huh? They telling us to do what now? Jeez.. it better be worth the trouble.* *I mean it's 4 a.m. in the morning, what do they mean by block all windows, like what's there to see outsi*-
Do not look outside.
Do not look at the sky.
Do not make noise.
Your cooperation is vital to your survival. Appointed government personnel will update you shortly.
| 2014-12-31T05:35:07 | 2014-12-31T04:43:55 | 93 | 44 |
[WP] God and Lucifer were never creator and angel, they were brother and sister. Everything, from Creation 'til now, has been a spat between siblings. Finally, Mother gets home from buying milk and discovers what's been going on... | "Alright, I'm hom- what the fuck did you two do the universe!"
**"It was Her/His Fault!"** The twins shouted in unison. She sighed, setting her grocieries down on the floor, rubbing her cheeks with her hands, rolling her eyes up at the sky.
"Alright." The Mother said, picking the bags back up and lugging them into the kitchen. When she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she gasped again. "What the... Yaweh, why is there a galaxy in the sink?" She shouted.
The little boy, clad in a white robe and sandals, rocked on his heels. "Oh, so it's instantly my fault? Lucy could have done it, you know."
"She didn't ask if you did it, mortal. She asked why there was one in the sink." Lucifer stuck her tongue out at her younger(Only by three millenium, but still) twin brother, sitting on the counter.
"Lucy, quiet. Don't think I didn't smell the brimstone when I walked in. And Yaweh, we both know it was you - I just bought you that 'Build-a-verse' kit last weekend. I TOLD you to wait until Dad got back from his business trip to work on it." She pulled her sweater sleeves up to her elbow, reaching for the stopper in the sink, grimacing as she felt stars go supernova against her arm.
Yaweh moaned as the sink drained, taking his failed experiment with it. "But moooooom. It was such a nice galaxy too!"
Lucy laughed at that. "A nice one? You screwed up the creation big time, and the physics were terrible. Conservation of energy? Seriously?" Mother looked over to see her munching on some of the cookies she had bought from the store.
"Put those back, Lucy. You really think that you deserve them after what I just came home to?"
She grumbled, sealing the package and hopping of the counter. "But I didn't doooo iiit..." The Mother sighed, rolling her eyes again, then went to throw the plastic packaging from the cookies in the trash. However...
**"LUCINDA FERAL RIGHTOUS, WHY ARE THERE ALTERNATE UNIVERSES IN THE TRASH CAN?"**
Now it was her turn to look at the ground and kick the floor. "Dad damnit... It wasn't me this time!"
Yaweh hopped up on the counter, reaching for the cookies, but The Mother glared at him and he sheepishly hopped back down. "She did those, mom. Told her not to. Did you see the dæmons in one of them?"
Lucy sputtered, pulling on her black hair. "I based it off of your galaxies life-forms, though!" She shouted at Yaweh.
"Yeah, but you still did it!" Yaweh shot back.
"Shut up, both of you!" The kids stopped arguing, and The Mother sighed. "Yaweh, clean the sink out - the dishes too. They have cosmo all over them now. And Lucy, take those universes and throw them in the compost pile - you know how the garbage company gets if they start to fester in our trash cans. And then both of you... go play outside or something. Just stay out of my way, I still have to finish repairing your fathers Omnipotence for his meeting tomorrow."
The kids meekly complied, taking care of their tasks while shooting each other glares.
"Just you wait until The Father gets home..." mother grumbled, going to open the fridge. The kids quickly fled outside as she did so.
"WHY ARE THERE LIFE-FORMS IN THE PORK ROAST?" | The milk run had only lasted maybe an hour. The twins had wanted milk to mix with their icecream, and who was I to tell them no, they where my children of course, and they had been extremely well behaved as of late.
I parked my car and waved at the neighbor's kids, Zues, Poseidon, and Hades, who where playing around outside.
When I stepped into my home hell and heaven rained down, quite literally.
My baby girl, Lucifer, was screaming at her twin brother at the top of her lungs. God had stollen all of their shared stuffed toys. God, being the taller of the two, was stood on top of the kitchen counter calmly gazing at Lucifer, who was trying to defy gravity and climb up the kitchen counter.
"What is this?" I call from my spot in the doorway.
Lucifer immediately stills, her curly blonde hair flying in her face, the opposite of her brothers. A frown made its way onto her face and she rushed to wrap her arms around her mothers leg.
"I'm sorry mommy. Go-Go stole our toys and wouldn't let me play with him."
I turn to God. "Is this true?"
He nods dejectedly.
I sigh and shake my head. "Don't do it again, okay Little G, and your gonna have to sit in time out for the first few minutes of your play date with Ra."
God nods sadly and turns to his sister. "Sorry, Lucy." | 2015-05-18T10:55:12 | 2015-05-18T05:41:43 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | This special day. This I know. Everyone in tribe know. Today I become man. Today I get my thing.
When man can get thing, man is very strong. My brother Ogga is man. He was young as me when he got his thing. He opened his hand and thing that came was stick. Very nice stick. Good for hit enemy tribe man, or poke big horn animal. Flew down from sky like bird into his hand. Ogga is very good with stick. Ogga strong. Ogga protect tribe and has good fat wife and many children.
My cousin Grah had thing that is berries. Grah was best! For many years, tribe eat Grah's berries. Never had famine time, even in snow season. Was very sad when wolf eat Grah two snow seasons ago.
Friend Koga has thing that is big rock (good for drop on mammoth). Friend Magra had thing that is small rock (good for throw at squirrel). Friend Dal has thing that is sand (good for throw at enemy tribe man in face).
So now I try to get my thing. I stand at bottom of big hole now. We do this when we get the thing for first time. Friend Ro'o had thing that is angry mammoth. I miss Ro'o. If thing is angry mammoth, at least Koga can drop rock on it before I am smash.
I look up at Koga. "Koga ready?" I say.
"Yes. I Ready," say Koga. Koga already carry big rock in hands. Koga is strong with big rock.
"Magra ready?" I say.
"I ready," say Magra. Magra already has small rock in rock throw string weapon, and swing it around. Magra is strong with rock throw string weapon.
I reach out hand and try to get thing. I try for long time. I try so long that Koga put down his rock and waits. I try so long that Magra stop spin his rock throw string and waits. I try so long that sun starts to go behind west mountains.
"Thing no come," say Koga.
"Yes thing will come!" I say.
"Go back to tribe home cave," say Magra. "Is not time for you yet. Try get thing tomorrow."
"No! I know thing is coming!" I say.
Sun goes away. Koga goes away. Magra goes away. I put down empty hand with no thing. I climb out of hole and start walk to tribe home cave. I cry. I am feel sad. I am not man. I am not strong. I do not know why thing no come.
I am cry so hard that i am on my knees and there is water in my eyes. So much water I cannot see, and I have to put my hands to my face to wipe it away.
I do not see the pack of wolves surround me. I do not see them close around. I do not see them as one nears my face and opens its mouth.
I only feel the tongues as they lick my face dry. I only feel the fur as they push their heads into my hand. Soon I do not even know why I am cry. When my eyes are clear I look at them. They are strange. Ears too floppy. Tails move side to side. Eyes look at me like I am friend and not meat.
I am close to tribe home cave now. I can hear Koga and Magra laugh. Many tribe man and woman laugh--Bago, Dal, Pokro, even brother Ogga. They are talk about me and my no thing. I look at the wolves. I say, "come!" and me and my new tribe walk away into the night. | Finally, I could leave. Or so I thought.
My childhood was hell. My mother, an abusive drunk, my father, absent, my aunt... the less said about her, the better. I've been screamed at, whipped, forced into cages, beaten, helpless, hopeless. My mother liked to summon her beer can into the side of my head.
I've tried to get her out of my life. I've tried to stop her. No avail. The only way I'd get out of here was to summon something on my eighteenth birthday. With a purpose, with a direction, I wouldn't need her anymore.
But when I tried, nothing happened. My mother called me names. Threw me in the cellar. Locked the door. I heard her Buick drive off.
Why didn't it work?
Why wasn't I like anyone else?
Was I destined to live here forever?
There was a crash from above, then another crash. Finally, another rumble, and another crash as *something* came through the floor above. The little excitement I could muster was dulled next to a lifetime of abuse.
"Oh," I said. "I understand now."
I opened the armory filled with guns and knives, grenades and missile launchers. I threw a knife across the room, then summoned it back to my hand. The armory was all one "object," all weapons within part of the whole.
"I understand now," I muttered even more quietly.
I would share my pain with everyone. | 2019-09-18T12:35:25 | 2019-09-18T11:46:43 | 18 | 10 |
[WP]: You disposed of the body of your coworker, cleaned the crime scene, and have an airtight alibi. You gotten away with the perfect murder and no one knows anything and none suspect you. Not even your victim when they appeared at workplace the next day. | **Part 1** [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/rp93in/comment/hq8832s/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/rp93in/comment/hq88ank/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
=================
Cecil had a bad feeling as he walked in the front door at work. He knew he’d left no trace, but there was always a chance, just the barest chance, that he’d forgotten something.
A spot of blood. A cracked mirror. A security camera faithfully recording the last moments of his latest conquest.
Cecil had been doing this for a long time. At a company this large, this corrupt, it took time for people to notice disappearances.
Some people likened these corrupt multi-national corporations to Hydra. Cut off the head, and a new one grows back angrier than ever. Then, it’s back to business exploiting the poor, sucking at the swollen teat of the government, and destroying the environment.
Cecil knew this wasn’t quite true. When a company offered its head to the court of public opinion, it wasn’t capitulation. The head was already severed, presented on a silver platter, and a new one was growing in its place before people could react. Status quo.
True disruption took much more than that. Disappear the head, but keep things going just enough that they can fall apart further down the road. Let the rot set in.
As he strode to his office, Cecil reviewed his plan. Harry was on vacation this week, and nobody would expect him back until Monday. That gave him plenty of time to make alternative working arrangements and excuses.
Cecil began scrolling through flight plans on his phone, but stopped short of his office when he bumped into someone standing in front of Harry’s office.
He stumbled, then he realized just who it was.
“H..Harry!”
Harry dropped his coffee. “Shit! Watch where you’re going Tom! You owe me a coffee.”
Cecil stared dumbly at him for a second, then snapped out of it. “Harry, I thought you were on vacation! Isn’t your flight out-of-town today?”
Harry was bending over to pick up his cup and looked up at Cecil.
“Vacation? That’s next week. Please tell me you have the quarterly financials ready. I want to review them before I leave.”
Cecil had given him the report last Monday and Harry had approved them on Thursday. “Um, yea. Check your email, should be there.”
He stumbled over to his office and closed the door behind him. He wasn’t imagining things, was he?
The computer verified: He’d sent over the report last Monday. Harry’s calendar showed him as “OOO”. Harry’s email password, which he’d found on a post-it note in Harry’s home office, was valid.
Something was very wrong indeed.
=====
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/rp93in/comment/hq8832s/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
[Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/rp93in/comment/hq88ank/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) | You killed Greg. Greg is annoying. Worst of all, he thinks that he's your friend, so he never shuts up. So you decided to kill him. It went surprisingly well for a first time. You were nervous, but the gunshot was clean, the blood was cleaned up, and the body was disposed of. It was the perfect crime.
Then Greg showed up to work the next day. He didn't seem to distrust you. He wasn't mad at you. Just seemed a little... tired. Talked a bit less. It wasn't much, but it was nice. Greg had somehow learned how to shut up.
To see what would happen, you waited for a few days, going to work as normal. By the end of that period, Greg was back to normal. He never shut up. Never. In the end, you killed him again. He came back again, and you killed him again.
After that, something became clear. If you killed Greg once, the difference was minimal. Kill him the day after you killed him before, and Greg becomes a bit more quieter, a bit more tolerable. So you killed Greg every day.
Soon after that revelation, annoying Greg was no more. He was more quiet and polite and much more tolerable. All kept in check by your repeated violence. | 2021-12-26T19:09:14 | 2021-12-26T17:04:29 | 230 | 88 |
[WP] To keep pace with the growing population, the role of Death has been divided; each immortal member of the new Council oversees one specific method of death, with higher ranking members governing common ways to die. A problem has arisen, and the entire Council is called together... | "This new... knowledge... changes nothing." Said Time, clearly undaunted. But he was the only one who, truly, could not be affected. The rest of the council began to stir in their seats at the implications presented to them.
Disease wheezed, scowling with fury at the council's murmuring. "Idiots. IDIOTS!" He stood up, his hood slipping off his face. The murmur stopped and all eyes fell on him. In his prime he'd been a great specimen of man's mortal failings, able to bring in old, young, healthy alike. But within a millennium, his very essence embattled with the wits and and strength of man, he began to wither before them. Salves, herbs, surgeries, antibiotics, hygiene, vaccines, gene therapy, nanites, all stripped him of his powers in due time.
"They're clever, don't you get that? Don't you understand?! They were always resilient, always fighting back, we can't win!" He screeched.
"These... 'neuro-entanglement sync machines'" Said War, leaning in. "you say they exploit physics in order to create two parallel beings, one physical, one digitally encoded in time?"
SID nodded. "The body can be destroyed without interrupting the mind... then replaced and tethered to a cloned reconstruction of that body. It takes a matter of hours. As of 9 AM Eastern Standard, I'd claimed 76 lives for the day... but only 75 souls." The words met a stunned silence.
Time turned to War. "Then they have only just started, perhaps there is a window of opportunity to turn these tides. War, surely you-"
"I can destroy their infernal machines, damn right I can!" He said, rising to the challenge.
"You don't understand. These humans measure their lives in years but their accomplishments in eons, they expand into every domain of reality. While we've been making our tallies they've reached into the heavens. The knowledge they've acquired has already been transmit across spectra of light and FTL binary communique in an ever expanding radius around the globe. Not even a supernova could catch up to it now, to the colonies in the stars. Beyond that." Said Lightning.
"So what you're saying is that you are now ALL obsolete." Said Time, rising to his feet. "I am greatly disappointed. Gentlemen, as the sole authority on the matter, I'm due to inform you that you have outlived your usefulness." With a pound of his scythe's hilt on the floor, Death reabsorbed them into his true self, resuming the powers and duties he'd dispersed. His experiment was a grand failure. He stepped into the hall alone and angry.
Eventually, yes, entropy would tear apart every atom and destroy all life, until then the flow of souls would slow to a torturous crawl.
He returned through the temple to the garden where Life and Madness awaited him patiently.
"I take it that went well." Said Life, sprouting a lily from the soil, disinterested.
"Shut up!" Said Death.
"I don't know about you guys, but I think I'm gonna really enjoy this part." Said Madness. "Call me crazy." | "Do we take him?" quizzed the council chairman. "He isn't dead." announced the lord high ruler of hell. "But he did die.." The emperor of life reminded them. "Look, this really should be the legion of reincarnations department.." said a voice from the back. Another voice rang out, "But the deceased disn't believw in reincarnation" "He is not deceased!" God announced. An eery quite swept through the government of the afterlife, technically the individual had died on the operating table, but he had been revived by the doctors. The council have dealt with this before, but ruled the mortal deceased for life.
"Right, I have a solution." declared the chancellor of life affairs. "This ia entirely unethical, but it fixes all of our problems." "Go on.." the secretary of war deaths requested. "We force the subject into our world to discuss his fate." supportive cheers went round the parliament, "I will be our ambassador." exclaimed God. This was the perfect solution, and John would get to tell his family he had met his deity.
| 2014-08-06T00:33:20 | 2014-08-05T18:50:47 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | "Yes, these will do real nice." Vesson peered at the handful of crystals through the jeweler's loupe. "Good color, nice points. Yes, these are exactly what I need."
"Good, good. I'm glad you like them." Stormgod said coolly to the man dressed in what appeared to be a flat black suit and turtleneck.
"And I am glad you have them. So, I have here the agreed upon price," the villain dumped the crystals bag into the small bag and roughly kicked the satchel in the direction of other man. Stormgod looked down at the bag with disdain. Vesson didn't notice.
"One more thing." Stormgod said as Vesson pocketed the bag. "I heard you, I believe your saying is, took MaxMan out of the game? Is that true."
Vesson smiled, and dropped his head a bit hide his laugh. Then he looked up at the older villain, taking in the elaborate silver and gray costume, the gauntlets, the cape. He couldn't believe the man still wore a cape. "Yeah I did," he admitted. "I took him out of the game. I put him in the wrong headspace. I don't know why you old guys act like this is so hard. Now, I have one less problem."
"So you did," Stormgod paused reluctant to continue but finally pushed forth," you murdered his family."
"Mother, brother, wife. I even threw in the neighbors as a bonus." Vesson said proudly. Then he stopped and gave Stormgod a quizzical look. "Is that why you finally decided to sell me these crystals? You impressed now?" The sneer in his voice was clear.
"Hardly."
\*\*\*
Vesson awoke with a start, but found himself unable to move. He flexed his arm, his legs, but nothing. He blinked but he couldn't see anything. He tried again to move an arm or a leg to no avail. His body felt heavy, heavier than normal and he was having a bit of trouble taking a deep breath. He tried once more, his enhanced muscles either not responding or ineffective. A rage built in him. This was Stormgod's doing. And that old cartoon villain would pay for this.
"He's awake."
The voice startled him. Whatever was covering his eyes was removed. His vision darted around for clues to his imprisonment or his captors, and how he could exploit them. The space however was bare, just featureless white walls and no door he could see. In front him sat what he assumed were his captors, in four comfortable leather lounge chairs. He noticed there was also a rolling bar to one side, and tray table that looked like it held the remains of a meal. A softly spoken question broke his focus.
"You killed MaxMan's family? Are you insane?" The man who asked the question wore a suit that looked like a technicolor vomit. Beside him on a small pillow sat a neon colored jester's hadt. Vesson knew his name was Hatter, and that the man also was number three on an international most wanted list for crimes against humanity. That this guy asking if HE was insane was comedy.
"Of course he's insane, what are we drawing this out for?" The man next to him wore a green and gold costume that looked like it came from the discount aisle. Vesson wasn't sure who this old geezer was and didn't care.
"Because we're villains Charlie, and that's what we do." Stormgod quipped. He sat at the end closest to the drinks, a glass of something brown in his hands.
This brought a quick muffled laughter from Hatter and the other man. After a beat, the man in the green and gold costume laughed as well. "Thanks, I needed that." He said after the giggles died down.
Vesson had had enough of this. He interrupted. "So, what do you retirement home has beens think you're about to do? Your guy Stormgod has to have told you I took out MaxMan. You should be giving me a pat on the back. Offering to blow me."
"He does have the bravado. Shame." Hatter said with a sad sigh.
"No, we are not going to thank you," said the last man. He was tall and reedy, with silver hair and mustache. He wore what looked like a golden armor with black piping. "What we're going to be doing is trying to clean up this mess you created. With one night's work you've upset a balance and trust it took years to work out. But that's not what tonight is about."
"What are you talking about?" Vesson growled.
"We don't go after a hero's family. Ever. It's understood." Charlie said coldly.
Vesson howled. "That makes no sense. It's a leverage. A pressure point."
The man in the gold stared hard at the young villain. "It makes perfect sense. Because then they won't go after mine. I have grandchildren."
Hatter rubbed his face and took a deep breath. "It's not like the heroes don't know who we are behind these costumes. We're all in a system somewhere. They know who we are and who our families are. And where they live. What they do."
Vesson looked at Hatter in shock. "You're worried about family? How many people have you killed?"
Stormgod swirled his drink. "We all have families. Hatter, Green Bomb, Goldenstrike. True, some of us haven't talked to them in years or seen them up close, but they're still family. And just like we don't go after the heroes families, they mostly avoid ours. It's an understanding. As you would say in your game analogy, the players play. No one else matters."
"You guys are all weak. Pathetic. Just because you don't have the cojones to go far enough...."
Goldenstrike cut him off. "But more importantly, the reality is a man like yourself, who fashions himself was the next big thing, who is trying to build an empire, will inevitably go to war with one of us, or someone like us."
"You can't keep a bad man down." Vesson laughed.
"I have grandchildren." Goldenstrike said with a deathgrin. | What the fuck are you doing? Ziled looked up from the disembowelled corpse to find Cryos.
"Nothing."
"Who is that?" Cryos turned his nose at the smell. The body reeked of age and guts. "I can't tell."
Ziled smiled. "That's the point."
Cryos buried his head in his hands. "I'm so fucked."
"Relax man, you've shown me the ropes and now I'm just taking the reigns a little-"
"You ingrate! You don't go after their loved ones."
"The reason being?"
"You just don't. God that's the first thing they tell you in orientation."
Ziled continued prying his hands into the raw, exposed flesh of Captain Beld's lifeless mother.
"Hmm, no... no."
He pulled out a string of intestines and tossed it aside. Not what he was looking for.
"Dude, first of all, this shits gross. Even for a villain. I don't know how we can cover this, Bled's pretty big in the scene-"
"I didn't sign up for some daycare moral compass bullshit. If I wanted that, I'd go to Church."
"YOU ACTUALLY KILLED A PERSON AND YOU'RE BUTCHERING THEM LIKE SOME PIG CARCASS!?!"
Ziled pulled out her heart triumphantly. "This is villainy for Christ's sake, live a little?"
&#x200B;
"Did no one tell you?"
&#x200B;
"They did, but villains break rules. That's what we do."
&#x200B;
"Not this one."
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
A thundering clap resounded, as if the two dummy thicc cheeks thudded together at speeds breaking the sound barrier.
Ziled looked up one last time, looking straight into the horrified eyes of Captain Bled.
Ziled quickly stumbled back, pulling out his gun and training it right in the middle of Bled's forehead.
"Aha! I've got you now." Ziled cried.
&#x200B;
*What.*
*Have*.
*You.*
**Done?**
&#x200B;
Bled stared at the ground, his face shrouded from view. Ziled's gun was still trained on Bled, though it wouldn't do much good if Bled's reputation was anything to go by.
&#x200B;
**"Tell him."**
&#x200B;
Cryos looked at Bled pleadingly. "Please man, he's new-"
&#x200B;
"Tell. Him. I want him to know before what comes next."
&#x200B;
Cryos stuttered. "Ziled..."
&#x200B;
Ziled threw a sideways glance at Cryos. "What?"
&#x200B;
"Villians and Heros. We don't actually... fight."
&#x200B;
Ziled lowered his gun.
&#x200B;
"We... we create drama..." Cryros was sobbing now, failing to hold back the spastic tears.
&#x200B;
"The public doesn't know, they lead otherwise boring lives..."
&#x200B;
Ziled's eyes widened. Oh fuck.
&#x200B;
"Listen man, I was never a good listener. That's why I dropped out of high school remember? Can you... help get Bled over h-"
&#x200B;
Ziled began to cough and splutter, Bled held him pinned against the wall, choking him so hard Ziled's veins began to rupture around Bled's steely hand. Eyes turned bloodshot, Bled let go, watching as what was left of Ziled dropped onto the floor like a ragdoll.
He turned and looked at Cryos.
Cryos smiled meekly. "We... we good?
&#x200B;
Edit: I feel like I'm going to wake up tomorrow morning and regret writing... whatever this is | 2020-07-12T10:27:01 | 2020-07-12T09:45:33 | 532 | 161 |
[WP] Personify the seven deadly sins in a story where Hope dies.
Wow, I didn't expect so many awesome responses! If I could high-five each and every one of you I would, with gusto! | “I **knew** I was the favourite.” A man in his forties, balding and growing round, stood beside the casket of his mother. He was one of the first to stand up and pay his respects to the woman who had raised him. But it was not her caring nature that was his current focus. The dearly departed had bequeathed to him a large sum of money. Much more than her will had allotted to any of her other two children. This was his victory over his brothers, a definitive victory that made him proud. Of course he would miss his mother for this reason or that, but this was a happy day for him. Allowing a brief moment to break character and smile, he regained his composure before returning to his seat.
As the balding man sat down, being offered condolences to his now solemn face, another man stepped up to the casket. This man bore the same roundness as the previous, but his head was a mess of hair. It complimented his overall disheveled look. He was not wearing a tie, as in his thirty-some-odd years of life he had never acquired the motivation to learn how to fix one, and the rest of his suit looked as if it had never seen a drycleaners. He lumbered around the casket for a few moments, wondering if there was anything to be said at all, and eventually gave up. He walked back to his seat quietly. People he barely knew offered their condolences. Hey mumbled a few 'thank you's.
Almost immediately a new man was standing by the casket. Only slightly round and with thinning hair, he looked disturbed as he hovered above the corpse. “Nothing was ever good enough for you.” His words slithered out of his mouth carefully, chosen from thousands of unpleasant thoughts he had been feeding throughout the service. His mood was a symptom of his jealousy. A middle child, he had always felt neglected by his parents and sought the same attention his two brothers received. He had been in a foul mood ever since he had read over the will. Besides a few petty paintings he had received nothing. Forgotten, again. With nothing else to say, he returned to his seat.
A much smaller figure now approached the casket. The boy’s suit was two sizes too big for him, as his parents expected him to grow both vertically and horizontally quite quickly. He was the dearly departed’s grandson, nine years old, and seemed fairly disinterested in the dead woman. In fact, this was a moment he had been rehearsing in his mind for the past hour. Facing the casket, and with the utmost discretion, he removed a brownie from his pocket. That was one advantage for the young man in a suit two sizes too large; the pockets were good at hiding things. He had stolen it from a table in another room. It was quite clear to him, due to repeated warnings from his mother, that these brownies were for *after* the service. But who could wait that long? In one bite, and a somewhat uncomfortable time swallowing such a large treat, the boy had eaten the brownie while standing beside his dead grandmother. His mission accomplished, and still ignoring the dead old woman, he walked back to his seat.
Ignoring a small disturbance in the crowd- a boy had somehow gotten crumbs on his suit and was being scolded- a man in his late twenties walked towards the casket. He looked absolutely grief-stricken. Tears were streaming down his large face by the time he reached his dear dead mother. Appearing to partially collapse, he hung his body over the casket and wept. The crowd, now over the commotion of the crumb-laden-boy, mumbled pities such as *that poor man*. Hearing these words, the man felt reassured. They truly believed his act. Discreetly, with a masterful subtlety very similar to the young boy’s consumption of the brownie, the man moved his hands over his mother’s wrists. One by one, golden rings vanished from her fingers. Pausing for a moment to contemplate the worth of the dull watch and deciding to not press his luck, the man rose again looking absolutely grief stricken. A swift motion with his pudgy hand both retrieved a handkerchief from his breast pocket and deposited three gold rings. He walked back to his seat to overwhelming condolences for his loss.
The next figure to rise did so slowly and crookedly. He was old, much older than the previous mourners and only slightly older than the dearly departed. The deceased had been married to this man for forty years, and now he was a widower. He took his time walking towards the casket with characteristic steely expression, and when he arrived, stood silently for a minute contemplating his words. He lowered his head to speak to her one last time with privacy, “I knew about your lover, Hope. I knew about the second and third one too. I was willing to play the fool for both our sake's, but when I learned of the fourth,” the old man broke his expression and smiled faintly, “well… that’s why we’re here.”
_______________
Not very well edited, I'll be patching it up here and there. | "Someone needs to go," whined Lust "or they are going to get rid of us all."
"Ha! They couldn't possibly be rid of us all, the Earth *NEEDS* us. We show the mortals such wonderful times, they will see the error of their ways." Pride boasted.
"I wish I could make decisions like this, decisions that effect not only the mortals but us as well. I can't believe Heaven and Hell actually agreed to this. I wish they would've let me be there to help them decide." Cried Envy.
"8 is a great number of Sins! We all deserve to be here, in fact I think the more the merrier," Gluttony, mouth full of food and wine goblet in hand chimed in "we should recruit more for a 9th and 10th Sin, nice even number it is."
"When they come down for us...and up for us I suppose...*WE* will reign victorious, *WE* will show the Angels and the Demons who come for us that the Sins are no mere mortals to be trifled with. They know not what they do or who they have brought down upon their heads!" Wrath seethed.
"I'm going to be the one who goes I just know it! That one Angel, Rayzel, he has it out for me because I won a game of cards against him. Gave me a sword, then I took a golden bracer of his. And a watch. And a necklace. But that's it! I think he'll cast his vote against me." Greed mumbled, clearly shaken by the thought of being the one to go.
"Eh, I think it will all work out," yawned Sloth "we shouldn't get worked up about it because we can't do anything about it anyway. Wake me when they arrive."
"Don't worry guys! We will all be ok! Nothing has happened to us for many millennium and I know in my heart of hearts that everything is going to be great!" Hope said much to the annoyance of the other Sins.
With no fan-fare and very little warning a group of 3 Angels and 3 Demons arrived in the House of Sins, which was a run down brothel at the moment. Much to the chagrin of Greed, Rayzel was there and glared angrily at him. Rayzel is the one who spoke, "Sins. We have determined the one of you who should be cast out of the mortal realm. We know not the will of God or Satan but they will figure out what to do with you once you are gone." The Sins glanced around at each other, some with cocky half smiles and some with true fear in their eyes.
"Hope." Rayzel's voiced boomed with the power of condemning an immortal being "You have been deemed to be the most detrimental to the mortals well being and as such we are banishing you into purgatory until higher powers have determined where you belong."
And with that, Hope was gone.
| 2014-04-20T21:44:29 | 2014-04-20T21:31:01 | 18 | 10 |
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