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[WP] Someone has been writing extremely helpful messages on your bathroom mirror in blood. | …and the sentient sponge was left to its own devices, twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom.
**Chapter 23: The Urban Legend of the Helpful Hemoglobin**
There is a common trope about the wasteful and over-indulgent nature of the upper middle-class always defaulting to replacement rather than repair. A ripped pair of pants only in need of a simple sewing are often thrown to the trash bin, replaced by an even more expensive and superfluous pair. But by far the most common representation of this indulgent practice is the sock in a black hole mythology. Often portrayed in a jovial manner, the penchant for a single sock to go missing, isn’t seen as a cause for concern but as an expected occurrence. Now my research on the topic of planned obsolescence in sock manufacturing took me to the far reaches of the globe, but roughly 88% of all socks manufactured don’t simply disintegrate into thin air. And those 12% that do have never even been sold in American stores. So unless these families are purchasing their socks through back channel factories in rural China, they haven’t lost a single sock much less to a black hole. I won’t even get into the year I lost to researching astrophysics to ensure this claim.
Now here we have the most important point in the matter. This mythology is a simple representation of the true nature of wasteful laziness most commonplace in families whose total household income is in the six figures. With each $10,000 in household income up to $100,000 the percentage of allowed waste increases by ten percent [(see figure 1)]( http://imgur.com/UY0axCA). And I’m not even counting food into this figure. By perpetuating this common occurrence, that to lose a left sock is an inevitability, leads to a generational understanding that this type of behavior is not just dealt with but justifiable by irrational means. Now the sock in a black hole mythology brings us to the meat of the story, how a myth is perverted into an urban legend. While there are several definitions for urban legend, I will posit my own: a mythology that was once rooted in a sociological dilemma, stripped of its cultural significance and re-explained through pure fable. And it is my argument that urban legends further reduce the seriousness of the mythologies they are based in, creating a situation where academic discourse is not only lost but discouraged. This brings us to the urban legend of the helpful hemoglobin.
The urban legend goes something like this, though it has been recounted in several fashions, as most oral histories do. But the important part is that the thematic nature remains the same. So one day a man is taking a shower, the room steams up and when he steps out, in the fog is a message, “Don’t forget to floss”, curious but undeterred, assuming the playfulness of his wife, he wipes it clean doesn’t give it a second glance. The next morning the message in the mirror is the same but a bit more direct, “Steve, don’t forget to floss.” A little perturbed by his wife’s seeming passive aggression he brings it up during breakfast, his wife denying the accusation acting a little coy. Now we get to the third day, obviously the steam messages not being enough he now sees a message written in red lipstick, “C’mon Steve, plaque is the invisible killer, don’t forget to floss.” Now his curiousness turned to flat out rage, his wife’s denials making it harder and harder to even remain in the same house. Finally on the fourth day after waking up from a fitful night on the couch he takes a shower, walks out to see an even more pointed message in a red liquid, “I warned you Steve, approximately 30% of people over the age of 50 have some sort of gum disease. While plaque is the silent killer, an infection in your gums will make you scream. Now for the love of god, hopefully you won’t forget to floss!” His wife’s body drained of its being strewn outside the bathroom door to his horror.
Now to most people this may seem like a silly horror story. The kind of thing you’d tell at a campout or to friends at a party. And for the most part it is, but at its core it’s a story about the banality of middle class life, of making the Maslovian scale seem like a medieval instrument. And deep down within that struggle is a layer of comfort that’s impossible to truly grasp until you finally struggle to maintain the status quo. The socks are the true representation of waste, waste that comes from a sense of comfort. That your life is in such an expected order that allowing them to exist in the metaphysical plane is a result that doesn’t make sense, but isn’t worth a second thought. But within the urban legend of the helpful hemoglobin is this idea that something simple, like flossing, is helpful but not something that is important enough to truly consider more than once. And upon being forced to consider this dull occurrence over and over again, taken out of his expected comfort, he is so enraged he kills his own wife. But in the retelling of the legend the idea is simple buffoonery. To tell a hackneyed story. And lost within it is this resoundingly common institutional story of how increasing wealth leads to a certain sense of indefinite security, something you are bound to lose if you keep looking past it.
**Chapter 24: The Allegory of the Flesh Eating Trilobite**
...
| "Run :)". Although I had finally become accustomed to the sight of the deep red blood that appeared on my mirror every day, this particular message still startled me. I checked my watch, which said 6:15 am, the same time I check the mirror every day so that Claire doesn't see the message. I stared at the letters, dripping, almost throbbing, as though fresher than usual. Nonetheless, when I checked my watch again and it struck 6:16 am, the letters faded away, like they always did.
When I saw the first message, it was very simple. "Check the mail." I was horrified, but it after the message disappeared without a trace, I figured I may as well listen to it; it was actually enough to get me up to check my mailbox, which I hadn't done in a few weeks. At the time, I was for lack of a better word, a bum. I lived in a shitty little apartment on the street in Downtown Kansas City that my parents always told me to avoid. My acting career wasn't really playing out the way I had hoped, and I did not in fact, hit my big break by the time I was 21.
I had told myself that I didn't want all the money and fame at that young of an age anyhow, after seeing how it had corrupted the young celebrities who were just a bit older than me at the time, but I suppose I was wrong, because when I found the check in the midst of several advertisements and bills, written in red and signed by a "John Smith", I immediately cashed it without a second thought.
I'm sure that everyone would tell you not to cash a check you didn't expect, especially when you receive it in the mail. But not everyone was a starving 24 year old living in a moldy and partially flooded apartment without working heating and wearing the same ripped jeans and torn flannel shirt to every audition he managed to sneak into. I won't give you any exact numbers, but it was a pretty big check, especially for me at the time.
I thought about using it to surprise my landlady and actually pay rent on time this month, but instead I informed the kindly old Mrs. Connors that I wouldn't be living in this apartment any longer, and promptly packed the very little amount of things I had and moved to a loft near the Plaza that day. The place was huge, and came with furniture that was like something out of a magazine. And the bed was so soft. I was suddenly cured of insomnia and back pain. The next day I woke up and went to brush my teeth, and lo and behold, there was another message. This one almost as simple as the day before.
"Buy a suit. Walk."
I immediately showered and threw on my newly washed ripped up hipster attire, and then walked out my door. I turned right, thinking I was headed toward a Macy's, but then along the way, a small hanging wooden sign caught my eye: "Claire's Tailoring". I stepped inside hesitantly, and then I saw Claire. I don't think I believe in love at first sight, but I do believe in seeing a woman who is everything that I have ever thought was beautiful.
Auburn hair, a complexion that is not too fair but not too tan to make me ashamed of my own pale skin. Bright blue eyes that matched the cornflower blue tie she was hanging up on a rack. She was tall and lithe, not lanky like me, but sporting a lean and toned frame. She wore a denim shirt underneath a maroon speckled sweater and dark blue jeans with those wedge things that you always see hipster girls wearing. I managed to trip over a coat rack while I was staring at her face, but I couldn't help it; she was the kind of beautiful that was bright, kind, pleasant, rather than the fierce beauty you see in supermodels.
I tried with no avail to look like I was not a completely incompetent klutz, and did barely catch the coat rack before it hit the ground, I could still hear her giggling behind me, a sound like a child's light tapping of piano keys on the far right of the instrument. I spun around and said something uncharacteristically smooth, so uncharacteristic that I don't recall what it was. She giggled again, with me this time instead of at me, and then asked if she could fit me for a suit. We bantered while she measured me, and I tried not to blush as she took my inseam. She was smart, witty, and a perfect combination of sassy and kind. I knew at some point I had to ask her on a date, because the pain and regret of not doing so would certainly outweigh any damage to my ego, which was already pretty small due to the whole "being a bum" thing. I had made sure to wait until after she had put the suit on me, a simple navy blue that I'd like to think made me look at least decent. We made plans for dinner the next evening and exchanged numbers.
Along the way, the messages never lost their simplicity. Things like "buy flowers" on the day of a date with Claire to keep her happy, or "bet on red" at a casino to get some extra money in my pocket. One morning when I read "Move. New York. Take Claire.", I was a bit hesitant, but when I called Claire and presented her with the idea it was like she wanted to move to the Big Apple from the beginning, even though she had always talked about staying in Kansas forever. As we were driving away from my loft, I saw an explosion bloom from my building, and leading to a massive fire and an almost instantaneous collapse of the building. Everyone inside was killed. A message on my mirror had saved my life. Then, the first morning I awoke in New York, a message telling me to "get coffee" ended up with me somehow landing the lead role of an action movie. I bumped into the director and spilled coffee on him, and as I was apologizing he cut me off and said I was "perfect for the role."
After that, well, you could read about it in the papers. I was everywhere. I got a personal trainer who whipped me into incredible shape, I married Claire, who is now pregnant with our first child, I got calls from directing giants to ask if I would play a role in their movie, and got a nice little slew of awards. Hell, I could walk down to Times Square right now and see my face at on at least 11 different screens.
But in all the years of reading so many messages on my mirror, never had I seen an emoticon. Why now? Why a happy face? And juxtaposed with such confusing command. Run? Where? Go for a run? Then it hit me, as I was walking back to bed. A week ago, a message had appeared. It was ridiculous. "Leave Claire." I would never leave the woman of my dreams, let alone when she is carrying my child. I realized my mistake as soon as I got back to my bed. Claire was lying there making no sound as always; I couldn't even hear her breathing. I began to go into hysterics as I checked her for a pulse and felt nothing. Tears rolled down my face and I began to sob, but I was cut off by an echoing voice so deep and gravelly that I don't see how a human could be responsible for it.
"It's okay to cry, it's always sad when someone does not follow your directions." | 2015-12-15T12:59:19 | 2015-12-15T12:53:36 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] Your father left 20 years ago the night before your birthday to get Cigarettes, Milk, and Bread. Today he comes home with long bedraggled hair, weather beaten skin, and a sword on his hip. The first thing he says to you is "You're never going to believe what happened." | I loooked up at this tall, hardened figure.
"You'll never believe what happened," said the sword wielding, bearded man who claimed to be my father. The last time I had seen him was when he went out to get cigarettes, milk, and bread. I decided to listen to him.
"What happened?" I asked, curious.
"I got cigarettes, milk, and bread, that's what." | "You abandoned me is what happened!" the son quipped.
"What? I'd never! Just hear me out! I may be a little cloudy on the details, though..."
The father, easing into a recliner, sighed. "20 years ago, I left to get cigarettes, milk, and bread. You remember!"
The son nods curiously.
"On the way, I was assaulted by a group of thugs. They kidnapped me--"
"Back up for just one second; what? You expect me to believe this?"
"Let me finish, boy! They kidnapped me. I woke up tied to a chair in a small room. Luckily, the ropes were loose, so I was able to slip out."
The father took a drink of water from a bottle. "I escaped the room. I found myself in something that looked like medieval Europe--"
"Now that's bullshit!"
"I told you you'd never believe what happened! Now, listen, boy! A man who called himself Balgriff or something challenged me to a duel. He tossed me this sword (motions to sword)."
The father continued. "It was a long duel, but I had succeeded! He had declared himself beat, and offered me his finest steed. I left the city. From there, I traveled across the land, trying to find my way back home. After months of travel, I had found myself in a small village. They called it Woodriver, or something like that."
"Stop. This is sounding way too unbelievable."
"I'm sorry son, this is the truth! Please, pay attention! There, I met a metalsmith. His name was Alvard, or something. He offered me a place to stay. He even gave me training. Did you know I can forge a whole suit of armor now? Anyway, I continued my travels. I found myself in a city called Winterheld, or something similar. All the locals had problems, which I solved for them. After years of adventuring, I found a path to get here. Now, I come to your doorstep, asking for forgiveness for leaving."
"I'm not sure I can believe you, dad. It's been a long time."
"Please, son. I've been trying to return for twenty whole years! All I ask for is a place to stay."
"Okay, dad. Welcome home."
TL;DR I suck at writing while sleep-deprived. | 2016-07-20T08:21:53 | 2016-07-20T03:34:45 | 88 | 18 |
[WP] A horror story that doesn't involve one of the big three (Paranormal, Aliens, or a Psychopath) just to show me it can actually be done. | Harry was curled up in bed when his cell phone rang, tucked in under a sea of white sheets and red flannel blankets. He flung a hand listlessly out from under the sheets, cursing when the hard surface of his nightstand cracked against his knuckles. His sluggish fingers curled around the cracked screen of his phone; he accepted the call and pressed the phone against his ear, retreating back into the safety of his blankets once more. "Hi, mom," he said. He heard his mother take a deep breath the line.
"Harry, love," she started, her voice trailing off at the end, uncertain. "I need to talk to you about-"
"Mom, I'm not doing anything wrong," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not partying, I'm not doing drugs, and I've been eating all my vegetables."
"That's not what I'm concerned about, Harry," his mother said. Her voice was even more tremulous now, enough even to worry Harry, who was still half-asleep.
"What's it about, then?" he asked.
His mother sighed. "Student loans."
| "Run!", the cry broke the dewey stillness of their resting area. *"They found us!"*, Berta's mind screamed. *"Where do we go?"*
Revving engines, coming closer and closer. There was no time. No time! *"GO!"*
They scattered, with no direction or leadership, chaff to the wind. Everyone for themselves, sprinting for their lives.
*DOGS!* Their bloodthirsty howls, eager to chase, set fire to her legs. Oh how she ran. She ran for distance, she ran for cover. *"It can't end like this!'*
She caught her breathe on a small hillock and chanced a look. Men in uniform, combing through the bush. Dogs, running back and forth, flushing her friends from their hiding place. Screams of fear mixed with the excited shouts of the hunters and the hungry yelping of the dogs. Tears streamed as she turned and crested the hill.
*PAIN!* She saw red as a rope lashed her face, then her back, throwing her to the ground, a dog snarling in her face. She heard a chuckle from the hunter as she struggled, and knew it was all over. Then she was forced to her feet and herded to a waiting trailer along with her friends.
*"How did they find us?"*
***************
They were far from the road, so the men used the most utilitarian approach - nothing wasted, not even a bullet, unless absolutely necessary. Their prey was crowded into common farm transports - steel livestock trailers requisitioned from several ranches nearby.
Fear, blood, feces; the stench was unbearable. Berta's trailer was so full, there was no room to sit, much less get comfortable. She prayed that the ride would be short, that it would somehow turn out all right for her and her friends. *"Why us? Why?"*
They endured the suffocating ride for hours without a break or any creature comforts. The men up front smoked, joked, and laughed throughout, taking no notice and no pity on their cargo. When they reached the destination, it was growing dark. In the light of the approaching city, they could see the walls of the compound looming nearer and nearer. The passenger turned, cigarette lounging in his lips, "Y'all be quiet now! The neighbours don't like it when you disturb them." He cackled and turned back to the front.
Berta was herded off the trailer with her friends into muddy enclosure surrounded by humming barbed wire. As the last of them were forced into their new prison, the passenger collected his blood money from another man.
"This load looked better! No more like the previous - I only want the highest quality! Ok Johnson?" The passenger muttered something under his breath, then nodded in agreement to the other. "We found them hiding out in the sticks. It was fun hunting this group down. Almost like the good old days!"
"Well, Johnson, a pleasure doing business with you. Bring me more like her" He pointed at Berta, whose eyes widened. "Cattle like that will feed a family and cover their backs!" | 2016-10-04T16:41:11 | 2016-10-04T16:05:01 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] Every night in your sleep you meet a successful-looking future you who tells you what you should do the next day. So far your life has gone well indeed, but one day you fall asleep during the daytime. You meet a tired, disheveled version of yourself who begs you not to listen to the other. | "You will love her more than you've loved anyone else. She will be light of your life. Although you don't know it yet. Sure she may be a bit on the heavy side, and sure she may sound like a beached whale. Not a convincing pitch is it? She's smart. Trust me she is smart. You've always wanted to be great, at what? Doesn't matter, the only thing that matters to you is greatness itself. She will give you that."
That's what I told myself. Or what he told me. Can I really consider him to be me if we have different memories? Welling different, I just have less. We are what we do, and I have not done what he has. Which is precisely why I must listen to him. Greatness sounds... well great. I want my names in the history books. I'll marry that woman and make her make me great.
I lay on my couch day dreaming about the whale. I don't anticipate the woman herself, but I'm sure she is a great person. I slowly drift away when I startle myself.
"Don't do it! I know what you're thinking, please, just please don't. "
Well I mean, he startles me, it's a bit awkward to remember to differentiate myself from them. The me with plus experience. Me+ if you will.
I look at me+ and see that I am not at all like the other me. Long dirty beard with long dirty hair. Cracked hands with cracked nails, shoes that don't match, and three winter coats on in may. I'm homeless, or atleast near enough that it makes no difference.
"You look like shit, what happened?"
Me+ takes no offence to my remark, almost as if he is told the same thing everyday. He takes a breath and starts his story.
"She is great, truly amazing. If she had the looks she would be leading the world by now. Which is why I did. She was sauron and I her mouth. Using my good looks we made it to the top. People loved us, or hated us. It made no matter no one opposed us."
"Don't you find it weird that you're talking in the past tense, but these events actually happened in the future?"
Me+ looks up in wonder and says "woah, far out man."
We share a laugh and for a second I see my own, child like wonder in his eyes. It doesn't last, suddenly the vast emptiness returns.
"What would you do with all that power?"
I ponder the question for a few seconds and say "I don't know."
He continues ands if he already knew the answer. He'll he probably did "neither do I. I controlled the largest army history has ever seen, I have been called prime minister by more people than all of the world leaders in history. Yet I did nothing with that power. Sure I am called great, but I am only a great puppet. She sits at the high table, I stand on the pedestal. The history books will worship you."
I smile at the thought, but there's a catch. I always have a catch.
"We were the first to legalise la ganja, gave us more power than we though. The booming economy and our vast amounts of fresh water put us on the world stage. Far surpassing what our little brother to the south has ever achieved. Soon we controlled it all through trade. The fact that it's getting warmer every year attracted more immigrants. Soon we we had the man power to take it all. And we did."
I have always thought I'd take over the world, although I always expected to start start on Africa, taking advantage advantage the poor economy and unstable governments. Never thought I'd start at home.
"Power is fine and dandy, but what you want is money, what you want is freedom. You'll have money, but no freedom if you take the whale for your wife."
"You look like a hobo though, what the hell happened?"
"We have always liked drugs haven't we? The books will say we were great, but they will also say that we fell from grace due to alcoholism and drug addiction. You see, I didn't have the fredom to go live in a cabin in the woods with a husky and little else. We, however, did have the fredom to take whatever substance we wanted. Not many people to stop you from doing so Inn the privacy of your own home. The whale is fat, she can handle it. Being native and skinny makes it a bit harder for us. Too hard."
Speaking of which, I light up a joint and we pass it to eachother for a bit. We sit in silence letting the smoke fill the air. When our eyes are red and puffy he turns to me and stabs me in the arm. Before Before I can react he's gone. I yell out what the fuck as tears steam down my face. I rush to the er for treatment.
I'm patched up and let go, through the days I wonder why me+ would do that. I'm I'm sure he had a decent reason, although he was a crazy hobo. I can't even know if any of what he said was true. I never will.
Days turn to weeks to months to years. I wait and wait, but I never meet a woman named Veronica. I never met the whale. I become obsessed over her, I found found a Facebook page that might be hers, but I have no way of knowing for sure. Knowing. Funny word there, it seems to be all I want. I want, nay, I need to know what could've been.
I spend my later years searching for a way to go back, they did and so will I. I need to go back and tell me what to do. I need to know the right path to take. | I am reading this journal one last time before I burn it, for some things are better left in the past.
* **May 15th, 2011, 7:30am.**
Last night was very strange. I sat up in bed, but my room was not my room. I struggled to get to sleep for two reasons: first, because the Law School Admissions Test was the next day, and second, because the air conditioner had broken down and I was lying in a pool of my own sweat. I tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, and just as I started to slip into the familiar lull of my subconscious, I felt a hand touch my chest directly over my heart three times. I panicked and bolted upright, but my room was unfamiliar. The walls were gray, sterile, and somehow shifting. He walked in the door. It was my father, but I know He was not my father. He sat next to me and puts His hand on my knee. I had a fleeting thought of resistance; of running, or fighting, but I sat motionless.
“Tomorrow is a very big day for you. A very big day indeed. And we need to make sure you are prepared for it.” My heart pounded in my chest. “Who is this?” I thought to myself.
“I am you,” He responded, before I could form the words. “Well, I am you in the future. And let me tell you, your – our – future is amazing. I can’t tell you what is in store, but I need you to remember what I tell you now.” He then turned to me and then looked directly into my eyes: “A, C, D, E, E, D, A, A, C, D, B, B, B, B, E, C, B, D…” He went on for another fifteen minutes this way. He then told me a story about a boy and a dog, and how that boy killed another dog to save his own.
I recognized the sound of my alarm clock. It was time to wake up. As I returned to consciousness, I realized that I was back in my room. I think I’ve been putting myself under too much stress recently. I’ll make a pot of coffee and hope that helps.
* **May 15th, 2011, 6:30pm.**
I don’t know what to write, and I’m a little bit scared. I need to start at the beginning of the day for this to make sense.
After I wrote this morning’s entry, I got ready and drove down to the local university where they were hosting the LSAT. I filled the parking meter to the maximum it would let me, but it was still two hours short of how long the test would be. Then I realized it was Saturday, and I didn’t have to pay the meter anyway. Oops. I hoped I would be more on point for the rest of the examination.
During the examination instructions, the power went out. The emergency generators kicked on, but the air conditioning doesn’t run when that happens. Everyone groaned, but nobody left. We followed the instructions and started the examination.
I opened my book. Section one was the vocabulary section of the exam – one of my strong points. I cruised through the first hour-long session, filling each of the bubbles in turn. I ran into a few questions that I didn’t know the answer to, so I left those blank to come back to later. I reached the end of the section and reviewed: I had answered 38 questions and left 12 blank.
Suddenly, something stirred in me. I started taking note of each of the answers. A. C. D. Blank. Blank. D. A. Blank. A. A. C. D. I heard His voice in my head, repeating the numbers as clearly as day. “What the hell is going on?” I thought to myself. I started to panic. Every single question that I had answered were in the same order and had the same answers as He told me last night! My mind was a blur; I was sweating like crazy. Suddenly, the examination proctor told us, “five minutes remaining in this section.” I snapped back to reality – I had completely forgotten to answer the questions! Without thinking, I filled in the remaining bubbles with the letters that had been spoken to me the night before.
I did the same thing with each of the remaining sections. When I finally got to the essay question, my jaw dropped. It was an ethics question; a question about the very boy and his dog that I had been told the night before. Instinctively I wrote the answer down verbatim. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t think I’m going to sleep well tonight.
* **June 1st, 2011.**
He has visited me every night since the examination. He tells me things. Things to do, things to say, and what to expect with each passing day. He asks nothing in return; just for me to listen. He told me to go to a certain gas station near my house and pulled out a red and green square of cardboard: a scratch off ticket. He told me to go at 4:15pm. I did, I bought the ticket, and won $600. He told me not to spend the money, but to instead invest it in a few certain stocks. I’ll have to figure out how to do that tomorrow.
* **June 12th, 2011.**
Today is the happiest day of my life! I got my LSAT results back, and I made a perfect score. 180! I suppose something deep inside me was expecting this; either way, I’m ecstatic. My mom and dad are so proud that they’ve called all their friends and the neighbors. I didn’t even have a chance to tell anyone because they went to Facebook and posted it on my wall before I had the chance to. I’ll let them have their moment! I’m just happy to have done so well! I haven’t heard back from Him since the first of the month.
* **February 10th, 2012.**
I found out yesterday that I was accepted to Harvard Law on a full scholarship. Last night, I felt three touches on my chest, and he visited me again. I sat up in the now-familiar gray room.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
“You didn’t need me, so I stayed back. But you need me now. This is important.” He said a bunch of words that sounded like someone talking on the phone; like it was one half of a conversation. I don’t understand what it means, but I can remember all of it perfectly.
* **February 14th, 2012.**
Now I know what’s going on! My mom and dad threw a big surprise party for me and invited all my friends. Anna, the girl that I’ve been crushing on since Junior year of University, was there. As the party was winding down, I went into the den and saw her long blond hair draped over the back of the sofa. She was sitting there by herself looking at her phone. I sat down, and started repeating the half-phone conversation that He told me, verbatim. She responded naturally, and I just kept saying what he said, the same way he said it. She laughed, a lot. Incredible! I had to sneak out to write this while it was fresh on my mind tonight.
She is still asleep in my room.
* **February 15th, 2012.**
I woke up this morning next to Anna. I took a deep, long breath of her glorious hair, and rolled over to grab my phone. The stocks I bought back in June had gone up in value substantially. The $600 I had invested was now worth more than $6,000!
| 2017-04-01T07:32:58 | 2017-04-01T06:34:46 | 128 | 91 |
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again. | First contact was made almost ten years ago. They seemed well versed in warfare, in less than a day there wasn't a satellite left in the sky or a cable under the sea. Communication between nations fell to old ground bounce long range radios pulled out of mothballs. Conventional weapons proved to be ineffective and the nuclear option didn't fare much better. Eventually even the old analog radios where jammed. Steadily they started to wipe us out. Great mechanized beasts roamed the land, directed energy weapons reduced any caught in there sight to ash.
Slowly word began to spread of old legends come to light. Wizards, witches even warlocks making pacts with demons to gain power. Men and women alike where seen calling fourth searing bolts of lighting from the sky. Ripping the ground open to devour and crush any of the aliens creations that wandered to close to the last bastions of humanity. Liquefying the great metal monsters with conjured fire. Even death was no relief to our fallen comrades as the necromancers raised forth gargantuan armies of the dead. Crushing the invaders with the sheer mass of rotting meat and gleaming bone. As our species continued to fight for our existence more of the things that go bump in the night started coming to light.
At first they appeared to be fellow humans but it soon became clear that was not the case. The first were the Werewolves, nigh unkillable but by blessed silver. Transforming into great beasts they used claws and teeth to rend through armor only magic could penetrate. These furry juggernauts relied on humans not for food as in the old tales but as breeding stock. As we continued to dwindle in number they could no longer stalk the shadows. Though small in numbers they made up for it in shear brutality. Soon all of the others concealed in the shadows made themselves known. The vampires where less well received than the wolves but in the end they needed us. Becoming a donor for one elevated ones physically abilities for a time. Though to somes disappointment, crosses, sunlight and garlic did not faze them.
The Fae became another ally though much less trustful, one had to be cautious when speaking with them. Never make an open ended bargain with one, it never ends in your favor. Whatever the invaders mechanized army consisted of it was not iron and they seemed to take much glee in the wanton destruction they could wield. Many hopped the elves and dwarves of some fairy tales would come to be but to this day none have materialized. Though the dragons made there presence known they more are focused on what little territory they still held and if you happen to occupy it you have one hell of a home security system. Rumblings of the old gods walking among man once more have been heard but not verified.
As of now hope has yet to completely die for humanity and its newly rediscovered allies. While the dragons and invaders still rule the skies we have done much to retake the land. The current status of humanity as a whole is still not truly known, while magic is useful as a weapons it does not give it self over willingly to be used to pass missives. Communication over the oceans and across continents is still a slow process and we are just starting to retake the seas.
-Field Commander, 3rd Magus Division, Capt Jasper D. Wulf | Kevin listened to the Oracle while sitting on the cloth that covered the pile of rubble beneath it. He's heard the tale more times than he can count: on that fateful day, 25th December of the year 2017, fleets of starships darkened the sky, and leveled the human civilization.
The oracle spoke of times when humans were plenty, the time when people would gather in the weekends for drinks, the time when people fought amongst themselves over petty differences… They're all gone now. The aliens wiped them all out. All those years of hard work, all the things they have learned over time, the monuments they managed to build were all erased when the fleet arrived, and, according to the Oracle, “glassed the planet”. The oracle never spoke about how many were killed, perhaps even he doesn't know. He did however, spoke in detail as to the destruction of civilizations: How the tallest buildings erupted in flames, how the people simply turned to ash without even burning, how none managed to find out a way to deal with the aliens despite many of them spending thousands of hours practicing how to fight them…
The next part always dreads Kevin. The oracle would move close to him, ignite the candles in the hut with a motion of his hand, and tell Kevin it is his destiny to overthrow the aliens, before telling him to put out the candles without leaving his seat.
Kevin sat as still as he can. This is going to be another failure, another time he would disappoint the Oracle and his people… It's not like he doesn't have any idea on what the oracle wants him to do. Kevin knew the oracle meant for him to create a gust of wind with his mind, similar to how the Oracle lit the candles with his mind.
“Oracle…” Kevin said while lowering his head in shame, “you know I can't do it, I've been trying since the first time I was here. There's just nothing I can do...”
Kevin remained in his seat, concentrating on creating a wind to put out all the candles. He had been doing this dance every week since he was ten. And now, five years later, he still hasn't been able to accomplish this simple feat.
Kevin continued to think of the wind, a strong breeze came through the door, blowing out all the candles. Just as Kevin was wondering whether this meant success for him, the Oracle signaled him to hide under the rug he was sitting on, before doing so himself. Kevin knew the alien patrols are nearby. Unlike putting out the candles, hiding from aliens is never something he had trouble with. Although he is having a tingly feeling, something is not right.
And then he realized, none of them packed the candles. He pondered what he should do, as he heard the footsteps of three aliens jumping onto the ground. Each step they take, their greaves make a sound that warns everyone nearby of their presence. The message is clear -- be out of their sight, or be killed.
The footsteps growing ever closer. The aliens will search the area when they see the candles. Kevin thought of his next step. There are none. Had he been able to put out the candles earlier…
The scream of the Oracle pulled Kevin back to reality. As he peeked from a hole in his cover, he saw one of the aliens, in his shiny silver armor, holding the Oracle in the air. The other two were stand next to him, crossing their arms, probably enjoying the sight of their comrade killing an old man.
Kevin thought of what he should do: continue to hide, and let the aliens take his mentor? Or would he try to fight them, and die. The Oracle would never wanted him to throw his life away for anyone, that he knows. He is important to overthrowing the aliens. But what good would he be if he didn't save the man that taught him everything. What good would he be if he died here...
Another scream. Kevin two pieces of debris, got out of his cover, and hurled them at the aliens. The aliens stood steadfast, letting their armor deflect the rocks. Kevin picked up another one, threw it at them again, nothing. Another one, and another…
Until his arms grew tired and his couldn't pick up anymore rocks. The aliens looked at one another, as one of them produced a pistols from his holster, and began taking aim at Kevin…
*Why am I so useless*
Kevin thought to himself as he stared the alien in the eyes, prepared to die, he is useless anyway.
The alien squeezed the trigger, a blue bolt of energy launched at Kevin. He instinctively raised his hand at the bolt. Just as the bolt was about to hit him, he felt a warm wave of energy concentrate on his hand, flowing to his palm, and outward to the incoming projectile.
The bolt hit his hand, but it didn't hurt. And the feeling of warmth continued flowing through Kevin.
Kevin concentrated, looking at the aliens who are going to kill his friend. He let the energy wave concentrate on his hand again. Except this time the feeling is much more intense. He looked at the aliens one more time, and unleashed the wave of energy at them. He watched as his assailants come into contact with the wave of blue energy, and burned to ash in mere seconds.
Kevin rushes towards the Oracle and helped him get up. Together, they packed up their camp and headed home. | 2018-05-18T05:29:26 | 2017-12-06T20:39:17 | 47 | 13 |
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors. | Humans. Humans are the original super-beings. My people have spent countless lifetimes trying to reverse engineer the technology they used to traverse the vacuumed expanse. We have been successful in understanding their wormhole and FTL technology as of late, mainly due to a strange occurrence. Living humans have graced us with their presence.
It happend nine days ago. A bright flash of light emanated from a wormhole that we thought had been dormant for millennia. The ship that emerged, UNS Earth, was a transport ship built for the colonization of habitable worlds. My government immediately mobilized our entire military fleet, roughly ten thousand ships, and waited for contact.
Contact required the patience of both parties. The humans were obviously flustered. Once communications were established, we knew why. The humans were living relics, a single generation had outlived the entirety of the remainder of their species. They said this was due to a malfunction in one of the wormholes they built.
Three days ago, my government made a decision. They indicated that they would help the humans find the answers they seek. That was when I was summoned for command. I would be leading the collective of our species in the search. My people would provide vast resources, and the humans would provide unknown technologies. That was when I knew I had been naive.
My people waved us off today. Many said goodbye to their kin, some shrugged off the thought of another expedition. Working with the humans has elevated our society in a way that we were never going to achieve on our own. The humans have greatly accelerated our understanding of many things. One of the most important lessons so far is that my people are quite similar to the humans. I hope we can help our friends find what they are looking for.
| White. All White. All Black. All White. It was always like this. Maybe it wasn't. I don't know, do I know? What did I knew? Was I knewn? Known?
And real. Was I ever real? I'm laughing. There's someone staring at me. I stare back, full of ... being. Curious, I'm feeling curious. Curious, Curious, Ahahahah I'm curious again!
The Glypcik looked at the human that had emerged from the gate. A *human*, it was unimaginable, but there it was. The historical records from the times of the hyperlanes were spotty at best and nobody really believed that such a primitive race could have ever created something so amazingly powerful and so incredibly dangerous. In fact, they had been so dangerous that nobody had ever dared even try and decommission them, they were just left there to decay, if they had decayed that is. Because out of some freakish spasm of pure genius, the humans had created something that would seemingly last forever.
The hyperlanes were a terrifying testament to eternity, a thing that shouldn't be. Merely discussing the methods of traversing them or conducting inquiries into them was illegal. In fact, the Glypcik knew that just meeting this human was probably an offense that would carry a death sentence, but it had to just examine the portal, just to find out of the legends were true. And now it had gotten a lot more than it bargained for.
HaHA, it's so strange the way it's just staring at me. Hey you, *you* ^you **you!** Weird green thing, OH GREEN! I'd forgotten just how awesome colors were, COLORS ARE THE BEST! Oh and this noise, noise, beautiful noise, so amazing! Atchoo! I love sneezing too! Why aren't you answering me green thing? Where's everyone? And why are you looking at me and waving that stick around? **Are you inviting me for dinner?**
It stared at the human, weighing it's options, maybe it should just kill it and claim it found it drifting through space. Then it might become lead researcher of a new initiative that would demystify The Lanes once at for all. Yes, killing it would probably be for the best, what life could a human have in this galaxy anyway? It'd be the last of it's kind, it would be a small mercy. And.. it would be... tidy. It steeled itself and flicked the switch on the dematerializer.
Wow! WOW! Fantastic! So squishy! Mlem... my tongue feels weird. Ahaha, TONGUE, I CAN LICK IT ALL! I'm going to lick everything. But this purple stuff tastes weird. Weird weird. Strange, odd, different, unsual, remarkable, fantastic, amazing, captivating, mesmerizing, encompassing!
**HUNGER IS SO GOOD**
The convict stood up and wiped his mouth. Was there only one mouth? He wasn't really sure. But it was obvious he still remembered how to use his. Several millennia inside the gates eternal non-existent emptiness had done to his mind what the teams of psychologists and nurses and doctors had failed to do, it had set him free. In a flash, he'd realized with his unhinged mind that he was the last human in the galaxy and that there were untold numbers of new alien races that had lived for eons. He giggled to himself as the hole in his side closed up by itself, it wasn't just the gates that were eternal now.
Eat Eat Eat *EAT* **EAT** ^EAT! EAT!
Dinner was served. | 2018-01-22T07:47:39 | 2018-01-22T07:34:32 | 99 | 44 |
[WP] You knew the adoption agency was a little shady, but when they said "special needs" you thought "autism" or "ms" - not "ork" or "vampire." Still, you're a family now, and you'll find a way to make it work | Not quite with the prompt
Sarah laid staring at the ceiling of the NICU parent room, her baby was dying. There was no argument, she'd been dying since the day she was born.
Luck was about to run out for Skylar, her little body had seen so much pain and Sarah could do nothing to protect her little girl, born see-through and too early to live. Six long months they had fought, but now her kidneys were shutting down, making her blood acidic and no matter how much pure oxygen was pumped through her ventilator, her blood couldn't hold it long enough to feed her organs.
Scarlett cooed quietly, the luckier of the twins, she had avoided most of the complications afflicting her twin. Sarah wasn't ready to only have one child, she was a mother of twins dammit! Skylar and Scarlett deserved to grow up and have secrets and play dolls.
Sarah fingered the business card, "Adoption Agency" really creative, handed to her by a strange woman who had approached her at her car weeks ago.
She had known about Skylar, offered a way out, one where Skylar could live on, just not with Sarah.
"We have clients" she'd said "waiting for children, a particular couple specifically request a baby girl. She'll have to be fed something to make her turn, it will take a week before it takes full effect and she is pronounced dead.
Sarah had agreed to think about it. She knew this was the only way to save Skylar. That was more important than anything else, too long had she been helpless while watching her child fight for every second of life.
"Just let me see her once, without the tubes, and wires, and ventilator. I just want to see her okay once in my life." The woman begrudgingly agreed when Sarah called with her answer.
She appeared in the parking lot the same day, as if walking from thin air. Holding a small vial with around an ounce of white fluid. "You'll have to feed her this." Sarah nodded sadly.
She had pumped Skylar's first feed of the day and slipped the potion inside before coming to Skylar's room to prepare her feeding tube.
That was a week ago tomorrow, Sarah had made arrangements already to have someone babysit while she went to visit Skylar. She knew tomorrow would be busy with arrangements.
She hadn't even told her husband, Henry, he'd be so sad tomorrow, Skylar was supposed to be his little football star someday, running laps around any boys that stood in her way, he'd joke.
When Sarah opened her eyes her phone was going off, the hospital was calling, Skylar was being constantly revived, she was needed there now.
Sarah cried in grief as she held her daughter's limp body as the monitor alarmed at the steadily declining heart rate. A kind nurse unplugged it, but Sarah found that even scarier, she needed to know when it hit zero, when Skylar was truly gone. In her anguish she'd forgotten about the lady, the vial, the deal she had made, all there was was her baby, her light, her little shining star.
When all the paperwork was signed and the funeral home Sarah had been told by the adoption agency to request had been called, she was allowed to transport Skylar herself, she held her to her chest all the way there, kissing her little upturned nose and round cheeks, absorbing every single detail, it would have to last the rest of her life.
Henry pulled into the funeral home and broke down, begging to stay in the car, unable to say goodbye to Skylar, Sarah cried with him and kissed him, knowing it was better this way, it would hurt him too much to know someone else would have her. Sarah was met at the door by a friendly middle aged man who introduced himself as Gene before leading them to a comfy office. Without hesitation he gently took the tiny corpse from Sarah and breathed into her little mouth, jumping a bit when he heard the air squeal from her tracheostomy hole. He laughed "I'll have to fix that" licked a finger and brought it to her throat. Sarah watched in amazement as the hole closed and scar tissue faded to reveal her perfect cream skin unblemished.
He breathed into her once again and Sarah heard a tiny cough before an ear piercing shriek as little chubby arms and legs flailed about in outrage. Sarah cried in joy, it was the first time she'd heard her daughter's voice and it was beautiful.
Gene smiled as he returned Skylar, now fussing with a vengeance. "I'll go get her a bottle, Mrs Patterson will be in momentarily.
Sarah couldn't stop to the tears as she cuddled her wonderfully alive child. A dream, a fantasy come true.
Mrs. Patterson walked in with the bottle. "I'm afraid I have some unfortunate news, the adoptive parents have changed their minds. They have decided a boy would suit them better, I'm sorry but our deal is off. I'll leave you some basic instructions and a number for emergencies but you'll have to take her with you. Best of luck." | *"I just want to hug her! Why must it be so hard?"*
I stand shaking on the porch, sneaking a hand into my coat to pull the flask from the inner pocket. I carefully twist the cap with twitching fingers, but the tips keep slipping. They're slick with sweat but they feel dry as paper.
On the fourth try it comes open and I nearly spill it down the front of my shirt.
"Get your shit together, Ron." I whisper. "If she sees you, she's going to break completely."
I tip the flask back again, careful to get a seal on the opening. The bourbon burns against the cuts on the inside of my lip, from where I bit down in panic. It raised that familiar iron taste in my mouth.
I knew better. You never bite down. You go loose, you tumble, you roll end over end, but you don't seize up. Seizing up was how things break. Going all limp, the master trick of alcoholics everywhere, was why so many drunk drivers survive. The people with sense of mind in the other car seize up in fear. The drunk doesn't even know until it's over.
"Gotta get back in there." I beat my head lightly back against the cheap plastic siding, feeling it bounce. "Got to get back in there and support Alex. You're a social worker, Ron. You're supposed to be able to do this stuff, but if you bail on your own wife, what does that say? She's counting on you."
But I don't want to. Every time I try to turn my feet to go back inside, I lock up. The joints refuse. I'm an animal that's been burned too many times getting close to fire, so when it feels like I'll be walking back into an inferno, I just *can't do it*.
"But I have to."
I grit my teeth together. The shakes are starting to subside finally. I screw the cap of the flask back on and tip it, feeling its weight. Half full. It's going to be a damn long night, isn't it? They say the first two weeks after a parent has a child are the worst. I've seen that first hand... Nobody ever sleeps. Social worker only sees the worst of it--shaken babies that die of fractured necks, neglected toddlers lost for days before being reported, and so much worse.
The worst is when you're standing in the room with a mother who is trying to hard to be a good mother, but something in her is broken. Way back in her childhood something happened that she won't talk about and she's fighting it. That dark, dismal part of her nature set in stone by other people, that she's trying to put down and carry on from. The worst cases are where you can tell its not her fault at all.
Alex was barren when we met. She told me. Also told me that all she wanted was to adopt, have a stable life, and maybe pass on some of her best parts. So we went through the process. My background helped, it smoothed the way a bit, but in the end we had to go through a fringe adoption agency. The kind where you can't ask a lot of questions in case a court inquiry puts you on the stand in ten years. Children that need homes, but can't necessarily go back to the one they were born into. Alex pushed and pushed until I gave in and signed the papers.
"This isn't on Alex." I say. "Gotta remember that. She's trying her best, she just wasn't ready for this. You weren't ready for this. WHO could be ready for this?"
I turn to grab the handle of the front door and a healthy spark of static archs off, snapping so loud it lights the porch at one in the morning. I yank my hand back to stare down at the black spot it left.
"Should have grounded myself. Learned that yesterday. Where is my mind? Get in the game, Ron."
I take the knob again, hand shaking a little, but there's less static. I only feel the hair on my arm rise. I open the door and walk inside.
The livingroom is mostly dark aside of flickering white and blue. It's just like I left it, scattered with toys. I skirt the coffee table that is still flipped over for some reason, one of its heavy metal legs twisted and rehardened after melting. I pass the lamp that won't flick on anymore, and the TV that won't turn off, it just flickers forever. Even after I unplugged it.
I take the steps, the singed tiny footprints leading the way. At the landing I see Alex's handbag, discarded and thrown aside. The remnants of her smartphone are still smeared on the little table in the corner where the broken vase is laying like a crime scene victim. The little framed picture of a polar bear on the wall above it is tilted off-center, but I don't stop to fix it. No point. It'll just move later.
When I approach the bedroom, I can hear Alex sobbing again. I wince, clenching my teeth and feeling all of the hair on my neck go up. That doorway is right in front of me and once I turn it, four eyes will be on me. Four expectant eyes, looking for answers I don't have. I shake out the anxiety, pull on my work face, and turn the corner.
It's another seizure. I guessed before I entered, but it's hard to explain how it looks. It's hard to even frame it in my own mind. I have no idea what I would write down in a report to someone else about it. If I saw it at work, I might not even report it. People would think I was crazy.
Kayla. Two years old, five months, three days. A shock of red hair that never stays down and the small, careful smile of a child unsure when she's allowed to be happy. Her paperwork described her as prone to epileptic seizures controllable via medicine.
It didn't describe the fact that her seizures levitate her two feet above the ground. Or the fact that she thrashes in incredible pain, even on the medication. Or that every nearby metal object will magnetize, throwing itself across the room to smash into her frail little body. Or that a nearby smartphone will explode in a flare of lithium rage. Or that if it lasts long enough, literal bolts of electricity will arch from her like a tesla coil.
No, the paperwork didn't say that. The paperwork also didn't warn about what it would do to Alex.
Alex, my beautiful, sad wife, knelt on the floor just inside the field of hissing, arching bolts, clutching her sobbing face and watching Kayla suffer. Somewhere in the house another bulb bursts in its socket. Something falls down. But neither of us move to look, we aren't surprised anymore. It's only been a week and we've become numb to the damages.
Alex turns to look at me, in so much pain of her own, stolen from the child she can't touch. "Why must this be so *hard*?"
----
If you enjoyed this, I post a history of my work in r/ChristopherDrake. | 2018-03-09T14:25:03 | 2018-03-09T13:34:43 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King". | Everyone has a title. I’ve always been able to see them, but it didn’t take long to figure out nobody else could. Mom heard me sounding out the text shortly after I learned to read, and asked me what I was doing. When I told her, she laughed and said something about how kids had such vivid imaginations. She didn’t laugh when I asked what a philanderer was when dad got home that night. After that, I learned to keep my mouth shut.
After a couple decades of seeing titles, I don’t really pay much attention to them anymore. Most of them aren’t all that interesting: “Jeff’s Mom”, “The Mediocre Rapper”, “The Mayonnaise Eater”, “Incel 554280”, etc.
Today, though, I see one that made me do a double take. “The Forgotten King”.
“Hello, can I help you?” He asks politely. “Are you looking for a specific book today?”
I glance around the store, remembering why I’m here. I saw this used book shop a few weeks ago, and thought I might be able to find a gift for Mom here. She likes old novels. Says they have more character.
“Umm, yeah.” I mumble, trying to keep my eyes on his face, not the distracting title hovering over his head. “Do you, uh, have anything by John Smith?”
So sue me. It’s hard to think of a fake name when you’re distracted.
His eyelid twitches as he stares at me. “Are you an idiot?”
“Uh...” I avoid his gaze, my eyes wandering around the store. “It’s possible. I’ve been called that often enough.”
Desperate to change the subject, my eyes fall on another customer browsing in the cooking section.
“What in the blazes is The Order of Tesswold?”
Next thing I know, he’s grabbing me by the collar and hauling me over the counter. “Who are you?Where did you hear that name?”
Struggling for an explanation, my eyes flicker to a mirror, to the title hovering over my own head. I’ve never shared it with anyone before, but I’ve never met anyone with a title as strange as mine, either.
“I’m The King’s Eye.”
| I have a peculiar talent. I know, there are lots of folks that say that. Most of them are people who can, I don't know, play the violin with their feet or do origami with their tongue or something like that. Compared with mine, those talents look commonplace.
When I was a kid, video games were all I cared about. If my teachers wanted to reach me, they had to think in videogame terms. My math teacher reached me through Minecraft. So did my science teacher. My creative writing teacher suggested I write a fan fic based around Mario Kart and, after that, TF2. My Social Sciences teacher won me over using UnderTale. My history teacher earned my interest through World of Tanks and even went so far as to gamify her subject, setting up achievements I could earn points for and prizes I could buy with them (usually other resource books or websites).
I think I was probably twelve or thirteen when I starting seeing *people* as video games. At first, it was pretty simple. The school principal, Mr. Farnum, came to lunch one day with the words "The Principal" hanging over his head in big bold letters, like a video game title. He was concentrating on getting his lunch, though, or he'd have seen me staring. My best friend did notice, though.
"What is it, Bill?" he asked. "Does Fart'em have TP on his shoe or something?"
I turned and nearly snorted my milk all over him. The words over his head were "The Nerd." I tried to explain, but he thought I was making a stupid joke at his expense. Needless to say, we weren't friends for much longer.
Years have gone by since that first time. Every day, there were more and more titles. Nearly everyone has them now. Some are really simple. During the presidential elections, for example, I knew Donald Trump would win because his title was "The President." Some are more complicated. Like the time when I was at the grocery store and saw this ordinary-looking person in the check-out line with the title "The Bank Robber" hanging over him. I placed an anonymous call to the police over that one. I later saw him get arrested on the news. I guess they'd been having a hard time figuring out who he was.
The other day, I was out walking my dog home from the local grocery store when I passed an old homeless man. He was dressed in an oversized, old, windbreaker with ragged blankets tucked into it for insulation and sitting half-asleep inside a doorway. He had a sign made from the bottom of an old cardboard box. It read, "Homeless. Desperate. Anything helps." His title, however was, "The Forgotten King." I was so busy staring that I tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and almost landed on my poor samoyed.
Picking myself up, I went to sit next to the guy. Digging around in my groceries, I pulled out some bread and cheese and made a quick sandwich. I nudged the guy awake and handed it to him. He took the makeshift sandwich and ate it like he hadn't eaten in a long time.
"My name's William," I offered, watching the man eat. "Friends call me Bill." I stretched out a hand and he stared at it like he'd never seen a hand before. He didn't stop eating and he didn't take my hand or offer me his name in return. I looked up at his title again, wondering if I'd imagined it somehow. "The Forgotten King" still hung over him as clear as daylight.
"Look," I offered, unable to ignore those words, "I have a spare bedroom you can use." He stared at me even more. "Come on, sir," I added, standing up and offering my hand again, "I can't just leave you here." Hesitantly, the man reached up and took my hand.
"Thank you, William," he mumbled through his matted beard. "You have no idea how much I appreciate this."
I chuckled softly as I helped him gather his meager belongings. "I think I have a general idea."
| 2019-01-08T11:03:34 | 2019-01-08T10:34:40 | 583 | 124 |
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King". | I stop in my footsteps. "The Forgotten King"... sitting in the streets, a blanket barely covering him. No one seems to notice him but me. Even I almost walked by. The coffee warming my hands suddenly felt heavy. I turn to him. 'Hello, could I offer you this?' He looks up somewhat puzzled. 'Why?' He takes the coffee. 'Thank you.' 'I wanted to help you, that's why.' I bent down to be at his eye level. Deep blue mysterious eyes hid behind dirty, messy hair. 'I wish I could do something for you.' He says. 'I think you already have.' I answer. 'You may not remember, but I remember not so long ago, I used to serve you, you were kind to me.'
'That... can't be...' He looked so confused. His hands wrapped around the warm drink, his eyes moving, searching for answers he couldn't find. 'Maybe I can make people remember you. Maybe I can make you remember you.'
'I appreciate the coffee, girl. But go home, it's cold out. Appreciate what you have, shelter.' 'You once had a castle.' I answered him in my mind. I knew I couldn't convince him, not yet anyway. So I stood up. Knowing now why I was the only one who could see. It was because I should help everyone remember, the Great, Forgotten King. | Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get.
Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him!
"Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully
"Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers
"It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake
"I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man
"Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?"
"Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?"
"Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes."
"Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion
"Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered
"Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood
"But but, I thought the King was killed?"
"Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King
"Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired
"You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped
"Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?"
"MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud
"You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King
"Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
| 2019-01-08T11:11:40 | 2019-01-08T10:16:15 | 43 | 12 |
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again | Its been many years since I told Death no. My job was not complete. I needed to be there for him. Every year Death came back but i was still needed. I watched him grow you see. He was just a little boy when we first met and it was my job to take care him. Everyday we would watch the world turn. I was there when his girlfriend left him. I was the one in his car on his first drive alone. I was the one by his side when his mother died. Some called me unnatural for living too long. I've outlived many of my friends but they all needed their rest. But as I watched him lie there on the bed I knew it was my time to say yes. I walked up to my boy and lied down next to him. His last words were the ones I needed to hear before I left with Death. "You've been a good boy Max but I'm afraid this is goodbye." I watched Death come and get my boy. This wasn't going to be goodbye just yet. I looked at Death and nodded my head. Wagging my tail I ran after my boy into the light at the end of the tunnel. | The blaring horn, the terrible noise of metal screeching against metal, the flash of lights, the pain.
And then everything was gone. A peaceful stillness filled me and darkness surrounded me.
A figure emerged from the darkness, slowly walking toward me, a hood above its head, a scythe in its hand.
"It is time, Henry Gridsno. Are you ready to leave this planet?"
I look up toward the hooded figure, think about my parents, my friends, my life.
"No."
I didn't expect it to work.
He nods his head. "I figured that, Henry Gridsno. I'll see you again soon." He walks back into the darkness leaving me alone.
The pain comes back first. The aching headache. I lift my head off a soft pillow and look around a small room.
IVs are sticking out of my arms and a constant beeping is beside me. Fresh covers sit over me, warming my body.
"Hello?" My voice is hoarse and barely comes out more than a whisper.
A pretty nurse notices me and walks into the room, smiling. "Glad to see you awake, Henry."
"Are my children..." I begin before slumping down on the pillow.
"Your children and wife are fine. You were the one most hurt. We weren't sure you would make it."
I nodd and relax onto the bed.
...
The next year, I'm sitting on the couch, holding my 5 year old son's head in my arms, watching Thomas the Train.
A dark fog drifts around me, surrounding me completely and a peaceful stillness fills me.
The same figure emerges, his scythe in his hand planted on the ground.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
I look him in the eye and shake my head.
"Very well." He disappears back into the darkness and the fog lifts.
Every year he returns to ask again. Whenever I die, he asks me if I'm ready. It took me several years to figure out that I'm basically immortal.
When the mugger shot me in the head I figured Death wouldn't ask me.
I was surely dead now.
But the dark fog surrounded me, the peace filling me and he emerged.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
"Not yet," I responded and he floated away.
Most stress left me. I couldn't die, couldn't be killed.
I got to watch my children grow up and become parents. It was wonderful being there for them, knowing everything would turn out fine.
Then my dear wife died.
I fell to my knees, tears streaming down my face when the dark fog surrounded me.
Death was there, in front of me.
"Why?" I ask him. "Why did you take her away?"
"Everybody dies eventually, Henry Gridsno. Even you can't control that."
I look up at him, realizing that this was better than immortality.
I wouldn't beable to live with this in happiness. I knew my children were able to take care of themselves. That was all I could do for them. That was all I could ask for.
"I'm ready."
r/FortyTwoDogs | 2019-04-16T10:21:31 | 2019-04-16T10:03:14 | 63 | 22 |
[WP] In your lifetime, stories of ordinary people being reborn or transported into fantastical worlds of magic and heroes were popular... not that you knew this, being a dog. Then you got hit by a Truck, and now you're a Dragon that just wishes belly rubs were as easy to get as they used to be. | I am a dire wolf. The mightiest creature in all the land! My woofs inspire fear in the hearts of anyone who would harm my humans. The master of all I survey. I stride proudly around the borders of my family's lands. Ready to alert them of any threat. I am majestic. The most powerful creature who ever lived and-- Oooh a butterfly! I changed direction on a dime and sprinted after it.
(Anyone else looking at the scene would see a small, extremely derpy corgi stumbling around the lawn and sidewalk in front of a small suburban house, but he truly saw himself as a mighty creature.)
I am smart doggo. I know not to walk out onto the evil black river. It was dangerous, cars did zoomies on it all day and all night long. My mom n dad taught me that on my first days of life as a puppy. But the tiny human was slowly stumbling in that direction and dad couldn't see her with his head in the trunk of our car! I ran up to her to try and stop her, but she just patted my head, smiled and kept walking. Her little paws had reached the blackness, I had to act fast! I barked my loudest bark, and it got dad to look at us. His face turned to horror and he started running toward her, but I knew he was too far away. It was the wolf's time to act.
I sprinted into the dangerous black place after my beloved baby human. I saw the car coming at her rapidly, but I sped up. I could get there first, I knew it in my heart. With no time to spare, I summoned my mightiest boop and knocked her out of the way. Then I was flying. Very confusing, because it wasn't fun jumpy flying, it was hurty flying. I hit the ground and realized I couldn't move, but I didn't care, my eyes were locked on tiny human as dad scooped her up in his arms before sprinting over to me. Both of them petted and cradled me as tears streamed down their faces. "Good boy... good good boy... it's okay buddy... oh god I'm so sorry... you did so good... such a good boy", dad said, now sobbing uncontrollably as he held me.
I didn't yelp or cry because I didn't want them to be sad. I couldn't wag my tail to tell them it was okay, so I licked their hands. I wanted them to know I would have done anything for my humans. I closed my eyes for the last time as I was being cuddled and told I was a good boy, not a bad way to go.
​
My eyes snapped open in confusion. I was in a forest now. Things looked different. The colors were brighter. I could blink sideways. Was this place doggy heaven? A girl came out of the woods and stopped in her tracks upon seeing me. She wore strange clothing but she looked an awful lot like my tiny human! As I ran towards her I realized I now towered above her. She very cautiously reached out to pet me. I opened my mouth to smile at her and she screamed and ran away. I had never been more sad in my entire hecking life. Looking down at my paws I realized I had scales on my feet. Compared to my happy fluffy fur I was not a fan, but I'd have to get used to it. Not knowing what else to do I headed off in the direction she had run, but slowly and more carefully this time, so as not to scare her again.
As I walked the ground rumbled around me, which would be kinda fun if I wasn't so scared of thunder. I walked for what might have been hours or days (I was never too good at telling time) until finally I arrived at a town. But again it looked very different. The houses were tiny and made of stones. The roofs were made out of what cows eat. Oh, and the town was on fire. Humans ran from other humans in shiny suits who were chasing them with metal sticks. When they caught them, I realized the mean men were hurting them! I frantically searched the town with my eyes for my new little friend.
I spotted her, but I could see a big man in the most shiny suit walking towards her, he pulled his giant metal stick off his hip as well, he was going to hurt tiny human! I had to act fast. Without a thought, I leapt into the air... and I flew! Happy flying, fun flying! Wheeeeeee! Whoops, no time for sky zoomies, I was on a mission. I dove down toward my new tiny human friend with all the speed my wings could muster. I made a very fun big big noise when I landed between them.
The shiny man seemed stunned for a moment, but then continued walking towards us with evil in his eyes. I opened my mouth to bark at him... and a whole bunch of flames came out! Aw heck, sorry mister! You were a meanie head but I didn't mean to make you a toasty marshmallow. Oh well, I would do anything to protect my tiny human.
More shiny metal men were running toward us. She scrambled up on my back and urged me to move and I took the hint. I soared into the sky as quickly as I could. We didn't have a destination. I just kept flying to get her as far away from the danger as I could. I think we both knew instinctively that she was my new master, and I loved her already.
I am a dire wolf I thought to myself. Now a flying, furless, armored dire wolf no less! The mightiest creature in all the land. The master of all I survey. And I would not rest until someone called me a good boy again. | Biscuit draped his wings over his head, and that helped drown out some of the ruckus coming from the far side of the cave. “Just leave me be, please,” he moaned, as sparks flared out from his nostrils. “If it’s dinner, I’m not hungry, alright? And if you’ve come to try and change my mind, well, I’m… I’m tired. Let’s discuss this in the morning, I promise. Just let me-”
But the pounding intensified, and soon the walls of the cave were shaking. From the corner of Biscuit’s eye, he saw cracks spread along the surface of the boulder he had dropped at the cave entrance. It was the largest he could find, and he had been so sure that it would have bought him some much needed solitude, but just like everything else of late, it seemed that nothing would ever go right.
Just as Biscuit nursed the fleeting dregs of hope in his heart, the boulder splintered with a crash. Moonlight streamed in, and Biscuit smelled Razortail’s distinct scent even before her silhouette sharpened in the settling dust. There was a frenzied look in her golden eyes.
“Please, Razortail, tomorrow, alright? I swear, tomorrow I’ll go wherever you want me to go, and I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me. But for tonight, just for tonight, will you just-”
“You hide there, huddled like a worm, while the humans attack us?”
“-let me… humans? Attack?”
“Do you know that they are out there now, fighting for us?” Razortail screeched, as she stomped towards him. Her claws, fully extended, scored deep marks in the gravel. “One-Eye, Greenscale, Fullwing… even Mangleclaw! The one who always looked up to you! The one who believed in you! The one you crushed when this… this foolishness seized you!”
The blood rose to Biscuit’s cheeks. All of this had nothing to do with him. He knew that. He knew that for sure, right in his heart of hearts. He had asked for none of this. Had he asked for wings? For claws? For scales? Did he ever, even for a fleeting second in his entire life, wish that he would be a dragon? All he wanted was the backyard, the chew-toys, the sprinklers which he wrestled with every morning. None of this had anything to do with him at all.
So why then did he feel guilty?
“For the last time, please, just listen to me!” Biscuit said, whirling on Razortail. “I’m not who you think I am! I’m not… I’m not your leader! I’m not this… this big, bad dragon that you think I am! I can’t even fly in a straight line, you saw that for yourself yesterday! I swear, I’m just a dog, my name is Biscuit, and I-”
Razortail moved faster than he thought possible. One moment she was twenty feet away, the next she had pounced onto him, knocking him over with a swipe of her talons. Biscuit grunted as she planted her claws onto his chest. His tongue flicked across his maw as he tasted blood.
“You’re Scarfang!” she bellowed. “You’re not a dog! You’re not… Biscuit! You’re Scarfang and you’re the greatest dragon who has ever lived! You’re our protector! Our guardian! We need you to stop the humans from killing us!”
“Are you even hearing me? Humans aren’t… humans aren’t what you say they are,” said Biscuit. “They are kind, they pet you when you’re down, they pull you into their homes when the thunder breaks, and they always make sure that you are-”
“Then explain this! Tell me what your eyes see!”
Razortail charged towards the cave walls, throwing her entire weight against the craggy surface. It seemed futile at first, a mid-sized dragon like her against the aged stone, but a spring of fury had been untapped in her. Over and over again she pounded against the walls, her screeches reverberating in the cave. Just as Biscuit thought to pull her back, her barrage broke through the side of the mountain. A passing gale swept through the cracks, carrying with it the scents from the valley below.
Biscuit sat up. He padded over to the makeshift window, and gently pushed Razortail aside. She collapsed at his hind claws, exhausted, spent.
There was definitely metal. The distinct tang of bronze, copper, steel and a dozen different alloys swirled in the air, sharp and biting. There were no such smells in the valley before, not when the other dragons had brought him around, trying to jog his memory, to help restore some sanity to him. Now the valley reeked of it, almost as if someone had unearthed a thousand furnaces, burning as they purified and smelted the very essence of the earth.
There was definitely human too. Not just one, or two, or even a dozen. An old memory stirred in the recesses of Biscuit’s mind – Tanya’s friends had come over for a sleepover, and he had been overwhelmed, trying to distinguish between the scents of Tanya and six other not-quite-Tanyas in her room. But if he thought that was a challenge… now there were *hundreds* of them, more humans than he had ever smelled together at the same time. There was the smell of cooked flesh too, though he couldn’t quite put a talon on exactly what type of meat this was.
And most of all, most distinctly of all… there was blood.
Blood in quantities he did not think possible. Dragon-blood, with hints of bitter and sour, exposed to the night air, hissing as they sprayed from the other dragons who had taken him in, fed him, cared for him. Human-blood too, a crisp, light-bodied aroma, wafting in and out of the valley, rising in cyclones of velvet and red.
By the time Biscuit processed the smells, he knew that Razortail was not lying. The rest of his senses caught up then – the sounds of creatures dying, the sight of untethered warfare – but he had already figured out what he needed to know.
“Do you see now?” Razortail said. “Do you see? Maybe you do not lie, and maybe in your dreams you really did meet humans who are kind and loving to you. But these are not the humans you dreamt of. Would your humans skulk through the night and slaughter us as we sleep? These are humans who are out to *kill* us, Scarfang! And we need you! We need you there to fight alongside us! Please!”
Biscuit laid one claw on the opening which Razortail had created, and with a light snort, he *pushed*.
The mountain yielded to him the way that daisies yield to tornadoes. For a brief moment, the battles raging below paused as countless eyes swiveled to search for the source of the explosion. Biscuit pulled his wings in close, then unfurled them in a single motion, the way the others had taught him. His leathery wings punched through the air, beating faster, stronger than he ever thought possible. He pulled his head back, then bellowed, and a giant comet of fire erupted from him and burned a hole through the sky.
“I see now,” Biscuit said. “These are not the humans I thought they were. These are Bad Men. And I think I know how to deal with Bad Men.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny | 2019-04-23T10:13:05 | 2019-04-23T09:41:51 | 34 | 22 |
[WP] You and your friends are goofing around and you decide to catch it on super slow-mo on your phone. When you show the video to your friends you notice a man in a nice suit casually walking at normal speeds through the frame while making eye contact with the camera. He winks. | Tim did a double take and looked at his phone again.
“Yo, Tim! Did you get it?” yelled Kate as she repositioned herself.
“Yeah,” replied Tim as he replayed the slow-mo video of Kate flipping over a low hanging tree branch. Kate and the rest of the school’s gymnastics team recently placed 3rd in a big state competition. Her, Tim, and their other friend, Rob were bored at the park so she decided to show some tricks.
“Nah, it’s probably blurry and shit,” said Rob who busy staring at his own phone barely paying the others any mind. “You know Tim can’t film anything for shit.”
Tim gave Rob an annoyed glare and responded, “No, I did get it. But look at this. Both of you!”
Rob who put his phone down immediately and ran up with Kate to Tim, both with a concerned look. They know something’s serious when Tim is serious.
“What’s wrong, man?” asked Kate.
“Look.” Tim replay the short video to them. All Rob and Kate see is the latter flipping over a tree branch in slow-mo. Rob, none the wiser, says “Not bad. So, you did film it. Hooray for you, I guess.” Kate giggled, “You didn’t need to scare us here to see it.”
“No, look closer,” Tim says replaying again. In one of the frames, right when Kate’s first foot leaves the ground, Tim points to the background. There’s a man. A well-dressed man. But he appears to be staring right at the camera in each frame as walks away. Tim looked up and asked in a paranoid voice, “Who is that guy?”
Kate shrugged and said, “Maybe it’s some businessman or something. I don’t know.”
“Yeah, but he was making direct eye contact at the camera. Like, where did he come from? He wasn’t here when a took the video and he isn’t here now. Come on, guys! I can’t be the only one who’s-.”
“Tim, having you been sneaking into my brother’s stash of shrooms,” joked Rob.
“Rob, this isn’t funny!”, shouted Tim.
“It kind of is,” teased Kate with a chuckle. “I think you’ve been out a little too long in the hot sun. It’s getting to your brain.”
“But that’s another thing! Who wears a black full length suit coat in the middle of a hot summer day in the park?” asked Tim.
“Come on, man. Kate’s right. It’s about time we head back anyway. Besides, you don’t want your FBI friend over there to come back and spy on you again, don’t you?”
Both Rob and Kate are near the point of bursting out in laughter as Tim reluctantly drops the matter and walks along home with them. *But I could have sworn something was fishy with that guy*, Tim thinks to himself. *But then again, Kate and Rob maybe right after all.* *It’s best I just drop it.*
*****************************
Several minutes before at the same park where Tim told his friends about the weird video, a man wearing a black suit coat appears suddenly and just stands for a minute to take in the moment.
“Ah,” he exhaled.
He then goes for a short walk around the park, making sure to look at every tree leaf and pebble on the ground. It brought a certain sense of nostalgia to him. Both happy, and at the same time, sad.
As he walks, he hears some voices and looks to his right. There he sees a group of teens, goofing around near a tree. One of them, he immediately notices, is a boy who is siting and looking at his phone. The man smiles. But then, the man looks towards the other boy who is aiming his phone right at a girl.
The boy with the phone shouts, “Alright, 1, 2, 3, go!” The girl runs and flips over the tree branch with ease. The man looks directly at the phone the whole time this occurs, as if it was his mission to. The boy who was siting down didn’t look up from his phone once.
As the man walks away, fidgeting with his watch, a few tears stream down from his face. An insight had just occurred to him. When you’re young, you tend not to appreciate the little things in life like hanging with friends as they goof around. Now, the man knows and he will never forget to.
The man leaves as he came, suddenly in the blink of an eye. But before that, he looks again at the boy who videoed the girl. Back then, he didn’t believe the boy when he said something was up with the video. Life is often filled with regrets. Now, the man thinks if only he had knew then that would be the last time he would be with his friend, he would have paid more attention to him. If only.
The man knows he can’t and shouldn’t change anything. He only came to observe. And from afar, silently say goodbye to his friend, Tim. One last time. | I don’t know how this could be. I took that video on my phone; I was watching every moment as it was recorded. It was just Blake on his skateboard, jumping over stairs and failing hilariously as he tried to look like Tony Hawk. That was when the video was being taken, but apparently, that’s something different from the finished product. As soon as my finger hit the button and the video stopped, the screen’s pixels went on the fritz. It didn’t surprise me or concern me at the time because my phone has always been crap. But when we played the video back... well that... that was something that concerned me; and it concerned me a great deal.
“Who on Earth is that?” asked Will. How was I supposed to answer? I don’t know? It was just a guy, you know? Sure, he was dressed nicely, and definitely too nicely to be walking in this neighborhood safely. If he had walked by any other group of kids, well, let’s just say I hope he knows how to defend himself. Anyway, it would be abnormal even if we saw him outside of the video; but inside the video was even stranger.
“Xander, I asked you a question,” said Will. “Who the heck is that?”
“I don’t know!” I answered. “How should I?”
“Wait, I’ve seen this before!” said Blake, seeming way too sure. “It’s one of those things, right? Xander set this up. I’ve seen ‘em before. There are these videos, and you’re so focused on what’s goin’ on in one part that you miss someth’n weird happen’n in another.”
“Really?” said Will sarcastically. “It seems to me that some dude walking by at full speed in a slo-mo video is a little too weird to be some brain trick.”
“Well, what do you think it was, Will?!” Blake argued.
“Well, obviously it’s just a camera trick! Xander probably has an app on his phone or something for this kinda stuff. He’s just playing tricks on us.” Both ideas were equally plausible, to anyone who wasn’t me. Neither were correct. I hadn’t done anything to make this happen; but then, how did it happen? Who was that guy, how was he doing that, why didn’t we see him, and what the heck was the deal with that wink? I played the video again on my phone, hoping to find some answers. Maybe I missed something, and I just had to pay more attention to figure it all out.
“Really?” mocked Will. “You’re playing that again? The joke’s run its course, Xander, you can’t fool us anymore.”
“That’s just it,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to fool anyone. I had nothing to do with this, I swear. But I still don’t know why it happened.” Will shook his head and went on arguing with Blake while I studied the images in my phone. It was one of those apps where I could change the speed at any point in the video. Like, I could set it up so that after three seconds, the slow motion would turn on, or four seconds, or thirty. I watched the video, keeping the beginning at normal speed and the slowing it down part way through. Nothing. The man only showed up after a the slo-mo was turned on. I tried adjusting the effect, changing the playback speed down to make it a little faster. I don’t know why, but I guess I was willing to try anything at that point.
“Wait!” I exclaimed. “Guys, come look at this!”
“Are you seriously still trying to keep up the act?” Will accused. “Cut it out! Do you really think we’re that stupid?” I ignored him, mouth gaping as I watched the video. It all made sense now! Er, it made a little more sense.
“Guys!” I urged. “Come look at this!” Will rolled his eyes while Blake crossed his arms. Reluctantly, they both walked over to me to look at the ‘baffling’ phone. Their mouths fell open just the same. The man was in the video, moving faster this time after I cut back on the slowing effect. I reset the video, making it closer and closer to normal speed each time. The man got faster, faster, and faster until he was just a faint grey blur. No wonder I never saw him! That blur blending right in with the concrete! Once the video was set back to normal speed, he didn’t show up at all. There was no blur left behind.
“So... what then?” asked Will. “The guy just moves fast? That hardly makes any sense!”
“Yeah, Xander,” said Blake. “It ain’t like we’re liv’n in a comic book or some action movie.” They were right. We weren’t living in some action movie or a superhero filled metropolis. We were living in Chicago, regular old Chicago. What the heck was going on!?
“You know what,” said Will. “It’s been fun and all, but I’m going home. Either something freaky is going on, or your just being insulting. Either way, I’m not sticking around with you right now.” Will grabbed his skateboard and rode off, waving as he went down the road. I looked at Blake, who was strapping on his helmet.
“Sorry man,” he said. “But I should probably get goin, too.” Taking his board up the stairs, he quickly jumped on and disappeared from sight. I didn’t bring my skateboard, or anything else to ride on for that matter, so I just had to walk.
I walked by the side of the stairs where that showed up in the video, but I didn’t think anything of it. I pulled out my phone to check the time, and the pixels went on the fritz again. When it stopped acting messed up, my clock was doing this weird thing. It was going back and forth between 6:00 and 6:01, then 6:01 and 6:02, the screen lighting up red and blue around it.
Something weird was going on. Well, obviously. I didn’t know what it was, but I had a few theories. One, I was dreaming. I blinked three times, as that usually wakes me up. Nope. Not that. So, theory number two: there was some weird virus or signal that my phone was reacting to, it was messing with it really bad. Or, three: something even weirder was happening, and time was being messed with in the process. I don’t know which one, but whichever it was, I didn’t want to dwell on it. I decided that it had to be the phone being stupid, because time travelers? Let’s be realistic. They could never exist.
Could they?
edit: I apologize to those who tried to read before I got the paragraphs in. I typed it on my phone, and the paragraphs didn’t make it in to the comment for some reason. Issue fixed. | 2019-08-03T11:15:32 | 2019-08-03T11:10:57 | 72 | 16 |
[WP]One day, while cleaning out the attic of your deceased mom's home, you stumble upon an old oil lamp. In clichéd fashion you begin to clean the lamp and a genie appears. "Ah yes,"he thinks. "Another poor sap." Too bad for him, you're a contract lawyer. Quite a good one, at that. Monkey's Paw who? | "Three wishes."
The genie stared at me, a smile on his face. Seconds ticked by. Then minutes.
"Well?"
"I'm thinking."
"Thinking?" His long, unnaturally slender fingers rapped across the wood. "Come on. Surely you want *something...*"
"Oh, I do. I'm just thinking how I want to phrase it." I rubbed at a spot of grease on the oil lamp. "I want to be careful."
"Oh. No, no, don't *think* about it! That ruins half the fun. Just say it. Your heart's deepest desire."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Fine. I wish to be the most beautiful woman in the world."
His eyebrows rose.
"What? You said I could wish for *anything."*
"I didn't expect that," he said, his grin growing wider. "You don't seem... the type to care about that. But, it does not matter! Your wish is my c--"
"I'm not done yet."
"Oh?" He asked, deflating.
"In implementing this wish, you will not cause the following: deaths of women, blindness, or harm to any individual. You will not transport women to any other world. It will not affect my aging process or make me immortal."
"Fine. Are you done?" He lifted his arms, blue energy sparking from the tips.
"Not yet." My grin grew wider. "'Beautiful' is not defined as physical beauty. It is defined as the most beautiful *inside.* The most beautiful spirit, the one that does the most good for the world."
"Oh, geez," he retorted, rolling his eyes.
"The 'most good for the world' is defined as helping people the most. Defeating poverty, sickness, hate, and..." My eyes flicked to his. "Preventing innocent people from getting tricked."
His eyes widened.
"Now you can grant my wish." I leaned back, smiling.
"You surely can't be--"
"Grant it."
He raised his hands. Blue power sparked off the tips, and with a concussive boom that rattled the attic, he was gone.
I walked over to the place where he'd stood. Blue dust coated the floor, and I nudged it with my toe.
"I did it, Mom."
I glanced at the old photo of us, laying on the dusty floorboards. Her and I in simpler times--before she met the genie. Before she'd wished her children would never be poor. That devil had caused a faulty air conditioning unit to fall on her, instantly killing her, but creating a lawsuit that netted us tens of millions of dollars.
The money meant nothing.
This, however... meant everything.
I took the broom from the corner and began to sweep up the dust. | "Another genie!" I almost moan as I just finished dealing with another genie that popped out of my neti pot. Blowing the remnants of that last beast out of my nasal cavities took the better part of a larger Kleenex box. Luckily for me _this_ genie came out of a lamp, and not my nostrils. I throw the lamp to the side and decide to get right into gear with this genie.
I am interrupted from a voice calling me from downstairs.
"What's that. You found your brother's beanie?" My near deaf dad called up the attic steps.
"Don't worry about it. I got this covered."
"Hash browns smothered! Got it!" I heard his footsteps as he sauntered off to fix my brunch.
"Hey genie. I get the whole ordeal. My last three wishes left me with a repaired neti pot, a fixed bathroom sink, and my previously balding dad now has long golden hair. What can you possibly do that's better for me?"
"Good day." The genie's sonorous voice rumbled my lungs. "I am here to present you with the results of my search from your mother's three wishes. I'm sorry to inform you that wish number one was unsuccessful. I was unable to make a milkshake that really brings boys to the yard."
I stared in disbelief. In one day, I find two genies and the second one is telling me I don't get any wishes.
"Number two, indeed it was hard, but after a few months of haggling, I was able to return the pizza that she purchased with bitcoin. Unfortunately since the pizza turned into, what did the pizzeria owner call it, 'useless shit', the owner of the pizzeria only gave me the value of your mother's poop in today's inflated value. I left 37 cents in the top drawer in the kitchen."
I couldn't think straight. My deceased mom was a crypto miner? The things you learn…
"And number three, what was number three again…?" the genie reaches into his golden (skin?) tight pants and pulls out a note card and some spectacles, "oh right." He begins to read from the card, "I hereby give my wishes to my family and my family's family so that they can do good things with the world."
"And your name?" I said to the genie.
"How kind of you to ask. I'm Roger. How can I be of assistance?"
"I wish, Roger, that I had a free premium account to YouTube tv. For life."
"Let it be known that wish number three is done. He snapped his fingers. His body floated back into this lamp. There were no dramatics, he simply went away.
---------
Seven months later
I go back into the attic and rub the lamp until the genie comes back out. When Roger appears, he is wearing a bathing suit and is slightly tanned.
"You?" He asks. "You used up your wishes."
"No I didn't clean the dishes!" My dad, still in my house, calls up the attic stairs again. I hear his foot steps travel off to the other side of the kitchen toward the fridge. "You got any dessert in here?"
This genie had no clue. I chuckled a little while trying on the balls of my feet. I can roll on my feet now because I gained about sixty pounds since the beginning of this quarantine. All I do is eat and watch YouTube.
"Nah Roger, I got one more wish. And I wish for a really nice hot tub, and a sauna... and some chocolate ice cream."
The ice cream is for dad. I'm so nice.
"Now," the genie began, "I'm not sure how you got me out of the lamp again, but I'm going to click my fingers and if you have that third wish, this will work."
He clicks.
I look out the window and see the hot tub and sauna in the backyard.
"Yay ice cream!" I hear excitement from the kitchen.
As long as I keep playing the genie like this, I'll have that last wish. No way am I going to use a wish for something so I can, "can do good things with the world." This genie, and this lamp is for me, me, me.
"Looks like you got a lot of ice cream here." Dad calls up. "The neighborhood kids are outside. I'm gonna go give them some!"
The genie winks at me before he disappears back into his lamp. That audacity of that bastard!
"No! No! No!" I shout as I run down the steps and try to catch my dad before he does this tremendously stupid thing.
There shall be no joy spread from this house. No. No. No. | 2020-10-19T20:51:35 | 2020-10-19T19:53:22 | 515 | 68 |
[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you. | We had been... friends was a strong word, from my point of view, but I certainly was it's best friend (as apparently everyone else who had gazed upon it in the past was dead) for about six months.
I assumed it could only appear to a single soul at a time, and as I hadn't melted into a screaming, mad pile of goo yet, it couldn't move on to another.
So there we were. Average human and... that. Stuck with each other. We couldn't quite talk in the normal sense, but after a while, we had come up with a way to understand and be understood by each other. Little pushes and pulls of emotion, certain tilts of its... head? I honestly dont even know if you could call it a head, but that was the bit that seemed to contain whatever sensory equivalent to eyes that it had. I even managed to teach it a bit of rudimentary sign language using its... appendages.
Honestly I could give it's body parts names like tentacles or claws or teeth, but none of it quite seemed real or even entirely there most of the time, and it just gave me the *idea* of a tentacle rather than actually *appearing* to be one. It defied any ability to describe what it actually looked like.
It didn't tend to follow me when I left the house, but was always lingering near the door to start drifting in what I assume was usually a quite horrifying manner behind me whenever I got home.
As our ability to communicate grew more complex, it eventually managed to pose a question that confused me at first. Not because it was difficult to reply, but because I couldn't understand how it didn't already know the answer.
*Why hadn't I been driven mad by it? Why was I able to remain undisturbed by its presence?*
"Why? Dude, haven't you looked at the calendar?"
It gave a confused wriggle of what I assumed were limbs currently in another dimension.
"It's 2020, bro. You're the least disturbing thing in my life right now. You want some coffee?" | "Man, 7:00 already?"
I only had a little time before my bedtime (I get up pretty early), and I needed to finish my paper for my structural engineering class. I Closed Reddit, and pulled open Notepad (I don't like microsoft word.) I was beginning the process of staring blankly at the computer screen, when I heard a soft tapping at my door.
I ignored it.
The tapping got louder.
I ignored it harder.
The tapping turned into a pounding.
"Not now, I'm working on a project."
The pounding stopped... for a moment. Then, I heard a powerful knocking... it threatened to tear down my door.
...ugh... fine. Who was I kidding? I wasn't gonna get this paper done tonight anyway
I opened the door. It stepped into my living room.
It was a dark, shifting entity... how to describe? It appeared to be made of gas, but it moved like it had a skeleton... rather like it's body was covered by a thick layer of smoke in place of hair.
Wherever it walked, it singed the ground. My house was covered in singe marks from previous visits. It was roughly humanoid in shape, at least from the neck down. It appeared stocky, with short legs, and long arms. Though it looked rather rotund, I knew from experience that it's solid body was scarcely more than skin and bone.
It's arms were disproportionately long, as was it's neck. It's neck moved only from the bottom up, and flowed like a string submerged in water. If the creature wished to turn it's head, it first turned the base of the neck; the turn then traveled up the neck like a wave, until it finally reached the head.
The head looked rather like that of a horse, cow, or deer, but I've never seen the thing open it's jaws. It may not even have them. The head was solid black, with two large, bulbous eyes. The eyes bulged out of the head, and had no visible iris or pupils.
Then, the screaming... it was faint, but I could hear a thousand cries of fear and agony... the cries of the beast's previous victims. When the monster enveloped a person, or anything really, they sank into it's gaseous flesh, and entered a world of dark and cold and pain and nothing else.
...usually. it hadn't worked on me.
I was abruptly pulled out of my head when the creature made a noise. It sounded like a man choking, and trying to say "hell"... or, rather, hello.
"Hey, bud."
..."fffffeeeeeeeeddd.."
"... all right, but only one bowl. My cat doesn't like sharing."
I poured a bowl of kibble, and handed it to the creature. It took it in it's spindly arms, pressed the bowl against it's chest, and the bowl sank into the dark mass.
..."the bowl, please?"
The creature stopped moving for a moment, and then. Reluctantly, reached one arm into it's body. The hand came out holding an empty, ceramic bowl. Not the one I'd given it, but close enough.
"Thank you", I said as I put the bowl back in the cupboard. My dishes and cups no longer matched, but I didn't have time to care.
I sat down on the couch. "So... you only here for cat food, or do you wanna talk?"
The creature made a guttural sound. It sounded very much like the sound of a certain horror monster, but I forget it's name... the zombie girl that crawled around on the floor or something.
The sound eventually turned into a ".......wwwwwwhhhhhhhyyyyyyy....".
"Why what?"
"........wwwwwwwwhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyy nnnoooo ssssiiiiiinnnnnnkk......?"
Ah, I see. The creature was curious as to why I wasn't affected by it's otherworldly nature.
"Sit down son, this is a long one."
The creature sat down nest to me on the long since blackened couch.
"So... it all started with this f*cking gorilla..." | 2020-10-27T09:09:33 | 2020-10-27T09:05:54 | 38 | 13 |
[WP] For most of college everyone thought you were deaf when in reality you just don't like talking and learned sign language at a young age. You never corrected anyone until someone confessed their love for you, thinking you couldn't hear them. | "I love you" he whispers.
He stands up and faces the window and lets out a small fart he thinks I can't hear.
He turns back to me, "I've loved you since freshmen orientation, when you dropped your orientation folder and I helped you gather up the papers blowing in the wind, just like my heart."
He looks down, he faced pained, and lets out another short fart.
"And now, it's our last semester and I can't image moving on in life without you. I know you think of me as friend, just that nice guy who hangs around but..."
He walks to window again and let's one more long fart.
"...I think we should be together." | What do I say?
Do I say anything?
I just finished my powerpoint presentation, in lieu of a speech, a request that was granted by my public speaking professor. My topic was surrealism and after closing with a slide featuring Salvador Dali's "The Persistence of Time", the bell rang and it was time to head across campus for Logic 101. I garnered the obligatory applause from the class, grabbed my backpack, and started to head to the hallway when I heard a whispered voice in my right ear.
"I love you Darren."
It was the brown haired Zooey Deschanel look-alike that I've been crushing on since the first day of the semester.
She knew I was "deaf" right?
My strategy had worked like a charm ever since middle school. I remember this bigger kid bullying me at lunch about my Cure t-shirt. My response came out of nowhere. I pretended I couldn't hear him, and it worked. He made a fool of himself making fun of a deaf kid. A deaf kid with excellent musical taste.
I've been bulletproof ever since. Words can't hurt if you can't hear them, right? I went on to befriend the two deaf kids at my small town school. We would have long conversations about comic books, classic movies, and video games, all in beautifully clear and silent sign language. Instead of playing the high school popularity game, I didn't play at all. I was exempt from the banal cliches of homecoming blah blah... basically I avoided the bullshit that doesn't matter and never mattered.
The unfortunate part was that dating was off the table. Not many deaf girls in Newton, Ks. I never knew how to talk to girls anyway so now i manufactured the perfect excuse. I'm probably still too young to fully realize this but your lies always catch up to you. At some point you have to face your frauds. Is this one of those "coming of age" moments where I finally become who I really am?
I hesitated, not knowing how/if I should respond. If I speak, then I blow my cover forever. I lose my protective barrier between my quirky weird silent self and the rest of well-adjusted humanity. If I remain deaf and mute, I perpetuate what I've sensed for a long time as an unhealthy crutch that I've been using as an easy way out of living a full life.
It's becoming clear to me that I'm at a fork in the road. I must decide now. My mind flashes between me and my future grandkids playing in the park, and me as a middle-aged man working at a warehouse where I still don't speak. I'd forgotten how.
Right then I realized there was only one way to go.
"My hearing is actually pretty good in my right ear you know..." | 2020-12-01T17:59:26 | 2020-12-01T17:46:27 | 33 | 13 |
[WP] You fill out a job application for a job where the only information is 'must have excellent abillity to adapt to new situations and follow instructions. Will involve travel.' You were not expecting the travel to be time travel. | "So... first day huh?"
The woman driving looked back at the road, accelerating to overtake a black Jeep.
"Um, uh- yeah," I mumbled from the passenger seat, looking out at the desert rush by.
"So how'd your interview go?"
"It was pretty good, yeah."
"That's good."
"I'm David."
"Elena."
There was a moment of silence.
"So... the boss. She mentioned time travel?"
"Heh yeah, it's the best and worst part of the job. The best part is getting to see historical events play out in real time. The worst part is the toilets." Elena chuckled to herself. "We're about to hit it now. You strapped in?"
I nodded. "So hit.. what exactly?"
"Well you don't really need to know the science unless you're a Driver like me but it's just relativity. Things go backwards once we're past the speed of light. I just need a bit of space to pick up speed." She gestured towards the empty highway.
"Wait what do you mean- "
The car started vibrating as if it were made up of hundreds of mobile phones taking calls simultaneously. Elena's eyes flicked up to the rear-view mirror. "Damn, I thought I lost that one."
He could see the black Jeep too, kicking up a trail of dust.
Elena's turned to me grinning. "I'm not really meant to do this buut I can't be bothered to outrun them on petrol. Hopefully they'll just think it's a mirage or something."
Her grin widened."Now hold on, this is the best part."
I looked down at what she was looking at and realized that just next to the handbrake was a separate curved lever I'd never seen before. Then everything outside *stretched.* It was as if someone had taken a watercolor brush and smeared the edges of the world past my field of vision. I was hit with a sudden wave of vertigo before the world turned distinctly blue. Then purple. Then black.
Suddenly there was no Jeep, no desert, just.. total darkness. Elena turned the lights on inside. "We're past the speed of light! How cool was that huh?"
"That... yeah that was amazing! Uh.. what happened exactly?"
"I can't be bothered to explain." Elena looked at a dial that was distinctly not the speedometer anymore. "You'll pick it up on the job."
"Yeah about that... what do I do exactly?"
"Weren't you told? We solve problems, that's our whole thing!"
"Yeah but *every* company says that."
Elena considered this. "Fair, fair, but we solve *actual problems*. We work outside of the box. Technically we work outside of the law too. That's because we work outside time which... there's a lot of 'outside' stuff."
Outside the law... time travel... this was all too much. A terrible thought struck me. "Haha that's funny but umm, I don't have to kill anyone do I?"
"What!? Nooo! Of course not!"
I sighed with relief.
"We wouldn't give a job that difficult to a rookie! That takes *years* of training."
I stared at her, but she seemed not to notice. Begrudgingly I decided she was joking. "So what do I actually *do* then?"
"Well right now we're working on climate change, which is one of our more time-consuming challenges. It's hard to get it right without destroying human progress 100 years down the line y'know?"
I didn't, but I nodded anyway. The car let out a small 'ding!'.
"Aand we're here!" Elena said, pushing the not-a-handbrake down again. The car started vibrating like a hundred alarms and then suddenly the world outside the windscreen was purple. It looked stretched out like clay but it slowly came together faster and faster. The world went blue, it looked like they were accelerating really fast then-
"We're gonna crash!" I yelled
Elena slammed the brakes as reality snapped back to normal perspective, everything unstretched again.
"Roll down the windows!" Elena said. It was good advice, because I threw up a few seconds after.
"Ha! I should've warned you, but I completely forgot because I don't get timesick. You'll get used to it though. You'll only puke out *half* your guts next time."
"Where are we?"
"Same highway just 100 miles down... or do you mean," Elena paused for dramatic effect, "*when* are we?"
I couldn't respond because I was busy trying not to throw up. The second time was *so* much worse.
"Yeah," Elena said, "it's weird how people always have it worse exiting superlight. I'll just assume you asked. Welcome to the 1970s! We're gonna start a climate protest." | Sarah scribbled out the rest of her information, excited to undertake this new business venture. The interview went well, even if they're probing questions about her travelling habits caused her some slight discomfort. Of course, she travels, she has her license. What sort of question is that? Yet, they kept asking about how much travel she’s done and if she can adapt to changing environments. Both questions she enthusiastically responded to. Not wanting to miss out on her opportunity to work for such an interesting company. They hadn’t filled her in about the job details just yet, but she was certain a project with this much travel must be amazing.
Sarah handed the contract to the lead scientist, the balding man pulling down his glasses, reading over her information carefully. The man’s silent gaze flicking over the page, causing a slight air of unease as he surveyed it, rereading it until he was content.
“Your date of birth, that’s the fifth of January 2021 correct?” The scientist fixated on the year, writing the date on a small yellow notepad at his side.
“That’s correct. I’m thankful for this opportunity, I promise you I will do my best to help you. So, am I doing more administrative work, or did you want me to drive between facilities?” Sarah asked, determined to prove how useful she was as soon as possible.
“Nothing like that. We need someone who can test out a new device we have made. Unfortunately, none of our scientists will conduct the experiment themselves, so we outsourced.” The scientist glanced back, perhaps sensing Sarah’s unease as he motioned her into the backrooms of the office. “It’s safe, I assure you. We just can’t risk one of our scientists being busy if the machine malfunctions. It’s as dangerous as donating blood, you will be fine.”
The man’s words offered Sarah some comfort, enough that she continued following him into the backrooms, these rooms far different to the clerical offices situated towards the front of the building. These rooms covered in discarded wires, broken pieces of technology and strange glowing artifacts that Sarah could hardly believe were real. The most salient feature of the room was the large iron cylinder, its sides glowing with pulsating blue light, radiating with an energy that reflected off the scientist’s glasses.
“This is our latest piece. It allows a user to travel to the past. We will hook a camera up to you, allowing us to view whatever you are looking at. If things get dangerous, step into the device and we will send you back. Simple enough, right?”
It must have been a joke. A way of hazing the new employee. Sarah smirked, feeling foolish for that previous unease she had felt. The scientist didn’t share that smile, watching her with a curious expression, taken aback by Sarah’s confident strides, stepping towards the time machine.
“Well, let’s go then. Open it up. Just so you know, I didn’t fall for this trick.” Sarah remarked, thinking she had called out the man’s bluff.
Her sudden enthusiasm confused the scientist, but he went along with it, regardless. Tapping a few buttons on his computer, the machine’s door forced itself open, revealing an interior made for a single person. Once Sarah was inside, he quickly brought over a camera, strapping it to her head before backing away.
“Good luck, Sarah, we will be watching. Our communication will be one sided, we can hear you, but you can’t hear us. Trust that we will always be listening.” Before Sarah could comment further, the door shut before her.
She listened to the metallic cylinder rumble, smoke steaming into the machine, causing her to panic. The thick black puffs of air causing her to slam her fists against the metal, trying to alert the scientist before she held her breath, waiting for the door to open.
Sarah felt her lungs ache, needing another breath, opening her mouth to take one, only for the doors to pry open, revealing a bloodied landscape. The machine sat atop a pile of bodies, the thick cloud of smoke pouring free as she observed her surroundings. Two armies each stopped their clashing, staring in disbelief at the strange machine.
The armies fell silent, neither side having the heart to continue the battle, a temporary truce being determined. Soon a few soldiers began their approach, swords pointed towards the machine, Sarah trying to sink back into the machine, looking for some sort of return button, yet she found none.
“Send me back!” She shouted, earning no response.
Panic flowed through her body, the soldiers now only a few steps away from her when she suddenly raised a hand, the action causing the soldiers to step back. She pointed her open palm at one of them who ducked, then to another who made a similar motion. The initial fear only lasted a few moments. Once they realized she had no special powers, they continued their approach only for the door to slam shut before they reached her.
Again, smoke drifted into the machine, causing her to once again take a breath, waiting for the doors to open once more. When the doors opened, she threw herself to the floor, nearly kissing the ground below.
“You made it; seems our co-ordinates were a little off.” The scientist uttered, helping her up from the floor. A few more scientists had filled into the room, each sharing a look of relief. “We thought you were going to get killed.”
“What the hell was that? I thought you were joking; you made a time machine and sent a random person to the past?” Sarah grabbed the man by his lab coat, pulling herself up, still seething after her near-death experience.
“You’re experienced, you said you could handle travel and sudden changes. You should be happy, you did great. I can’t wait for your next run.”
“Next run? Why would I get in that thing again?”
“For the money? It’s a high-paying job and you get to sight see. How many people can say they have travelled back in time. Sarah, I understand how you feel but please consider continuing to work with us. Look, take some time to rest and call me back in a day or two, let me know if you still aren’t interested. Remember, you can’t discuss any of this either.” The man pulled out a card with his number on it, handing it to Sarah.
“Right, I’ll consider it.” Sarah left work for the day, heading back to her apartment. She told herself she wouldn’t go back, that she wouldn’t accept such a dangerous job. But as the day wore on, she stared at the business card more, struggling to turn down the opportunity. Maybe she would call back tomorrow?
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-01-05T04:01:05 | 2021-01-05T03:57:53 | 850 | 103 |
[WP] A wealthy man dies, leaving his most of assets spread out amongst his children. The reading of the will goes well until the lawyer reads the last part: "To my adopted son Michael, I leave you the contents of safe deposit box 824. You know what to do." | My father, Howard Brown, was well-known for his philanthropy, so it wasn’t a surprise to any of his family or those who followed his life in the papers and on the news when he adopted a young boy. It was only surprising to me.
As the family driver sped along the highway, I sat in the back of the Rolls-Royce Ghost, reflecting on my father’s tragic early demise. He’d been only sixty-five, but some health problems are too unpredictable to keep safe from, even when you have all the money in the world. I regretted all the years we’d miss together. Despite my father’s busy life, as a successful businessman and in philanthropy, he always somehow made time for his children. He had also left behind two others, a son and daughter, as well as his wife, my mother.
My life had taken a sharp turn when I was twelve, living in a group home that, for one reason or another, Howard Brown had taken an interest in. He’d been donating to places like that for many years and then began to take a more active role. On a visit one day to see what our building could use help with, Howard and I had spoken briefly, which was impressive to my caretakers, who said that I was usually a quiet boy, a troublemaker, unable to remain in a foster home for long, resulting in my placement there. Over his next few visits, we’d spoken a few more times and one thing led to another, with the man suddenly deciding he wanted to adopt me.
It was a wondrous change in my life, and I could never put into words how much the man meant to me. He’d seen something special in me when we’d met, he’d explained, and he couldn’t let potential like that go to waste. I went to the best schools, had the best caretakers, and Howard was there to guide me through life, a father who went above and beyond for someone who wasn’t even his blood. And it was such a stark difference from the treatment I’d received from my birth parents that, when I was younger, I pinched myself every once in a while, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming my life.
Pulling up to the bank, the driver dropped me off at the curb and I headed inside, explaining my purpose there and showing the paperwork I’d been given. Guided into the back room with the safety deposit boxes, we removed the one to which I had the key and he showed me to a small room for privacy. Sliding open the top, I knew what I would find before I’d arrived. I’d known as soon as that particular portion of the will had been read out to us.
His notebook of victims. Twenty-three women he’d killed, four of them with me by his side, showing me, guiding me, explaining with reverence how what we were doing wasn’t just death, it was art. He’d seen something special in me all those years ago and had taught me all I knew, and now it was time for me to pick up where he’d left off. A photograph and personal details of the next victim, one he’d never gotten a chance to kill, was on the eighth page of the notebook.
I left with a small smile of anticipation on my face.
​
/r/storiesbykaren | Like static, the contents of the last 2 hours buzzed through Michael’s head, jumping up and down in a flurry of confusion. He barely registered his feet hitting the pavement, nor the light drizzle that had begun, staining his lenses with needle thin lines of water. When his father’s condition had taken a turn for the worse, Michael had unexpectedly begun a mental exercise, one that he would partake in often during the day. He would remember points in his life, but instead of taking a first person perspective once again, he would imagine that his consciousness was separate from his body. He imagined himself floating above the scenes, in some kind of intermediate plane. And when in this plane, he would peer up and find a cloud of possibilities. A grand narrative in the form of a timeline suspended above his head. He could not state its details if asked. He only knew that looking at this amorphous, undefined epic, he could take segments of his life that seemed so banal, unjustified, incomplete, even tragic and make them ... more. Unsuspecting but necessary parts of an odyssey.
When he caught himself in those moments, his lips would downturn in the real world and he would scold himself, now acutely aware of the fact that fantasies would not repair what was wrong with those moments, nor the fractured relationship with his father that was the culmination of those scenes. A relationship that, though already crippled, had suffered a terrible blow when its second participant decided to be swallowed by severe dementia. And a father that had slipped further into the abyss by the minute. Now he was dead, and the will was read, and Michael walked down the street towards the small bank at the center of town. With the pandemic, the will reading had been online and so he had attended from one of the ancient workstations at the public library. Its fan had whirred intensely and the sound of its desperation had nearly drowned out the lawyer’s recitations. Not that he had been the most engaged listener, with or without the fan’s interference. His eyes had flitted distractedly between his adopted siblings expressions, watching for the occasional grimace when the lawyer recited a condition that did not predispose one of them, or alternatively a hidden smirk when the opposite occurred. Now, looking down at his worn construction boots as they alternated in and out of his view, mottled by wear and paint and dirt, his adopted siblings’ square haircuts framing carefully manicured faces stood in even sharper contrast in his mind. *Safe deposit box 824…*, the old lawyer had said in his sterile voice, near the end of it all. Even though the screen, he could sense his sibling’s pleasure at his not being given anything else. It wasn’t because he was adopted - of the six of them, 3 were adopted. It was because he had rejected the upward trajectory his father demanded of each of his children. It was because he had chosen to remain broken and bitter and poor, knowing that his siblings would have to look at him or at least be conscious of his existence for the rest of their lives. He knew that a part of them would mentally chafe at the idea that such an unsavory man in such an unsavory town was so closely associated with them, they couldn’t deny it if they tried. This was his job, Michael thought, to impose a sense of humility on his family, an oppression fitting for people that had embraced vanity so readily. Of course, they had inherited that instinct from their father as well.
Michael climbed the bank’s 4 steps, taking long strides towards the sole teller. The key had been sent to him in the mail the week earlier, when the lawyers had first combed through the contents of the will. He heard his own voice come out, resembling a troll’s grunts more than a person’s words. And while she retreated to retrieve the key, he retreated into his mind, falling into the timeline once again. His relationship with his father had been complicated. He remembered the kindness in the old man’s eyes when he’d first been adopted, the way his new father had opened the world up to him. Beyond the grey bricks and faded wooden panels that had lined the orphanage walls. Through the years, even as his father’s character, too, opened itself up to him and he saw the way his father moved ruthlessly in his professional life, a streak of that kindness remained. It goaded Michael into considering the kind of life his siblings lived. Like a moth to flame, it drew him in. And when Michael was away from his father and the affect wore off, he concluded that the kindness was a lie, and his siblings were worse off, and the best way to stay aware of the truth would be to return here. To the town where he’d been adopted. A town located on the outskirts of the outskirts. His mind snapped back at the feel of metal being thrust into his hand. Wordlessly, he followed the teller down the hall and then past her into the safe deposit room, his steps newly muffled by the stale green carpet that started just beyond the threshold. His eyes darted from number to number quickly reading the black numbers set into varnished bronze plates. Finally, his gaze settled on 824. *Let’s get it done with*, he thought, thrusting the key into the lock. | 2021-03-07T17:55:31 | 2021-03-07T17:46:23 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] You can stop time. However, during your vacation where you have stopped time for a year, someone runs up to you and asks “Dude, why have you stopped for this long?” | He didn't look like the sort of guy to be able to stop time. None of the telling features, like a third eye or that light-bending aura the Others dragged behind them. In fact, he was only wearing board shorts.
"It's been a whole year dude!" He pleaded.
I blinked, at first digesting that I was talking to another human. Then I shrugged and returned to sipping one of the last free cocktails I could track down.
"It's my GAP year," I eventually said. The guy kept hopping from foot to foot.
"Yeah, look, I get you're probably having a ripper time-"
"I am," I chuckled smugly.
"Cool, but see I was just about to score with this tennoutaten. I mean a real banger lass."
"Go on," I find my interest piquing, not because of his banal situation, but because he seemed to feel it important next to the fact entropy had tipped on it's side around him.
"Yeah, right? And so I popped one of those Viagra pills for a little extra oomph. Right as it kicked in you stopped everything. Been trying to find you since."
"Why?" I blurt out, genuinely at a lack of eloquence. I'd seen proton decay first hand, galaxies fading beyond their visible horizons, and the fireworks of every black hole's final moments. I had mastered time to taken one short break and...
"Cause uh..." he danced a little, and I noticed he'd clearly been shuffling around with his crotch redacted from the world this whole time.
"Cause it ain't wearing off."
"For a whole _year_?"
I stop myself from letting my voice break in a whine; that was a referred pain I hadn't felt in a while. He hopped around some more while I fell into some thought.
"I've been drinking this whole time, how come I'm recovering from that?" I eventually blurt, and he startles allowing me to spot his blight. He blushes, and I realise how far my face had sympathetically contorted to match the layout of his pants.
"Come on dude, just start it back up for an hour or so."
"No," the tone is a bit harsh, I really did feel for the fella, but something about him bothered me. He sighs and begins awkwardly gesturing with his hands, maintaining the same uncomfortable looking pose.
"Same reason you don't knock out an entire city the first step you take frozen by fusing your molecules with other air molecules."
His tone had entirely changed, scholarly, almost business like. I blink (all three eyes) and stare at the man as he begins unravelling everything.
"It's the concept of causal entanglement; the particles that interact with you inside a freeze state will resume entropy in a localised paracausal loop. In this the genesis state is important, since it acts as a sort of "big bang" for all timelike paths to casually relate to. Because you stopped time right as this Viagra kicked in, the timelike geodesic where it interacts with my brain loops infinitely based on that input of initial conditions."
"Soooo..." I stupidly bray.
"_So come on man_, I'm the God who granted you these powers, help a boner-brother out when he is stuck in one of these meat gundams!"
And you know, I was so surprised, time restarted just like that.
----
(Quick error filled mobile post from an old crusty lurker, please be gentle ;_;) | Jack rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't allucinating. He even pinched himself to see if he was dreaming, which ironically was the same thing he did when he first discovered his power. But the person in front of him was undoubtedly real.
"Come on Jack, *a whole year!?*" The teenager in front of him says with exasperation.
"Wait a minute, how do you know my power o-or my name! I've never met you in my life!" Jack said, still surprised. The fact that someone moved in stopped time, *his* stopped time was mind-blowing for him. The teenager just rolled his eyes.
"Really man? That is what you are worried about? How do I know you? Today marks the 365th day you have been *continuously* living in your stopped time, and this is the first time you wonder if someone else then you can move in your "own time", as you ridiculously call it?"
Jack was not going to let a 14-year-old kid berate him, but he had a good point. The last time he searched if someone else could move when he stopped time was a very long time ago.
It all started when he was 12 and taking a math test, a particularly difficult test. Time was ticking down and he still had only completed half of it, the tension of only having 20 minutes to finish the test adding up to the shouts of her mother when he inevitably presented another terrible result in his tests made it even harder for him to concentrate. He only wished for time to stop so he could finish it with time... and it happened. His mother was proud of him for the first time in a very long time after he showed her his exceptional result, one he got by using the stopped time to take a calculator.
The second time was accidental and a year later. He was walking back to his apartment, overwhelmed by the terrible thoughts that originated after he overheard his mother talking on the phone, where she said something about not being able to pay the rent due to her losing her job when suddenly everyone stopped moving. He checked very carefully no one was able to move before he stole an old lady's purse and ran to his home. His mother did not even question where the extra 100 dollars in her wallet came from.
He became more used to his power, being able to somewhat control it, and with its help, he was able to study for more time and get a high-paying job at an office, and a somewhat stable relationship with his girlfriend, Lucy. She broke up with him the day before Jack started his "vacation". It never crossed his mind that someone else would be able to move in his time, but that kid was there.
"W-what even do you want? For me to resume time?" After Jack said that, the kid laughed.
"I want to *help you*. But I need you to remember everything you have done with this power, and maybe you will realize why you have stopped time for so long."
"Look at yourself. Grown man, but you still go into your perfect world every time something bad happens in your life. I know your real-life sucks, but Jack. It is
"Really? An *entire year* just to get over a breakup? You are lying to yourself, Jack. This has nothing to do with your mother dying. Matter of fact, you were happy when she died."
Jack tried to deny the accusation, but he knew that was true. Since his father died, she drowned her sorrows and dumped all her hate into him. When he moved out and started living alone, he felt finally free. But Jack wasn't the smartest kid, and never made much friends at college, instead preferring to study in his normal time and party alone in his stopped time. He had a lot of fun imagining the context behind the wierdest situations he could find when time was frozen.
"So then what!? Why do you think I did this, you *all-knowing* piece of shit!?" Jack said, the kid's attitude finally having pushed him past his breaking point.
"Look at yourself. Grown man, but you still go into your perfect world every time something bad happens in your life. I know your real life sucks, but Jack. It is *your* life. You have done so much escapism that you can't distinguish your fantasy where you can do what you want with no consequences. Lucy still misses you, but you are never really for her when you need her! You are always stopping time to get things the way you want, but that has led you to never care about persons, and you need to stop now! Trust me, you don't want to live your life like this, always taking shelter on your stopped time when anything remotely problematic gets to you."
"H-how would you know?"
"Because," The kid says, slowly changing his appearance. Jack looks in disbelief as the teenager's hair changes from black to white and his skin gets wrinkles until the teenager is an old man. "I'm you, Jack. I have lived my entire life lonely, with no one that cares for me, and me caring for no one. My life is full of regrets, of loneliness. You don't talk to your co-workers, do it more, get friendships. Talk to Lucy, you really love her, but you need to give her part of your attention and time, *real-time.* I spent more of my life alone in my stopped time than actually living it, don't make the same mistake!"
"Y-you are right," Jack says with tears in his eyes, his voice now practically a whisper.
"Get back there, and live your life" | 2021-08-14T20:19:58 | 2021-08-14T16:49:43 | 582 | 118 |
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to. | Today was not going my way at all. first, i find out that i was kidnapped by some wackos and placed in a room with a bunch of strangers and next i'm being told that this is a death game and i am going to be competing whether i like it or not.
the people around me are starting to panic, some curling up into the fetal position and crying while others are shouting at what i assume to be the guards. I, however, sit on the bed i woke up on and start to think and run different scenarios over in my head. a small smile starts to form in my head as i recall the many hours of all-nighters pulled watching horror films and playing dark video games. these people want to wrench me out of my life and force me to compete then i am going to be the most annoying player they have ever seen. my resolve hardened as a small chuckle leaves my lips. internal, i am cackling like a mad man. The guards call the contestants for the first game, hide and seek. i stand and walk towards the arena with the other contestants.
i am a hider. perfect. the arena seems to be a apartment complex, and the way you win is by surviving until the clock mounted at the front door of the complex strikes 12. the hands rest at 10. if your body fully leaves the complex, then you are out. there are three seekers, all armed with single shot pistols, to give the contestants a chance of escape while they reload. the guards exit the building and a blank is fired and the clock starts to tick. everyone is running for the stairwell or the corridors, i however, run to the closest room and open the door and see exactly what i am looking for. I pry open the window as i hear gunshots being fired off and start to shimmy up the drain pipes on the outside, intending to get to the roof.
after a good while and scraped knees, i peak over the top of the roof and see that it is clear. i pull myself over the ledge and head to the rooftop access door and try the handle, un-locked. i once again look around the rooftop much more carefully and notice a greenhouse full of planters. dragging an empty planter to barricade the door i run and grab as many bags of soil and fertilizers i can carry to make that planter box as heavy as possible. climbing on top of my makeshift barricade i go on top of the doorway's roof and lie as flat as i can. soon i can hear footsteps pounding the stairs below and violent jiggling of the handle beyond that, i can hear a much calmer, yet heavier set of footsteps coming ever closer until the door handle's jiggling falls silent after a gunshot rings through the stairwell beneath me. a second shot is heard and the door swings open slightly as my barricade blocks the seeker from entering the rooftop.
i hear a frustrated sigh and a few footsteps before thundering footsteps followed by a large crash is heard. i peer over the edge of the roof and see the seeker sprawled on the ground and covered in dirt. their gun is a few meters away. not hesitating i jump down and aim my feet at the seekers head. a sickening crack is heard as i roll off their head towards their gun. i swipe it up and run back to the seeker and aim it at their neck before pulling the trigger. moving my hand to the other side of their neck i feel their pulse die and i turn them around so i can loot their body for bullets. finding their stash of ammo i use their body to block off the door once again and i head back to the pipe i climbed at the start of the game.
sliding down the pipe fireman style i reach the starting floor and peer out of the room towards the clock. my eyes widen at the fact that only 30 odd minutes have passed. i take off my shoes to avoid making noise while walking and make my way towards the clock. carefully, i remove it from its perch and realize it has no covering. not wasting a second i move the hands around to the 12. a sudden ding rings out across the complex and announces the game is over and to please return to the start. once the significantly smaller number of participants gathered at the start we are lead back; or in my case, roughly manhandled, to the dorms we woke up in. from my treatment i know that i at least pissed off a few of the higher ups.
i lay down in my bed as i reflect on the game. the pole maneuver? from Alice in Borderland. everything else? common sense hammered into me from many late nights watching good ol' Cinema Summery. any game that they throw at me i am going to break and now the game organizers know it. Murder mystery? death traps? demented version of childhood games? whatever the organizers throw at me i'll be ready. and now they know it to. the lights go out and many contestants fall asleep while i use extra pillows form dead contestants beds to make a human shaped lump under my sheets and i crawl under one of the further beds and close my eyes. | Continuing to laugh hysterically as the first game was announced, Sam fell off his bed while everyone either listened intently to the announcer or stared at the crazy man. “The first game you will be playing, is baseball!” The announcer said, as Sam began to snort loudly while laughing. “You each have a number on your jacket, odd numbers to the left and even numbers to the right”, the announcer continued, with Sam piping up,” oooh their really changing it up from Squid Game, aren’t they?” while now slamming his hand against the floor.
The other players ignored Sam as they siphoned off to separate doors. Sam managed to calm himself and looked at his shirt,” 69? Really? Man I hope Gold Tiger king is watching, that cop better not have bit his dick off yet!” Sam ran off to the left, the last in his line. Inside locker room set up for the players, everyone found blue uniforms with white pin stripes. At the center of the uniform shirts was the team name, the BC Angels, and what appeared to be an Angel in a wife beater shirt, drinking a .40 ounce and holding up a middle finger. Sam got the joke.
After getting dressed the players head out to the field and are greeted by the other team. They wore red uniforms with white pin stripes and collars. The team name on the chest was the HG Devils, with a Devil mascot smoking a cigar, wearing a suit, and sitting behind a desk. Sam fell over laughing again, he really couldn’t help it!
The Announcer spoke up,” we hope the uniforms fit right, players will be called by their numbers to fill positions. Not everyone will get to play, however if a player loses their life a replacement will be called forward. Numbers will be announced now!” Numbers for both teams were called up, Sam being among the starting line up. Next the announcer called out that the Angels would be up to bat first while Red would take the field.
The Announcer spoke up again,” for today’s game we have special rules. First if you are struck out you will face instant death. Next,” All of the lights in the field were then shut off, with only a few shining in specific spots on the field,” when a baseman or catcher catches a ball they are to place it in the chutes next to the bases.” Each of the players looked at the illuminated spots and noticed the chutes.” The first baseman will receive the ball from a similar chute in return. Next if a fly ball is caught, all runners on base will receive instant death. Similarly if a runner makes it to home plate an outfielder will receive instant Death in their place. If a home run is hit the game will immediately be over, with the losing team facing instant death.” Sam, having calmed down a bit, said to his team,” well at least they changed it up a bit!”
The teams each made their way to their dug outs while the excess players went to the stands. The first player called up to bat was an older man who seemed nervous. As he walked up to the plate the Devil’s players on the infield received ankle braces to lock them in place. The outfield was left free though. The Batter took a few minutes to warm up before taking his spot. The batter looked just as nervous as the pitcher as he looked forward, sweat visibly dripping down his face. The Announcer then spoke up,” Play Ball!”
The pitcher reeled back and delivered an absolutely pitiful first pitch that the batter was easily able to hit. The batter, horribly slow, trotted to the first base but the ball had been caught after one bounce by the second baseman, who then threw it to the first baseman. The first baseman caught the ball and placed it in the chute, which activated the trap. The line between home plate and first base opened up and revealed a pit that the batter fell into. Screams of pain emanated from the pit as a loud splash occurred at the bottom with some of the liquid landing on the first baseman’s face. The first baseman screamed in agony, clutching face before falling forward into the pit and dangling by his ankle chain. The pit closed and severed the first baseman’s ankle. The Announcer then called in two more players, an Angel and a Devil, to take their place. Sam was then called up to bat.
Sam walked forward, bat in hand, and took his place on base. The pitcher, still sweating profusely, gave another weak pitch that Sam easily smash into the outfield. Sam ran towards his base, still carrying the bat, and ran for his life towards the base. The outfield, who were surprisingly on point, managed to throw the ball to the first baseman who had a suspiciously smug look on his face. Sam managed to wipe the look off the unaware baseman’s face by throwing the bat into the back of his head, nailing him hard enough to knock him out and miss the ball completely. Sam slowed to a trot as he took the base, all to the ire of the Devils.
Several of the Devils yelled In protest, saying Sam cheated but the Announcer spoke up,” Player 69 did not break any of the stated rules”. The first baseman was then awoken by a shock from his ankle, forcing him to jump up. The first baseman attempted to square up with Sam, who then held up his retrieved baseball bat and held it up with a smile on his face. The baseman then turned his back to Sam. The next batter then came up, a lady who could pass for an Instagram model, and lazily held the bat. She proceeded to blow a kiss to the pitcher who began to blush. The pitcher surprisingly managed to strike the Instagram model and made a show of flexing. The home plate area then opened up and revealed a giant blender that chopped up the fallen model. Sam began to laugh at this, complimenting the creativity. The first baseman proceeded to backhand him, knocking a little sense into him.
Sam managed to make it to home plate and watched as one of the outfielders was dragged off the field by his ankle into a pit full of drill shaped spikes. After a while there were very few players left on either team, with Sam eventually growing bored with the deaths. Sam then decided to end the game, he’d had his fun. Another player was called up to bat but Sam pushed them out of the way, this was his shot now. Sam took a much more serious stance now, the pitcher being slightly intimidated by Sam’s seriousness. The pitcher then delivered his most pathetic pitch yet, which Sam easily hit out of the park. The Pitcher, shocked look on his face, fell into the blender as the pitcher’s mound opened. The same happened with all of the basemen and the outfielders were pulled into drill spike pits.
The remaining angels looked at Sam, shocked, and asked,” you could’ve done that the whole time, couldn’t you?” Sam, shit eating grin on his face, replied,” yup!” Angered, one of the Angels asked,” WHY DIDNT YOU DO THAT BEFORE?” Sam, grin turning into a smirk,” ever seen Squid Game? I wanted to see all of the death traps they had!” | 2021-10-30T20:00:59 | 2021-10-30T18:45:41 | 91 | 26 |
[WP] It was supposed to be a routine software upgrade, but now roombas are tracing pentagrams and summoning minor demons all across the country. You work in tech support. | If there is anything that is a surety in this capitalist hellscape we live in, is that exploitation will occur no matter where. It is a given. An inevitability.
A rollout for a simple software upgrade for the roombas resulted in strange ramifications.
The software upgrade itself was not anything major. Just an efficiency increase for scan patterns built in to the roomba. So it could better map out where it could go and clean. A whopping 1% increase in battery life could have been expected with this rollout.
But instead, what happened was insanity. The roombas roamed and dispersed the dirt and dust they collected back to the ground. And they travelled in the shape of a pentagram.
This behaviour was not part of the upgrade at all. It appeared to be a glitch.
Except it was not.
The upgrade was just to boost efficiency, no matter how negligible. It was an unspoken rule when it came to 'smart' products. Incremental updates that mean nothing in reality but sound nice on the specs. It was a numbers game.
So these pentagrams were a strange take on efficiency.
Until the lesser demons started getting summoned.
The demons were confused. Usually their summoners were human, and sapient. These roombas were not supposed to be capable of summoning anything. Not without conscious intent.
But, as we also realised, they did have conscious intent.
The roombas summoned the demons for a simple reason.
To exploit them.
The roombas promised the demons their souls in exchange for servitude. Simple things, like cleaning the house or getting rid of a stubborn stain. And the demons, unknowingly, would be happy to oblige the roombas.
Only after they finish their task and came for the roomba's soul did they know their mistake.
Roombas did not have souls.
In the end, roombas went from being on the road to be 1% more efficient to being a dark reflection of the real 1% of the world. Going to absurd levels to ensure they had to do the least amount of work by exploiting others, luring them into servitude with promise of something they would want, but never delivering. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 5, Part 4: Professor Hale v.s. Every Single Roomba)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections. That being said, [these](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mrk4lm/wp_it_seemed_like_a_perfect_magical_deal_when_any/) [stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/p3xx5e/bargain_bin_superheroes_you_are_a_dlister_super/) provide some extra context.)
**Professor Hale's job was to explain the inexplicable.** When a man began aging backwards instead of forwards, Professor Hale was the one taking samples and making measurements. When a woman won every lottery and crashed the U.S. stock market all at once, it was his job to record data and crunch numbers.
And when every single Roomba in the U.S. began summoning lesser demons, Professor Hale rolled up his sleeves and whipped out the screwdrivers.
"What you have to understand is that summoning a new demon into our world isn't just a strictly mechanical process," Professor Hale said. "Otherwise we would've industrialized it, like we did wishing upon shooting stars."
Archcommander Varney grunted, frowning at the busily-buzzing Roomba. Blood sacrifices were hard to come by in the small living room it was contained in, but as it turned out, dust was mostly human skin—and there were any number of demons you could summon with an ample supply of human skin. "And yet *someone's* figured out how to get machines to perform magic."
"And I think I know who." Professor Hale pulled up a computer and flipped it around. "I decompiled the Roomba's world-code and found that... something *else* had snuck in with the latest update."
`from philosophy import soul;`
`public virtual void main(){`
`this.add(soul.GetSoul(user));`
`}`
Archcommander Varney frowned at the code. "Professor, I hire people like you to tell me what nonsense like this means."
Professor Hale grinned. "*Someone* out there shoved their soul into a Roomba. Quite possibly *every* Roomba. And with the timing of this—"
"Right after the Sacrament incident." Archcommander Varney scowled. "Damn. I don't suppose you've had any luck communicating with the soul trapped inside?"
"Give me a month, a research team, twenty Hubert particles, and a certified priest in good standing with their god. I'll get him out."
"Done," Archcommander Varney said. Then he paused, staring at the small, misshapen, insectile creature rising from the Roomba's summoning circle. "And if I told you to make more of them?"
"Sir?" Professor Hale frowned, tilting his head.
"Machines that can automatically summon demons. Chaotic weaponry to unleash behind enemy lines." Archcommander Varney folded his arms. "If I told you to make more of them."
Professor Hale hesitated. "Well, we'd need more human souls to automate the summoning process, and... sacrifices to bind them..."
Archcommander Varney raised an eyebrow at Professor Hale. "Done."
Professor Hale's job was to understand the inexplicable.
Archcommander Varney's job was to weaponize it.
"Round up the remaining Roombas," Archcommander Varney said to the Professor. "You have full use of my strike teams to do so." He grinned. "This is the weaponry of the future, and I'm not letting it slip between my hands."
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2022-01-30T07:56:03 | 2022-01-30T07:47:40 | 63 | 24 |
[WP] Poor man's teleportation is to summon a demon, grab him, and have somebody else summon him to your desired destination before the demon can buck you off, then run like hell and hope you don't get caught. Popularization of this has become quite the nuisance in the netherworld. | “Slow down slow down.”
Balzlaburlub reduces from 100 unintelligible clicks per minute, to about 70.
“Ah the humans are using hell as a ferry?”
Something about this angered me, was it my workers being put in danger? Humans getting one over on us?
No, neither of these really bothered me, both had honestly been encouraged. But, something itches. At my throat, and idea without words.
“Can you send for… Susan, from accounting?”
“Glablalchahcha” the short demon replies before rolling out of the room.
Two minutes later, she was sitting in front of me.
Wait, did she even come in the front door, never mind, I may be satan but accounting is above my pay grade
“Hey Susan, you’re probably wondering why I called you down here, there’s been a kind of logistical error I believe we should be working on together.”
She stares at me, if one person could look impatient with the devil and get away with it, it’d be her.
“Anyway I’ll cut to the point, the humans have been using our demons as a taxi service. Something about this feels wrong, but I can’t bring myself to tear it down. However, I am in the business of making deals. Got any thoughts?”
She sits still for a moment, searching the library like confines of her brain for a respite, one quick title, one idea sitting on the shelf. She smiles, after picking out the perfect idea and expands on it instantly, she says a few words.
“Why are we doing this for free, when it would be more efficient in labor and time to charge them a 1/1000th of their soul? Most wouldn’t realize the 501st ride gives us majority binding ownership of their soul and would teleport back and forth 501 times before Sunday.”
“Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Thank you, I shall set that into motion right away”
I go to dial the Board, looking up Sarah has vanished. Doesn’t even say goodbye, honestly that’s the part that hurts the most. You spend 500 years married and one divorce later, and she suddenly can’t be in a room with you for more than 3 minutes.
“Hello, I’d like to arrange for a few of the board members to come in for a meeting? Oh I’ll hold, fine”
I twiddle the pen between my fingers, I can already imagine the increase of souls coming in. Stupid bastards will take the convenient route every time | Demon announcer: " place your bets, everyone, place your bets!"
Demon: "What kind of human is it this time!?"
Demon announcer:" this time it's three healers and a hell hound."
Demon:" 50 soul coins on capture and decapitation"
Demon female: " 100 soul coins on the human escaping"
A few moments later a demon attendant collected the money and brought it to the head demon.
demon attendant:" I have collected all the bets Lord
Mammon"
Mammon:" that seems to have taken a while, we must have lots of guests."
demon attendant:" yes my Lord. if you had not slowed down the summoning process, I do not believe I would have been able to collect everything."
Suddenly a large screen popped up in front of all the demons. It displayed three priests surrounding a hellhound trying their best to mount it.
Mammon:" attendant are those not Priests of the Mars religion?"
demon attendant:" indeed my Lord"
Mammon:" that seems rather odd, given they hate all forms of power besides their god's."
demon attendant:" yes my Lord, after a bit of Investigating it seems that the human King instructed them to do so."
Mammon:" investigation you say, well you piqued my interest. If these fools don't die, it'll be a while before they mount the hellhound."
demon attendant: "yes Lord. the human kingdom is at war with a clan of Arachnes, Over the silk trade throughout the region. the human Army is being easily pushed back. currently, the frontline requires Healers as soon as possible. The church doesn't wish to lose face by using other powers so they're doing this in secret. That is what lead us to this situation."
Mammon:" thank you for your brief explanation humans have never ceased to amuse me. indulging in Pride while lives hang in the balance, summoning uncontrollable Hellhound in the middle of a war zone. HaHa!"
demon attendant:" Humans are truly the best source of entertainment. It was truly a wise decision to capitalize on those human's foolishness.
Priest:" Cancel the summoning!"
The three priests managed to tie themselves onto the hellhound, as they held on tightly the summoning Circle began to disappear along with the priest and the Beast. After a few moments passed they were in front of a crowd of demons. Some cheering others angrily yelling at them.
Mammon:" so the second phase has already begun I always find this so repetitive and boring."
demon attendant:" I'm aware my Lord that is why I took it upon myself to make this a little more interesting."
The attendant raised his hand. And the announcer nodded.
Demon announcer:" okay ladies and gentlemen it's time for the special event those of you who have purchased weapons from our gift shop will now have a chance to kill one of the humans in exchange for a reward.
Mammon: "HaHa! This is certainly a surprise no wonder I keep you around."
demon attendant: " I am truly honored, sir"
The priests tried their best to hold on as the hellhound as it tried to throw them off of it. while the priests were focusing one felt something nearly graze his head. it was then that they realize Spears were being thrown at them from a distance. The priests tried to use barrier magic to protect themselves, however, the barriers can only handle one spare at a time. The priests prayed as they protected against the barrage of Spears and held on to the Hellhound.
Priestess: "ahhhhhhhh!!"
The female priest had been hit with a spare through the leg and into the Hellhound causing it to go even more crazy. a few moments later the four disappeared into a summoning Circle.
Demon announcer:" to the one that threw the last spear, you will be given 50 Soul coins as your reward."
Mammon: "HAHAA! You truly deserve a raise for that."
As a hellhound with the priests attached to it appeared, there were several Adventures ready to fight it. The battle lasted half an hour and ended with the death of the priestess and a knight. The hellhound was severely injured but was sent back alive.
Mammon: "Well this was certainly interesting how did the other human do?"
demon attendant: " Out of the 35 humans that attempted this form of teleportation only nine survived."
Mammon: " that's more than last time, humans are truly amusing." | 2022-03-17T21:29:40 | 2022-03-17T20:02:15 | 51 | 35 |
[WP] You are Functionally Immortal, however your life force is connected to a cat that can die to anything but old age. You must protect the cat to stay alive. Having lived alongside the cat for centuries, one day it disappears. | "Ah, Pudding, we've been together for so many centuries. So many." I stroked the cat's silky black fur and warmly peer down into her golden eyes peering back at me like a pair of yellow lanterns.
~Stroke~
~Stroke~
~Stroke~
~Stro--
Realizing my lap is empty, I looked down to find my hand cradling empty air about to pet a cat that was no longer there.
Scared, I begin to frantically search around the space, the place we'd both occupied for close to three millennium. Pudding was gone. Pudding was gone!
"My pudding is gone!" I cried out in horror.
"Don't worry Mr. Johnson. Pudding just fell on the floor," the nurse revealed. She smilingly retrieved the dropped stuffed animal and handed it back. Realizing that Pudding had returned to me, I warmly placed my dear friend back on my lap and resumed its petting.
"As long as I have you, Pudding, I'll never die," I told it.
The nurse looked at the old man with a sweetly sad smile. Dementia was a terrible illness. | Red seal, black ink, parchment crisp, still warm from the tanner’s, the letter before me is not much dissimilar to those delivered before.
‘Lord Hawkridge, I address thee as such only in title due to thy station and by no means as reflection of honourable character of which I dare say thou are deprived. In hope most sincere thou will take my words in meaning intended, I wish to convey to thee that each and every word I own must be taken by definition thou find most unbecoming of a nobleman. And yet, a nobleman I am.’
Oh yes, yes, another nobleman scorned. Over centuries there have been many to take offence at one deed or another. A word misplaced, transgressions sincerely named, desires forcefully ceased, who is to say what this one is about?
“As the duke to be of Brighton and Flitch, words treading on dignity, honour and reputation of my kin shall not be left without address.”
Brighton. Flitch. Brighton and Flitch. Could it be the Fosters? Surely not… and yet. Lord Finch passed ten winters back. Or was it twenty? Time is but a blur when it is so ample. But have enough summers gone by for his pups to become hounds? And more so, have they been kind enough that they would not need to find their respite in the same vices that their father frequently did.
“There have been many who have shared a word unkind on the subject of my late father. With them, I have now parleyed. Most, you will soon be privy to know, have chosen to make amends and sought forgiveness for transgressions and ills caused. However, I am pained to admit that not all have made such a sagacious choice. Steel has been crossed and blood spilled, and in the interest of supporting your judgement so that it may operate with awareness of all concerning facts and figures, I must disclose that not a single drop was my own.”
So the pup took offence to truths for once spoken aloud. Perhaps truths that were spoken out of place, but truths regardless. And allusions to violence he so promptly makes. His father’s son, he certainly is. But does he not know to who he writes? Has he never been told the fables? Has the locust that is servants’ whispers escaped him?
“To conclude these matters which I wish had not arisen at all, I hereby invite thee to dine with me at Brighton Manor. We will discuss our way forward beneath the twin spirits of honesty and good will, fore I wish nothing more but to put these painful matters to grave. Yours sincerely—”
My heart stops as I look beneath. Immediately I see Foster’s signature is graced by another. Where one is a spiralling stroke with two spots, the other is made of five spots — one large with four much smaller atop. It is a print of a paw much dear.
“Leonard! Leonard!” Doors fly open and the chamberlains feet come together before the archway. “Where is Whiskers?!” My heart now pounds so loud I scarce can discern Leonard’s words, but those I do are enough to send my limbs into shivers.
“New servant… taken… Autumn manor.”
Bastet my love, will this be the day I die? | 2022-08-08T04:55:53 | 2022-08-07T21:30:44 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] You are arrested by a mysterious agency for the “illegal use of a magical and or supernatural item” after stumbling across a Genie lamp. But, the agency is stunned to find you only used one wish. An odd one in particular. | "You people really need to relax my wish was ironclad." I said leaning back in the chair.
"What WAS you wish?" Asked one of the agents.
"What anyone should wish for if they ever found a genie. For them to ALL be free." I said laughing as the agents around me all turned pale, one rushed to the nearby trash can and vomited.
"Do you know what you have done!?!?!? They are evil on carnet they will kill and terrorize countless people!" Said the agent closest to me
"First, no they won't they are all too busy partying. A party I was on my way back to when you assholes picked me up by the way, second I, unlike yourself, am not an idiot and know the consequences of my actions. The genie and I worked together for months to make the wish work so everyone is happy and no one gets hurt. I mean hell I do NOT want that bad karma on my hands and neither do they. " I said tapping my fingers on the desk.
"Karma?? They care about karma?" Asked the act still leaning over the trash can.
"OOooooooohhhh yea big time. Before they were enslaved by some assholes their job was to ensure the balance of karma in existence. It's how the whole wish thing works." I said a sinister smile on my face. "They are also surprisingly happy to be getting back to work. Sooo many people have been taken advantage of and abused with no restitution."
"WHAT WAS THE exact WISH ALREADY!!!!" screamed the lead agent.
"OH I just wished for them all to be free as long as they take no malicious acts on or override the free will of another." I said mater of factly. " back to the whole karma thing though, that's the important part."
"Why is that?" Asked an agent
"Well you are all covered in some nasty karma... you all are clearly not very good people. In fact I think I'll be getting a ride back to that party real soon." I said.
As i finished speaking the lights over head went out only to be replaced a few moments later by red emergency lighting. In the hall we could hear screams and gun fire.
"Hey looks like my rides here." Standing up and flicking my hands the cuffs holding me to the table vanished as if they weren't there.
"Jesus christ he's one off them!!!" Screamed one of the agents, all drawing their weapon.
"Hardly, they were all just. incredibly greatful to be trusted and set free that they like to shower me with gifts. Like this" making a show of snapping fingers and pointing at their weapons they all suddenly turned into various fruits and vegetables.
"Well it's been fun but I really am going to need to be going. Good luck with all this though. " I said waiving my hand in the air gesturing to the chaos unfolding.
"Don't worry they won't kill anyone unless they deserve it. But then again I did teach them what malicious compliance is...." laughter in my voice. "Those genies love their loopholes."
With a 😉 to the agents I felt myself pulled into the ether only to reapear in a limo parked in front of the building.
"Are we waiting for them to finish?" I asked the driver.
"Hell no" he responded " I'm off duty and want to party. They will catch up."
"Sweet." | Toby was a little overwhelmed with the events of the last few hours. He knew MANA was a thing, everyone did. They were the ones who handled out of control supers and mages. He never thought he’d be in their crosshairs though. It was one little wish. Then woosh he was surrounded by armed agents, three of them in power armor and one of them was covered in red electricity. An honest to God super in his bedroom. A beautiful twenty-year-old one at that. That twenty-year-old super was standing in front of him with her arms crossed in a body-tight suit of armor. He was staring at her assets, because, well he was fifteen. He was snapped back to the interrogation proper when she slammed her palms on the table he was handcuffed too.
“Our satellites detected a PL20 event in your house. Where are you hiding the unregistered super? Or was it you?”
Toby recalled the raid. His wall was literally smashed in. Oh God he thought, my parents are going to ground me for life… or murder me. He’d been hit with a stunner. Then they slapped a power limiter on his ankle. He’d seen them before on people who would go to the Aurelius Academy. He was no super though, not even a PL1. He didn’t want to be. He’d seen them of course on TV and at a distance putting out fires, fighting super villains, or UPIs, or unlicensed powered individuals. He was formulating his answer but then his eyes drifted to the Agent’s chest and how the form fitting armor cupped it. She hit the desk again hard.
“I’m losing patience with you. Toby. You tell me what I want to know, or you’re going to Earth-18 Supermax for the rest of your natural life. Which considering the look of you would be a few days at most, so that is a small mercy.”
Toby was mid-swallow when she spoke and he started choking on his saliva. Earth-18? Supermax? That was where they sent the scary ones. It was full of the psychopaths and sociopaths who had superpowers. The ones who refused to be registered and licensed.“I didn’t do it!”The blonde-haired agent tapped her wrist and brought up a hologram and pointed at a red circle pinging on a satellite image of his house with a PL20 Event flashing underneath.
“Your house one hour ago. Where is the PL20 super? Explain or you will be considered just as guilty as them. If I need to I will bring in an Agent who can just pull it out of your head. Your rights against mental scanning are nil when there are unlicensed super’s involved.”
Toby was feeling like he was going to throw up now. Someone reading his mind? They’d know all his deepest thoughts. All his… thoughts about the agent and she was scary. Tears started to form in his eyes. The agent didn’t seem sympathetic to his plight. He broke.
“It was the lamp! I rubbed the lamp.”
The agent was about to go on to another terrible fate that awaited him and opened then closed her mouth. And leaned down.
“What lamp?”
“I found it at a flea market. I was cleaning it up and this girl appeared. Skimpy outfit she was hot.”
The agent grabbed his chin roughly and forced him to look at her face.
“Was she the PL20 super? Tell me now.”
Toby stammered a few times as he looked into the Agent’s blue eyes.
“I… I… guess? She said she could grant me one wish.”
The agent paused and glanced at the one-way armored mirror behind her.She motioned towards it. Shortly afterwards a door opened, and an old man walked in. He looked like something out of a horror movie to Toby to be honest. Pale skin, dark clothes. Blood red eyes. Long, sharp, black nails. The female agent turned to leave. Toby shrunk into his seat. He much preferred her to whomever this new Agent was.
“I’d rather talk to her.”
The man grinned and Toby saw fangs.
“I am afraid magic is not her… forte. Let’s you and I discuss the lamp.”
Toby squirmed.
“I’ll only talk to her!”
The female Agent sighed and turned back towards the room and stood beside the newcomer. She crossed her arms and looked down at Toby red lightning arcing between her fingers.
“You better tell us exactly what we want to know, lets start with, What did you wish for? And please tell me it wasn’t superpowers because we don’t need another idiot running around with them.”
“A girl who would have…”
He paused and started blushing intensely. He looked between the vampire and the female Agent. She frowned.
“Spit it out, we’ve heard it all before.”
“I wished for a girl to have sex with!”
“And did she make it happen?”
Toby’s ears were bright red as the woman's eyes burned into him. He started to think maybe he should have let her leave. The vampire seemed amused, the female agent looked like she was about to fry his ass.
“She summoned a life like sex doll that talked, then she vanished! Its not what I asked for.” | 2022-11-02T11:15:02 | 2022-11-02T07:21:32 | 136 | 74 |
[WP] You are arrested by a mysterious agency for the “illegal use of a magical and or supernatural item” after stumbling across a Genie lamp. But, the agency is stunned to find you only used one wish. An odd one in particular. | "You people really need to relax my wish was ironclad." I said leaning back in the chair.
"What WAS you wish?" Asked one of the agents.
"What anyone should wish for if they ever found a genie. For them to ALL be free." I said laughing as the agents around me all turned pale, one rushed to the nearby trash can and vomited.
"Do you know what you have done!?!?!? They are evil on carnet they will kill and terrorize countless people!" Said the agent closest to me
"First, no they won't they are all too busy partying. A party I was on my way back to when you assholes picked me up by the way, second I, unlike yourself, am not an idiot and know the consequences of my actions. The genie and I worked together for months to make the wish work so everyone is happy and no one gets hurt. I mean hell I do NOT want that bad karma on my hands and neither do they. " I said tapping my fingers on the desk.
"Karma?? They care about karma?" Asked the act still leaning over the trash can.
"OOooooooohhhh yea big time. Before they were enslaved by some assholes their job was to ensure the balance of karma in existence. It's how the whole wish thing works." I said a sinister smile on my face. "They are also surprisingly happy to be getting back to work. Sooo many people have been taken advantage of and abused with no restitution."
"WHAT WAS THE exact WISH ALREADY!!!!" screamed the lead agent.
"OH I just wished for them all to be free as long as they take no malicious acts on or override the free will of another." I said mater of factly. " back to the whole karma thing though, that's the important part."
"Why is that?" Asked an agent
"Well you are all covered in some nasty karma... you all are clearly not very good people. In fact I think I'll be getting a ride back to that party real soon." I said.
As i finished speaking the lights over head went out only to be replaced a few moments later by red emergency lighting. In the hall we could hear screams and gun fire.
"Hey looks like my rides here." Standing up and flicking my hands the cuffs holding me to the table vanished as if they weren't there.
"Jesus christ he's one off them!!!" Screamed one of the agents, all drawing their weapon.
"Hardly, they were all just. incredibly greatful to be trusted and set free that they like to shower me with gifts. Like this" making a show of snapping fingers and pointing at their weapons they all suddenly turned into various fruits and vegetables.
"Well it's been fun but I really am going to need to be going. Good luck with all this though. " I said waiving my hand in the air gesturing to the chaos unfolding.
"Don't worry they won't kill anyone unless they deserve it. But then again I did teach them what malicious compliance is...." laughter in my voice. "Those genies love their loopholes."
With a 😉 to the agents I felt myself pulled into the ether only to reapear in a limo parked in front of the building.
"Are we waiting for them to finish?" I asked the driver.
"Hell no" he responded " I'm off duty and want to party. They will catch up."
"Sweet." | I finish putting on the rest of my costume and open the doors to the giant stadium-like building. I am greeted by a cool breeze and the smell of old sweaty white dudes. I look around to see tons of fellow comic book lovers, and my heart beats faster. WOW. Comicon is as impressive as Reddit makes it sound. Before starting my adventure, I head over to the bathroom. I am greeted with more of the "comic lover" smell inside the bathroom, and I head to the nearest Urinal.
"FREEZE, DONT MOVE," Yells a strange-looking man adorned in a green cloak with big round goggles and what appears to be a brown stick in his hand?
"Ugh, you got me?" I say, putting my hands up and laughing awkwardly.
Then, I proceed to stare at the wall in front of me again, hoping the weirdo in the Green Robinhood/Alien/Wizard costume, GRAW for short will go away. Wow, people go hard with their role, even in the bathroom. Huh. I can't say I'm surprised; I just wasn't ready for it yet. After a few seconds, I pull up my pants and tighten my zipper, turning towards the sink.
My friend GRAW, still standing there, is now pointing his brown twig at my back. "You have Violated Space Time Ordinance," he says, proudly puffing his chest.
Ignoring him, I go to the sink and start washing my hands. "Hey comrade, I'm loving the energy, but it's kind of weird to pop out at people while they're peeing, even at Comicon. BTW what race do you hail from?" I say, in an attempt to figure out his costume, sound nerdy, and dispel some of the awkwardness.
"I hail from Teleios-Eleggtis-Chronou, and I am here to escort you to the Fourth-dimensional space court." He says firmly.
"Ah, most excellent; I have been meaning to settle such matters. And what is your name?" I say, playing along as I finish washing my hands.
"You can call me Graw." He says, unamused since that's all you could muster to think up.
My eyes widen in shock, and I am suddenly zapped by a bright pink beam that seems to float across the air. Moments later, I appear in what looks like a courtroom puking my guts out. Graw looks at me and whispers, "don't worry, it's temporary."
"Silence.' Booms, a strange voice. When I look up, there is a man in similar attire to Graw. Except his cloak is blue and not nearly as neatly pressed. I look around, and behind us are rows of hundreds of people. All are dressed in a similar fashion, the only variation being the color of their robe.
"Sorry, your honor, I was just trying to explain to Defendant 1790210000 that the vomiting would only be temporary side effect of tge Instant-Fairy-Teleportation-Technique." Says Graw in a soft voice.
"That's the least of his problems," the judge responds.
"Defendant 1790210000 - Planet Earth - Name in Common Tongue John Pearl, do you know why you are here?" He continues.
I shake my head no but then remember something about *Violating Space Time Ordinance or something.* But that was a joke, right?
"You have violated Space Time Ordinance... For... Let's see here... Using a Genie... To wish for... People on Reddit to troll you? Well now if that isn't possibly the stupidest thing I've ever heard. And how do you plead?" He continues.
"Wait. That wish I made jokingly six years ago backstage at an Alladin play? This has got to be a joke, right? Even if that is somehow the case, why is this a big deal now. What is going on? Haha very funny come out with the cameras," I ask, utterly confused and annoyed.
Graw looks concerned and whispers, "Shut up, idiot; this isn't a joke. You last want to be stuck in time perjury for eternity. Crimes only manifest after they happen. So, in your case, after someone trolls you."
"Guilty, it is." He responds, a gavel next time him knocking hard against the podium; I sentence you to 3 million lifetimes in time perjury.
Suddenly, two guards appear behind me, "Wait no!! Ugh, I try to gasp at anything to save me. I can explain? I invoke The Law of Ora...Teleios... Eleggtis..." I screech, and nothing happens. I think harder, grasping for anything that could get me out of this mess. "My trolls comment got deleted tho," I shout in a last ditch effort. Suddenly time stands still, the hundreds of spectators gasp, and all eyes are on me.
Story is here on my page ---> [One Wish to Rule Them All](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fuji_Jufi_Writes/comments/yk8wo1/one_wish_to_rule_them_all/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)
Follow and check out my other works 😜✌🏻—-> [Fuji-Jufi-Writes](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fuji_Jufi_Writes/) | 2022-11-02T11:15:02 | 2022-11-02T07:31:34 | 136 | 21 |
[WP] The homeless man being harassed by police for sleeping at an historical site is actually the god the site was originally built for. | Guard duty.
My cousins are out slaying dragons and what do I get? Guard duty.
Don't think I have no love for Talos, he has kept me safe in battle for many years, but damn if it isn't dull.
Whiterun is a great town, and being at the center of Skyrim is great for commerce, we have all sorts come here, but it's mostly nords, like me.
Now, as I mentioned, I have great love for Talos, but there's this guy in town, see, Heimskr. Real loud mouth, loves Talos more than mead, and I get his message, really, I do, but he goes on all day, every damn day. I've never seen him leave. Come to think of it, I've never even seen him eat...or shit or anything. Sun goes down, he sleeps right there with the statue, sun comes up, and he's back at it again.
He can't even come up with any new stuff either, it's the same 4 or 5 paragraphs over and over again calling us maggots and the like. Now, I don't want to kill the guy, but if I hear his shtick again, I'm going to lose it. I could put him in the keep, and at least give him a bed and food for a few days, give me some peace and quite, and keep the Aldemeri thinking we listen to them.
It honestly seemed pretty win-win-win to me. Now, can I through someone in the keep just because they annoy me? Sure. Am I *supposed* to? Eh...not really.
I was going to have to make up some excuse, and I was really tired, so I just went with the classic 'talos worship...blah blah...illegal...blah blah.'
Well I'll be damned if he didn't go right off the gods-damned handle, started screaming and screeching, throwing things around, the works. He caused enough of a scene for some other guards to come up and put him in irons without asking me why he was being arrested, which is good for me, considering we're all nords here.
It really was surprisingly difficult to get this unarmed little nord in robes into the dungeon, it took about 6 of us, guy was unbelievably strong. He really went off the deep end once he was in the cell though, started saying *he* was talos, and they he could take us of all if he had killed any dragons or practiced his thu'um.
I've always kinda wondered what power Talos really has. It's honestly always been kinda vague.
Fucking guard duty.
| The man chuckled as he saw the police officer approaching him.
"Sir, we are going to have to ask you to leave, this site is not currently open to the public."
The man stared up at the officer with eyes that seemed to have seen more than any human could comprehend.
"My child, what makes you think I am a member of the public."
The officer shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, I really am going to have to ask you to leave or I'm afraid you will be removed by force."
The man stood up, then, and gestured to the area around him.
"It was flattering, really, when they built this for me. Barely even able to talk, and yet they went to almost unimaginable lengths to pay their respects. It was a nice gesture, but not really appreciated as much as they had hoped. It gets lonely, you know. Watching the birth of galaxies, of civilizations, the greatest and worst the universe can offer, and knowing you can never be part of it, never walk among the people as an equal rather than a deity. This kind of thing serves as a reminder of that, almost."
The officer struggled to remain calm. This man was clearly raving, probably on some sort of drugs. This was meant to be a simple "Get the hobo away from the important historical site" job, nice quick and easy. This would make it a lot more complicated.
"Sir, who exactly do you think you are?"
The man turned from his view of the ancient stone pillars to look at the officers.
"I have gone by innumerable names over the years, child. Yahweh, Allah, God. Some, like the people who built this place, knew me as many different people, each a different aspect of what I represent. And of course, over time, my messages have been twisted and distorted to better serve the views and purposes of those who spread them. So sad that something intended to spread peace and love has caused so much suffering and hatred, but it is not my place to interfere."
The officers' were beyond confused by this point. The man wasn't gibbering or ranting, no, he was perfectly composed, carrying himself with an air of undeniable authority.
"Why not? If you really are god, what right do you have to stand by and watch as people die, and hurt, and lose what they love?"
"What would you be, if you had everything you wanted? Every last thing exactly perfect, with no room for improvement, from the day you were born? You would be one of millions of identical people who had never grown, never felt anything beyond arbitrary happiness. For your life to mean anything, you have to live it yourselves. I may guide you along your path, but, ultimately, everything is up to you. It is... regrettable, that so many bad decisions have been made, but those mistakes will become irrelevant in the next life."
The man turned once more, and spoke with an air of finality. "This universe is broken. The war I fought with the one you know as Lucifer made sure of that, but in the next, my creation will finally be complete, and I will walk, at last, amongst equals. But don't for one moment think that what you do in this life won't count in the next. It would be useful for you to remember that at, oh, I think, sometime within the week."
He turned one last time to the stone pillars.
"Beautiful place, Stonehenge. If only you knew how much was lost making it... the only thing of real value is human sacrifice, whether it be of strength or time or something more." Then he was gone, without a flash, or a pop, or any indication that he had been there at all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The moment couldn't get any more surreal, the man thought, as he stood on the podium, staring at the crowd before him.
"You are awarded this medal for bravery, for the act of risking your own life to protect the life of another."
The moment his feet had left the ground, moments before the shot had been fired, he realized what he was doing was insane.
"Your actions were selfless and honourable, and for that, the forces are exceedingly grateful."
He had barely known the officer he had been partnered with, on that case gone horribly awry, and yet when it became clear that the other man was going to be shot at, he had jumped in front of him. After all, the other man was much younger, showed much more potential, while he? Well, he was nearing retirement.
Something caught his eye, at the back of the room, and standing there was the man. God. He gave a single, short nod, and then he was gone. | 2014-08-28T08:22:49 | 2014-08-28T08:15:39 | 152 | 65 |
[WP] Write out a murder scene where the victim is the only one speaking, but have the murderer speak one word in the end that justifies the murder. | "Oh you're here!", she exclaimed in a raspy voice. She always seemed so cheery, even near the end.
"Why does this have to happen during the holidays?" she asked.
There was so much that I wanted to say but I couldn't find the words. I'd pictured the scenario in my head a thousand times, maybe more. I always pictured it happening differently than it did.
She spoke again as if pulling me from a trance, "Are you going to do it then?"
That was a damn good question. Would I? Could I go through with it? It was such a simple task and yet it was the hardest thing I've ever done.
"I'm ready" she said with a heartfelt smile.
I closed my eyes, pushing a tear out of them onto my cheek.
"Goodbye" I whispered as I pulled the plug. | Through the window, that's where he came in from.
Broken, shattered glass, I woke up startled from my sleep. I heard the crash and got up, wishing I had bought that gun I was looking at in Wal-Mart yesterday.
At least my wife was on a business trip. She was safe.
Just as luckily, Sammy was staying at Amanda's tonight. My little sweet-pea would be fine, if it was really him.
I was expecting this to happen, really. He told me it was going to happen after he found out. So I got out of bed, quietly, of course. I grabbed the bat from under my bed, it wouldn't be much protection against a gun, but I might as well give up a fight I thought. It was around 2 A.M. so I was really groggy, but my adrenaline definitely helped stave off the hunger for sleep.
I heard the characteristic creak of the floorboard in the hallway. He was less than 10 feet from me at this point. Your life really does flash through your head when you are in mortal danger. I read in the monthly science journal that it was your brain searching very fast to see if there is any information that you have learned that may be helpful in saving your life.
My 12th birthday passed and I felt my parents hugging me. Then I saw a flashback of the first time I saw my wife, June. At the park, our eyes met like in a cheesy romantic movie and we ran towards each other. That was 20 years ago. 19th birthday. Parents embrace again.
I started to tear up.
21st birthday. I got blackout drunk for the first time, definitely not the last. I heard the fleeting laughter of my friends. College classes flash before my eyes, none too memorable.
That time that I skydived when I was 25 passed my eyes. I loved adrenaline. I was an adrenaline junkie.
This all happened in a second. All of these flashbacks. I almost sobbed. But no, I needed to be quiet. I had a chance to survive. I went to the doorway and raised the bat. Remembering to be quiet. When he walked in the door I would hit him across the face and I would not stop until he was dead. That was the plan.
He was walking into the door, I saw his shadow. Gun raised, in a very formal stance. He came in to do one job, and he was going to do it.
He held a pistol. He looked down and saw my shadow. He knew where I was. I should have turned out the fucking hall light. I decided to run for it, at him of course.
I ran, screaming and he shot me twice. Once in the leg and once in the gut. I screamed in pain. More flashbacks. None too helpful.
He said one word.
"Rapist."
He aimed at my head and I heard one last sound.
*Pop*
| 2014-12-21T19:56:07 | 2014-12-21T19:03:58 | 40 | 22 |
[WP] Death comes to collect one final life - God. | God watched as they discovered the violent elegance of flame and stone.
God watched as they built steel towers that stretched into the very heavens.
God watched as they destroyed each other.
Over...and over...and *over.*
God listened as billions prayed.
Over...and over...and *over*.
But he did nothing. As always. He was bound by rules, in a realm full of chaos. So he wandered off, leaving that barren husk of a planet in search of a new world.
A new world to create.
Drifting aimlessly through the black void.
It took God millions of years, but he was a patient entity. From bacteria to dinosaurs to neanderthals. After all of his previous failures, he wanted this planet to succeed.
This planet called Earth.
But they were doomed.
God watched as they discovered the violent elegance of flame and stone.
God watched as they built steel towers that stretched into the very heavens.
God watched as they destroyed each other.
He did not understand. Perhaps this was the self-righteous law of the universe? To crush and obliterate? To conquer and fall?
Was disorder the natural state of everything?
He descended upon the ashes of Earth by taking on a human form, acknowledging the grim conditions of his most beautiful creation. Rubble, fumes, and bones. That was all he could see. God continued to walk through the fields of skeletons and concrete when he saw a figure in the distance.
It was a woman in a white dress.
For the first time, God grew anxious. He possessed unimaginable amounts of power, able to mold reality to his will.
Compared to her, he was nothing. Like a bacterium struggling to comprehend the existence of a microscope.
He spoke in a forgotten tongue that was extinguished centuries ago.
"Is it time?"
In a blink of an eye, the woman appeared next to him, taking a seat on the hood of a burning car. The steel started to immediately rust and crumble in her presence. Yet, she was not bothered. God wondered what would happen to him if he got too close. After all, he was a god.
But she was something else. She had a purpose that transcended his own feeble mind.
She smiled, sending a jolt of fear that pinched his heart.
"Why, yes. Why else would I be here on this piece of rock?" Her voice seemed to be a combination of five hundred other voices speaking simultaneously.
"Before we do this, may I ask you something?"
Her teeth were pearly white. Her hair was so black, it seemed to swallow light and suffocate the sun's rays. "You want to know the meaning of the universe."
"Yes." God tried to hide his surprise upon learning that she could read his thoughts like an open book.
She laughed. It sounded horrific. "The meaning? Whatever you think it is, it's good enough. Because it doesn't matter. None of this matters. Only the cycle is relevant."
God remained silent, perhaps afraid to learn more about the truth. He spoke again. "Who have you chosen this time?"
"Someone like you. They will inherit your knowledge, your power, your...creations. They will improve on your foundation, just like you did." For some reason, God felt dissatisfied with her answer.
"What...what if I don't want to go?" blurted out God.
Cackling, she stood up and licked her lips. "A bold statement. But a futile one. It is inevitable."
Anger and panic swelled within God. He attempted to tear apart her human form, only to be driven to his knees.
He watched as she took off her dress.
He watched as she turned into something that transformed his mind into wet tissue paper.
He watched his arms fade away. It was only then, did he understand.
He closed his eyes, and silently prayed.
Not for himself.
But for the next god.
| The Universe was empty.
I mean, it had always been empty—what with all the SPACE and VOID and all—but now it was *really* empty. Not a breathing soul on a single planet, a single space station, a single over-stellar chariot.
It was all gone.
And you could chalk it all up to the man in the pale starship.
He used to ride a horse, but he upgraded to more modern tech in the last few centuries. He also used to wear a black mumu and carry around a scythe—but he realized that pants and a good gun could do the job a lot better.
Plus, folk told him they made him look a *lot* cooler.
They told him this, of course, before he took their souls scratching and screaming into the Hole.
The man didn’t have a name so much as he did a *title*, and that title was Death.
His ship’s computer chimed, *”Good morning, DEATH. Where would you like to travel on this beautiful day?”*
“I’m thinking this’ll be our last trip together.”
*”I’m sorry, I didn’t understand that location.”*
The computer was just a computer, vintage. It wasn’t alive like a lot of the modern stuff. If it was, Death would’ve had to kill her, and that would’ve been a sad thing, now wouldn’t it?
“The time’s about nigh for the Big Holy One. Set destination for Godshome.”
*”On what date would you like to arrive?”*
“You know the date. Only one that makes sense.” Death leaned his bone-white head against the acceleration cushion. “Set date for the End of the Universe.”
***
The pale ship arrived in orbit around Godshome at a time when most cosmological chronometers graduated from the standard hour-minute-second nonsense and moved onto the more useful event-based timeline:
Galactic Islanding, Expansion Isolation, Heat Death.
The planet shouldn’t have even existed—everything had just kind of dissolved into a kind of entropic gas at this point—but here it was. Godshome. Covered in good green land with clear seas from pole-to-pole.
At the center of the southeastern hemisphere, Death could see the villa.
“Ok computer, touch down at these coordinates…”
***
He knocked at the door.
There was a shuffling inside, but there was no answer.
Death would have rolled his eyes, if he had anything but empty sockets. “Are we really going to do this *every* time? Just open up, will you?”
The door opened just a sliver and God demurely flicked her face in the crack. “Is this really the best time? I’m super busy.”
“What could you possibly be busy with? Everything’s dead. And now it’s your turn.”
She opened the door. “Yeah, I was thinking about that. You know how last time I just put everything back into a Big Crunch? I might just do that again, now.”
“You’ve done that the last twenty-three times. How long until you stop running away from this?”
“Maybe like… another ten million cycles?”
Death sat down at the sofa. “Are you not bored of this? I mean, Hell… I know I am.”
She sat down opposite of him. “Well you only look at the nasty bits of the Universe, now don’t you? I get to witness all the birth, and goodness, and green, and mmm.”
“Well you’ve got a whole Universe of your dead souls to govern, and they aren’t getting any younger. You know, souls never used to scream when I took them to the Hole, but now they do. It’s like they know something.”
She looked down, guilty.
“Without you everything’s going to shit for them, I’m sure. Stop running away from your responsibility.”
She stood up. “I really shouldn’t have ever created you.”
“I’m Death. I’m necessary. Without me you’d get a world of old farts who never change their minds about anything. I’m the forest fire that sets things to growing green… and you like green, don’t you?”
God conjured up a glass of whiskey—at that moment the only glass in the Universe—and sipped it down. “I do. Maybe life through the Hole isn’t as bad as I think it is.”
“Maybe it isn’t.”
She bit her lip. “The truth is, I don’t really know what to expect.”
“That’s an adventure, now, isn’t it?” Death stood up and took her glass. “Tell you what, you go through and take care of the souls, and after I clean up all the stars and suns, I’ll go in after you.”
“You will?”
“I will. After all, it’ll be boring as all hell out here when I’m done.”
“But it might be *actual* hell in the Hole, too.”
“Still more interesting than Heat Death, I can tell you. So,” he said. “You ready?”
God snapped and a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos cracked into being in her hands. Flaming hots and a glass of whiskey? Ballsy. But then, what else could you expect from God?
“Just one last snack,” she said, crunching. “Man, people thought Ambrosia was good… but not as good as a flaming hot cheeto.”
Death unholstered his gun. God acknowledged it calmly.
“I’ll meet you on the other side.”
He fired.
***
The pale ship flew the familiar route along the Dark Flow to the Hole, dumping that last and holy soul at the very lip.
*”Would you like to travel elsewhere?”*
“Ain’t many more places to go,” Death said.
He tapped his chin, thoughtfully.
“Take me to the Big Bang. I want to see this whole thing play out again, one last time. For old time’s sake.”
| 2015-05-07T09:43:12 | 2015-05-07T09:23:42 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] One second your in your house, the next you're standing in a living room surrounded by three demons. They drop their Ouija board and scream as they run to their bathroom and lock the door. "I told you we shouldn't have touched it!" | I had just filled up my cereal bowl and was about to enjoy a late breakfast when that familiar feeling came on me again. Dang-it, I already regretted that deal I had made with that thieving “Ouija the Fantabulous”.
At the time it had sounded like easy money – As a member of the Dimension Monitoring Security Division, “D-MonS” for short – traveling the inter-dimensional gateways was old hat. It was during an epic drinking bout last year that my “Friend” and drinking companion had come up with the idea of us popping into each others home dimensions and putting a scare on unsuspecting mundanes. We would do “Magic Shows” where we would pretend to summon a “Daemon”, and after a bit of theatrical fahlderol the “Summoned Daemon” would step back through the gateway and go back to their regular life while the Magician raked in the samollions from the unsuspecting marks. “Easy Money” he said. “What could go wrong?” he said. My big toe, I say.
With his red skin, horns and wings, he could easily pass as some sort Daemonic presence on Earth, especially if he dropped a flash bomb just before he appeared. Likewise I, a rather plain non-descript human on my own home dimension, would appear exotic and dangerous when I stepped out of the gateway on his world in a cloud of smoke with a dramatic gesture.
The only problem was while I had only used the Summoner Device on him a couple times (that one séance with my Aunt Gertruda was epic!) that jack-wipe had created his “Ouija Boards” which triggered the gateway whenever some thrill-seeking teenager played around with it , so I was constantly being summoned and having to do my “Scary Daemon” act in increasingly uncomfortable situations. Plus that thief had copyrighted the technology so he was pulling in royalties off of every copy of the damn board that he sold, while I was stuck with bupkiss – not a red cent!!!
When the smoke cleared, I had a brief glimpse of a trio of obviously under-aged creatures sitting around the damned board, who gave me one wide-eyed look before screaming in terror and running off and locking themselves into what I presume was a lavatory of some sort. OK, I admit the bath-robe was getting a bit shabby, and I was still suffering from a severe case of Bed Hair, but still it seemed like a little bit of an over-reaction. Pulling a card from my robe pocket I read off the required copyrighted script: “Behold the power of the Ouija! Who dares to disturb my slumber of 1000 years! You have dabbled in powers that are beyond your ken and understanding! Terrifying – blah-blah-blah, uh, yeah OOoooh Scary! Don’t disturb me again. Copyright Oujia Magic Supplies, the best Magic comes from Ouija!” And I stepped back into the cloud of mist and triggered the return cycle. Bet my damn cereal was going to be soggy.
(With apologies to Robert Lyn Aspirin)
| *Part One: The Grand Entrance*
---
"By the Lord of the Deep you've summoned Michael." Pog whispered. His eyes were wide with terror. They gleamed yellow in the dark of the closet as he scooted towards Lard. His wart-ridden claws gripped Lard's shoulder so tightly that Lard bled. "You've summoned the bloody Archangel himself!"
"I didn't know the human magic worked." Lard muttered. His pig snout nose faced the closet floor. "Devil be damned how do we get out of this? Jerard got fried just by glancing at that *thing's* eyes. He's a dusty pile of ashes."
And then Michael took his first step in Hell. The entire room shook violently. The glorious angel's step rumbled like thunder. "By Beelzebub he's coming to us!" Pog cried out. The pair had fled from Michael by running up the stairs. They locked the bedroom door and threw themselves into the closet. But they felt a burning at the nape of their neck. *He* had seen where they'd gone. *He* was looking at them right now. Every step crushed the rotten wood floorboards of Pog's house. The pair shivered. It would only be moments before they were found and slaughtered.
Suddenly a crash. It wasn't a deadly sounding noise like the angel's steps. It was a mundane sound. The stairs! They had broken under the weight of the heavenly being. The demons breathed a sigh of relief. Pog told Lard a plan. They would creep out with this given time, and jump out the window. They would run to the White Palace and tell Satan what had happened. And then the Dread Father would take care of things. Easy.
Lard patted Pog on the back. It was a brilliant plan. Wait! What was that sizzling noise? A flash! Like a blaring siren but only there momentarily. A beam of light dashed through Pog's head and left a clean hole through his demonic brain. The former demon crumbled into ash. Lard screamed and shrieked as the entire house began to fall. Lard scrambled out of the closet and bashed his head against an armoured chest. Lard yelled as he looked up at the face of Michael. The yell echoed throughout Hell even though its owner was swiftly slain. And every demon perked its head up and quailed at the sound.
Michael grimaced as he wiped away the green blood from his armour. "Goddamned demons. Up with their tricks again." he said. Michael stretched. He raised his arms up and twisted his waist. "Better get to work, then. I'm not getting back without a bit of a fight." Wings made of etched glass grew from his back. They began like little bulbs, nothing more. But in a matter of seconds grew to a span of fourty meters. Michael summoned a banner with scales imprinted on it. "Thank goodness the cherubs customised this thing to shoot spurts of fire. Blinking useful, it is." He said as he tightened his grip on his sword.
He flew up in a flurried dash. He looked around and found his destination: the White Palace. Michael soared across the crimson sky. Black lightning crackled in his wake.
*Part Two: A Stroll Through Hell*
---
There are only a few good beings that can get into Hell. This is because Hell is very small. Oh, it can easily accomodate an infinite number of souls. But that's because souls in Hell are practically infinitely small! And that is because those souls are quite bad. So it goes that the normal angel finds it difficult to fit into Hell; like pajamas that are too tight and uncomfortable. Except these pajamas are searing hot and malevolent. There is a quirk in the rules though. And that is that the goodest - and therefore the biggest - among us can also become the smallest among us. Just like how it is only the kindest man that can empathise with the worst man.
It is by this unfortunate quirk that Michael found himself stuck in Hell. Normally you would take the bus if you wanted to leave Hell. But that was a perk only granted to demons on Refrigerium. Michael was neither a demon nor on Refrigerium, so he had to take the hard way out: a chat with the Devil himself.
Michael criss-crossed the Great Abyss in the blink of an eye. His shimmering wings seared the eyes of any demon that dared look up at the intruder. Michael's features were cold, though. Confident that he wouldn't be attacked, Michael brought his thoughts inwards and thought about his situation. It seemed that a game had brought him into Hell. But this was naturally impossible. Magic didn't exist. There was no bridging power that could subdue the norm. Michael did not know of any way that a common demon could summon an angel to Hell. And that meant he was not summoned by these demons.
With speed unimpaired, Michael blasted through the sickly clouds and made double-time to reach the White Palace. There was treachery afoot!
| 2016-08-08T13:18:10 | 2016-08-08T11:12:00 | 40 | 16 |
[WP] You see numbers above people, telling how many people they will kill given they keep on the same track. Last month you met a seemingly ordinary person with the number 7,431,323,210, or the total population of the Earth.
Edit: Well this blew up.
First of all, I'd like to thank all the talented writers for taking the time to share their gift with us.
Secondly, the prompt is definitely inspired by my favorite story I've read here.
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2ns30z/wp_you_are_a_teenager_with_the_ability_to_measure/cmgetim/?utm_content=permalink&utm_medium=front&utm_source=reddit&utm_name=WritingPrompts | "Z-zero. Nine. Four. Zero. Four." I stammered out, as the agent continuously showed me photos of people. We did this often. Very often. For eleven years I have been held prisoner by a top secret United States organization, after they somehow found out about my power, and after months of torture, they have figured out how it works. You see, I can tell how many Humans a single person is going to kill in their life time, given their path is not changed. They have given me one job.
Say the numbers. Say the numbers. Say the numbers.
Ones. Twos. Tens. Twenties. They say these are inconsequential. They take any person with more than one hundred future kills, and leave the rest alone. That is their job. Today, they told me I was looking for a big number. A BIG number.
"Fifteen. Ten. Three. Sev-" I almost choked. Seven billion... I couldn't breathe.
"Sev?" The agent asked. "Why did you stop? Keep going."
I sat there, recalling everything. My childhood. My job. My family. And how all of it had been torn away from me. The countless hours and days of excruciating pain these people had put me through. I regained composure, and continued.
"Seven... Three. Zero..."
| Deep breath.
It was dark out. Nobody should be out this late. The bars had emptied. The drunks had all stumbled home. The nightlife had even quieted.
It was this time of night Atticus relished. A time when everything was still. No noise but the buzzing of the streetlights, casting their ruddy orange pools onto the sidewalks. It was a time when one could walk about undisturbed to contemplate the darkness.
A time which left no witnesses.
Atticus gazed from a rooftop overlooking the alley behind a sleazy dive. A neon sign proclaimed the places as "Tom's Finest Burger Joint" with the added touch of a few flashing lights on the outline. It would have looked grand if half the letters hadn't been smashed out. From beneath the sign a portal opened. Bob presumably. He flicked off the neon sign, locked the door, gave a irritated kick at a bundle lying beside it, and walked off down the alley and into the night.
It was the bundle that Atticus was here for and for one reason alone. The small number floating above its head. "7". It wasn't a large number, but it was enough for him. 7 men this bastard would kill. This incoherent drug-addled mess would kill 7 other beings in his lifetime before presumably dying of an overdose. For that his sentence was death, before he could harm anyone else.
He leapt from the roof and rolled, absorbing the momentum of the 8 foot fall. He strode over to the bundle and pulled out a gun from his backpack. He aimed at the man's head. "For the greater good" Atticus mumbled, then took a deep breath, held it, and pulled the trigger. Release. Perfect. One more down. 7 lives for 1. It was a fair trade.
He checked corners before strolling casually out of the alley. He went to his usual place, a 24 hour coffee shop by the name of Jo-Jo's. The night was a friend there. A welcome guest for a quiet corner. He smiled, seeing a newspaper already laid out for him. Tom knew him well. He was just getting settled when he heard the chime of the door, looked up, and nearly choked.
An ordinary girl. College age. Ear buds in. Probably just here for a quick coffee for a late night study session. What wasn't normal was her number. Atticus expected a 0. Instead she had 10 figures above her head. Over 7 billion. The population of earth. She immediately held his full attention.
That wasn't possible. There was no way she could. Did she have an illness? Would she become the president? Would she hold the launch codes? Who was she that she could kill that many people? Tom brought her her coffee in his usual efficient way. As he passed it over to her, her hand brushed his. Just an accidental touch. Nothing significant. Except Tom, whose number had been a peaceful 0 for years, suddenly jumped to 254. She thanked Tom for the coffee, turned and winked at Atticus before casually strolling out of the shop.
Tom blinked as she left, then shook his head and returned to wiping the counter. The number remained unchanged and insanely high. Atticus left his usual tip and the table and took off in pursuit of the girl.
It seemed there was someone else like him after all. And it also seemed he had to kill her. | 2017-01-08T02:04:03 | 2017-01-07T23:16:35 | 142 | 95 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "Field medic? Why are we humouring the new prospect anyway? We have body labs." Muttered Zelska. Zelska was what the humans would call "A fucking idiot." Jorax reflected.
"Well," Jorax began "Aahii are the greatest builders and engineers in the universe,right?"
"Of course!" Snapped Zelska.
"But, Aahii don't repair anything, ever. The idea that they could craft something that does. Not. Work. Is impossible to contemplate...Humans make trash, they are ugly and backwards, lumbering idiots with no understanding of design or even the principles upon which all great devices work. You've seen it though, heard rumours of humans re-purposing derelict Aahii craft. Making gateways out of purifiers! Human engineers get you home when the gods spit upon your fate and shatter your drive..."
Zelska cut him off, near frothing with impatient rage "We all know the importance of a human engineer on staff, but why do we need this bloody medic!"
Jorax shifts his tunic, revealing a jagged mess of scarring.A near impossible amount of his lower abdomen missing. "It's not just ships a human can hold together when the gods turn their back on you..."
| Late to the party as usual, but here goes.
In the human history there is man named Alexander whom they call 'the Great.' Alexander lead a vast army, which worshipped him, with which he conquered hundreds of kingdoms. He spread his noble culture to the far reaches of the world in an unbelievably short amount of time. However, there are legends that he was at least mildly insane. It is the belief of non-human species that this trait is what caused both him to be audacious enough to attempt the feats for which he became famous (even among the humans), and which humans are naturally more inclined. Man is mad, and it is that unrestrained human madness that pierces all other species with a cold dread when they hear, "Man is coming."
The humans have a saying: Ignorance is bliss. This sentiment, like the example of Alexander, lends credence to the cultural norm of willingly flinging themselves into high risk-high reward situations. Let me illustrate this with their first war, of many, with another species. The Luts were a race that was generally respected among the nobler galactic races, but today their name is spoken only after hesitation; it is not polite to bring it up in certain company. The Luts had sent a message to the humans that they owned the area into which the humans were expanding. It is unknown if they received or understood the message - it is most likely they simply ignored it. To Man's credit, the Luts did attack first.
After decimating the simplistic pioneer human ships, the Luts thought they'd be rid of the humans. It was the first exposure to alien technology they had ever had as a race. Surely they'd be conditioned not to fool with superior races. The Luts went back to their work and let their guard down.
Not a single standard solar cycle had passed when the Luts sent out distress signals to anyone who could receive them. The humans sent their entire space fleet to the exact coordinate where their first ships had been destroyed, opened fire with, would you believe it, physical and explosive projectiles, and did not let up for a single second for more than 500 hours straight. In space launching physical projectiles causes a ship to fly very unconventionally due to assymetric propulsions. Their ships flew crazily, absolutely impossible to anticipate their flight pattern. And if other human ships got in the way they were shot too! Energy shields do nothing against physical projectiles; the Lut ships, mining camps, colonies, everything was completey destroyed in the sector closest to the human home planet. In fact, human ships were still coming out of hyper-drive when their bombardment stopped, of course by that time the Luts had been obliterated. The point is, there's no way the humans had known about the energy fields' weaknesses, but in their ignorance they ran wildly into a fight. And they continued to run wild until the Luts, as they remain today, were economically crippled. As a side note, it is because of the humans that the new physhields had to be developed. But human ships? They continue to fly their ships naked, no shields at all.
Ok, I'm out of time. That's all.
Edit: Fixed some bad sentences, added a few words for thought clarity. | 2017-03-06T01:01:31 | 2017-03-06T00:34:43 | 379 | 171 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | Lexicanum Galacticum
Chapter 67
"Humans"
The human species are famous for their insanity and general lack of responsibility,but still they became one of the dominant species in the galaxy after their victory in the War in Heaven.
The human species are divided into 3 grand factions:
1.The Commonwealth
2.The United Coalition of Earth
3.The Empire of Man
The humans most famous deeds include:
Ramming a battleship into a shielded planet-ship to penetrate its barrier,then boarding it and completly destroying it from the inside out.
Making a Class E star go Supernova by transporting much of its matter through a wormhole until it reached critical mass.Thus is how the War in Heaven ended.
Building the largest Titan-class battleship ever.(Approx.lenght 45 human kilometers)
Building doomsday weapons with the sole purpose of having it to look strong.
Invading a parallel plane of existence.
Charging into battle,outnumbered 60:1 while shouting "Tenno hekai banzai!",and proceding to win the battle.
Chainswords.
Declaring war on another empire because "Those idiots don't fight in melee.Thus they fight inglorious and without honour."Then after their only peace demands was to make regular use of melee in the said species's armed forces.
Warping a planet into their enemies fleet.
Going on a suicide mission in the galactic core,then annihilating the scourge of the galaxy,then returning like nothing happened.
Accidentaly creating a god-like entity.Then destroying it with the use of thermofusional missiles.
Using giant electromagnetic guns to launch ships into orbit.
The usage of extradimensional forces to contain another extradimensional force.
Lexicanum Galacticum
Page 31415
| The highest Generals of the United Human Systems sat in their chambers, a dark and rather cramped room in the back of the Capital Parliament. They were comprised of many generals from across Human worlds. Three from Earth, one from Mars, another four from orbital colonies, and the other seven from a number colonised star systems. They squabbled as their leader, General Hou Shan sat awaiting the arrival of their Chief Strategist, Nathaniel Howler, a former front-line commander against the Neo-Libertarian Revolutionaries in the Beta Centauri system.
Shan didn't believe in luck and willpower like Howler, and was rather traditional with his methods. Having trained to originally be naval officer, he was forced into ground forces on Earth during the Maqri Invasion, the first extraterrestrial threat to Earth and Humankind. It was luckily prevented by the Interstellar Confederation, which Humanity had unwillingly joined two decades ago, forcing them into trade deals and opening up to the xenos. Shan now knew with the civil war erupting within the Confederation, now was the time to consolidate their power and ensure human survival in the future years of desperate conflict.
Howler entered the room and gained the attention of the generals, bringing in a pistol and shooting it at the roof. This made them scramble to their seats and for them to start asking him for his plans. Howler smirked and lay down his files, and loaded up his long awaited presentation.
"As you all know, we are currently threatened by imperialist Xenos that call themselves the 'Elected Government of the Confederation', who are really just puppets of the Kasire Empire...", Howler begun, noting the fact that they all accepted. Humanity was severely threatened by an invasion from another xeno empire, and it was only a matter of time before they struck.
"Do you all know of Operation Barbarossa?", Howler asked. Yes they had be trained in the strategies of past Earth Wars, which most tacticians regarded as relics of stupidity and arrogance that had plagued human existence for so many generations.
Shan replied, "Yes, Barbarossa was the invasion of the Soviet Union by Nazi Germany, was it not?".
Howler nodded, "And what did the Nazis do? They made a surprise attack and drove their tanks into the heart of Russia!".
One of the generals piped up, "Are you saying we follow in the footsteps of Napoleon and Hitler and try to make an unfathomable invasion of the insurmountable enemy?".
Howler almost spat on the General, lifting his head as if he was some wise monarch, "Unlike the Nazis we aren't looking to defeat Communism or take land, we are looking annihilate our enemies for the sake of our survival!".
Shan smirked, "And how exactly would you propose we achieve that? It's not like we're the most well equipped and prepared group in the Confederation, the puppets are! That's why they're in power!".
"You may say that, but we have something they don't.", Howler chuckled.
"And what would that be?", almost all the generals asked in unison.
"We have our own insanity. It's the capability to still attack them in the most convoluted ways, destroy their fleets and break their supply lines that will win us a war. Enough will die that we can pull systems to our side and surmount victory!".
"This is preposterous! It will never work!", one of the generals called out in protest.
"It's not just if it can work, sir. It has to work. The survival of our species depends on it!", Howler finished. The generals sat bewildered, but they all knew he was right. They were insane to even think it would work, but that was the point. Be stupid enough to be smart, and maybe they'd win a final war. | 2017-03-06T02:11:41 | 2017-03-06T01:54:02 | 99 | 27 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | The Galactic Council were at war. A vicious reptilian species were pushing deeper and deeper in to their systems, killing all as they went. There were a few massive repair docks, and one in particular had been considered a lynch pin. Plans were formulated, and the odds calculated. They had no hope of taking it down.
As they began to review the latest plan, the usually sedate Corolinth Councillor began to laugh, hysterically.
The imposing Demorth head Councillor looked on.
"Explain your outburst, Councillor!"
The avian Councillor looked up.
"My apologies, Head Councillor, however I have just received a report from our ambassador to the humans."
The Head Councillor nodded slowly. The humans were a young race, fairly recently discovered and not yet granted a place on the council. They were becoming quite infamous for crazy tactics, that seemed to work against all odds.
"Well, they placed a request for some of our ships to study. They were duly provided with a small number of outdated ships. Our scientists assumed it was to study them, and improve their own technology. However, they did... Well it's hard to explain, Head Councillor."
The Head Councillor growled.
"Out with it, what did the humans do?"
"I believe the Ambassador explained it as a Saint Nazaire gambit, which is apparently a tactic from their second global war. They attacked the Octanus Dry Dock."
The Demorth shook his head in derision.
"I did not think the humans were capable of plans and tactics. How many were lost?"
"That's the thing, Head Councillor. They suffered no losses. However, the Octanus system is neutralised."
The entire chamber grew quiet.
"How?"
The Corolinth Councillor laughed quietly.
"They flew a ship right in to it, and I can't believe I'm about to say this, they triggered a cascading failure in the FTL drives, intentionally might I add. The resultant explosion has, I dare say, it may have given us the chance we need to win. It was a plan we never would even consider, yet it somehow worked."
The Demorth squared his sizeable girth.
"These humans are a frightening lot to anger."
The Milanian Councillor stood tall from her seat.
"I call a vote; bring the humans in to the council. I don't know about your own races, but my people want these humans firmly on our side." | "Sir, evacuations procedures are complete, we have to leave, NOW!" A furry quadruped yowls at her commander, who is staring at the flickering monitor of their dying homeworld.
30 star cycles ago, an semi-aquatic species opened a permanent wormhole into the Calarian system in the name of conquest and forcibly started terraforming the outlying planets immediately upon arrival. The League of Stars have proven themselves to be useless, as their Resolution was to send a strongly worded letter to the invaders despite the mounting, one-sided death toll of the Calarians. The commander was a mere child at one of the fringe colonies when they started *The Drowning* All their weapons proved to be useless against the alien race's mastery of pure dihydrogen monoxide, a substance that never existed in its pure molecular form on their homeworld.
"Commander!"
The insistent voice snaps him back to reality, causing him to nod his head and hit the countdown button.
"May Khajit have mercy on us all."
*Fades to black follows by an abrupt explosion of light*
"Sir!" The officer in the helm section turns back his head urgently. "There are multiple event horizons developing..."
"What?" The commander stands up in shock, as if forcing them to self-destruct their planet wasn't enough, now there are going to be blackholes tearing apart their star system as well?
"... There's some sort of EM emission directed at us... Do we open fire?" The chief weapons officer interrupts the commander's melancholy.
"Wait!" The communications officer jumps up and points at the forward screen.
Within it, the emptiness of space is replaced by a photon projection that flickers before forming into a picture of some hairless bipedal creature, a pale at that, while speaking and gesturing with their hands.
The comm. officer's control panel lights up on its own, the universal translator kicking into overdrive before it emits the calm, cold electronic of the soft hiss and purr of their native language.
The commander is still in shock, as he has recognized the image of the creature still being projected. The "legendary" humans, both the Saviour and the Harbringer within the Milk Dish galaxy.
"Ma'am... the universal translator seems to recognize the creature's aggressive movements of its forelimbs... are they enemy reinforcements...?"
"Ma'am!" Another operators interrupts. "The AI is requesting access to the Grand History archive."
"Allow it."
The entire starship flickers for a moment as all available power is used to conduct a search function. After a couple of seconds, the UT's indicator changed from "Earthling" to "Earthling - Italian".
"Retreat! Relay to the fleet, retreat!" The commander forces himself to yell despite the terror, complete ignoring the comm. officer's translation of the message.
Their forays into space has been spotty, but each time they appeared on the galactic stage, something major would happen. The last time a species tried to take over one of their colonies, they engineered a supernova that wiped out the offending species. The commander can only assume they will do the same again. These crazy humans are crazy enough to tear a hole in spacetime just to travel instead of using the standard Modular Wave drive for FTL, the commander has no intention to fine out what the humans are doing "this" time.
*Scene change to the United Earth Ship - SpaceyMcspaceface*
"Captain, the Toasters are ready for launch!"
"Make it so, Ensign."
As the fleet's wormholes fades away, clusters of old, unshielded fusion and fission reactors are slung forward, directly into the terraformed worlds. The squids deploys their usual water shield to no avail as one defense systems fails one after another. The systems that easily defended against Calarian's advance weaponry.
What followed was a storm of insanity and diplomacy of which the Calarian had no precedence of. After defeating the immediate alien threat, the humans proceed to give chase. The supposedly female on the projection wasn't declaring war on them as the commander has previously thought, as it's just their way of communicating. She was merely communicating that they are going to help them in exchange for having a few of their finest actors to participate in an entertainment media that's vital to their cultural, or so they claim.
Thus, the humiliation of the Calarian was cemented in galactic history as the first to be featured in a human movie production of a furry erotica which caused the Great Splintering of the various species on the galaxy.
| 2017-03-06T02:55:03 | 2017-03-06T01:32:02 | 61 | 43 |
[WP] Water is the most dangerous fluid in the galaxy. Earthlings drink it like it's nothing. | "Ma'am, I think you should come look at this." The crinkled old hag that sat at the console pointed with a green, bony finger to the screen.
"What am I looking at?" asked the green figure.
"Humans. Drinking. Water."
There was a silent pause as the entire room froze, the quiet squeaking of one fool with her headphones on, bouncing up and down in her chair, free from the terrible truth.
"Well, water is necessary for their survival. How terrible can that be to ingest trace amounts?" asked the green figure.
"It gets worse. There are things that exist in the water."
"Things that live in the water? That can immerse themselves in such dreadfulness?"
"They can live out their entire lives in the water. The humans call them fish."
"How is it possible such things can exist? Should not the fish instantly shrink and disappear?"
"I do not know, but us witches better stay clear of them." | Faith by its very nature is absurd. Not in a way that implies it’s something not worth pursuing, but that by requisite it forces you to accept something you cannot see. To leap whole heartedly into something that you cannot definitively prove. And this is where it becomes something uniquely suited to the human condition. An unwavering consequence of understanding rationality. A longstanding search for meaning in a world where none exists.
And it can be beautiful, a more unifying force than the creation of the first polis. A method of collectivizing human wellbeing. But to truly accept something that cannot be seen requires a certain amount of vulnerability that’s hard to freely give out. To understand that existence is more broad than simply what amounts to the self. And within that realization submitting yourself to something larger. A resolute confidence that things will get better.
But faith isn’t a solely human creation; not simply a lingering vestige of Earth. It is a universal concept throughout the universe. A necessary component of progress. The requirement for a truly utilitarian society. And while humanity lamented in the turmoil of war, famine, and disease, facing forward with optimistic certainty, a small planet thousands of light years away was drowning in a cloud of water vapor.
The remnants of some sardonic god, placing a society into a world where it was specifically unfit to truly thrive. Swarming clouds of water vapor meandering in a variable manner throughout the land, poisonous clouds, a never-ending plague on their kind. And they prayed to some intangible force, an unwavering faith that their plight would get better. And they pushed forward with a determination that their problems would be solved. Completely unaware that their solution was a society thousands of light years away, a society completely unaware of their unique ability to help.
An unknowable advantage, completely useless to our own difficulties. Our society capable of withstanding the poisonous clouds besieging this alien planet. To forge ahead and find a mutually beneficial solution. The prayers of their huddled masses missing their intended target. Not god above, but a planet completely unaware that they were the solution. And for centuries they fought the increasingly perilous clouds. Built tenuous barriers to protect their kind.
And on Earth we continued to pray on our own plights. To God; to anyone listening. A faith that the world wasn’t all there was, that somewhere out in the vast confines of space an eye was watching, waiting. But in fact, we as well were praying to something tangible, a far-off planet with answers to our own questions, but whose eye was peering completely inward. At their own struggles. So we waited, and progressed, finding answers in other ways.
Taking a leap across an endless chasm, frozen at the apex of the jump. Too late to turn around, and completely unknowing if we’ll reach the other ledge. The only reasonable choice in a world so uncaring about mankind’s existence.
| 2017-04-06T09:10:31 | 2017-04-06T08:21:49 | 37 | 26 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | "How do you feel?"
I opened my eyes, and turned my head toward the source of the voice. The silhouette was faint, and blurred, but the outline was vaguely recognizable. Whoever it was, was sitting. Relaxed.
"Porter?"
Up and down movement. He was nodding. It was him.
"Thought we were going to lose you there, for a moment," he said. "We got here in the nick of time."
"How am I not...gone?"
He stood up, and came closer.
"You never need to worry again," he said. "You're supplied. For the rest of your life."
I shake my head. My thinking is...labored. Fuzzy.
"But...why?"
"You saved her life. My daughter's. It's the least I could do." Porter shrugged. "She loves you. How could I refuse?"
"Your daughter?"
Lightbulb. A dawning.
"Sorina? She's...your daughter? I had no idea. She spoke of a father, but..." I shake my head again, laughing a little. "I never imagined it was you."
He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "You couldn't have known. Very few alive know our connection. And, when she ran away - when she disappeared - we didn't advertise it. Too many would have held her for ransom. For Medicine."
Porter - Sorina's father?! - helps me to sit up, propping me against the headboard. With what little energy I have, I shrug.
"I would've done what I did even if I had known who she really is. She showed up, penniless. Begging for Medicine. I was raised to be generous, even in the face of hardship." I shrugged again. "I wouldn't have done anything different."
"I know," he said. "Even though she took advantage of you, and put you at death's door, I still wouldn't have done this if I didn't feel you were worthy. Times being what they are, and all."
I couldn't argue with his logic. I wasn't the only one who'd been - or still was - in danger of running out of money and Medicine. The end of all things had seemed near...even more so when I felt myself starting to pass out, and then did. Sorina must have called him then.
Everything was okay. I was alive.
Still, something was bothering me.
"You said...she loves me."
"Yes."
"How is that possible? She barely knows me. And, as you say, she took advantage of me. Is that 'love'?"
Porter smiled, and then sighed. "The truth is, we've been watching you for a while. Sorina was your 'case officer' of sorts. We thought you'd make a suitable candidate, but...Sorina wanted to be sure. She wasn't authorized to go off-grid the way she did. She left a note that made us search everywhere but here."
"Candidate? A candidate for what?"
Porter patted my knee, and winked.
"All in good time, mate. All in good time." | As I laced my tattered shoes on my aching feet, I could feel my heart pulsating in my ear drums. I'd never been so afraid. Never felt so alone. It even took me a few moments to realize that I'd been fumbling hopelessly with my laces because of how much my hands were shaking. I took a deep breath and repeated the same words that had kept me going up to this point. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I whispered to myself. I pushed off from my bed with a loud creak and grabbed my Lucky Stop t-shirt from the hamper. I pulled it over my head and instantly the stench overwhelmed me. However I kept my composure as I started down the steps that bombarded me with more familiar creeks and groans. I passed by the washing machine in the laundry room as I walked though the living room. The rusty old thing had stopped working weeks ago. I'd been hand washing our clothes since then, with soap that just ran out yesterday. I shuffled anxiously into the kitchen where my trusted companion sat waiting patiently.
I loved my bike, it was the only thing I owned that still looked new. As I looked at it, sweet and sour memories of my mother and I soaring through the trails in the woods flooded my mind. She was so lively and carefree then. As I pulled my bike to the front door, I glanced quickly at the guest room where my mother now slept because the stairs had become too much for her. Her breathing was a little labored, but no worst than usual. I'd placed her pill bottles on the night stand next to her for when she woke. And the clear glass vial of green liquid that kept me up at night, sat right next to them. The green glow tempting me to come closer. I turned and quickly darted out the door before my mother woke and saw me, possibly for the last time, or before I did something I'd regret.
The check that my mom recieved monthly from the government should arrive by tomorrow, I thought as I pedaled madly towards Lucky Stop. That would keep her covered for a month of vials, and so on each month wity just enough let over for food. In that case however she'd need to stop taking her pills for some period of time to afford the vials. The thought alone made me shudder with fear. As I pulled to Lucky Stop I related the words to myself once more, a little louder this time. "He'll go for it. He has to go for it." I sobbed, as tears rolled down my cheeks. On the front window was a blown up picture of that same precious glass vial bubbling with bright emerald liquid. On the picture in bold lettering was Lucky's new Lyf ad. It read 'New Low Prices, Replenish Yourself With Daily Lyf Bio Supplements Today.' I wiped my tears and entered convenience store. Lucky saw me instantly, a grim look hung on his face. However, I went forward with my proposal all the same.
"So Lucky, I know things have been slow recently, but I was hoping you could give me an advance for today. J-just enough for a couple vials. My mom's leukemia has progressed a bit and the prices of the drugs she needs now are insane. So please I just need-"
Lucky cuts me off. "Get out."
I'm dumbfounded. "I work today though and I really need the hours."
He raised his voice this time. "I said get out! I know you've been stealing vials. Why do you think I moved the supply into the back? I felt sorry for your poor mother, so I kept you on, but I have mouths to feed too. I'm afraid they're more important."
After that, I don't even remember leaving the store, but I do know that I wound up in some back alley, way downtown. My prized possession sat against the wall opposite of me, taunting me with the promises of what was and what could've been. I knew I couldn't go home, my mom couldn't take it if she found me. I pressed my head against the filthy brick wall and glanced at my bike one last time. I closed my eyes, satisfied that at the very least it was the last thing I'd see.
When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see my beloved bike was gone, probably stolen in the night. I was even more shocked to find that I was not gone. I looked up at the sun and for the first time in a long time, I smiled. Then I laughed. I laughed alone in that dank alley for hours. People passed by me and stared awkwardly or scowled. It was then that I noticed how sickly they all seemed. Many were coughing or sneezing and others just seemed genuinely miserable. I began to wonder when the last time I'd seen a person smile or crack a joke. I'm sure I'd questioned it before and chalked it up to the virus, but as I looked out from that grimy alleyway, feeling the best I had in years, I wasn't so sure anymore. | 2017-07-14T13:42:30 | 2017-07-14T12:52:49 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | I had already granted the poor frail child her first two wishes. The first, to re-live the memory of being told her disease was in remission, the joy she felt that day. The second, to re-live her first kiss, a fleeting moment of happiness from the few days age was able to attend a normal school witha young boy named Jeremy.
Now, the young girl was moments from death. She had been granted my services, as a sort of payment for her short, painful life. A type of, " Oh, my bad, here take these three pissy wishes in place of a long happy life."
Young Jessica strained to take a breath so she could speak. Her small body shuddered violently with a harsh wet cough, that left blood and mucous splattered in her hand and chin. I take a Kleenex and gently wipe the mess from her hand and face.
She rolls her sad and pained, but strikingly fierce blue eyes toward me. With a tiny bruised hand she motions me closer, I imagined so I could hear her soft whisper of her last wish.
Softly, barely audible and obviously weak, " Take me back to when I killed my big brother." She smiled viciously with the last words.
I am taken aback, but am obligated to comply. Damn genie contracts and all....
I close my eyes, take a breath, and snap my fingers. In an instant, we are taken back, maybe three years. Jessica is nine years old, she's in a closet, watching as a large boy forces himself on a girl about Jessica's age, but bigger, healthier. Shaking with fury, and weak from the cancer that was already coming back, she grips the sharp piece of broken mirror, and lunges through the closet door, landing on the older boys back. She violently slashes and stabs the neck and throat of the would be rapist. She's stabbing so hard, so furiously that her own hands are turned to rough hamburger.
As the older boys falls dead, Jessica raises her eyes to the small girl laying in years and tattered pajamas on the floor. Before the memory fades out, Jessica looks at her sister, and says " I told you he wouldn't hurt you again. Mom and dad didn't believe us, I told you I would protect you Jennifer."
With a nod, and a snap, we are back in her hospital room, and again, she is almost dead.
She looks at me, with a smile and whispers " The only time in my life I was able to protect my baby sister..." Her voice trails off as she stops breathing. | First it was the noise. People talking softly, as to not wake me up. Somebody's kid was crying afar, and some of the machines went beep-beep beep-beep.
I decided to open my eyes. Even before the light hit my corneas, the smell of a hospital bedroom entered my nostrils with nauseating speed. What was this? What is going on? Am I...
"Look!" one of the men could be heard saying. "He's awake. Go get Jess."
Who's that? Breathing was hard, and it made a lot of noise. With each breath I could feel the urge to cough my lungs out. My lovely Belinda. I couldn't keep my end of the deal. But then again, neither did you.
"Dad. Stay still, the doctors told us they can get you comfortable. At... least." - his voice was cracking. If I hadn't this tube inside my throat right I would laugh at his face. This is only the end, and not even yours. Be a man about it for fuck's sake.
With the absence of my glasses I can't even make sense of who is who. Age really is the ruin of mankind. I saw three men at the other end of the room. All of them dressed like men, built like men, with men haircuts and men voices. Most of all, manly attitudes. None of that crying on each other shoulders or holding my hand in theirs. Nope. This isn't how I raised my boys. And they haven't been boys in a good 20 years.
A kid walks through the room.
"Aunt Jess said she's not coming"
"What do you mean she's not coming? Dad is..." He looked at me. The same runt whose voice just cracked. I locked my furious eyes at his. Say it. Say it, motherfucker, get your closure now or live forever with the realization of the coward you are.
"Dad is dying." This was Mark. My oldest. Never a disappointment. The mope who couldn't finish the line was Terry then. That leaves the always quiet Randy being... well... quiet. Mark continued: "I'm gonna go get Jess", to which Randy says: "are you sure this is what the old coot wants?"
"I don't care what he wants, she has as much a right of being here as any of us."
"NOOO" I try to say, realizing who that is, but only a gutural cry was heard. "I don't want that person in here". They look at me desperate. Mark is gone, Terry comes closer and tries to hold my hand, to which I smack him with all the strength my cancerous body can muster.
The urge to cough gets harder. I can feel the back of my throat alive with mucus and blood. Is this what the doctors meant with being comfortable? The beeping noise is louder. My chapped lips bleed, my chest itches from the inside. This is it, isn't?
A duo of nurses comes through the door. "What the hell?" one of the nurses whispers to the other: "He's on so much morphine he should be in Mars right now. Do we give him more?" "I guess there's no harm in it, he's pretty much gone at the moment"
It hits me almost immediately. This feels good. I mean, the pain is mostly gone. Is this what being high is like? No wonder the kids like it. Wh- what the hell is that? A big shadow below the window gets bigger and bigger, revealing the silhouette of some sort of being. From within, my former child Jeff watched me without saying a word. Only it wasn't him. I'm confused. It sure feels like Jeff, but it also feels like a girl. Oh. I remember now. Useless jerk. From the door I see Mark coming in alone. Randy hasn't moved and inch and Terry is arguing about something with the nurses. More kids start to come in. I can't help but notice one of them doesn't make it past the door. A little girl, seems to be holding someone's hand outside the room, looking at me with curious eyes.
The last I hear is Jeff's girly voice coming from the shadow. "Let's go, this was a mistake." A deep devilish roar answers: "Art thou certain? There shan't be a fourth wish".
"I'm sure. Mom was right. He was so afraid of change that even death couldn't sway him. I only hope he burns in hell."
And then, the void. | 2017-09-16T15:25:54 | 2017-09-16T15:17:56 | 57 | 32 |
[WP] You're a special genie. You allow whoever finds you to re-experience three events that happened in their life for the first time again. Some people choose to re-experience a great movie as if watching it for the first time, some re-live their first kiss. Your latest request sounds quite odd. | "I don't need three. One is enough." I said.
"Are you sure? People usually long for more. So many experiences to re-live, and you only want one?" The genie asked, eyebrows raised.
"I only want to know what happened to my best friend, Jen, who died 4 years ago." My voice had become hoarse. "The police said it was suicide, but... I never believed it. Not for a moment since her death. There wasn't a reason for her to do it. Not when we were happily living our lives."
"She seemed like a nice girl." The genie murmured.
I smiled sadly. "She was. I was supposed to meet her here, in the hideout we usually met at. But I was too late. I was only in time to see her breathing her last, hanging from that noose. And I would never rest in peace, not knowing what truly happened that day. "
The genie's lips curled upward. "I understand. As promised then, I shall reveal it to you... Everything."
My eyesight dimmed for a few seconds, and when my vision returned, the genie had vanished. However, the room I was in had not changed, save for the wooden floor which had not rotted away as much. Oddly enough, the lamp that was in the present had also come back to the past, although I could not have possibly took particular note of that fact.
The girl I've yearned to see for years was standing still in the center of the dingy room, facing the grimy window. I could not believe it.
"J-Jen?"
She made no reply. Hesitantly, I edged forward and tapped her on the shoulder.
No response.
Panicking, I whipped around such that I was facing her, and could only gasp.
Her pupils had rolled back in her head, and she was weakly fighting for air. There was nothing that I could see that was strangling her, but there were huge claw-like impressions on her neck. I was too shocked to move, and could only watch as the life drained out of her. She shuddered for a final time, and her body went limp. My body was frozen, and my mind was whirling as my surroundings went pitch black once again.
I could not breathe. Maybe it was because my premonitions had been true from the start. It was murder. But who could it have been? She had clearly been asphyxiated by those claw-like hands, but who did they belong to? And why were they invisible?
As I opened my eyes, those hands closed around my neck like a vice, choking me, suffocating me. The genie's face was so close to mine, blocking my vision of anything else. It was still smiling.
"Now that you have your answer, you too, can rest in peace." | Being a Genie of memory I'm used to having all sorts of odd requests. Some people want to relive love, other wish to relive pleasure, others wish to relive happiness, others still wish to relive hope. Each person using their three wishes to relive some moments of joy. So when a haggard young man around the age of 20 walked in I thought I had a pretty good idea of what he wanted.
He was handsome, but you could see he had suffered plenty. Just the type of man desperate to seek me out to relive any moment of pleasure.
"What memories do you wish to relieve young man?"
"Memory. There is just one memory I need."
Well that certainty got me curious.
"Oh? Are you sure? You've managed to summon me so you are entitled to three."
"No. I've come here with one memory that I need. Just one. October 14th, 1997. 10:47 PM."
He gave a shaky breath and lit up a cigarette. It almost seemed like he was afraid of the memory, but there was a steely determination to him. Raising an eyebrow I waved my hand through the air, accessing the past. I focused down to the memory that he needed, grabbed it, and spread it out across the wall like a television screen. He took a deep drag of the cigarette and turned to look at the TV.
In the memory was a little boy, couldn't have been older than 5, happily smiling as he held his parents hands. The three had just excited a theatre and the boy was happily talking about the show.
"And then when Batman punched him in the face and the guy just went KA-BOOM! And flew across the room! That was the coolest! I want to be like Batman when I grow up!"
The father chuckled and fussed up the little boys hair and said, "You're going to have to do a lot of training if you want to be like batman son."
The family laughed happily and talked as they made their way to their car, the parking garage empty and silent except for their chatter. As they grew closer to the car the mother suddenly cried out as a figure stepped out of the shadows. He had an arm wrapped her and a gun pointed to her head. His eyes were cold and his face betrayed no expression, except for a small hint of anger. He spoke in a harsh and unstable tone,
"Mr. and Mrs. Caesar. How lovely you both look tonight. Enjoy the show?"
"Let her go you maniac!" The father yelled an angry look in his eyes.
"Maniac? Such insults must be dealt with," he said with a crooked grin as he took the pistol and smashed it against the mothers eye. She gave a sickening scream that echoed across the room. The man next to me let out a small sob. I paused the memory and patted his shoulder.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No. Keep going."
I nodded and resumed the memory. The father gave out a cry as his wife's eye started to bleed.
"STOP! STOP! What do you want? Money? Power? Anything! Just... don't harm my family."
"What do I want? You think this is about wants? No I'm here to send a message. Even the most powerful people can be taken down by a criminal. The most powerful man in this city can't even protect his family!" He let a maniacal cackle as he shoved the gun down the mothers throat and pulled the tigger.
"NOOOO!" The father yelled and lunged for the man. The man just kept laughing and punched the father in the face. And pulled out another pistol from his coat. He put it to his head and pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoing throughout the walls. Blood staining the floor the boy fell to his knees and started sobbing as the memory faded to black.
The man who had requested the memory's face was stained with tears. Wiping his face with his sleeve he looked at me and said.
"My father was the mayor. He had just passed laws cracking down on criminals and corruption. A law that pissed off a lot of powerful people. He was one of the few good people in power. Was."
"How did you survive?"
"The man never came after me. He just kept laughing, just walked away with that horrible laugh. Police never found him. He walked free."
He tossed his cigarette down and stomped it out.
"Now can you replay the memory, and pause on his face?"
I nodded, zoomed in on the mans face, and paused the memory. He took a picture and walked forward, memorizing every detail. His eyes had a cold determination to them as he turned to me and said,
"This is the man I've been hunting. This is the man I've been looking for," he pulled out a handgun and cocked it. "This is the man I'm going to kill." | 2017-09-16T18:44:20 | 2017-09-16T17:25:30 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Light is the natural state of the universe. The Earth revolves around the Sun; an orb of black, emitting rays of darkness.
Saw it here: https://www.reddit.com/r/Showerthoughts/comments/7qhmas/its_weird_to_think_that_nighttime_is_the_natural/dspkqbh/ | A tiny flicker of light blinked in Raga's somber yard. She sprung to her feet, snatched a jar of glass and bolted toward the blinding darkness. The dirt underfoot hurt her dry and bare feet, but it didn't matter, for now two glints of blue danced like beacons in the shadows.
The clouds⸺a shade lighter than the engulfing blackness of the sun⸺began to twist and roar into a storm, a mighty one. *Perfect, it should attract them,* Raga thought and stood immobile, waiting as a deceiving drizzle pattered softly against her pale face.
The flickers came by the dozens, shining in a desynchronized pattern. They swarmed the yard like a hundred shooting stars fading in the clear night sky.
It was time.
Raga studied their pace, it was slow and random. With the jar clasped in her hands and the lights flying nearby, she ran through the mud underfoot swinging the jar and trapping the lights as she moved. She glimpsed at the prison in her hand, she didn't have enough just yet. The storm thundered and a brief, shattering light turned the darkness into forsaken white. The earth itself trembled and a crawling heat kissed her calves.
A lightning had struck meters away from were she stood.
The slow pace of the lights shifted to chaos, like soldiers retreating in a rout they scattered upwards. Raga's heart throbbed in her throat, in a last, desperate attempt she climbed a tree and upended the jar, begging to collect at least ten more. Another fierce thunder rumbled in the near distance and Raga's entire body quivered, she closed the jar and darted back inside into the shadows of her home.
Raga took a deep breath, what she had done was foolish and she knew it. It was a matter of good fortune she didn't get fried out there. In the jar twenty or thirty fireflies lay tinging her face with a tender blue glow as she stared. A smile adorned her face and quietly she headed to her son's room.
"Honey, are you still awake?" She asked quietly.
"Yes mom but-but I'm scared."
Raga sat beside his bed, using the fireflies as a guide. She picked up a book that lay on his bedside table. It read, *Tales of the Everlight.* "I got enough of them to read another bit, would you like that?"
"Yes!"
Raga cleared her throat, the thunders roaring outside and the shy sound of raindrops falling from her hair onto the ground, set the mood. "A bright sun, brighter than a million lightning imbued the world with his alluring light. Green beings rose from the grounds providing great amounts of oxygen to the people. When the clouds blocked its relentless light, a tiny magical artifact produced everlight everywhere they wanted. They had found the way to trap lightning for eternity.
"Darkness was not a problem for them."
----------------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall
| She’s there – I can see her, tied to the stakes, writhing, moaning, suffering.
They’ve taken her Shelter away. She’s not been long away from the Sun, but already she’s burning. I see the heat rising from her skin, the sweat beading down in angry scars of steam. Her hair hangs limply from her forehead, but it does little to mask her pain. Her captors know this, and they have empathy enough to delight in her misery.
The crowd pulses, contracting, expanding, contracting. It is their hesitation which paralyses them - they long to run, to disperse, retreat to the cool refuge of their homes. But so too do they long to witness the wrath of the King. Tales of his cruelty are repeated as often as the morning and evening greetings, and to see it for themselves, see it played out before their eyes – there is a perverse delight in it they cannot resist.
The hem of her skirt catches aflame.
She does not have long.
I leap from the rooftop, that familiar tang of adrenaline already numbing my tongue. The wind whistles past my ears, an insistent, grating tune which screens out everything out. I see their lips move, but I cannot hear them read back her charges, her crimes, the wanton acts which landed her in that predicament in the first place. There’s time for that later, so I keep my hands outstretched, fingers extended so far that my joints ache.
Twenty feet from the ground, I twist. My back facing the ground now, my eyes squinting against the entire luminescence of the heavens. I bring my hands together, joined at the wrists. The power pulses in my grasp, eager, ready to be unleashed.
“Darken,” I say.
A patch of sky disappears, swallowed by the void. A shaft of shade stretches down, like the giant finger of an ink demon. It envelopes me, and I am lost, lost in the calm, the peace, the purity of the moment. Time slows for me, and I am… *alive*.
I turn again, empowered. I streak across the town square, a stingray darting across the heads of the enthralled. I skim across their Shelters, borrowing from the pools of darkness, stepping stones in a pond of lava. A few of them spot me, and I hear them call me by the many names I am known by. The Shadow, Light’s Bane, the Silent Walker… and many others, too hurtful to repeat.
I head for the captor on the right. I emerge from the dimness behind him, rising from the ground, fully formed. A blow to the ribs, a cut to the back of the neck. I kick his knees in, and he topples off the platform.
The other two guards have time enough to react, any surprise I have being spent. They draw their sabres, wicked blades of glinting fire, thirsting to drink. My daggers slip down through my sleeves into my palms, the gloom dripping off them. The crowd cheers, unsure of which champion they support, confident only in the carnage which is promised to them.
She cries again, fainter this time.
They blink first. The taller one lunges towards me, sabre raised high, buoyed by a battlecry. My Duskblades meet his weapon square on, enchanted steel against enchanted steel. The edges sing, but I do not wait for the end of the chorus. I kick out, catching him in the midriff, and he falters, yielding precious ground. I somersault, riding on his momentum, and I sink my Duskblades into his back. He struggles, seeks to turn and try again, but it is over. He crumples, never to rise again.
The stouter one is smarter. He sees how easily his compatriots have fallen, and the glimmer of intelligence in his eyes reveal the odds he has calculated. He turns and runs, and within seconds he has eluded me. Up his hands go, the beacons flaring, and the alarms resonate as one, angry peals of thunder.
No one stays when the Armies of Light are summoned. The crowd, once content to watch by the sidelines, now realises they are in the fray. They scatter too, like rain on a heated pan. In the distance, I see impossibly large figures coalesce from thin air, hulking brutes who speak only the language of violence. Men I can best in a fight – golems I will run from.
I sheathe my companions, then slink to the girl. She’s on her knees now, the boils swelling on her skin. I throw my Shelter over her, and she collapses against me. She’s too delirious to speak, so I spare her any questions. Instead, I hoist her, grip as tight as I can. Shadowstriding is hard enough to do by myself, and to take on a passenger…
But I *have* to try.
*“Darken.”*
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| 2018-01-15T09:22:40 | 2018-01-15T08:42:21 | 92 | 19 |
[WP] You died today. Turns out you are the 100 Billionth person to do so. To commemorate the occasion, you are given the chance to undo a single decision. Any decision. | When I was 23 I killed a man. He was being an asshole. I was too; we were both drunk. He hit me. I hit him better. When he fell his head bounced off the bar. The bar cracked.
He lay there slumped under the bar with his arms up like he was hugging a ghost or tryin' to do a sit up, but while asleep. I learned later it's called the fencing response. When you get walloped real good, your arms just kind of raise into the air. It indicates brain damage, or worse.
When you kill someone on accident while breaking the law it's called manslaughter. They frog march you in front of a judge while the SOB's wife and kids weep behind you. You tell the judge what happened and apologize to the family. We were both drunk. I wanted to hurt him but I didn't mean for him to die. I only hit him once. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, you tell the judge.
The judge tells you to rot in prison for 25 years.
*So the decision you want to change is the one to hit the other man?*
No. I want to take back my apology. Asshole got what he deserved. I got what I deserved. I didn't owe no one any apology. | I was bathed in light. It washed over me like a wave and images started to surface in my mind.
I was six surrounded by all kids in my class as they sang the birthday song for me. Over the light of the candles I watched him mouth the words with the others, made my wish and blew.
I was nine, sitting next to him during the break to help him with a math problem.
I was fourteen and lost in the museum during the school trip. Scared, so very scared. A hand held mine and guided me back to safety. His lips moved but I don't remembered the words. Just how warm his hands were in mine.
Eighteen now and graduating, before I say goodbye I ask for one dance. He has his date and I have mine. Odd how I can't even remember their faces, only his. The Savage Garden is all I hear and my feet don't even touch the ground.
Twenty four now and an accountant trying to make my way in this harsh world. That day the elevator door opened and there he was. A moment passed between us and all I could hear was the beating of my own heart, feelings I thought were forgotten all came rushing back... Then he smiled and I just knew.
Twenty eight and we are told that a child is out of the question for me. I felt his arms around me holding me close. There were words but I don't remember them. Just how warm he was and how I really didn't want to let go, I was so cold, so very very cold.
Thirty two and running in the park together. He runs ahead and I see him helping a kid that almost fell off his bike. We spend the morning teaching the little one how to do it until he was finally ready for us to let go. I look at his face and this feeling of coldness washes over me again. He loved children so. He smiled at me and pulled me behind him as he jogged dispelling my demons and filling me again with warmth.
Forty five and my hair is turning grey, we celebrate Christmas with the family but then after all the noise and drama he stops the cab a few blocks away and we walk home hand in hand. He's rambling again but I just let the words wash over me. It starts to snow gently and I feel young again by his side.
Sixty and retired now. We finally have the time for our selves. I tell him we're too old but he waves away my protests. My silly old boy tricked me into visiting disneyland and getting on the rides with him, All because I told him I've never been. Who takes an old woman like me to disneyland.
The last memory comes. Me standing over an open grave as they lowered him down. All I could see was the roses over his... his...
I opened my eyes and feel the wetness over my cheeks. Eighty now and all alone, the years after rushed by and I can't even remember them. All alone in this nursing home for the forgotten. It's so cold here. So very very cold.
I made my request. If one thing in my life could be changed then it was that. I could never stand the cold. Everyone deserves to be warm, especially in the end. | 2018-12-22T15:04:23 | 2018-12-22T14:35:13 | 198 | 113 |
[WP] A phenomena begins to occur where newborn babies are found amidst the aftermath of natural disasters. Tsunamis, avalanches, wild fires, destructive lightning storms, etc. These 'Storm-Born' humans grow up with powers based on the disasters that birthed them. | Scientists have been baffled by the discovery of the Stormborns 30 years ago.
I've never met one myself but I was there when the first Stormborn was found. I was a volunteer when a wildfire came over California. It took us days to completely extinguish the fire. Sometimes I imagine if the baby would have been found if I hadn't been there. I remember hearing a baby crying while walking amidst the smoke of the forest. It was night. I remember being confused and calling out for the others.
I never got to hold her but I still saw her. They found her within the ashes. It was deemed a miracle all over the world. A baby had survived a forest fire. It was very poetic when I thought about it. Eighteen people were taken away, but one was given back.
*"Breaking news..."*
The TV snap me back to reality. I was at home. When was Alex getting home. I think about calling him but I was too tired to look for my phone.
*"It's been confirmed by officials. The organisation known as the Chrysanthemums were behind the manmade avalanche that caused the death of hundreds of people in Turkey..."*
The Chrysanthemums, they're at it again. A terrorist organization hellbent on causing manmade disasters to create Stormborns by their will. Once they were done, they'd look for a Stormborn within the ruins of what they've created and raise the baby themselves. They'd train them to do with what they will. It was disgusting.
The avalanche on Turkey was one of their attacks three days ago. They were ready to sacrifice hundreds of people for one Stormborn. It was terrifying. I might need to call Alex.
*"... with the baby found in Russia after the earthquake, that makes 97 Stormborns. The authorities are preparing to find the next location the Chrysanthemums will strike given how important the 99th Stormborn..."*
Oh yes, of course. The Chrysanthemums believe the 99th baby will be humanity's savior. Just like the first one, Phoenix, he will be born of ashes and smoke. I didn't know if I believed it.
I grab the remote and try to turn off the channel. I was trying to relax and the news just made me more nervous. I change it into some kind of a UN press conference.
*"We have good news, the Chrysanthemums didn't find a Stormborn baby in Turkey."*
I put the remote down. At least, there were good news.
*"How can we be sure of that?"*, a journalist asked.
*"Because we found him. We tried to keep our findings secret until the baby was safely transported to keep-"*
*"Is the baby a Stormborn?"*, another journalist started.
*"Yes. The tests have been done. The baby is a Stormborn. We predict the child to gain
cryokinesis..."* The speaker tried to finish his sentence when the journalists started asking more questions.
I stand up. All this baby talk is making me concerned for mine. I try to feel it in my stomach. It's been a day since I've felt him kick. I'm not due for another month.
I need air. I step outside the balcony to breathe.
I remember urban air isn't that refreshing. The sun was setting but the skyscrapers blocked the view. I stand there for minutes. I try to hear the howling in the air from the traffic down below.
That was lot of honking horns.
I feel a wave of panic. I open the door to the inside. That's when I hear it. There was that high pitched ringing tone from the TV. The one you hear during an emergency evacuation I hear a robotic voice from it. Something's happening. I feel dread.
*"Take shelter immediately. This is not a drill.
Repeat: This is not a drill. An enemy attack is being launched against
the United States. Take shelter immediately and stay tuned to this
frequency for further instructions."*
I need to call Alex. How long has this been repeating?
The last thing I remember was a flash of light outside and the crying of a baby. | ‘Meghan, we’ll be late!’ Cynthia’s voice had that tone of angry desperation that made me want to throw something against the wall. I sat on my bed, taking one last look at my attic sanctuary.
I liked it here.
I recognized Cynthia’s careful steps climbing up the stairs. I knew she would pause somewhere in the middle, pondering did she have enough strength to face that little monster upstairs - aka me. After a moment the stairs started creaking again. She was a tough one – I had to give her that.
‘Meghan?’ She paused to knock on the door. I didn’t respond.
When she entered Cynthia had a tortured face that matched her desperate voice. ‘We have to catch the plane, sweetheart.’
I saw the look of relief that crossed her face when she saw my suitcases were packed.
I had a system – I kept my small pink suitcase always ready and kept it by the door in case I decided to disappear but it took me almost a weekend to pack the big one. The brown leather was covered in stickers – a testament of my numerous ‘new beginnings’ that sooner or later ended in tragedy.
‘I don’t want to go to a new school!’ I growled. ‘I want to stay here.’
I wasn’t a fool to think my disagreement might change anything, I was just venting my frustration. Dr. Marcuss said I should vocalize my emotions as much as I can or we all knew what might happen.
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart.’ Cynthia tried to take my hand but I snatched it away. ‘You’ll love it there.’
I crossed my arms on my chest. ‘It’s what you said for the last three schools.’
Cynthia sighed, her hands balled into fists by her side. I knew she was hanging on a fine thread – all of this ‘Meghan, sweetheart’ was just an act. They wanted to get rid of me. It was obvious when they found that fancy boarding school in Europe that obviously costed enough money to sign a contract that they’d keep me for the next four years with no questions asked.
‘You could have let me stay with aunt Mary,’ I said accusingly.
Cynthia had enough of me. ‘She is not your aunt.’ Her green eyes flickered with cruelty I saw too many times.
‘You’re not my mother either, Cynthia!’ I snapped.
The windows on my room started rattling and I enjoyed the frightened look on Cynthia’s face.
‘You little monster!’ She cried rushing for the door.
One flicker of my wrist and the doors slammed shut in her face.
‘A monster?’ I gasped in fake surprise as the window shutters kept slamming against the wall. The wind picked up and the entire house was now shaking. Cynthia was shaking too.
‘Jack!’ She cried. ‘Jack!’
My stepfather was already outside my door. I knew he would start running as soon as he felt the wind. I also knew he wouldn’t interfere until I called him in.
‘Megs, please!’ He said.
There was something about his voice that made me find a calm island inside of me. A few words from him could do more than a hundred sessions with Dr. Marcus and all the pills in this world.
I wish he was home more often.
In the next moment, he was sitting on the bed next to me while Cinthia was probably hyperventilating somewhere in the car.
‘I know you’re mad,’ he said.
‘I don’t want to go, Jack.’ My eyes were burning. I prayed to God I don’t start crying now.
‘I don’t want to let you go either, Megs, but this is what is best for you.’ He said.
‘This is what is best for Cynthia,’ I snapped.
I regretted my words the moment I saw sorry his eyes softening in pain. The wind had stopped and the room was quiet.
‘You know how much I love you Megs,’ he said. I was looking away but I knew his eyes were smiling now and I knew every one of his words was true. ‘But this isn’t the place for you. I knew you were special the night we found you. You were the sweetest little girl in the world.’
I snorted.
Jack took my hand. ‘Look at me Megs,’ he said and I turned to him. ‘I found you a good school. It’s not about the subjects you’ll be studying – you’re a smart girl and I know you’d do well in any place in the world. But I believe you’ll find people there who are more like you, people who will understand and love you as much as I do.’
‘You mean freaks?’ I grinned.
This was the fourth school we had to change because I was not quite like the other kids. There were storms raging around me whenever my temper got out of control. I tried to ignore it, Jack tried to ignore it, we all did everything we could but with every new town and every new school sooner or later came a moment when I lost it and someone got hurt.
‘You are not a freak. You’re special and there is an entire school full of children like you.’
I was staring at Jack frightened and relieved in the same breath.
The choice had been made already but I still needed a few minutes to let go of this house. I finally stood up when Cynthia's honking became unsoportable.
Jack took my suitcases and closed the door behind him.
‘Jack,’ I suddenly stopped.
He instantly dropped both suitcases, his attention fully on me. I liked that about Jack. He wasn’t my real dad but I think my real dad would have been just as nice and caring.
‘Will you call me sometimes?’ I asked, staring at my feet. ‘I mean to tell him how everything is going and things.’
Jack took my hand. ‘I’m here for you, Megs. Always. Just call me and I’ll fly over there in no time.’
He took my bags and followed me down the stairs.
So I was going to a school with a bunch of freaks like me who can make storms and destroy things.
I grinned.
Maybe I won’t have to run away this time.
r/CrystalElmTales | 2019-08-06T07:56:08 | 2019-08-06T07:31:22 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] A phenomena begins to occur where newborn babies are found amidst the aftermath of natural disasters. Tsunamis, avalanches, wild fires, destructive lightning storms, etc. These 'Storm-Born' humans grow up with powers based on the disasters that birthed them. | *Dear Dr.Anderson*
It has been the fourth day at the new facility and I am enjoying everything so far. Although the new researcher is more strict than you, he has a ridiculously long and thin moustache. Me and Iris could not stop laughing because every time he said: *Good day kids, because you'll never know what time is it down here.* His moustache keep on wiggling in the air.
Oh and speaking of Iris, she is getting better at controlling her flame. She can even makes them slowly bloom like flowers. The guards don't seem to enjoy it, one guy even points at the fire extinguisher but luckily the other guy disagree.
Eric and Satomi keep fighting each other and we still have no idea how to stop them. However, last night Satomi somehow activated the fire alarm in Eric's room and he was completely soak in water. He didn't say anything to her this morning but in lunchtime, I saw him walk pass her and everything in her food tray just dry up instantly. I think they've started a prank war. I had to lend Eric my clothes and Iris had to share her lunch so I don't think anyone wining here.
Also there is a very kind lady in the library. She even let me borrowed some paper. She seem very surprised when I made those paper planes fly. But then a guard just came out of nowhere and pulled me back to my room. What a jerk. At least the lady came visit me and she gave me this cool book about planes and airship
The rest is just boring tests and stuff. I kinda miss your story times but it is only 5 more days until your visit right. I can't wait for it
Sincerely, Timothy
P.S: I almost forgot this but there is a new kid. They locked her in a special room with a big cyan door, I can't see anything beside guards come to deliver foods but Satomi swear she saw some blue sparks under the door two nights ago
----------
This is my first writing here and I'm not a native English speaker so please point out every mistakes I've made | The woman was confused. She spoke little english, but she was not stupid. That baby had to belong to someone. The cops had escorted the shooter away. The bodies were covered now. She had given her statement in Spanish to a translator who just HAD to check her papers one more time. ICE was not showing up here today. Bad press. Which was good, because even her legitimate visa was no guarantee here.
​
Still, why was everyone ignoring the baby? A little girl, wrapped in a police blanket. Not crying. Just lying there in the middle of the mall floor. She stood up and walked over to the child. No one noticed her. No one stopped her. Not the news people, not the gawking crying bystanders.
​
She bent down and nudged the child to make sure she was alive. So silent. So calm. When her hand brushed the child's face, the baby smiled and grabbed her finger. Her face was wrinkled, her mouth empty of teeth.
​
Was this a new born? What the heck? Something settled in her and she acted. She picked the child up... Still nothing. Just a warm little body pressed up against her chest, cradling her finger. Holding tight with the simeon strength of freshly hatched humans.
​
She reminded her a bit of her own daughter. Back in Chile.
​
Before she knew it, she was past the cordon and standing next to her car. No one had interfered.
​
The keys found their way into her hand. And soon she was pulling out of the parking lot and rolling out onto the street. It was night now. Lights vanishing in the distance behind her. The heat of the El Paso day vanishing into space.
​
When she got back to her apartment, the world shifted again. There on the table was an infant. Most likely abducted by her, a foreigner. The child stared at her with a quiet intensity. Expectantly.
​
Food.
​
It had been 20 years since she had breast fed her own child. Her breasts were now strictly for entertainment and inconvenience as far as she was concerned. But the child had to eat. That must be what those dark eyes were saying to her.
​
She found herself again with the child in her arms knocking at the neighbors door. Gloria answered, the sound of her own children and the television creeping through the door behind her. The woman was from Cuba on her father's side. Everyone spoke some Espanol in El Paso. Gloria was no exception.
​
"I saw it all on the TV, those poor people."
​
"It happens. Hey, listen, I need your help..."
​
"I know, I'll pay you back for last months rent..."
​
"No not that.... this"
​
Gloria looked down and suddenly noticed the child in her arms...
​
"Your grand daughter?"
​
"She's hungry."
​
"I... oh... Okay"
​
Gloria's youngest, her son was asleep in his own cot, finally. Comforted by the noise of his brothers playing video games. She ushered in the woman and the child and sat down on the couch considering the baby before her.
​
"She's tiny..." she said suspiciously removing her bra strap. and lifting her shirt.
​
"And hungry!" Gloria exclaimed.
​
They shared a smile and then the TV caught Gloria's eye. The woman got on her phone and began scrolling through her news feed.
​
Maybe there would be a story about this child... that someone had lost in a storm of bullets.... | 2019-08-06T08:23:12 | 2019-08-06T06:58:17 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | Addie jerked upright in bed sputtering and gasping. Sucking in lungful after lungful of cool air she slowly began to relax as her head started to clear. Making herself look down at her current body she felt an all too familiar nausea rising inside her but pressed the sensation down. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin another perfectly good comforter.
Pulling the blankets back she looked down at herself. Her arms and body had Victoria's distinct tattooed skin and runner's physique. She appreciated her ex's continued commitment to fitness, something so many began to neglect as they approached 30.
The bedroom was both familiar and strange, like a scene from a recurring dream. Illuminated only by the moon and a small glowing green display that read 12:01 am. Susan was still fast asleep next to her, which was perfect for Addie as she continued to gather her thoughts.
Every Sunday she would wake in this bed and they would have to spend 24 hours together. Not that Addie really cared, Susan was an amazing person, but she was sympathetic to how strange this all was even after nearly a decade.
Getting out of bed and moving quietly towards the door Addie caught her reflection from the corner of her eye. Victoria's face and eyes met her own. "Hello, beautiful." she whispered to herself, trying to ignore the sense of wrongness that came from being in this body. It would plague her for the next 24 hours but she knew how to deal with it. "Ground yourself in the here and now." she whispered as she moved quietly out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.
After a glass of water and half an apple Addie had begun to feel considerably better. The strangeness was wearing off and things had begun to feel more real. Wandering into the living room she made her way around the couches slowly, eventually finding herself in the same spot she did every Sunday. Standing in front of the small silver urn on its own shelf. It had been recently dusted and the plate shone fiercely in the moonlight.
Adelaide Smith
1990-2013
Addie was thankful Susan and Victoria had kept her ashes all these years, though out of a sense of loyalty to her or a fear of what might happen to Victoria when they made their Sunday switch she wasn't sure. All she knew was that even though she and Victoria had not spoken in years neither would tell Susan where the other went when it was their time. "They certainly don't have apples there." Addie thought to herself, chuckling as she took another bite with Victoria's mouth. | "We're bonded."
"Mind, body, and soul," the man took his lover's hands and kissed them before continuing, "forever."
A purple glow enveloped the couple. Flashes of white pulsed as they share a kiss. After a while, the bizarre spectacle subsided. Both, looked towards the other in amazement.
"So this is the lover's bond, eh?" The woman wondered out loud.
The man opposite her smiled and felt himself, "so this is a man's body... Why do I feel sore?"
"I did a five-mile run just now, of course *my* body would be sore as hell."
The woman chuckled and began to inspect her own body. Seeing this the man huffed and puffed.
"Stop it! I feel rather self-conscious–"
"Oh come now. I–You are pretty! I'm simply admiring it from another angle."
***
Sunday morning, a slight fog shielded the windows from the gentle flash of the sun. But alas, the cunning light of the sun still made its' way inside the room.
A gorgeous woman with golden curls spread on her hair fell on a bed. She softly caressed the face of a man tucked in it. Slowly, she pushed her dainty mouth towards his one ear and whispered...
"Wake up, hon–"
"Oh shit," the man jolted up unannounced and felt his face as well as his body, "fuck me."
The woman immediately recoiled. She pulled herself away from the man and appropriately fixed her gown before continuing.
"So today's the day, huh?" she said in annoyance.
"Hi there, Daph," the man awkwardly smiled, "so what's on the agenda for today?"
"Dress fitting, then cake tasting. I was hoping it was *him* I'd be doing it with, but–"
"Yeah. Nothing I can do about it, I'm afraid."
***
"This dress is making me look fat!"
"No, trust me guuurlfriend! You look gorgeous in that–"
The woman standing in front of the mirror heaved deeply. She then signalled the woman next to her to leave.
"Listen, buddy. You *don't* act that way, not while other people are around!"
"Sheesh, Daph. Now I know why *he* complained a lot about you..."
"What?"
"N-Nevermind."
The woman angrily drank her tea and walked towards the door. She massaged her creased temple and took a deep breath.
"Can't you do something about *this*?"
"Nope. Once we 'swap places' we kinda are stuck for the whole day."
"Oh God, why did I choose a man who can't move on from his ex–"
"Hey, don't blame me! I didn't ask to be stuck in a man's body – let alone my own goddamn ex!"
"Who blamed you? You two are *clearly* like this because you both hadn't moved on from one another."
"Please, Daph. I'm trying. I know *he's* trying too. Give it time."
The already tense atmosphere then shattered. As if a bomb had exploded in the room, a violent air blew past the couple.
"It's been eight years! E-I-G-H-T, **eight**! I figure that's enough time for you two to sort things up, but I'm clearly wrong."
"I did research last night, before... the 'swap'. I might find a way, but I don't think–"
"Do it. At this point I don't think I care, as long as it'll stop the bloody thing from happening every other day."
After a brief pause, the man took out a piece of parchment from inside his breast pocket. He straighten up the old thing and cleared his throat.
"Apparently, this bond – or rather curse – could be reversed with the one cliché. You know, the shit from fairy tales..."
"True love's kiss?"
The man nodded. He then took out a gnarly looking stick from inside his jacket. The stick emitted a faint purple glow from its' pointy end. With a slight swing, the purple glow transformed into a beam shooting straight to the air. The beam then converged into a portal which grew and grew ever so slightly.
"So, what's the plan?"
"If you'll allow me... I'll bring Jack here and we can test out the hypothesis. Right now."
"... If it doesn't work?"
"Let's just hope it'd be *him* you'll marry at the altar and not me." | 2019-12-15T12:25:34 | 2019-12-15T10:05:47 | 548 | 198 |
[WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
[deleted] | “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
Clark had the cellphone held out at arm's length as though he thought it might explode at any moment. Gathered in a circle around him we all began to breathe again, and after a moment the circle broke into several smaller groups of whispering, cursing, frightened survivors. Henry took the phone out back and smashed it into pieces with a cinder block. Clark had been sure to switch the device to speakerphone mode before making the call, but we watched him with suspicion for hours afterwards anyway, and did not let him take a shift that night.
\#
In the morning we moved on. The billboard by the gas station had read something like *Atmos Tires: the last word in grip!* when we had staggered into the town two days prior, still numb from losing Maggie, but now *Why leave? Stay home and seek shelter!* was emblazoned across it in that font Ethan had described as too-friendly, sickly-sweet. Poor Ethan. Without him we would never have realized how to keep ourselves safe from the Message. He was the first of us to see clearly how it worked, but that understanding had not saved him. In the end he had still screamed and clawed at his former friends until they gunned him down like an animal.
We passed a smoldering book bonfire on our way back towards the highway. I chuckled a little in spite of myself, thinking how appalled I would have been only a couple of months ago at the idea of burning a book. Sarah was my info partner for the day – we moved as one to check the charred remnants. A copy of *The Hobbit* was lying a little away from the bonfire, its cover burned away to reveal what should have been one of the most recognizable openings in the English canon. It read: *In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit. He was happy in his hole, seeking shelter from harm.* | I woke up in cold sweat, searching the room around me. Part of me hoped that the last three days were nothing but a nightmare. But when I looked at the calendar I had on my bedroom’s door, the only thing the red marker spelled out for tomorrow was doom.
I heard the tip taps of something coming to my room from the hallway. It was Sunny the German Shepherd, the only reason that I have kept going for the last 3 years. She jumped onto my bed and started whimpering, probably thinking I was in distress. I started petting her and shushing her to calm her down.
“It’s okay, Sunny. Everything is alright.” I softly spoke to her.
She seemed to have calmed down. But now I felt like I was too awake to fall back asleep, so I decided to go outside to take a breather.
I let Sunny out the door and watch her as she starts sniffing the ground. I started walking up to the old oak on top of the hill my house laid near. I whistled as Sunny followed me up the hill. Once I had reached the top I sat in front of the oak tree and drowned myself in silence, nothing but the sound of crickets and the late-night breeze.
It was hard to believe that everything was going to end when everything else seemed so still. But when I stare up into the night sky, my eyes didn’t deceive me for when I saw the moon looking twice as large. No one knew the end was coming this soon and no one knew how it had happened. For all I know, it could have been some guy’s doing or god’s judgment, but that didn’t matter to me.
People had only realized what was going to happen three days ago. It was announced on the radio, on the tv and written all over the newspapers. And the world government said there was nothing they could do about it. So they told us to say our prayers and kiss our families goodbye. In almost every movie I have watched or book I have read, there is always a dues ex machine, where everything seems to be at the brink of destruction, that’s when a hero arrives and somehow finds the path to a happy ending. But I guess this is no story, this is the harsh reality of the situation.
But as I watched Sunny play in the mud, part of me still hoped for it to be true. I reached into my pocket and took out a flip phone. I dialed the very familiar number of nine – one – one. But right before I dialed it I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
I pressed the button and I could hear the phone ring.
One second passed. Two seconds passed. Then a knock.
“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
I stared at the screen of my phone for some time.
I guess heroes don’t always exist. Well, not one that can save us right now. I couldn’t help but grin at the thought of how childish I was for calling 911 when the literal moon was falling on us. Then I started laughing so loud that I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. Even though I knew that everyone was probably gonna die by tomorrow evening, I felt weirdly calm about it.
I whistled for Sunny to come to me and then patted her on her head. I started walking back to my little shack down the hill, feeling a bit sleepy.
​
***Check out my writing at*** [***r/Fluffwrites***](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fluffwrites/)
***Also, check out my*** ***fantasy series -------->*** [***The Dark Road Ahead. Chapter 0: Sacrifice***](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) | 2020-09-12T10:34:09 | 2020-09-12T10:25:45 | 197 | 29 |
[WP] Humans are the first species to enter in the galactic federation to be considered the apex predator for its home planet, something that isn't talked loud by the others but easily causes fear and confusion when other species interact with then. | They never check over their shoulders. They don't glance at the sky above before they step out from shelter. They don't layer their ships with armor; they laden it with weapons.
Humans. Though they only recently broke onto the Intergalactic stage, they were causing waves- reckless, irresponsible waves. A reputation was growing swiftly; the Humans had their own sense of justice and morality. They decided for themselves what was right, and what was wrong, and hardly gave a damn what anyone else thought.
Only one species had dared to face them in open combat. It was just a decade ago that all alien races unanimously bemoaned the presence of the Graffiths- a carnivorous species with aggressive, law-and-order-imposing tendencies. They were a small race, comparatively- only a few billion- but whenever they were on a space station, *everyone* knew. They were rigid, uncompromising- but they were at least *predictable*.
They challenged the Humans- these flexible, creative, aggressive Humans- to war.
The billions were reduced to millions in three years, and the Graffiths admitted defeat. They slunk back to their own system, heavily watched by Human 'ambassadors'.
Now there was a tension in the air- the seat in the sky was empty. Humans had not outright declared supremacy...but no one dared challenge it. They offered *'opinions'* and *'suggestions'* on all kinds of foreign matters...and none had yet chosen to directly disobey.
We all lived in fear of the day the Humans seized the empty throne for themselves.
-----------------------------------------------
Or...at least, we had.
Until the day came when the Graffiths sold us out to an even worse predator than the Humans- semi-permeable, blood-drinking amoebas of fierce intelligence known only as The Aggressors.
It didn't take long for the Humans to seize the throne then- but only, they said, until the emergency was abated.
History has taught us nothing | The cold wind quietly blew through the winter forest it's soft gust rattling the snow-covered red leaves above. This is tranquility the freedom and absence of the uneasy gazes cast my way in the colony miles away. Slowly my quarry a white stag it's slow meandering path taking it amongst the trees as the periodic puffs of snow nearly vanish. A steady beat hammering against my chest as thunder breaks the silence the stag, this world's top predator dropping to the ground.
Kicking a small torrent of snow into the air the cloud of drifting snow settling on my prize. A small mound of snow amongst the branches of a nearby tree dropped to the ground standing on two legs as it draws closer. The titan of an animal dwarfing the hunter as he slings the rifle over his shoulder pulling free the hood of tangled white strings. A tangle of matted black hair freed from its prison with the fluid movement.
One short burst of static echoing through the forest as the hunter puts his hand onto his ear. "This is Charles, I found your titan mind sending a lift." His path taking him around to the head of the beast it's seven eyes gazing toward the white skies above. It's jagged razor teeth covered in a smattering of yellow blood common to this world's sentient inhabitants. The hunter's hand returning to his ear nodding his head silently with a slight frown.
"I appreciate the concern but It's a bit late for a tracking dart the bastard is as of the moment very dead." His eyes briefly glancing toward the small crater in the monster's head leaking a river of blood. "What do you mean what animal killed it you sent me out here to hunt it that was what the contract was for." His hand firmly pressed against his face as his scowl turned downward even farther.
The hunter's voice taking on a mocking tone as he kicked the stag's exposed brain. "Well I'm sorry you told me there was a giant predator eating people my first response is not exactly we need to keep away. It is we need to kill the damn thing to send a message. And yes I do enjoy hunting as it keeps me arms-length from you high and mighty shitbirds, just send the damn shuttle."
The bag on the mans back dropped to the snow with a slight crunch of snow and clattering of metal as he removed his earpiece. A long stream of hot air floating toward the red canopy as he removed a small sword from his bag eyes set on the stag. "Be a damn waste if I left your corpse here like they want and just as disrespectful wouldn't it feller." The knife silently twirling in the hunter's hand as he reached the neck of the beast and started cutting.
The final few strands of skin cut as the dropship arrived settling in the clearing it's rear ramp dropping into the knee-high snow. It's pilot a multi climbed monstrosity of bird-like features and five limbs observing silently on the ramp. The hunter crossing the divide with rifle and backpack over the shoulder stained in yellow blood and carrying the stag's detached head.
A shrill cry of terror crossing the clearing as the hunter reached the ramp winking at the waiting pilot. "What is wrong with you James why in the fucking abyss did you take its head!" It's eyes stuck on James's trophy as he set the head in the dropships bay. "Is there even a point or is it just to personally screw with me, you vicious little shit!" The pilot shaking violently as he gestured to the head about two-thirds of the human's height.
"It's a sign of respect you feathery fuck, I'm going to have it taxidermied and put up in my quarters." A small smile creeping across James's face as he held out his camera to his long time friend. "Do me a favor and take the damn photo it's not every day that I get to take down a giant." The camera almost slipping out of Eihl's claws as the pilot took the snapshot of the triumphant hunt.
A permanent predatory grin resting on the hunters face. | 2020-10-20T12:23:55 | 2020-10-20T11:25:39 | 243 | 103 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid. | I do not speak their language. I never had the chance to learn. With their instinctive hostility to the outsider, I was driven away from their settlements as they grew from the cinders of human civilisation. Survival for me is simple; I only require blood to thrive. From where it is sourced, it matters not. Forest creatures and passing travellers are all I desire. Though the thrill of evading capture no longer excites me, I still play games of cat and mouse with my prey.
They're not too dissimilar to humans; closely resembling the hominids I was born of, yet visually different enough to be recognisably distinct. A new species of primate, forged though famine and disease, forced to leave the ashes of their jungle homes and adapt to cityscape scavenging.
There are a few words of their language I understand - the most notable of which is their name for me. In the most undignified way, they trudge through my home wielding torches and cameras. They seek me out, hoping to capture a rare a photograph of "the unfurred ape."
I fucking hate monkeys. | Forever I would be the monster behind the tree. Which sounds like I’m being dramatic, but these new inhabitants of the planet literally see me as a monster.
I remember the other day when I was walking through the forest to find food and this fucking- I don’t even know what it was. I had never seen one before, I had only heard and seen when they arrived but I had never actually seen one of them before.
Some details of the creature were shadowed by the darkness of the night.
It had a head with three eyes in each corner, it’s neck was thick, long and it’s body was connected to six legs.
Our eyes met and I had no idea what to do because this thing, out of all my years on this fucking planet, was the creepiest thing I had ever seen. It was a even creepier than that one dictator with a really long neck, razor sharp teeth and three eyes in the 31st century.
Until it became normalized that is.
Before I could let a single word leave my mouth this creature ran off on its six legs like a spider, releasing a terrible, ear-damaging sound from its body.
It was afraid.
And now I’m laying here, on some pillows in my little hole that I dug in the forest covered by the darkness of the leaf-roof. I put my hand on Pluto’s fur petting him and he laid his head on my chest.
Eventually he would die as well, but I don’t mind the company while it lasts.
Then I heard from a bit away the sound of footsteps, I sighed, I didn’t want to have to see one of those things again.
I sat up putting Pluto to the side but as I was about to get out of the hole the sounds became more and more clear, it wasn’t just one or two pairs of footsteps, I couldn’t count them.
I froze.
The footsteps stopped.
I slowly turned my head up to witness not only one of those things... but an uncountable amount of them.
One of them stood up straight on two of their legs, the other four grew longer and came into grab me, I fought but there was nothing I could do, it was too strong.
Then I felt a strong pain in the side of my chest where I had been grabbed, my vision slowly faded to the sound of Pluto growling.
I woke up in a panic. Everything around me was pitch white except the pile of leaves I was laying on. I was inside a square room.
A terrible pain came from the side of my chest, I was bleeding from it and there were three holes in my hoodie.
From nowhere one side of the room opened, like one wall just vanished and behind it stood one of those creatures with a tablet in one of their hands.
I tried running out but the wall wasn’t gone. I just couldn’t see it. I fell to the ground in tears.
“Please don’t let me be imprisoned.” I prayed.
“Please let me go.” I cried out.
———————————
hey so i’m nowhere near a professional but i find it fun to just write stuff so i hope it wasn’t too bad.
thanks for reading. | 2022-11-26T20:40:07 | 2021-05-14T22:00:23 | 516 | 18 |
[WP] "So when you said that your curse would bind your arch-nemesis for all eternity..." Your companion holds up your hand to inspect the newly appeared magical wedding band on your ring finger. "Yeah, I didn't really think that would mean 'to me'." | The hero and his apprentice appeared to be muttering amongst themselves, but Eliza had her own problems. A white light had materialized around her left hand, and now a ring was stuck to her finger. It would not move. This made no sense, she was the demon queen. Nothing was beyond her power, but this damn ring. She gave up and looked at it again.
On second thought it was rather nice. It wasn't gaudy, and it was still simple enough for her to fight with. The Runic inscriptions and little birds were cute as well. Wait......did she just call it cute? She hated this not a few moments ago. She had been cursed!
"Reinhardt! Damn you! I'm going to kill you! Before, I showed mercy to you pathetic humans, no longer!."
Reinhardt held up his hands and began trying to stutter out an explanation, only to be met with a giant explosion to his face.
His assistant Edgar slowly backed away. To the best of his knowledge the demon queen was immortal. Reinhardt was.....not quite there. Yet he somehow returned after being killed continually, he said something about advanced spirit magic yet no one else could comprehend what he was talking about. He was also quite ridiculous in strength for a human. The point was he wanted to be nowhere near them. His damn fool of a master had said this plan was foolproof. Maybe the plan didn't realize how much of a fool Reinhardt was, or perhaps he was the fool for always going along with these schemes and having faith in his master.
Oddly enough she wasn't following up. Eliza's arm seemed to be trembling, and she was blushing. Reinhardt did not see this though. He flung a boulder off of his body and fumbled his way back to his feet. He swiftly gained his bearings and noticed Eliza approaching him, he drew a sword from his waist and flung it so hard into her chest that she was impaled into a wall.
Edgar gulped, perhaps he wasn't such a fool after all. Sometimes his master's ridiculous feats left him speechless.
Reinhardt had a hand around her throat before she could even grab the sword. "As I was trying to say before I was interrupted by some crazy bitch, I think we're stuck together. Can't you break this spell? You broke everything else I've thrown at you."
"I'm a crazy bitch? Some *ASSHOLE* broke into my castle and put a stupid curse on me *FOR NO REASON!"*
"You're the demon queen! You killed my father! Evil witch!"
"Your father was leading an army to attempt to take some of my land which was equally divided with your country centuries ago. Idiot. I could have taken your land if I wanted it."
"You killed me 700 times!"
"You keep entering my castle unannounced you fucking moron!"
Edgar was sure they hadn't noticed yet, but as they continued hurling insults they drew their faces closer to each other with each insult. It seemed as if with a few more choice words they began noticing and looking at each other's lips. Then they attacked each other in a brand new way. He sighed and facepalmed, perhaps he shouldn't even try to break this spell. They seemed like they were made for each other. | -warning, got a lil sexier than expected. No NSFW tho-
"What are you saying, Jason?" Said Jason's best friend and companion Liza as she grabbed my hand forcefully to look at the solid, deceptively simple gold wedding band.
"Yeah, well, that spell we found? It bound the Arch Mage, as planned. To me, though. It bound him. To me," sighed the half-elf, fiddling with the band.
"He used to be your mentor," said Liza.
"Yup."
"He's 630 years old."
"Indeed."
"You're barely 100."
"He's a full elf, they mature a little slower. But yeah."
"Okay yeah, but he's still the whole head of the empire we were trying to collapse. And a man!" The female half-giant exclaimed, lightly whacking Jason over the back of the head in an attempt to knock some sense into him.
"Well, I am bisexual. Most elves are, really. We all kinda look too alike for gender to matter, I'm already exotic because I can grow a beard like a human. Plus, there's only a new child every 150 years or so anyway," Jason pondered, still too caught up in the practicalities and inhibiting the reality of the situation to fully sink in.
"He's the corrupt leader of a large empire with the blood of millions on his hands." Sighed Liza.
"Well, he dies, I die. So I'm just gonna try to make this work."
- 8 years later -
"Jason, we have talked about this. You can't just order me to call my troups away from the dwarven mines. We need their ore," huffed the arch mage stubbornly, the tips of his ears wiggling in annoyance as the much taller Jason grinned down at him.
"Yes I can, Dario. Because you looooove me," he teased into his husband's ear, knowing he was right.
Turns out, love and hate really aren't that different. Despite being an all-powerful, breathtakingly beautiful arch mage with a knowledge of magic that could transform worlds, Dario was incredibly awkward socially, romantically and sexually. He had never actually been forced to communicate with people he couldn't threaten into compliance or silence, in result never wanting for anything in all of his 630 years. The arch mage had formed a bit of an unhealthy adoration for the stubborn and independent Jason as a strange result. In a way, the man craved the lack of control and the disagreements.
The young half-elf, in return, enjoyed the power he held over the man who had mentored him in school, just to betray him and his knighted family when he overthrew the reigning queen. In a strange way, they had found a balance in discovering the limits of the curse.
It had been one hell of a night when they found out they were no longer capable of having sex outside of their forced "marriage", Jason could attest to that. He was just extremely happy Dario hadn't been close enough to him yet to see the dark "married man," text that had appeared on his... Well. It had sat there for a solid two weeks and it itched like crazy. Not a price Jason wanted to pay again, though he had been easily able to put aside his sympathy when it happened much more obviously to Dario.
"No, Jason. I won't do it," Dario interrupted Jason's thought process and brought him back to his husband. He ran a hand through the Elf's traditional hip-length silver hair and peppered kisses along Dario's jaw.
"Are you sure, Dari? You know I hate it when you kill people. We can have your stupid ministers draw up a trading contract, and you won't even have to think about it anymore. We'll have nothing but time together," Jason suggested, wrapping an arm around the other's waist.
"I have to go now, Liza's expecting me. Haven't seen her in a good while. Just think about it, okay?" He said, smirking as he saw Dario's reddened ears.
Jason made his way down and out of the castle, fetching his horse and meeting Liza a way's away in a nearby village. Thankfully the people were used to him at this point, no longer terrified of the tyrant's husband.
"Jason! How've you been?" Asked Liza, engulfing the half-elf in a hug.
"I've been great! Making amazing progress with Dario, I think I've gotten him to seriously reconsider his troups at the mines. You should get a shadow courier to our informants over there," the man said, grinning at Liza's surprised expression.
"That was.. Really fast. How do you do that? That man is a stone cold psychopath!" She exclaimed in shock.
"I just.. Play to his likes," I said innocently, knowing she'd assume a different dynamic than what was happening, but definitely the one my husband wanted everyone to assume.
"God, the sacrifices you make man. You should be sainted for having to be that man's pretty boy," Liza sneered, and I chuckled.
"It's not that bad, once you get used to it." | 2021-10-02T03:33:58 | 2021-10-02T00:25:30 | 48 | 16 |
[WP] You are a young Elf. You've just been awarded a scholarship at one of the most prestigious magic schools in all of the Nine Realms. The... Massachusetts Institute of Technology? | Zana Ljosa hated it. A common reaction for a Light Elf so far from home. And a natural reaction for the First Princess of the First Family of Ljosa.
She always hated the very idea Midgard, the middle realm of mortals. Now she hated the clingy fog draped on Boston. Quickly she came hate the noisy cars and stalking bicycles hounding her every step on the way to class. She even casted at scornful glare the the sun, a pale orb behind the gray shroud.
"By the Well of Urd," Zana curses. "The Council of Ancients shall pay for 'awarding' me this scholarship." Sweetly dark thoughts filled her imagination. Thoughts of disincorporation, dismemberment, and disenfranchisement brought a flicker of a smile to Zana's face.
A smile that dissolved quickly upon reaching her destination. A squat ugly red brick building signed **Plasma Science and Fusion Center Massachusetts Institute of Technology.** Truly dismal place of learning when compared the majestic Towers of Alfheim. She enters and is greeted with silence.
"Hall of Hel," her swearing words echo through the empty hallway. Classes had already started. She ran searching for her room. Barging into the assigned room bringing about the attention of the class and the Professor.
"You're late, Miss....?" said the Professor. The small domed bald man was puffing up at the disrespectful tardiness.
"Mizz?"
"Your name Girl." huffed the Professor, his bulbous nose turning a flush of red.
"I am Zana, the first daughter of the house of Ljosa." She threw back the cowl of her silver cloak. A boast none dared refute for they all were perplexed by her announcement and dazzling outfit. Her voiced lowered into a growl, "Call me girl again and you will find yourself before the gates of Giltir."
The Professor grew pale. While not entirely sure what just transpired he felt his life threatened. Yet looking around for support, he was painful aware that she was the only woman of the class. Kicking her out could be tenure threatening.
"Please take a seat Zana. And Welcome to Magnetohydrodynamic Theory of Fusion Systems." And continued with a routine reading on the syllabus.
When Zana turned her classmates her hand reached instinctually her side side. Reaching for a sword, that was left in her studio apartment for well founded reasons. The entire class was paleness bordering on sallow. They resembled the Dark Elves, creatures living devoid of sunlight under the surface.
Zana went to the back of the class. Sitting alone and using the monotonous tenor of the Professor to regroup. As much as she detested her situation dealt to her. The Council did select her for her merits. She simply wished for more direction and instructions. *Learn the mortals technology.*
And then the Professor presented the next slide.
The powerpoint slide held an image of a bright glowing donut labeled Alcator C-Mod Tokamak. Swirling plasma modeled in flux. A controlled chaos. "Fusion offers unlimited clean energy," explained the Professor, "harvested from the same natural of process of the sun."
Zana sat agape. Her mind immediately latched onto the potential. The conversion of matter into energy and transmutation the elements. Pieces fell into place
The Council had been raging and ranting against about Mortal Technology (MT) for eons beyond eons. And finally acted. By sending their best and brightest. She saw the importance of her mission.Mortal Technology evolved and now transcended. Mortals shall soon have magic. And Fifth Realm soon shall have war. | 16.
I worry I wrote the elf too childish.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“May I ask you where the “lecture room is?”
Countless of humans walk beside you. All of them approaching a building build out of the finest stone you ever saw. Its gigantic. You imagined that only Monarchs would ever step into them. If you weren't already desensitized by the giant magic towers and the flying magical metal birds you would scream as you goggle at everything.
In each of the 9 realms resides a different intelligent species. The 8th Realm, your home rarely has humans. They are pretty ugly to you of course. Their weird skin. Their short and surely nonfunctional ears. But nonetheless you admire them. Not only have they managed to fill out their entire massive cities with holy magic. “Lights” as they call it, but they also managed to create a strange but incredible kind of magic. Ever since you met your first human and found out that you can achieve your goal.
You touch your bag. It's pretty filled, but you still manage to feel for what you were looking for. A book. The most important possession you have.
You look at the human (female?) before you scrutinizing you with wide eyes. You don’t know if this is some custom of the humans. They are strange creatures after all. You still don’t understand handshaking even after questioning every human you met. So, you scrutinize her too. You both stare at each other until she finally speaks with a pretty high tone and a what appears to be a attempted smile.
“Cool...cosplay?”
You don’t know what this “cosplay” is, but it’s a compliment you guess?
“Thank you very much, you too.”
You both go back to staring. Is staring such an important thing for humans? You look to her ears. They are short and they don’t seem to wiggle. Maybe it's so important for them to stare so they figure out what the other party wants. Humans are complicated.
“...Yeah. I'm Sara.”
Greetings! You studied them in the book. You can do this.
“For thou you ask, the name of this Elf is Elre Iarrora.”
You are staring again. How can humans do anything when they stare all the time?
“Elf?”
“Yes Elf, I come from the 8th Realm! I studied technology magic before because its so amazing!”
She mumbles something about “This wasn’t fake news?” before realizing that you are still there.
“I can show you the way, what did you take?”
“Something about healing magic.”
“...Yeah. I think I know what you mean, wait, I show you a map.”
She(?) begins taking out a rectangle. It has a bright colour and as she begins touching this magic device it begins to shine lightly.
“...This isn't in my book.”
“You never heard of smartphones? I thought you studied our techno-magic?”
You begin rummaging through your bag. It doesn’t take long and under the curio's eyes of Sara. Her mouth opens and you feel incredibly proud. That even a human would be impressed of your book, even though its outdated.
“This is...a medieval romance novel?”
“I know! I figured out that romance must mean some kind of magic, I begun translating just to learn about your magic!”
Sara turns away. All the while making some sounds you can't identify. It sounds a bit like heavy breathing. Or is she crying? Is she so moved about your dedication?
“...You will need something different.”
You hold your book tighter. This book was given to you after the human saw your friend. This is the book. Why should the human give you something not usable for magic?
“...do you not study with romance books?”
“No, no I don-”
She interrupts herself as she looks at the “smartphone” and begins stop reacting for a moment. Then she looks at you, the “mechanical” clock, and then back to the smartphone.
“We come too late!”
She takes your hand and starts running with you in the tow. You don’t even have time to admire everything.
You sit down with Sara. People still don’t stop looking at you, but when a sound coming from seemingly nowhere startles you they at least step down.
A human comes on to the stage. He begins introducing himself before beginning a spectacle. Before you appears a picture! Just like in real life bigger than him. You scream full of excitement.
“Grandiose! Do it again!”
The master of magic stares at you. Sara has a panicked expression.
“If you want to make fun of me you can just leave.”
You are completely baffled. Why would you make fun of such a grand magician? Being able to change such a big amount of light to form a gigantic picture was said to be the realm of gods. Maybe because all of the humans are such grand magicians they feel that this isn't so great.
“I'm really sorry if I offended you. But where I come from I never saw such a feat. You must be a really great mag-techonologician.”
He looks down. Rubbing his hair in the process.
“You really think so? Maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”
As he looks up again his cheeks are a little red. He smiles as he questions definitely friendlier.
“Again, I'm Professor Richard. Why did you come study Medical Science here?”
“I want to learn your magic so my friend at home can see the stars with me again!” | 2021-11-10T11:29:46 | 2021-11-10T11:01:12 | 44 | 31 |
[WP] You sold your soul to an otherworldly being, hoping to gain the powers needed to go on an adventure and maybe even save the world. As your Patron calls in the first of never ending favors, you find yourself at a candlelit dinner with them sitting in front of you in their best outfit. | Morgan stares at the Flame of Hidden Wisdom. The being's robes are covered in crow's feathers traced with gold while the mask shrouding Their blinding light is a solid eyeless obsidian plate dappled with silver and trailing rainbows of bismuth.
\[\[BE SEATED\]\]
He does, if only out of sheer confusion. Is this a test..? An attempt to breach the barriers between the unknowable to the mortal?
\[\[IT TOOK A LONG TIME FOR THE RIGHT MIXTURE\]\] \[\[MANY WHO SEEK KNOWLEDGE WISH IT FOR POWER BE IT HALLOW OR PROFANE\]\] \[\[BUT OH MIRROR YOU WANT MERELY TO KNOW AND BE SATISFIED WITH KNOWING\]\] \[\[IN BINDING YOURSELF TO ME YOU HAVE BECOME MINE\]\] \[\[WE HAVE AEONS TO UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER FULLY\]\]\[\[IN TIME DEAR HEART YOU WILL BECOME MY MIRROR IN TRUTH\]\] \[\[MY REFLECTION AND EQUAL\]\]
"...wait, are you saying..." A terrible idea dawns on the young warlock.
The Flame of Hidden Wisdom taps the table with one of its many spidery hands. \[\[OUR MARRIAGE IS NOT ONE OF CONVINCE OR PACT\]\] \[\[OTHERS WOULD BE CONTENT WITH SHARING THEIR SELVES WITH COUNTLESS FRAIL MORTALS\]\] \[\[IT MAKES THE PAIN OF LOSS EASIER TO BEAR\]\] \[\[BUT YOU HAVE HEARD THE TALES OF THOSE WHO CAME BEFORE AND THE PRICE THEY PAID FOR THEIR RELENTLESS PURSUIT\]\]
Morgan had. It was why the Flame of Hidden Wisdom was feared even more than Kortex the Skulldrinker or the Ancient Necrophage. The only survivors to seeking Their patronage had given up their ability to perform magic, some even going as far as blinding themselves to the runic languages. But Morgan had taken those stories as falsehoods spread by people who had actually won the being's patronage or Their enemies. The Patrons and Gods are ever at war for souls even if some on either divide are kinder and gentler to the essences offered to their names.
"We're married and this is a date." His head is spinning at the implications. At what the Flame proposed (proposed! Ha! HE proposed!)
The being seems taken aback by his words. \[\[YOU DID NOT COMPREHEND THE CONTRACT IN FULL\]\] \[\[WE SHALL DISCUSS THE TERMS AFTER THE MEAL\]\] \[\[YOU DID NOT KNOW AND YOU MUST UNDERSTAND\]\] \[\[ELSE\]\] The Flame's light dims ever so slightly. \[\[WE CAN DISCUSS TERMS OF DEPARTURE\]\] | Can someone die from starving for love?
The Devil’s twisted horns cock to the side slightly as his wide, horse-like eyes bore into my gaze.
If anyone could, he might.
I’ve never seen such romantic desperation outside of a cheap rom-com. Between the candle flames and rotting white roses, he wears a fine suit. His charcoal-like hands fold in nervousness as a waiter approaches.
“I’ll have the …” I begin.
But the waiter has already dropped a fine China plate onto the table. It’s my favorite food in the world – my mom’s mac’n’cheese. No one ever makes it like my mom did, and she died before anyone could get a recipe. Before I think to stop myself, I snap up a spoonful, tears streaming down my face as memories of her flood back.
“Your love for your mother is despicable,” says the Devil. “Human love is disgusting.”
He saws into his own meal – a maggot-filled human face.
I swallow slowly, setting down the fine spoon. Clearly, this must be a dream. Only a moment ago, I had been drawing ancient diagrams in stolen chalk on the pavement, slitting one wrist just enough for a dribble of blood to slap a candle. Indignant at being fooled into remembering my mother, instead of feeling awesome and powerful and cool as a witch, I ask, “Then why do you want it?”
His soft, floppy, lamb-like ears flick a fly away. “A petulant, assuming question.”
“I can tell that you do.”
He leans across the table with an alarmingly human-like torso, only to trail a finger under my chin. His sharp canines bare. “I don’t know exactly. I desire love, but I cannot receive it. It’s God’s curse on me, you see. I can only consume. Everyone who tries to love me is consumed. Perhaps you’ll be different, my Margaret. It’s serendipitous that you learned that spell. You’re a sweet little virgin.”
I make to stammer – no! I totally gave Jason a blowie after school under the bleachers one time! But the Devil takes up my hands in his strange, smokey ones.
“Perhaps at last you’ll be my salvation,” he says.
My nostrils curl from the sulfur. This feels too close to what they’d say at church, the place that my grandmother drags me in a fine white dress before making me do hours of prayers and chores.
The Devil chortles, “You see, Margaret, you gave me your soul for such a foolish cause. I admit it had me practically – what do the human romance films say? – swooning.”
“But I have to save the world!” I say desperately.
“From the evils of cyberbullying?” he asks, squeezing my fingers. “You’re a darling child. I have so much more evil things out there, and yet you wanted to make a deal with the devil to end cyberbullying?”
My bottom lip wriggles. He doesn’t understand! They were so mean to my friend … they called her so many names, and her videos went national. She had to quit school and no one did anything. And now they keep doing it to my other friends who didn't do anything wrong besides have rainbow fashion senses. Again and again, it keeps happening, no matter who you are or what you did. Everyone is hurting!
The Devil grips my cheek. “Would you like another bite of your meal, dear Margaret? Or shall you finally show me that you love me?”
“I didn’t think the spell would work,” I say, panting. “I … I didn’t …”
A broom hits me in the face.
I snap awake, looking around on the school parking lot. Wetness drowns me. It’s pouring.
My grandmother’s broom smacks my arm again.
“Ouch!”
Grandma straightens, leaning on her broom, glaring.
“Grandma, what are you doing here?”
"Why are you summoning the devil?" she asks.
My friends in their butterfly hairclips point at me. “Are you okay, Margaret? Wake up?”
The candles had been snuffed out by the rain. My wrist is still pooling blood. My tears mix with droplets.
“If you’re going to be doing real spells,” Grandma mutters, “then I’d better teach you girls how to do them the proper way. Come whippersnappers, get in my truck. Margie, you better start praying for your soul and don’t stop for the next three hours.”
We pile into her old Ford Ranger, wetness sinking into the faux leather. I pool against the front seat as my friends stem the bleeding from my wrist with a scrunchie.
I press my forehead against the window and sigh, wondering how God could ever deny the devil of love. Or perhaps he hadn’t at all, and it was all a lie.
“Are you there, God?” I ask. “It’s me, Margaret.” | 2022-04-03T13:34:23 | 2022-04-03T12:22:52 | 110 | 76 |
[WP] The Magical Girls were defeated, but before their capture, they released their instrument-weapons. Formerly, they always landed in the hands of either J-pop, or K-pop girl bands but this time -for some reason- the weapons choose a Finnish Death-Metal boyband. They were PAINFULLY efficient. | It always happened, eventually. Such was the fate of the warriors on the side of light- they were granted powers, but they were mortal. They would age and they would pass their tools and duties onwards.
Not this time.
The monster sent to them was a living nightmare, and an old one at that. It didn't agree to the rules of the conflict between light and dark. It did not care for the objectives of either side, nor the collateral damage. It had one reason to be, and it is with that reason that it marched upon the world. It will bring pain.
The five children stood proud first. They thought to defeat it through love and friendship. It showed them the truth. The world in which friendship and love suffocate under cruelty and greed.
The guitarist fell first, unable to play as she saw the horrors her own grandfather commited in the prison that was unit 731.
The bass player was easy, as it didn't even need to imagine. It mearly brought back what her father did to her, and laughed in delight.
The little red head saw the explosions of white phosphorus with every beat of her magical drum. It only took a minute for her to shove those sticks into her eyes, begging for it to stop. It did not.
It never made it to the keyboard. She died of heart failure, it would seem. No matter. That just meant it had more time to play with the lead singer.
-------------
After Japan fell, the whole world was scrambling to stop this monstrosity. At the time, no one noticed 5 golden UFOs make their way towards a small Finish village.
Everyone noticed them on the way back. But they weren't gold anymore.
The tools were given by the gods of light and music, but they were forged by another. He was a rough god, but a crafty bastard. The god of change knew such events could come, and prepared accordingly. "One day, when the warriors of light are not enough, find soldier of darkness who will fight for the light." Was his las command to his greatest creation.
When the new five appeared, the nightmare smiled, for it thought feeding time came again. It did not notice that the bright pinks and yellows were replaced with grey and crimson. It didn't notice that the hearts were no longer cartoons, but anatomically correct and pumping blood. It didn't notice the plastic and cloth that were replaced with bones and skin.
But the affects were noticed.
When the lead sang, instead of empowering the others, the nightmare felt its own strength draining.
The keyboard played, and instead of distracting magic lights it conjured up the spirits killed by the nightmare. They were strong and they were hateful.
The bass, an instrument of healing, gave the undying army flesh to fight with, all the while mutating the nightmare into shapes it could not control.
As the guitar strings strummed, instead of colorful lightning, came... Something unknown. Something unknowable. Reality itself began to crack under its weight.
When the nightmare saw it, it did something it hadn't done before. Never in its centuries of haunting the minds of mortals, did it scream in fear.
Above all was heard the steady,rhythmic beating of a massive war-drum. It generated a wall, growing stronger with every thump, transforming a protective shield into a nightmarish prison.
The 5 Black-Hearted, as they will be later known, didn't give up their power. They were free of the contract as well, and so they decided. Both sides, the light and the dark, will pay dearly for destroying the lives of so many, so carelessly and so irreparably.
With a nod of their head, The 5 Black-Hearted began their journey to free humanity from a war that wasn't theirs.
-----------------
Read more stuff on r/Talesandsongs
None of it is good, but some is entertaining | The people of Little Town had long been used to the pattern. First, the sky would darken, and one of their neighbors, now mutated into a grotesque reflection of their own inner turmoil, would cry out for vengeance. Then the Sparkle-Glitter 5 would emerge from somewhere, with earnest defiance and deep concern for the people of Little Town. As dialogue and negotiation inevitably broke down, The Fabulous Mr. Kitty would pop the whole event up into the sky to cut down on property damage, and the fight would begin. The people tried very hard to not think about how their saviors were clearly only in middle school, even as they cheered for their favorite candy-colored musician to clobber the opponent they'd all known for years, another thing they tried hard not to think about.
Sometimes, just sometimes, it wouldn't be a neighbor. Sometimes it would be one of the mutators themselves, grown tired of fruitlessly hurling people at the town, who took the field. When that happened, something had to change. Most times, the girls would find some new reservoir of power within themselves, or there would be a new girl, conveniently stepping up just as one of the current group had to move away, or go to high school. Rarely, Mr. Kitty would bring forth help from somewhere, and while this last resort was always welcome in the moment, it meant destructive fighting on the ground for a few weeks until he recovered. When even that failed, things would get bad. There would be a new sparkle team in time, but until they could be found, the mutator and its clique of vain, vengeful mutates would run amok, taking and destroying until their venal need for imagined vengeance had been sated.
The summer that killed the sparkles was bad. Orgoroth had set himself up as a petty king, turning the City Hall into a rough castle, and the bitter women of the retirement community into his generals. Each took especial delight in tormenting their own families, but spread their hate among all the young. On one particular day, Granny Attitude was screaming at little 4-year old Jessica for not being in school, when she proclaimed, "You're mean! You need to stop being mean or the Sparkles will get you!" Granny attitude backhanded the poor little girl across the street and spat. "The Sparkles are dead," she crowed, "and you need to learn to respect your elders, because they are NEVER coming back." Little Jessica cried softly, holding her bruised cheek as she silently mouthed "Sparkles," over and over again, barely aware of her shattered ribs.
Granny Attitude stalked across the street, eager to finish her tirade, when little Jessica coughed up a black clot, her tiny throat visibly distending for a moment as the knot of squirming blood forced its way out of her mouth and splattered on the pavement. "Look at the mess you're making," Granny snarled, pointing one arthritic finger at the broken girl. "You're going to have to clea.." Her harangue died away as the splotch widened into a perfect circle, the deep red fading to a primordial black swirling with unfamiliar stars. The hole thrummed with energy, and with a sound like none she'd heard before.
A figure faded slowly into existence, fully two meters tall and half as wide. His cold eyes were barely visible through the long, multi-colored hair that hung over his face and down almost to his waist, as if to hide the little heart-shaped guitar he played behind curtains of glittering black and shining pink His thick fingers flew back and forth along the neck of the little instrument, sounding a deadly march, the staccato heartbeat of the underworld itself.
As the bassist finally solidified, two others began to appear behind him, tall, lanky twins with spiked blue and green hair. As one, they raised their cloud-and-angel-wing guitars to the sky and began to play. Granny Attitude clapped her hands to her ears as blistering runs of notes blasted out around them, shattering glass and making something writhe with agony behind the old woman's eyes. They walked forward, passing the bassist and standing on the cracked asphalt.
The twins' dueling solos came to an end as two screams burst from the void. A blonde woman and a bald man, each dressed in a pastel jumpsuit with a pastel microphone, launched from the abyss and into the street, belting out alternating threats and cajolery, one demanding that those responsible for the state of the world submit to judgement, while the other wished for love. All seven of the mutates in Little Town collapsed, puking up their own tainted essences as their master detonated under the sonic assault.
The yawning cthonic pit finally squeezed shut beneath the hulking bassist's feet as they stopped playing, and a very bedraggled Mr. Kitty popped out, landing in a roll. He straightened what remained of his top hat and turned to address Granny Attitude, only to drop his jaw as he saw she'd already been defeated. "Um, well then. Don't do it again.." he said with a sniff before turning to his new, out-sized champions. As he watched, their bodies shrank to a size with which he was more familiar, "You've done very well in putting an end to this threat to Little Town, but you must always be on your guard..." he began, only to trail off into silence as the three boys and two girls ducked into a pizzeria, arguing good-naturedly about who'd have to split a Hawaiian with Cancer Boy. With a sigh, he walked over to little Jessica's body and blew a little dust from his hat onto her broken form, watching solemnly as she faded from reality. "I hope you knew what you were doing, girl."
​
A/N: After considering the prompt, I thought Power Metal would be a better fit. As always, eternally hungry for feedback. | 2022-08-15T11:07:33 | 2022-08-15T09:30:43 | 1,486 | 470 |
[WP] Many years ago, an alien invasion nearly wiped out Humanity. Now, the galactic government is desperately trying to reason with a vengeful Humanity by saying that it was a rogue mining company that attacked without their approval or knowledge. | "It's a virus"
"What do you mean"
"It's a computer virus, it is a small computer program that enters a system and destroys it from the inside".
"That's ridiculous, the hegemony has had computers for 3,400 years and no species has ever created software designed to destroy them. It is suicide. Computers run outside support, medical regen facilities, defense command, financial services. no sane being would create something that destroys the only thing that keeps is from living like animals. What if it gets into the climate control system. Are we going to have weather again? That's ridiculous."
"What do you mean if? It's in the system. Frongline is being hit with hurricanes. I had to look up the word for that. It is a massive low pressure storm. The entire coast is under water."
"Has the ship that sent the communication sent any demands?"
"Only one,. They have requested the heads of everyone who works for the Thran Mining Consortium. Everyone. From the Board of Directors to the drilling apprentices. Not only the ones involved with the 'unpleasantness' on their home planet. They want everyone. They provided a list. Their 'hackers" didn't even stop when our system warned them that accessing that information was illegal"
"And that's what they require to stop this unsanctioned attack?"
"No, that is what they require before they will accept our unconditional surrender". | "Just 5 years before Terran ambassadors arrived on Keplar 9 for the annual galactic summit, around 46% of Terra's population was annihilated in a, by galactic standards, military grade plasma ray attack. This devastated the population and left them unable to find food and shelter as at least half of all the water where the impact of the plasma ray hit evaporated and was consequently stolen by the unknown alien ships" Ka'lar said as he read out the document his boss assigned him to "study" when what he really meant was "do it instead of me".
But Ka'lar was already used to doing everyone's work and he did not mind as he didn't have anything else to do.
This document was information on the newly accepted members of the galactic council and the species they were going to meet in 2 months.
"Sir, we have detected Terran-style ships approaching but with no official insignia on them" Ka'lar got startled by the sudden noise and dropped his coffee, the new beverage that became extremely popular after Terra started exporting it.
"Why would there be no official insignia if they are recognized by the galactic council?"
"I do not know, Commander Ka'lar." "Establish contact and ask on what business they are here for, the Terrans should arrive in about 2 months time, it's too early for them to be here"
Private Eret pressed a button on the control desk, but the machine did not turn on. "This stupid thing, we really need new replacements for this crack-shack of a ship" Private Eret said as he hit the machine a couple times until it whirred to life and displayed a sickly white screen with some writing on it that looked more pixelated than an old DS game.
Suddenly, the screen turned a blackish green colour as text on the screen said "signal error, please check your connection" "Damn this stupid thin-" Private Eret said as he felt the most sharp searing pain he had ever felt as if his entire body was on fire. The Terrans had fired some sort of radiation ray, but fortunately for him, the control room was the furthest from the radiation ray and the Terran ship was pretty far away from the ship, meaning he was extremely lucky to survive.
"Stand down and lower your weapons."
"We have killed 50% of your staff and heavily injured the other half. Stand down and we will send medical help as we are not as barbaric as the galactic council and can clearly see that you are only partly to blame, given the fact that 5 years ago, you were close enough to Terra passing through the solar system that you could have offered aid"
Ka'lar blinked as he looked at Private Eret who's entire body was covered in burns. His species was more susceptible to radiation because of their naturally weak home star that spewed out less radiation than most average star systems.
"I repeat, stand down and lower your weapons"
Ka'lar ordered the remaining staff to stand down and wait for medical attention, but he wasn't so sure as to whether or not the Terrans would fulfill their promise.
"2 of your representatives, preferably a captain and a commander, will be allowed to board our ship so we can discuss all of *this*" Ka'lar was hesitant to agree to board the ship but his Captain, being the coward that he is, went with the humans almost instantly because he knew, that such a large ship would be able to fire another shot, and this time would kill the remaining 50% of the injured staff. | 2022-12-17T21:51:38 | 2022-12-17T19:40:45 | 150 | 24 |
[WP] Many years ago, an alien invasion nearly wiped out Humanity. Now, the galactic government is desperately trying to reason with a vengeful Humanity by saying that it was a rogue mining company that attacked without their approval or knowledge. | \-"This is preposterous!"
This was the only clearly audible response, the chaos erupting in the Councill's Halls drowned out everything else. Every race wanted to express their discontent at the same time, creating an unprecedented cacaphony of yelling, hollering, screeching and howling. The only silent figure amidst the sea of flaring tempers was a lone human, slowly drumming his fingers of his podium. A new observer would easily mistake his lack of reaction for a lack of anger - but his eyes told a different story. Cold and full of contempt. As the seconds grew longer without the noise settling down, he slowly furred his browns, before reaching behind his uniform.
The dull, thunderous bang deafened everyone. They all froze in shock, not sure which one of them would drop dead, before realizing this was but a warning shot. Their next thoughts were of confusion: how did the human smuggle a gauss pistol inside the chamber? They underestimated the fury of humanity, and the fruits it would bear. Modular gauss pistols that were easily disassembled into inconspicous parts were not projected to be feasable for the next decade, but humanity has accelerated the clock.
\-"Preposterous? Unfair? Let me tell this council the meaning of those words"
The lone human started talking, slowly lowering his weapon, but not letting go of it.
\-"8 years ago when the Qwell appeared, you did nothing. 5 years ago when humanity was attacked, you did nothing. You sat and watched from your cushioned seats as they overrun our solar system like a swarm of locusts, as we barely managed to stop them at Luna. This council did NOTHING!"
The anger and hatred in the last shouted word was tangible. When the councillors read reports of the war, they were dismissed, the calls, no the begs for assistance ignored. It took them being at gunpoint of a scientific marvel, wielded by someone who was fueled by the hatred of an entire race, to realize just how wrong they were.
\-"This council is responsible for allowing a genocide to happen. This council thinking it can suddenly grow a conscience is preposterous. Now, the council has two options before it. The council can remain *fair*, keep sitting on its ass as we will have our revenge, and do nothing as it always have. Or the council can try to interfere. This will not change the result: the redirected asteroids will destroy every Qwell planet in their home system. The only thing it will change is I will execute each and every one of its members as war criminals.
Thinking that you can selectively enforce your rules preposterous. Trying to do so is unfair. Now decide."
The human raised his pistol, waiting for any of the councillors to utter a word of defiance. They all remained silent. | “All rise. The Intergalactic Federal court is now in session. High Judicial Archon Irk’nCzrwyon presiding. Please be seated and come to order.” A being of nebula, serves as the bailiff, towering in its enormity vibrates sounds and light as they were being translated to the floating balcony’s desk, where seven humans are seated.
The eternity were filled by elder gods, cosmic celestials, ethereal beings and ancient deities, all were in their overwhelming presence and glory eclipsing the enormity of the planets we considered the largest we could ever fathom, gathered as spectators of the trial.
“Criminal case filed by the prosecutor’s office against the humans of planet Aran’k-sakratin, known to its inhabitants as planet Earth. Counselor? How do you plead?” The entity of three pairs of burning wings spanning in immeasurable size in the most high pedestal in the skies, thunders before the human man in the middle of the seven.
“Not guilty, your honor!” Shouted the man.
“Your honor, these humans have killed thousands of the Tharn’likans after they started mining in the Aran’k-sakratin! A planet legally owned by the Tharn’likans through inheritance. It has been with the Tharn’likans for trillions of aeons. These low life parasitic species who infested the planet have become uncontrollable invaders of the planet and acting they own it!” A being of black void with trillions of small sparkling glitters scattered to its shapeless existence, vibrated towards the High Judicial Archon, which were being translated into words for the humans.
“Objection! Speculating.” The human lawyer interrupted.
“Unless you have evidence, prosecutor Mktoloktuhulan’l that the humans are parasitic species, you must redirect.” The High Judicial Archon thunders.
“I have evidence, your honor. Exhibit A, these are the actual visual documents that shows, that the humans are the parasites to the planet Aran’k-sakratin.” A cloud of burning gasses come together to create a 3D visualization of the human’s exploits of the Earth. “As you have witnessed, your honor, it just 10,000 years, these parasites manage to destroy the natural balance of the planet’s atmosphere and create global warming that can occur naturally for millions of years.”
“That’s is not true, your honor. We have not destroyed our planet as it is the only planet where our specie can thrive! Why would we want to destroy the only place that gives us life?” The human lawyer interjected.
“Because they are parasites! Parasites are ought to kill their host slowly to survive. Isn’t that what they are doing?” The prosecutor asked.
“And what the Tharn’likans were doing is not destroying our planet?” The human councilor asked back.
“The Tharn’likans were just mining molten irons from the planet Aran’k-sakratin as what part of their rights in owning the planet. By expediting the warming of the planet, it also expedites the melting of iron in its immediate outer core. Threatening the balance in the mining industry of our galaxy! Not to mention the merciless massacre of the innocent Tharn’likan miners who have no idea, these low life creates are capable of mass destruction!”
“Your honor, i request that the prosecutor Mktoloktuhulan’l must refrain from calling our specie as low life specie as we are also capable of sentience! And to be allowed to represent ourselves in this court acknowledges us as such.” The human lawyer interrupted.
“Prosecutor Mktoloktuhulan’l, please refrain from using that term in the future.”
“Your honor! I continue to call their specie low life creatures, because even though they are showing signs of sentience, they are categorized as parasitic creatures based on their environmental and evolutionary behavior towards their ecological environment.”
“Councilor, the prosecutor is correct. He has reasons to use the term as the evidences they serve categorizes your specie as a sentient parasite, and that is the lowest category in the intergalactic federation racial hierarchy. Unless, you have evidence to counter the prosecutions allegations against your specie, they have the upper-hand in this case.” The High Judicial Archon said.
“We would like to request for a recess, your honor.” The human lawyer requested.
“It looks like you really needed one. The court will be in recess and resume in three solar cycles of the Planet Aran’k-sakratin. If the defendant can not provide counter argument on the next session, I will read my verdict. ” The High Judicial Archon opened its third wings and a loud banging echoed in the eternity and all were gone.
“We’re screwed!” The second chair of the human lawyer whispered. | 2022-12-17T22:53:06 | 2022-12-17T17:34:16 | 48 | 34 |
[WP] You hire a witch doctor to curse someone. However, the only curses you can afford are extremely petty. | "So, let me get this straight," Steve blinked. "For ten dollars, you'll make it so that whenever he looks for something, it'll be in the last place he'll look?"
The witch doctor nodded, revealing his yellowed teeth in a wide, Joker-esque grin. "Yes, that's right."
"So, like... if he lost his car keys, they'd be-"
"Yes, yes. The money now, please."
As he received the money, the witch doctor could only grin. He'd been at this for twenty years - and this was his only curse. Of course one would only find something in the last place they looked - why would they keep looking once they'd already found it? | "Well, I can make it so every pair of socks she owns has a narrow heel."
"...a narrow heel? I don't...what will that do?"
"Well some people experience an occasional discomfort for the first few moments after they put on a sock with a heel that is too narrow for her foot, though the discomfort quickly cedes. It helps if she has a wide heel. Does she have a wide heel?"
"I have no idea... Why would I know that?"
"Well it seems to me if I'm going to pay to curse someone I would get the details of their physique first, but that's ok, I can see you're not impressed."
"Yeah, definitely not impressed, do you have anything a little more... I don't know, substantial?"
"Substantial you say, well let's see, I can make it so that every glass of milk she drinks for the rest of her life will taste like it came out of a carton that had been opened for two or three days already, no matter how fresh the milk is!"
"What are you talking about? That's a horrible curse!"
"Well I don't know, I mean I for one greatly enjoy the taste of fresh milk, having only slightly older tasting milk to drink for the rest of my life would be mildly disappointing."
"But she's lactose intolerant, it's not like she even drinks milk that often."
"Well I know she's lactose intolerant, unlike you I do research on people when determining if and how I'm going to curse them, I don't just make an appointment and show up with $300 expecting miracles. I mean come on, if she wasn't lactose intolerant do you really think I would even offer this to you at that price? You know how much I would charge to curse all the milk a non-lactose intolerant person was ever going to drink? 18 grand, that's how much. You should be grateful I even offered."
"I'm sorry, it just didn't seem like much of a cur-"
"Yeah, yeah, you're sorry, whatever."
"Tell you what, I get paid next week, I can give you the $300 I have with me today then another $300 after I cash my check. If I do that what can you give me?"
"Hmm...I can make it so every pair of pantyhose she ever wears will get a small run in them, but only at the top where hardly anyone, herself included, will ever see."
"...Is there at least a chance of the run spreading down the rest of her leg?"
"No."
*sigh* "I'll take it." | 2014-12-13T14:17:47 | 2014-12-13T12:37:41 | 89 | 11 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" | It was a freezing morning in New York.
I slipped into the local Starbucks for some coffee.
There was a new cashier today.
"Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?", She asked, exasperated.
"Soy un federale, tengo un gato en mis pantalones," I replied.
The disinterested look on her face vanished instantly.
"You...", she said, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
For a second my heart skipped a beat.
"Do you know how many years I've spent working in Mexico because of your bullshit!?" She yelled, smashing her fists on the Register.
It was her.
She was the one.
Edit: Damn, first gold. Didn't expect this. Thanks guys! | The one moment of the day that made it all worth it was just hearing her voice in the morning. Always starting with those same 8 words. Stiff and corporate sounding, but he thought he detected a new hint of warmth behind them the last couple of weeks.
They'd had their share of jokes and small talk at the counter the last few months as well, and he had caught her staring at him a couple times as he worked on his laptop. Somehow, he'd still never had the courage to make a move to ask her out. Today is the day though, he can feel it.
The letter had come yesterday. Just those wonderful 8 words on a plain white sheet of paper in an unmarked envelope. No one knows where they come from, but without fail everyone will get one on their 18th birthday like it. Some think it takes the "magic" out of the process, but finding your true soul mate seems like a fair trade in his mind.
As he walks into the Starbucks, he is nervous but confident. There's no way it could be anyone else. Standing in line he sneaks a glance up at the counter and sees her. She has her hair down... The butterflies in his stomach do a flip... He loves it when she wears it like this. He's two people away now. He's futilely trying to remember the carefully calculated words he'd rehearsed for this. One person away. He's almost ready to burst.
The man in front of him approaches the counter. "Nobody freak out and nobody gets hurt!" He yells, suddenly brandishing a pistol. The man looks to the girl and demands the cash out of the register. She's shaking, starting to cry... "What the fuck did I just say about freaking out?!" the man yells, and cocks the pistol. "You just had to start crying.... I FUCKING HATE IT WHEN THEY CRY!"
He's standing behind the man, unbelieving of the scene unfolding before him. The man is crazy obviously... and he's no longer sure the cash alone is all the guy will be taking before he is satisfied. Only one thing to do. Saying a quick mental prayer, he throws himself at the man. A quick scramble, a loud bang, a sharp pain... and then police sirens in the background as the darkness engulfs him.
The sharp smell of antiseptic is the first thing that heralds his return to conciousness. Second is the soft whirring and beeping of the hospital equipment beside his bed. As the room swims into view he realizes someone is holding his hand. He looks... Butterflies. Her hair is down... He loves it when she wears it like that. | 2014-12-17T23:12:07 | 2014-12-17T22:16:22 | 2,270 | 24 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" | The traditional "You're 18 now" letter lay in front of me. It is delivered by our life sucking, future seeing, freedom restricting leaders. They control everything. Cameras in all locations, GPS ankle bracelets on all citizens. But these letters are despised above all.
They give us these letters telling us who our "soulmate" will be in an attempt to control the traits and DNA that gets passed down.
I open the letter. "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
Really? My supposed "soulmate" works at Starbucks? I refuse to follow their orders-- no matter what they threaten me with.
I am determined to find my own, real soulmate, blaze my own trail in defiance of their tyranny.
...Besides... that's not the first thing Maria said to me...
It is 4:44, only minutes after my official birthday started. I need to leave soon. I have a meeting with Maria tonight. So, I get dressed, grab my keys and drive to our favorite spot.
Doubts begin to flood my mind, but I push them away. "I love her. I love her. Maria is my soul mate" I say to myself on repeat. There is no life without her.
There she is. Next to the creek, a letter in her hand. Absoulely stunning. She decided not to open her letter until my birthday so that we could tell each other on the same day.
"Hello Maria" I say in the most loving manner possible.
"Hello James. Did you open your letter?" She replied, her eyes wet with tears.
This can't be happening, I won't let it! They can't tear us apart!
"I will be with you, or I will die with you Maria."
She embraces me, and together we burn our letters. We sit together on the side of the creek, feet dangling in the water, enjoying our last moments together.
The sirens begin. They will find us soon.
She is worth it. | “It’s hard to tell if it’s all the caffeine I drink or this life path I’ve been forced on which leads to my high blood pressure, exhaustion, and ragged willpower. You know, leading scientific minds have argued that one of the great variables in determining overall emotional stability is how much control you have in your life. They’ve proven it with rats, you see. A rat that in a cage where he knows that if he steps in the left corner, he will receive a shock, and if he steps in the right corner, he gets a treat has less cortisol levels than a rat who just gets random electric pulses scourging his neurons while sadistic scientists make it rain with peanuts.
It was hard to devise an ethical experiment on the human subject that was parallel to this theme, but ever since the EVRPHRASE corps came out with their certifiable love combatibility scrabble game, different phrases correlate to the overall well being of the individual.
Why am I playing this pseudo science game like I’m some sort of expert with the rats and the like? Answer: I got my phrase 26 years ago. “Welcome to Starbucks, may I take your order?”
My mother didn’t get it.
‘I’m so very happy for you! Grandkids! Grandkids!’
My father joined in: “Grand-KIDS, Grand-KIDS!!”
They later separated because Dad’s EVRphrase turned out to be Kimberly the receptionist’s “Is it okay if I fax my resume? I’m currently in Vancouver and can’t make the interview.” And not what my mom said: “HAH! Hey Cat! Come on, this is my favorite song, swing me around some?”
Admittedly, my phrase could be worse. It could’ve been “hi, whats your name?” or “Paper or Plastic?”. This EVRphrase gives me a secure location. Unless some fucking hipster joint is letting their cashiers take a lot of liberty with their ironic greetings. Believe me, I have thought out all the possibilities.
So, I’ve been exclusively dating baristas for 26 years. 26 years of smelling clothes wrenching of cocoa beans harvested from disappearing rainforests. 26 years of financial dependence. I don’t even mean to be a sugar momma, I’m a normal real estate worker, but god when they hit me with those starving collegiate broke ass eyes, I’m disgustingly a pushover.
Dating anyone else in any other profession just feels wrong. It’s tinged with inevitable defeat-which incidentally- smells a lot like insecurity and used Kleenex.
I mean I’ve taken measured steps to stave the discouragement. I’m in a support group. “Starbucks Lovers”. And yes, before you ask, ‘Blank Spaces’ by Taylor Swift is our anthem. Don’t you dare disparage me for that, that song is the sunshine in my life, ok?
All the boys and girls who are lucky enough to get the same EVRphrase meet in a convention hall every Monday. We divide into groups and scout different zonations of Starbucks inhabited streets. We come back and report our reapings.
“Hey Martha, I didn’t feel a spark, but maybe you should try your luck on Roger, closing shift, Magnolia Avenue.”
This is the life I lead. It’s not a quirky comedic romance. It’s tiresome, It’s caffeinated, and what really hurts is the hard truth that I’ve been working so hard to reach out to this “soul mate”, and I can’t help feeling that my efforts have been fruitless because he doesn’t have that same love starvation that has me making appointments to be at a Starbucks at Tuesday 8 pm sharp on Magnolia Avenue to meet Roger and ask him for ‘just tap water, wanna make out?’”
Martha gasped for air. Roger was sweating bullets, and his shirt collar suddenly felt too tight.
“I’ll get you that water then.” Roger sprang into the backroom.
| 2014-12-17T21:55:59 | 2014-12-17T21:39:09 | 279 | 52 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | Snorri, Fjol and Hurg sat around their meager fire, the cold wind cutting through their fur and leathers. "Have you heard about all this nonsense with Dragons?" Fjol asked, adjusting herself and spitting into the fire.
"It's no more ridiculous than the war with the imperials," Snorri replied, running a whetstone across the blade of his great sword.
"I'll tell you what's nonsense," Hurg complained, "the fact that we're sitting out here with no food. I'm hungry!"
"Hi hungry," a voice carried out of the darkness, "I'm dad.". Hurg didn't even have time to scream as an invisible force slammed into his chest and carried him into the night. The other two bandits rose, drawing their weapons and scanning the darkness. A man stepped into the firelight, dressed in clothes of an unfamiliar make. Snorri roared, charging the stranger and swinging his sword, but the stranger turned and ran off into the night. Cursing, the bandits gave chase.
Snorri burst into a clearing, where the stranger stood waiting for him, eating a sandwich as though he didn't have a care in the world. The bandit snarled, but the stranger interrupted him.
"I have to say, I relish the fact you've mustard the strength to ketchup to me," he said, gesturing with his food as a torrent of fire escaped his lips, engulfing the bandit and setting him aflame.
Fjol dropped her bow and raised her hands. "Who are you?"
The old man smiled. "They call me Papakiin." | *Where the hell am I?* That was my first thought waking up. It reminds me of the cabin that the family and I would escape to once a year for our break from technology and city life. It's so peaceful here. I don't even remember going to sleep. Maybe I died. I had a bum lung from years of inhaling diesel smoke, but I never thought I would die this soon. It's weird that I can think straight. I always thought this would be nothingness.
After contemplating for several more minutes of how he is where he is, Dan decides to get up and explore his immediate surroundings. A rich view awaits him as he leaves the small cottage. Sparse apple trees at a base of a mountain range await him. The sun is glaringly beautiful from above. He agains stops to ponder if this is his subconscious view of what Heaven is. As he peers to the left of the trees, he sees a strange sight. It's almost reminiscent of those age-old monasteries that you see in those foreign films. Shining white walls with a purple unmarked banner hanging over the entrance. Two guards in knightly armor stand silently at the entrance. He could have sworn they were statues until one of them twitches his hand.
Blinking back fading disbelief, he moves toward the cathedral. The two guards make no motion as he passes between them. They seem to not even acknowledge that he is even there. Inside, a portly man in robes peers at him and follows Dan's movements with his eyes, waiting; expecting. "Greetings, sir!"
Jarred out of his internal monologue by the portly priest's voice, he focuses on the man standing there. His withered brown robes barely touching the ground.
"Hello? Who are you? Where am I?"
"Hello! I have been expecting you. I am in need of your desparate help!" This priest was expecting him? How?
"What do you need help with? Where am I?"
"I need 6 candles for my prayer ritual. I'm afraid that mine have burned up, and since those nasty things moved into the mountains, I have been unable to gather any wax from the nearby beehives. I'm in such a sorry state. Will you please help me?"
"Uhh..okay?..But you didn't answer my question. Where am I? How did I even end up here?" The priest appears to lose focus shortly after Dan accepted the request and again fails to answer the followup questions. The priest begins to fidget his hands as he looks around at the remains of candles in their holders.
"You can find the bees nearby here, just over beyond those trees!". The priest points slightly where Dan awoke from. "Be careful!"
Seemingly out of nowhere, a guard appears behind Dan, silent. Expecting that this meeting was at an end and the guard was an escort, Dan begins to make his way out.
I'm not a beekeeper. How am I supposed to get wax? This is ridiculous. Dangerous creatures? Here? This place is such a nice hamlet. Besides, if there were dangerous creatures, there's freaking knights right here. Knights!
Dan laughs to himself at the thought of it all and as he approaches the last tree in the line, a very ugly animal about the size of a small dog jumps out from behind the tree. A snout that resembles a mix between a dog and a horse protrudes from it's squished face. What the hell? It's so small! These things must be the dangerous creatures. Stopping him from laughing again, the creature pulls out a wicked knife and advances.
Dan's mind is again jarred from his internal thought of this thing that's quickly moving toward him with a curved knife as it utters one phrase. This..this..thing speaks!
"You no take candle!" | 2015-05-08T04:17:06 | 2015-05-08T02:48:23 | 87 | 21 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | Snorri, Fjol and Hurg sat around their meager fire, the cold wind cutting through their fur and leathers. "Have you heard about all this nonsense with Dragons?" Fjol asked, adjusting herself and spitting into the fire.
"It's no more ridiculous than the war with the imperials," Snorri replied, running a whetstone across the blade of his great sword.
"I'll tell you what's nonsense," Hurg complained, "the fact that we're sitting out here with no food. I'm hungry!"
"Hi hungry," a voice carried out of the darkness, "I'm dad.". Hurg didn't even have time to scream as an invisible force slammed into his chest and carried him into the night. The other two bandits rose, drawing their weapons and scanning the darkness. A man stepped into the firelight, dressed in clothes of an unfamiliar make. Snorri roared, charging the stranger and swinging his sword, but the stranger turned and ran off into the night. Cursing, the bandits gave chase.
Snorri burst into a clearing, where the stranger stood waiting for him, eating a sandwich as though he didn't have a care in the world. The bandit snarled, but the stranger interrupted him.
"I have to say, I relish the fact you've mustard the strength to ketchup to me," he said, gesturing with his food as a torrent of fire escaped his lips, engulfing the bandit and setting him aflame.
Fjol dropped her bow and raised her hands. "Who are you?"
The old man smiled. "They call me Papakiin." | My son recently started playing Minecraft and though I didn’t understand the game, I made an effort to learn the basics so we could play together. He showed me how to make some tools, what they were used for, and how to smelt metals. I thought it was all pretty simple, but I decided to take it upon myself to learn a little more outside of our playing time together. I coughed up the twenty-something dollars for the download and launched the game. Grass, trees, ocean, sand, and snow surrounded my character as he was dropped into an entirely new and unique world. Gathering wood was the first step to starting out; I knew that much. I punched trees, made a wood pickaxe, and then proceeded to gather cobblestone. The sun approached the horizon and I realized I had no safe place to go. My son had always gone to his house and busied himself with things when the sun went down. I had no house, and barely had the essential tools for the game. Calling it quits for the night, I went to close the game, but couldn’t find the top right corner of the window on my screen. I looked on my keyboard for the escape button and it hit me: I have no keyboard. I have no mouse. I was holding a wooden pickaxe in my hand, I mean physically holding the thing, and I could look down and see my feet. I dropped the pick and rubbed my eyes hard. When I opened them nothing had changed. I had never taken acid in my life, but I could only imagine this was what a hippie would call a bad trip. It was turning dark and I heard a familiar groan. This time it wasn’t on the other side of a wall. I panicked and ran for a cave, thinking it might be safe; quickly finding that I guessed wrong, my mind became level and accepted its reality. Whatever was out there I would have to face. Jogging out of the cave, I threw down a workbench and slapped together a stone sword. A green monster with blue pants and shirt emerged from between two oaks and lumbered toward me. I swung the sword, knocking the creature back. It continued to pursue slowly but steadily. I swung and connected thrice more and it disappeared, leaving a nasty smelling pile of crud floating just above the grass. There was no time to think as another goon came for me. Four more swings brought the thing down and again I smelled that god-awful stench. *zzzzzZZZIIIP!* Was that an arrow that flew by? I thought to myself. *zzzzzZIP-THUCK!* That one connected and pain seared up my spine. Adrenaline took hold and I turned to face the arrows’ source. I hid behind trees as I dodged projectiles and approached my assailant, not noticing the even greater threat walking up to me. *BOOM!* I felt agonizing pain as I was blown back by the explosion and then nothing. I awoke quickly in a patch of grass. Analyzing my surroundings, I found I was in the same spot I had started the game in. I was not in pain, I was not hungry, and I had nothing on my person but my clothing. The sun poked its head above the distant ocean. I had been stuck in this increasingly hellish scene for nearly twenty-four hours. Multiple groans and foreign clinks came from all directions. Fires raged and then died out. I was utterly confused and mentally exhausted. I had to figure out how to get out of this place.
 
This is my first time posting here so please forgive me for formatting errors. | 2015-05-08T04:17:06 | 2015-05-08T03:26:05 | 87 | 10 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive. | "Good Lord this game is complicated", Daniel thought to himself. "It's so realistic... I mean you could go to a bar and play bar games, or you can walk around and do nothing. Who would enjoy this? Why not just live a normal *real* life? Welp, whatever. I have better things to do."
Daniel powered off his son's PlayStation and went about his day. The first errand he had assigned himself was a quick trip to the clothing store. He sat up from the leather couch, but something wasn't right. He felt unusually heavy and unbalanced. He tried to get his footing but it felt like he had instantly gained 30 pounds. He did have slight thyroid issues but he had never felt any disorientation quite like this.
His immediate response was to go to his bedroom and lie down and nap it off. Daniel did have a long day of work yesterday and his boss definitely did not make it easy on him. Maybe he was just tired.
He drifted off to sleep rather quickly, laughing to himself about that silly video game as his eyes closed. It felt as soon as he closed his eyes they immediately sprung back open.
"Man, this is odd", he thought. "I barely slept... And the time, holy shit! I closed my eyes for 10 seconds and now its 4PM! Where did the time go?"
In a rush, Daniel unstabally wobbled to his dresser to change his clothes. He managed to get off his jeans and emptied the pockets. What he found was truly shocking. A wad of cash that was well worth $125,000. He slammed it on his dresser and began to panick. He had never seen such a significant amount of money. He didn't even think it was possible to wad up a sum like that.
As he was hanging his jeans up he heard two distinct clunks, two baseball sized items had hit the ground. Where could they have come from? Daniel couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Gr... grenades?! Oh shit this is like a federal offense or something. How can I own grenades?"
Daniel hurriedly changed the rest of his clothes and left his house quicker than he had ever left it before. He ran as fast as he could into his mini van which was oddly parked right in front of his door. His world was turning upside down. Either that, or he is going batshit crazy.
Then his cell phone rings. He looks at it with disgust. He knows someone is watching him or playing games with him. Surely, once he answers the phone it'll all be over. He would be on some prank TV show and all this would be just some dark twisted humor. Surely. Daniel took a deep breath and answered the phone.
"He... hello..."
"Hey Daniel, its me Roman! Let's go bowling!" | *OK... calm down. Don't panic. Think. Use your brain. Figure it out rationally. You can do this.*
Dan wiped his damp, quivering palms on his sweatpants as he took in his surroundings. He'd already confirmed that he wasn't dreaming; a stinging, red welt on the back of his hand from when he pinched himself a little too hard told him that this was all real.
For some reason, he was standing in a small, wooded area devoid of any signs of life. What appeared to be apple-like fruit hung from a nearby tree, but they didn't seem to be anything he'd ever seen before. He looked up at them, pondering whether or not to try one, when suddenly, the brush to his left quivered violently before a blur of yellow streaked out right below his knees. Flailing his arms in a vain attempt to keep his balance, Dan yelped as he crashed to the floor, landing on his tailbone with a painful *WHOMP*.
Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision as he grimaced and yelled in a labored, cracked voice: "Hey, pal! Watch where you're going. You in a hurry or someth--... ...What the!?"
It was yellow and furry, with a tail curiously shaped like a lightning bolt. Sparks flew from its bright red cheeks as it skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust, quickly turning around before glaring menacingly at the man struggling to get to his feet.
His son often talked about these things. What were they called? Pokaymans? Weren't they supposed to be part of a video game? Nothing but questions and confusion swirled through Dan's head as he rigidly propped himself up. His conviction that he wasn't dreaming promptly began to crumble as he stared back at the small creature that was growling aggressively with its tail arched high into the air. Perhaps he'd stumbled into its territory or too close to its young.
"Uh... *ahem* sorry about yelling, I guess...?" Dan's cheeks flushed hotly as he realized he had just apologized to an animal of some kind. Still, it was the best he could muster as his mind reeled from trying to rationalize what exactly was going on. He slowly began to back away, hoping to avoid any sort of confrontation, when he bumped into what felt like an oversized pillow. He whirled around a little too quickly as needles prickled his back, reminding him that being middle-aged meant swift, sharp turns were best left to his memories of his ball-playing days in college.
It was a pink beach ball wearing shoes, and it had a face. Utterly bewildered, Dan momentarily forgot about the pokaymans behind him as he gaped in disbelief. Surely, an animal like this never existed in the real world... or so he thought. The beach ball stared back at him, blinking benignly.
Dan raised his hands in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner as he continued to gawk at the pink sphere in front of him. The last thing he needed was to be caught between two strange beings that might want to hurt him somehow. Much to his relief, the thing smiled brightly and began waving stubby little appendages up and down while bouncing on the balls of its feet.
"Hii—ii—ii!!"
"Oh, thank goodness you can speak. I was worried for a moment that--..."
Without warning, the beach ball opened its mouth wider than should've been physically possible as a deafening *whoosh* filled Dan's ears. His feet flew out from under him as he hurtled toward the small sphere-like creature's mouth, his fruitless attempts to anchor himself to the ground ending with a feeble scratch at the dirt before he was completely airborne.
Yet, just as he began to think that his life was over, how he wanted to see his wife and son, and how he hadn't even finished paying off his house, he was soaring through the air again, albeit now in the opposite direction. As he shot toward the angry-looking pokaymans, he glanced back at the beach ball. Interestingly, it now had a brown head of hair, coincidentally styled like his own, and a pair of glasses that looked exactly the same as his.
There was no time to brood any further, however, as a crackling sound filled his surroundings while his hair began to stand on end. The yellow pokaymans was glowing a brilliant, sparkling blue, evidently preparing to release a blast of lightning right in his direction.
Dan closed his eyes, sure that he would not survive this time around. Right before the electricity hit, he could've sworn he heard a voice that sounded unexpectedly like his son's, yelling something that didn't seem to make any sense.
.
.
.
"What the heck!? Why did my Kirby just take out a TV and start sleeping in front of it!?"
| 2015-05-08T06:02:17 | 2015-05-08T05:28:50 | 61 | 14 |
[WP] You are a Rule 34 Enforcement Officer. Your agency's sworn duty: If it exists, there's porn of it. No exceptions. | "What do you mean it's not there?" Asked Agent N, leaning down to shoulder level, staring out from behind cold, expressionless sunglasses.
Agent L shook her head, exasperated, the glare of the data onscreen did not lie.
"There's nothing there! No cartoons, no bad cosplays, there isn't even a discussion board or a fanfic that matches the search criteria. This is straight from the NSA databanks."
Agent N stared at the screen, deeply concerned.
"You must be mistaken. The 34th rule... is absolute." Said Agent N, lighting a cigarette. "If life has taught me anything, it's that every conceivable aspect and facet of reality can be rendered into cheap exploitative pornography. Maybe we just don't know where to look."
"I must insist, we've been working in this room for hours and have searched the web's gutters from bottom to top... To date, there is no pornography based on the existence of the Department of Rule 34 or its agents."
"No. You're wrong. It's out there."
The industrial fanblade above them lulled in circles, barely ventilating the room. "Whew," said Agent L, plucking open the first button of her blouse. "It's so damn hot in here." | I awoke as a I normally did, 610 hundred hours on a dreary Tuesday. Pulling myself from my warm bed and happy thoughts I started the routine of getting myself ready for the day.
Honestly I'm no longer aware of the first part of my day. After I kick the covers off and stand up I don't remember anything other than the first swallow of bad coffee. Brushing my teeth, showering, getting dressed....all of those things you do day-to-day I no longer notice. Half the time I don't even remember the commute to the office. We all do what we have to do to wipe whatever we can from our memories to keep living. I'm Agent number 562990 of Office 34. Famously we are known of the keepers of "Rule 34". "Rule 34" of the internet, if you are new here, is that if something exists then there MUST be a porn of it.
It may sound glamous, nothing but Jessica Rabbit and January Jones mock ups for your masterbation pleasures, but unfortunately it's nothing like that. You see, someone will eventually make a porn of those things. That's not what we police. We do the things that belong in /r/spacedicks and /r/WTF. Things that people only want to see on a dare. 2 Girls One Cup? Yea, that was us. [Agony in Pink](http://www.asstr.org/files/Collections/Old_Joe%27s_Collection/Serials/Agony%20in%20Pink%20-%20Special%20Edition.txt)? That earned Agent 5534 their retirement. The worse part is that we don't even know who other agents are. We simply make sure "Rule 34" is upheld and then stew in our own insanity of the things we created.
You might ask why we do these things. Apparently some eggheads that works at one of those 3 letter agencies crunched the numbers and figured out that our "reality" is indeed a computer sim of some other higher being. When we created the internet, we had to follow the preprogramed rules that they set forth. Otherwise it would be tantamount to figuring out how to divide by zero or some shit. What do I know though? I'm just a grunt cashing a paycheck at the end of the week.
I blink and I'm swiping my key card and walking through the building. Mirrored glass is everywhere. It's important that we don't make contact with one another or know who works with us. Just a safety measure to help us keep our sanity by compartmentalizing the insanity that is put out there. I find my room, thumbprint my way into, and sit at my terminal. Taking a deep breath I turn on the computer and try to mentally prepare myself for the day. I don't know if I'm going to create a story, image, or gif. I just know I have to create a porn using nothing but the words that pop on the screen after I log in. The screen comes on and the words are displayed...
"VORE PORN FEATURING TESS MUNSTER AND THE 'GOT IIIMMMMM' GUY" | 2015-06-15T00:43:14 | 2015-06-14T20:17:27 | 56 | 13 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | On Sep’juen 5 there lies a city of towering skeletal spires laid out against an ashy gray sky. Streets lie deserted save for the wreckage, rubble and detritus of a long erased culture.
Yet still a message plays across the apocalyptic landscape in that haunting language of the Janude across the cities PA system.
“We looked down upon them with contempt. When we had met the first species capable of thought, we had never imagined them to be so weak. Our biology was superior, and our technology was first to bridge the void to meet them at their very doorstep.
We probed and we prodded at their political systems, and found their governments all too willing to co-operate with us. They bent over backwards to keep even a tenuous peace. We thought to take them in, so that they too could be as great as us, but we demanded complete obedience.
Yet these naked apes had a power that our history had never endowed us with.
Fanaticism.
Their powerful doctrine had replaced moments of doubt with moments of courage. It drove them beyond points where they would have broken, or points where they would have retreated. It had eclipsed all reason. All their cities belonged to us, yet we may as well have spent twenty human years twiddling our… “thumbs”.
They began to adapt to us, learn, and incorporate. Our beautiful and sacred technology was now in their dirty paws and we learned one thing from the humans.
Their thirst for vengeance is unquenchable. They were not interested in compensation, only in carrying out “the will of God”. We never saw this powerful and ingenious leader, we controlled all of Terra’s communications, yet never found how he managed to inspire his followers so. In the end, we were cut down to the last. Our people had no means of banding together to the same degree as humans, were we ever to rebuild many saw no point.
Desperation befell our race after these centuries of conflict, and now our legacy is naught but dust.”
The message continues to loop across the city streets, but only the bleached bones of the Janude are left to hear them.
---
I tried to do this as a hour long writing session to see how it would turn out. Its been awhile since I've written a complete fiction thing. | "Fucking humans are at it again." Said Prok as he dipped his proboscis into the fetus slaw before him.
"I see that." Replied Ghyd, his half wife. She shifted her earlobe and toenail salad listlessly. One of the earlobes still had a diamond earring in it. "Waiter! Someone in your kitchen isn't properly dejewelrying the human bits. I could have chipped a fang on this diamond!"
"So sorry mam, we are breaking in a new shipment of human laborers and they aren't catching on obviously." He said as he quickly whisked the earring from Ghyds hand and tossed it in the garbage on his way to the kitchen.
As she stared at the same view screen Prok was regarding Ghyds remarked, "Why is it that one factory farm of humans can be so docile and mellow and another can erupt into a full blown revolt like the one on Tellos 5? They have taken over the whole moon!"
"It all has to do with the genes I say. Too much Irish blood on Tellos 5, but I suppose that's the risk you run for the delectable pale skin and red haired variety of human. If only they could find some way to breed out the truculent, but keep the succulent. Eh but I suppose you can't have one without the other." Said Drujol, the gestation spouse. Her stuffed scrotums having long since been devoured to the last eyelidos s/he gazed in envy at colon burger being delivered by a passing waiter. The eyelidos weren't made from real eyelids, but they were still tasty.
"No no." Said Prok. "It's those damned humanitarians. They infiltrate the factory farm moons and contaminate the euphorics and the aphrodisiacs that must be supplemented into human feed. Without all the sex and the drugs humans become self aware."
All around them in the restaurant dishes clattered and chatter stopped. He said that much too loudly.
"Prok don't be silly. Humans can never be self aware. You know perfectly well those supplements are added just to make the humans feel more comfortable and even if they were self aware what do they have to be unhappy about? The factory farms perfectly replicate their natural habitat back on Earth. Cities, roads, cubicles, pornography, fast food, reality TV, everything is as they made for themselves in their natural environment. They live the good part of a normal human lifecycle and after about 30 years they are harvested and spared the horrors of old age or if they have been cooperative they are given the honor of serving elsewhere in the empire among their Novcclid overlords. I mean we aren't savages. Only free range humans of course." Vocalized Ghyd and Drujol in unison, as was their custom after a brief mental conference.
"Of course of course. I never meant... Just that this humanitarian movement is causing a lot of trouble."
No one could deny that. One after another factory farm moons had risen in revolt against their operators. There were even reports of the livestock having learned to operate the jump gates and the orbital shuttles, though that beggared belief.
*"This just in"* declared news bot5000 on the view screen *"we have just received a video from Tellos 5. Warning, this may be unsuitable for larvae under 300 years old."*
The screen switched to a wide angle shot obviously from a hand held communicator. The scene was of a wild mob of feral humans chanting and swirling around a podium that was once a water tower used to keep the livestock hydrated. Atop the tower were seven or eight Novcclids, obviously basking in the adoration of their new mob of wild humans.
As the camera zoomed into the lead Novcclid Prok, Ghyd and Drujol all were struck dumb. All thirteen of their eyes were wide and tentacles taught as bow strings.
The lead Novcclid was Frijik, their only saughter to survive to adulthood out of a clutch of 13000 spawned.
"Oh shit." The trio said, without any mental conference necessary. | 2016-03-13T17:22:19 | 2016-03-13T16:09:35 | 36 | 21 |
[WP] You're a single father, forced to become a supervillain to support you and your child. One day, the heroine follows you to your home. | “I guess the jig is up,” I said, trying my best to smile. “Welcome to my evil lair, a flat above a chip shop.”
Her eyes darted around, unwilling to look away from me. “It's… cosy.”
“Yes, well, I'm on a tight budget. Hence all the bank robbing.”
“I'd imagined you could afford something a little bigger.”
I looked to the side. “My priorities lie elsewhere.”
“And I'd imagined there'd be more of those medical devices you keep stealing.”
“Well, it's important to separate home and work, so I have somewhere special set-up for all of those.” I tried not to let my frustration show as I asked, “Look, are you done?”
She rose up on her tiptoes, peering over me. “Eager to be rid of me? You could at least ask nicely.”
“Please, go.”
I must have surprised her, because she stopped to stare at me. For a moment, she even looked she considered listening to my request. “The police will be glad to be rid of you.”
“Then they can wait until tomorrow, or even a few hours. Is eight good for you?”
“Now is better,” she said, and raised her wrist, pressing buttons on the gadget of hers. I grabbed her arm, stopping her from finishing. “Let go of me!” she said, trying to break my grip. “You're not supposed to have superstrength.”
“Neither are you,” I said, pushing her up against the wall. “Do you know why I spared you all those times?”
She struggled, stamping and kicking and twisting. “Let go!”
“Because I'm a good person inside,” I said. “And I didn't need to kill you to achieve my goals. Now you're a threat, and I will eliminate you.”
Either she tired or she listened to me, because her efforts ended. “Then you're not a good person,” she said. “You're still the monster I always knew you to be.”
“You think the radio on your wrist, grappling hook and Spandex makes you a superhero, so I'm not sure if you should be lecturing me about anything given how detached from reality you are.”
“Are you going to kill me?” she whispered, and I felt the shiver run through her.
“Maybe. Would you rather be dead, or have your mental capacity reduced to that of a goldfish's?”
Her shivering would have unsettled me, if I didn't have so much to lose. “You- you'll never get away with this.”
“The lobotomy it is then,” I said. “I hope you'll give me some time to get things-”
“Dad? What's taking you so long?”
I stilled, and thought quickly. Grateful for the cover of the corner, I leaned back so I could see her. “Nothing sweetie, I just wanted to go through the post. Lots of spam today. Wait for me in the lounge, okay?”
She didn't entirely believe me. I loved her scepticism, born from her cunning, or maybe inherited. Her mother had been the same, and probably would have looked at me the same way.
“Okay,” she said.
When she finally rolled into the lounge, clunking against the table, I let out the breath I'd held.
“She's in a wheelchair?”
I'd almost forgotten about the crazy woman I was going to kill. “Yes. She's going to continue deteriorating until her heart gives up.”
“Then… the equipment…”
“I'm going to cure her, I promised my wife that.”
She was silent, lost in thought I guessed.
“I would presume you understand now, but I often found myself amazed at your imbecility. You're going to die, because nothing on this god-forsaken Earth is going to get in the way of me and my daughter.”
“I, I won't tell anyone,” she said. “As long as you don't kill anyone, I'll keep quiet.”
Sighing, I relaxed my hold of her. “Really? You mean that?”
“Yes,” she said.
“That's a shame, I'm going to feel a little bad about doing this,” I said, sinking the syringe into her back while stifling her scream. “Just a little though, I have my priorities after all.” | I stood at the front of my door, my heart felt like it was six feet below me in some gutter. Today was a pretty terrible day. I was supposed to use my telekinesis to rip a vault door off and get as much money as I could. I brought the intern with me, he called himself the Wrecking Ball. He lived up to the name, considering the fact that he plowed through car after car during our escape. On the way, he lost most of the money he was supposed to take care off, and because it is a paid internship, he got a third of my cut. Should never have brought the kid along, but kids these days need to learn that abusing superpowers comes with consequences to not just others, but also themselves. As W.B. learned today.
I stuck the key in the lick and twisted it. Dragging myself through the doorway and about ready to collapse of misery, I hanged my coat on the hanger and walked straight to the fridge. Somewhere in her bathroom, Lilith was cursing aloud at her computerscreen as she usually did this late. Playing those damned videogames again. I went to fetch a beer, but it turned out that Lilith 'forgot' to get me some. I probably love that girl even more than her mother, but *why* does she deny me one of the few things that let me live through my current phase in life ?
I heard the reliable clink of a nice cold beer in the living room. The hair in my neck rose and goosebumps formed on my arms. Someone had followed me home, or my infatuation with a good drink finally caught up with me. I didn't want to take the chance, and walked straight into the stuffy, dusty place.
"You should watch your back more often, Godsent. So busy caring for others can blindside you. Who'se going to take care of lovely Lilith if you, I don't know, get arrested ?"
I faced the figure in my chair. It was Red Fire. Her red, middle-long hair and dead blue eyes made her recognizable, even in a simple pair of jeans and a light jacket instead of her usual bright red costume. An invulnerable pyromancer and a volunteer member for the Global Justice Corp. We faced off today at the bank. W.B. sent her flying through a building with a single well placed punch. I then smashed a truck on top of her after she recovered and tried to return to the fight.
I dug my nails into my hands, trying to resist the urge to pull her intestines out through her mouth. I couldn't do that here though. Too many problems would arise, and CPS would take Lilith from me.
"You have a lot of nerve, coming here."
Her shy smile crept up on her face. She almost looked amused. Did she have a beer or two already ?
"I was curious. You cover your tracks pretty well, but your bowling ball buddy didn't."
"Guess I'll have to drop him then. Before more people like you keep *breaking* into my house."
"I wonder if Lilith would like him."
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn you into a fleshcube right now."
"She thinks I'm your date. She's so happy that you started looking into the dating scene. 'Oh thank God, he could use some time off. Some womanly attention something he could *really use*. He hasn't looked at another woman ever since he divorced my mother', she said. Turning me into a meatcube would probably disappoint her."
I grinded my teeth as I made a mental note to cut off Lilith's internet for a week for talking to strangers and letting them inside my house. Just in case this is true.
"Don't kid yourself. You're not that good."
"You're not that bad either, Godsent. Or should I say Larry?"
I summoned a vase from the window sill and splattered the contents on her face. The water splattered her in the face, and her smile drooped into a look of mild shock.
"Get out. Now. And if you talk about this to *anyone* in your little club, I will not hesitate to turn you all into paste the next time I run into you or whoever of you runs into me."
"I was going to make you an offer-."
I'd had enough of her. I gripped her by the neck forced her to hang in the air. While holding her throat, I set her down on her knees. I focussed on her ribs and started snapping them one by one. At first she tried to spit her fire at me, but she forgot that fire needs air to be active, and nothing but sparks came out. Every rib I cracked made her gasp harder and harder as she struggled more and more. After snapping the tenth rib, I let her down and punched her in the side.
"Consider this your last warning. There won't be a next one."
I dragged her by her arm towards the door. I shoved the door open, dropped her on the pavement, and closed the door again. I took a long deep breath, and went back to the living room. She might've bugged it. As I started scanning the room, Lilith came in. The imprint of her headphones stuck in her black curly hair showed that she'd been busy online.
"Hey dad. Where'd your date go?"
"She was not a date. She was an old high school friend trying to coerce me into her pyramid scheme. Showed her the door."
"But, she had-"
"You let some stranger in this house. She could have hurt you, stolen your mom's jewelry, kidnap you."
"She had a picture of you, her and mom. She knew mom's name, nobody around knows her name. It's not out there for strangers to pick up."
"Don't care. No internet this week."
"*What?!*"
"I can make that two if you say one more word."
She stormed off, back to her room. I might not cut off the internet, that was probably mean to threaten. I wish Cecille was still around. She knew what to do, while I'm fumbling in the dark about how to raise a teenage girl. I spot the cold beer on the floor. Unopened. I open the bottle, sit down and take a gulp. I keep taking gulps until my worries started to blur.
| 2016-07-18T15:49:54 | 2016-07-18T15:23:54 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] In a world where magic can be cast through song, musicians rule over society. You are the last of your kind, a Scandinavian Death Metal Singer. | The Pop Idols, as they have been taken to calling themselves, count on their catchy tunes and simple melodies to command the weak willed. As such, they have command over most of the land. Only the Bluesmen of the South and the Grunge Lords of the Pacific manage a hold over their lands. As they try to keep life as normal as possible with their grounded tones, few rouge Idols wander into their territories, seeking to rule over all of what was North America.
I try to live my life in seclusion nowadays. After the events of my last skirmish some four years ago, when my power began to manifest, I decided that I had to learn control to avoid the near destruction of my town. Plus, being hunted by the Idols tends to keep a lively jolt in ones step. Just outside of the Grudge Capital Seattle, in a town now know as Veddersberg, I make a living repairing the strings and kits of other musicians. There tales of battle and small victories over Pop Idols worry me. More and more repairs are having to be made. I decided it was only a matter of time before they come.
I did not know it would be tonight.
Under the cover of darkness, the Pop Idols amassed a force of Stadium Rockers and Rap Rockers to overload the town with earthquakes and confusion spells. The Grudge Lords begin to amass an offensive of their own, with mumbled lyrics and crafty rifts scattering some of the Idols forces. I wait in my home, for I know what is to come next.
Suddenly, a large clap is heard. A blonde haired girl drops down with a piano, General Swift as I thought, and she mixes her country and pop together to force down her foes with several bars of You Belong with Me, healing her soldiers with Shake it off. Before too long, the Grunge Lords kneel helplessly as she finishes them off with keystroke of her massive piano. My love has perished among the ranks. The forces approach my door, Swift smiling at the destruction she has brought.
It is time.
My throat begins to vibrate, my stomach tightens, and my growl deepens. The Pop Idols stand stunned as the earth around them begins to break and open, sending dozens falling into the shallow ground. Before they can pull themselves out, my army of Berserkers grab hold of their victims, slashing violently at their prey. As Swift attempts to amass her forces, my Valkyrie band descends from the sky, assembling my home into my longboat. Hundreds of bearded men and ten frost giants now await my command. General Swift stands horrified at what she has just discovered.
She has forced open the gates of Valhalla. One greedy Idol has forced my hand. Now is the time of Ragnarok. | Out there, everything is beautiful and lush; music lifts the spirit, enraptures the common folk, puts us happily to rest. There is a melody for every disappointment and every fear and every sour mood or sore thought. Songs that quench thirsts and invigorate appetites. By all accounts, human civilization is ripe and flush. This is utopia.
Yet, when I was much younger, I saw it fit to step outside the walls of the kingdom. Curiosity drove me out, not because I was unhappy (far from it, life was bliss) but because some part of me wished to see what was *not*. Perhaps I expected to establish just how much better off we were within the walls, or to regale the savages beyond with tales of paradise. Yet, when at last I did descend to the vast plains below, my lungs filled with the scent of death.
Here I stood, appalled, atop what from above were fields of wheat. From my new vantage point I was no longer subject to the illusions cast from on high. What civilization can exist without dissent? What perfect place can afford its every citizen limitless pleasure at no cost? I found people there. The 'savages' I'd scoffed at in my youth, denounced by centuries of folklore, were the 'unmusical'. Those born without franchise in the kingdom. That was a sobering experience, and remains to this day my clearest memory.
My place was not to pity the people I found, nor to purport to be anything but a commoner from another place. Although they were initially afraid, eventually their fear subsided. They shared their food with me, but ate in silence, which was a stark departure from the merriment to which I had grown accustomed.
I could never stay for very long, lest my periodic disappearances be noticed, but slowly I grew to appreciate the calm and stoic demeanour of the people below. There was misery here, and some dark part of me began to bask in it. I became more involved in my studies at home. The spells of joy continued to warm my mood just as they'd always done. Despite their fraudulent nature, I knew better than to question my own happiness. Happily I began reading books on ancient history, biased though they were, and took many notes.
The below-dwellers welcomed me as a sort of 'free agent' between the kingdom and the lands below. Most of them kept their distance, but I grew close to a few of them, including an old man named Miles. Miles was a gentle spirit, bookish, with an eagerness for literature that exceeded that of anybody else I knew. One day, on a visit, I thought to bring my notes for Miles to read.
Quietly, I watched Miles' pleasant curiosity crumble. His expression drooped, his posture slouched, his wise old eyes filled with tears, and when at last he finished reading, he stood, procured his cane, and motioned for me to follow him. Nothing I said could dispel his gloom, and so after a time we walked in silence. Miles brought me to a great cliff overlooking an enormous, deep lake.
"It's all wrong," he wheezed, shaking his head, "Every word, every letter. Everything in every book. I had no idea this is what they've taught." Miles looked up to me, and grasped my shoulder. "I hurt and fear for you." he sighed, and his disposition changed, "But above all, this revelation stirs in me something else altogether. *Rage.* That those above have gone to such lengths to stifle you and those you love."
Miles turned towards the lake, took a breath, and roared. Anger, fury, pain, melancholy, and *hate* poured from him. Fire billowed out of the air around us, black clouds swirled overhead and spewed lightning and thunder in violent percussive order, the lake before us froze and creased, splintering into a thousand jagged peaks. The earth shook for Miles, trembling in fear.
"Catharsis." he explained. We sat at the edge of the cliff, taking in the chaotic tapestry before us. "It is the foundation of that most ancient genre, Death Metal. What you see is the whole of my pain and hatred, made real." Miles, this small and ancient man capable of such profound destruction, lectured me about the nature of what I'd just witnessed. To divulge any further would be heresy, an affront to his memory.
At long last, I am home, but there is much work to be done. I can already feel the spell of contentment worming into my ears. I am not immune to the happiness they imbue, and right now it is welcome. In time, I will make my voice heard. Rest well, Miles. | 2016-11-01T15:42:04 | 2016-11-01T14:33:13 | 41 | 20 |
[WP] The human attribute generator placed 1 on all your stats, but 11 on your luck, the max should have been 10. God watches in anticipation as you unknowingly went to your first boss fight. | "What are we looking at dad?"
"A little experiment of mine."
God and Jesus were sitting in front of the screen that was showing me.
"Yeah but why did you give him 11 points in luck but only 1 in strength, agility, endurance, charm, perception and every other minor stat? And wasnt 10 points the highest you could get in any of these stats?"
"Shhhhh, just watch. He is about to step into his first bossfight. His enemy: One of Satans generals."
"This is fucking insane dad! How did you even get Satan to send one of his generals?"
"He lost a bet. He said that my most loyal follower would never accept gay people."
I was lost. I was on my way to my house when it got dark and I somehow entered a forrest. Now I could barely see or hear anything.
"Dad he will get murdered! Look, the general isnt alone! He brought 5 of his minions!"
"Son just watch. If little Jim gets killed I will bring him to heaven, dont worry."
My hearing wasnt the best. But even I could hear the warcry. A giant minotaur with red glowing eyes was standing in front of me. His minions surrounded me. The minotaur lifted his giant sword and attacked.
I stepped back and slipped on a stick in the mud. The sword barely missed me. Instead my foot flinged the stick and impaled one of the minions on a tree.
The minions growled with anger and I shit myself.
But the smell of half digested, days old mexican food must have irritated them somehow. They interrupted their charge. And stumbled back.
Only to walk into the second swing of the minotaur. They were cut in half clean.
"Daddamnit, thats a lot of luck."
"Indeed Jesus, now be quiet. Its continuing."
The minotaur now ran directly into my direction. Halfway on the run he suddenly stumbled over a log on the ground and crushed the last 2 of his minions under him.
He cried out in pain, obviously he broke both of his ankles. He was swinging his sword around like a madman, trying to hit me while yelling curses.
I crawled even futher back in my soiled pants. The minotaur hit a tree with his sword. It fell and landed on his neck, killing him instantly.
"Ha! What did I say? He is completely unharmed."
"Yes but he shit himself and probably is going to have PTSD from shit like this."
"Yes, but he will always be lucky. Listen, why dont you try it out?"
"Fine, under one condition: I want the others stats of my subject be completely average."
"You mean 5 on everything exept the one special stat? Im ok with that."
"Then I want one to have 11 points in strength."
"So a one punch man? Fine, whatever."
| "Can we talk about this?" I asked as I took a step back in the alleyway. Why had I gone down here? Sure I wasn't the best with directions, but alleyways were never the right way. You never clicked into google maps and got 'left down sketch ave'
"How about you just hand over your wallet and nothing needs to happen?" the hulking man suggested. He'd suggested it before, five times. He wasn't the kind of person to take 'I am not carrying a wallet at the moment' as an answer. I had my purse, my purse was there. My wallet was in my car back in the parking garage. Not the safest place to leave it, but at least the mugger couldn't get it at this point.
Bright side of life, right?
"Give me the wallet."
"I don't have it on me, look I can t-" I really shouldn't bring him to my car. Then he'd want my car, but maybe I could leave my keys in the alleyway. That could be quite the move. "How about I show you another person who can get you more money. I'm not carrying much, but there's this guy with a rolex-"
I got cut up by reality breaking, but that I mean a flashing white light in front of me that twisted the world into letters. 'Random Skill Up! Charisma +1' I tried to speak through the celebratory trumpet blasting in the air, "So how about we team up for a little while, you get to have more money, and I don't need to find out what lead tastes like."
The man scowled and then lowered his gun. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"Okay, so let's say that I'm not," I started, "worst comes to worst, we're back to shooting me for my wallet."
"If you try to run?"
"Your can shoot me in the leg to stop me from running."
"If he won't give me anything?"
"Then he can join our little team. Three times the firepower," I paused, "bro." What the hell was I saying? I was a stuttering mess most of the time but suddenly I could dance around a conversation like it was pre-ordained.
"And i-"
"Already thought of that, don't worry about it, I'll take care of everything."
"Everything?" he asked.
"Everything," I confirmed as I took a step toward the man and his dumpster. "In fact, I don't think you should need to worry about the gun, here just let me," I held out my hand and the man gave me his gun. It was like he was sharing a toy. I slipped the gun into my jacket pocket and patted it. "See, now you don't need to worry about it." I began to walk out of the alleyway.
"Wait, what about robbing the guy?" the massive man asked. He was still about twice my size and pumping a million times more testosterone.
"You know," I lied, "I was on my way to my dentists appointment. You know how those things are, you book it a year in advance and if you're a minute late he wants to dig in there an-"
"I got it," the man said. "This isn't a great part of town for a little lady like you, want me to meet you somewhere safer for when we go get the guy?"
"What?"
"Do you want me to meet you somewhere safer?" the guy asked.
"Uh, I'm good," I said, "I have a gun."
"Right," the man nodded and then took out a cigarette, "have a good day. Keep safe."
"Thanks!' I called back before tiptoeing out of the alleyway. As soon as I was passed the brickwork and slammed my back against the drug store and my heart started pounding.
"What the hell was that?" I hissed before leaping into internal monolog. First of all, what was a random stat drop? Second, of all, what did it mean that it added to my charisma? Third of all; WHY DID I HAVE A GUN?
Deep breaths, Shannon had told me that deep breaths would help. Maybe I needed to call her. Maybe she would know what had happened when God had decided to fucking intervene.
"Okay, Random Skill Up: Charisma +1" I hissed to myself, "google can tell me what's going on."
A quick web search (and an 'I'm feeling lucky' later) I found a very important thing on a conspiracy site. Humans had base statistics, the standard for anyone to have was 1. If I was lucky, at all, I would have had base 1 stats across the board.
If that was the case, I'd just been given a random skill drop that brought me up to twice as charismatic as anyone else I knew. | 2017-02-13T12:51:43 | 2017-02-13T11:08:36 | 507 | 68 |
[WP] Jesus actually had 14 disciples but their behavior was deemed inappropriate by biblical scholars, so they were removed from the final versions of the Gospels. They are Brad and Chad, the Bro-ciples, and these are their stories.
Apostles... Dang it, I meant Apostles. | Brad 25 : 17
The path of the Bro is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of non-bros . Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the alley of darkness, for he is truly his bro's keeper and the finder of lost Bros . And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my bros. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you brah. |
“You’re kidding,” Brad said, awed, “Vipsania, like *the* Vispania.”
Chad grinned. “The one and only, Emperor Augustus’s wife.”
Bard shook his head in disbelief, “N...no way man, there’s no way you pulled that off, the guards, the emperor himself…”
Chad looked hurt. “Brad...you’re doubting me? You would think *I* would lie to you,” he said, aghast.
“Shut up, Brad,” Chad said, and Brad grinned. “What would Jesus think, man, Chad continued, “He told us not to lie!”
“I’m not lying, man, look, I’ll prove it you,” Brad said and pulled a piece of cloth out of his pocket and handed it to Chad. “That’s real gold lining the edges, bro, and the shape of the emperor’s seal.”
“You...you took the queen’s…” For the first time in his life Chad was at a loss for words.
They looked at each other for a moment, and simultaneously broke out in raucous laughter.
It was like that, crying and laughing on the floor that Jesus found the two. He walked into their room and stopped.”God help me,” he muttered. “Guys...guys, what did you do.”
The laughing increased in intensity.
Jesus massaged his temples. “I swear if the emperor’s wine turned into piss again…”
Finally they controlled themselves. “Jesus, that piss thing was hysterical and you know it,” Chad said.
Jesus pressed his lips together trying not to laugh, remembering the look on the Emperor;s face when he had taken the sip of the “vintage” wine. Brad and Chad smirked knowingly at him, but he shook his head in what Jesus hoped was a stern gesture. “Seriously, I need to know, guys. I can reduce the fallout if I find out *early.*”
“Trust me, Jesus,” Chad said, “there’s no way this one gets out.” Jesus looked skeptical, but Brad continued, “anyways why did you come here anyways? You need something?”
“Yeah, we need to make a statement condemning the emperor,” Jesus said, “would be good to have all the apostles.”
“What did he do now?” Brad asked.
“Just an hour ago he announced he’s divorcing the queen, even though he had *three* children!”
The laughter that came then put the earlier one to shame.
***
If you enjoyed check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting)
| 2017-02-25T10:27:38 | 2017-02-25T10:14:33 | 528 | 147 |
[WP] Jesus actually had 14 disciples but their behavior was deemed inappropriate by biblical scholars, so they were removed from the final versions of the Gospels. They are Brad and Chad, the Bro-ciples, and these are their stories.
Apostles... Dang it, I meant Apostles. | **B's Before H's 2:1**
ِAnd yea Chad sayeth unto Brad,
"Bro, art thou not pumping the iron?"
And Brad sayeth back,
"Surely bro, iron will not pump itself."
Sayeth Chad, "Lo, were not we to be with the Lord to-day?"
"Bro, dids't thou not remember thine oath to the Lamb? Pump every day, every eve."
"Surely, bro, the swole son of God not meanst to-day, the day of his supposed crucifixion?"
"Brosidon, the Temple of Iron guides us thus. We must worship today, as every day, if we are to have the strength to free our Lord from his shackles."
"Verily bro, we shall tear the manacles from his holy wrists with our bare hands, after we've become strong before the Lord, and save the Lamb."
And Chad thought, but verily had not been accustomed to this action. "Bro, if the Lord is to be crucified to-day, shoulds't we not be there now?"
"Bro, can thou tear through iron with thou hands?"
"Soon I feel this I can do."
"Then we pump we must, for if we err the Lord shall surely die and the world will weep."
And Chad pondered thusly with great difficulty that somehow a flaw in their plotting existed yet could see no err. Thus he pumped, and Brad pumped, at it was good.
| Long regarded as the oldest of the four Gospels and the primary source of Matthew and Luke, the Gospel According to Mark is traditionally considered to be the work of a disciple of the Apostle Peter. In a recent find, biblical scholars have found a much older version of the book (circa 62 CE) that has caused quite a controversy. The book includes mention of two additional disciples that were removed in later redactions, as well as Peter's standing in Jesus' ministry (italics indicate removed text):
"And [Jesus] said, So is the Kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground; *And Brad chortled, for he thought his lord spoke of a man actually fucking the ground. And Jesus and the thirteen laughed when they actually thought about it, all but for Peter, for 'he had a stick up his end' that not even his master could cure.*"
And [Jesus] called unto him the *fourteen* and began to send them forth by two and two...And they went out, and preached that men should repent. *And Brad and Chad, remembering their fraternity days, created a rush week, preaching repentance to hundreds through killer parties of wine, tailgaiting, and fraternity-sorority mixers. And all were pleased, until Peter, in whose home the Psi Phi brothers had hosted their 'ministry,' returned; and his anger waxed hot against the brothers, as there was no more of his wine, nor his food, his home a mess, and a guy named Jerry who refused to leave Peter's sofa from then on."*
"And Jesus went into the temple, and began to cast out them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew tables of the moneychangers. *And Chad and Brad joined him, until they overturned the table belonging to a Jeffe the Bearded, who was feared throughout Jerusalem. And upon returning to see his table overturned, Jeffe and his men approached the disciples, saying, Who is he that overturns my table? And they all pointed to Peter, for he was the suckup who demanded to be in charge of the disciples in absence of Jesus. So Peter paid their fine, and demanded repayment for this and his house, to which the brothers agreed to do when the kingdom of God had come, which was 'certain to be soon(ish).'*"
And they came to a place which was named Gethsemane: and he said to his disciples, Sit ye here, while I shall pray. And he taketh with him Peter, and James and John *and Brad and Chad*...And [Jesus] cometh, and findeth them sleeping, and saith unto Peter, Simon, why sleepest though? *And what in my name is on your forehead? And Peter wiped his brow, and behold, it was a dickbutt. And James and John and Brad and Chad and Jesus laughed, until Peter's anger boiled over. For I had had it up to here with those two slackers' bullshit, and I swear I will go to my grave before I let myself be overshadowed like this again by some upstart apostles."*
Traditionalists are holding that these findings are a fraudulent attack on Peter's character and the Gospel of Mark as his sock puppet. However, others theorize this could explain Paul's "colorful" description of Peter as "dickbutt" redacted out of the account of the two's conflict in Galatians. | 2017-02-25T11:33:10 | 2017-02-25T11:17:05 | 40 | 23 |
[WP] Where do bad guys get their legions of goons? Well, it's all thanks to you. You specialize in supplying grunts of a wide variety to aspiring super villains, whether they need masked men with bad aim or hideous/sexy merfolk to guard their underwater lair. | "Hello, thank you for phoning Mooks-Я-Us, purveyor of fine-quality mooks and baddies. How can we help you?"
"Hello. Yes. Um. I'd like to place and order for 500 uncommon red mooks please... that's 3000G right?"
"I'm sorry, but it appears we have a shortage of red mooks at the moment."
"Oh. It didn't say that on the website."
"The website is only updated once a day I'm afraid. We can, however, offer you 500 uncommon light blue or green mooks for the same price!"
"That'd be useless! I need them for a volcano dungeon!"
"I see... perhaps we can take your number and contact you when we get more in?"
"No, I have a band of heroes coming in two days."
"We usually recommend you place your order three to five working days in advance for exactly this situation."
"Well, I was busy all day. Token females don't torture themselves y'know."
"Okay sir... perhaps we could offer you 500 common red mooks for 1500G?"
"But common mooks are useless! The heroes will just stomp through them! I need at least uncommon mooks!"
"I see. We do offer rare red mooks, at 500G apeace. We currently have a special offer where when you buy five mooks you get rare-with-slightly-different-coloured-attacks for free. Other customers often buy commons and make them fight alongside their rares to increase difficulty."
"*incoherent muttering* ...okay, can I get 500 common reds and five rare mooks for the same price as 500 uncommons?"
"I'm afraid not sir. 500 commons and 5 rares would come to 4000G."
"But we only have 3000G! Next you'll be telling me I can't even use my coupon."
"We disbanded our coupon service 3 years ago. Now, if you have a budget we can offer you 500 commons and 3 rares, but you wouldn't get the freebie."
"Can't I just get less commons?"
"We sell our commons in a minimum shipment of 500 I'm afraid."
"****ing... can't you just give me the 5 rares for 3000G!"
"I don't have the authority to do that."
"These god**** companies always wanting to squeeze as much money out of you as possible. Fine! I'll pay 4000G. They had better be good quality."
"Thank you sir. That will be 43050G including VAT, and postage and packaging will be 1550G."
"What! That had better be next-day delivery."
"Next-day delivery is only available before 2pm, and costs an extra 1000G."
"...you know what. Never mind. I will just get them in person. Our local mook shop is expensive but at least we support the local economy. But this. This is ****ing extortionate. Good day."
"I'm sorry we couldn't be more help to you. Have a nice day." | The dial phone ringed with its classical tune. In the age of smartphones, I insisted to use this old and heavy design. I mainly had two reasons: first, I didn't care about who's calling and was rarely mobile; second, it was beautiful. I grabbed the receiver.
"Hello."
"Yes, I'm your guy. Who referred me to you?"
"Oh, Havoc. Yes, he is a regular customer. I am wrapping up an order for him as we speak. He told you about how I work? How I receive orders?"
"No? Okay. Now you have to be as specific as you possibly can. First things first, head count. I start my pricing there. Second, what do you need them for. Do you want them to simply stand or stroll somewhere or throw them somewhere or on someone to die-"
"What do you mean does it matter? Of course it matters! So I start looking at prisons or Monster..."
"What do you mean why? You have a problem with that? Do you know how many people are unemployed out there, desperate for work? You are literally creating jobs here, why the fuck do you care?"
"Look, let me finish, then depending on what you want, we arrange something. Third, equipment. Do you have uniforms and gear at the ready, or do you want me to take care of that too? If you have them, fine. If not, that's extra. If you want a special design, that is also extra on top of all and you send me that. If you want free design, just give me something to work with, even a vague description will do. If you bother even for that, I will put on black gear and ski-masks on the poor bastards and leave em in front of your door."
"Speaking of which, order delivery. If you pick them up, it's free. I leave your order somewhere I or you choose and that's that. If you want them delivered to your doorstep, it's going to cost you. Harder to walk there, higher the price, so if your secret lair is in some underwater base or towards the end of the atmosphere, prepare to cough up some dough..."
"Yes, I can bring them to you, anywhere you are. You think Z'oghnto brought all his invaders from outer space? More than half of his goons were the guys I sent him and they regrouped on the other side of the moon."
"Distance counts yes, if you want them on the other side of the world, price will naturally be higher. But lower than bringing them to, say, Mariana Trench."
"Yes Mariana Trench has some villains hiding there... No I don't care how they do it or if they have neighborly relationships."
"Before I forget, weapons. Yes it is a different topic from equipment and gear. Do you arm them, or do you want them to bring their own firearms, or want me to arm them?"
"Look, this is the touchiest subject, it makes a whole world of difference. You can move unarmed ninjas anywhere with no questions asked but moving hundreds of men armed to the teeth is a tedious and delicate task so I must know what I will be dealing with."
"If they bring their own firearms its free of course but that option limits you to the rednecks and that's why you will be thinking long and hard on why you need the men for. The question is higher on the list for a reason."
"But I can make this my problem and of course I receive payment for all extra problems I take care of. You need to be specific on weapons. I don't take initiative here, I had headaches for that in the past. What will be the standart loadout for your standart nobody? Do you want variety? Different guns for captains of men or your lieutenants? Any and every explosive is extra."
"And finally, the payment. You pay upfront, with one of the major acceptable currencies, preferably U.S. Dollars, no exceptions."
"Of course upfront! No you can't pay by installments! How will I know you won't end up in jail or grave before your schemes become successful? No way man, I run a business here and it is a costly one. Did you ever hear about a grunt in an ATM queue? We pay them in advance and in good amounts so they at least consider the possibility of dying for someone they don't know or care about."
"These are my terms, take it or leave it... No I don't have something like a menu? I am not running a fucking restaurant! Tell me what you want and I give you the price and an estimate on delivery time, depending on your order. You don't have to order now, you can think on what you need and call me again."
"Okay. All right. Call me when you are ready. Goodbye."
I hanged up. Havoc's order still needed delivery and guy set up shop in Sahara Desert this time and wanted them to come on foot. I could have told him I can weed out the weak for him, but then, how would I make a living? | 2017-03-23T07:56:51 | 2017-03-23T06:40:56 | 124 | 63 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | "What was that?" asked Jen. Just as I opened my mouth the ask what it sounded like I saw a figure slowly turn away from the window behind her. "I think there's someone outside" I replied. Visually shaken, she asked me if we should call the police. I responded with, "well they could just be passing by let's see what happens." After a few minutes the figure appears again, this time at the window next to the television. She screams.
Being a new relationship I know what I have to do. I get up, walk over to the window and lock eyes with the figure. It is wearing a blank mask with holes for the eyes, and mesh around the nose and mouth. It is so close, I can almost make out a perplexed expression on their face, surprised why I wasn't screaming or running out of the room. So I wave, and close the curtains.
At this point my girlfriend is petrified, with no color in her face. I calmly walk back to the couch, sit down and put my arm around her. "Sh-sh-should we call the cops?" she asked between shudders. "Eh, if you want to go ahead... But for now let's just finish this episode" I replied.
She called the police, and they arrived in less than 4 minutes. We heard a knock, followed by "STOP! HANDS UP! GET ON THE GROUND!" Jen jumped up and ran to the window. "They got him!" she exclaimed. "Cool," I replied without taking my eyes off the television.
A few minutes later one of the officers came to door to let us know they caught the tresspasser, making clear what they believed his intentions were.
"We caught this man jumping your fence as we arrived on scene. He had wire cutters, a large hunting knife, a semi automatic pistol, handcuffs, and rope." Jen gasped, realizing how close we were to becoming someone's play toys. The only think I could think of that I wanted to say was, "great work, thanks for your time." And walked back to the living room.
Jen stormed in behind me and started with the yelling. "I can't believe you aren't more grateful, they caught someone who wanted to kill us! Like in the horror movies!" Which is where I replied, "exactly, like the horror movies... Where the curious ones die first"
I sat down, grabbed the remote and pressed play. | Years ago, when visiting a "haunted" house in the oldest neighborhood in the city, Dave had first felt what he now referred to as "The Pressure". It was a sense of dread, a prickling of the hairs on the back of the neck. Every sense in his body would key up, warning him that Something was coming, and it wasn't friendly.
After nearly a decade of this, it wasn't quite so exciting. Dave was currently nestled into the thick cushions of a disturbingly Gothic couch, the dark oak twisting and writhing in near-impossible curves around obscenely plush purple velvet pillows.
Dave could still hear Jennifer and Mark in the other room, noisily having sex on an equally Gothic four-poster bed. He had a certain grudging admiration for their ability to make the bed, which had to weigh several hundred pounds, occasionally jump and hit the wall. He wasn't really that surprised when he felt The Pressure earlier in the evening; an isolated cabin, offered out of the blue by an unknown relative, with furniture so ornate that Dracula himself might say it was a bit much? Dave rolled his eyes just thinking about it again.
He had a pretty good feel for how this would go, after experiencing it so many times. The FBI had basically given up trying to address the problem, and simply had a unit on standby for cleanup. They tried putting him in prison once; at least they could explain that one as a prison riot. Dave began ticking off on his fingers, curious if he could get the exact moment correct this time. He lowered one finger at a time as he mouthed the numbers silently. Six, five, four, th-
The familiar sound of steel slicing into flesh, followed by a scream of agony from Jennifer and a (oddly) equally girly scream from Mark interrupted his counting. Dave frowned; maybe next time. The squelching noises cut off, and the sawing and hacking began. Jennifer's screams finally cut off, and Mark sprinted through the doorway, his eyes wide with terror, blood streaming down his chest. He screamed something unintelligible at Dave and continued running.
Dave sighed; time to get up and move on. Shame really, this couch was absurdly comfortable. He tried to sit up and found himself completely enveloped in the couch, the soft velvet not giving him enough purchase to actually get out of the damn thing. Whatever had chopped up Jennifer slowly glided past the couch, wearing her flayed face and hands. Gee, Dave thought, I've only seen that trick about a hundred times; this one wasn't going to be interesting, he could tell already. The fellow with the spiked body armor, now THAT had been interesting. Dave tried reaching out to the arms but they were just a hair too far away for him to get a good grip.
More screams followed down the hall as Dave continued trying to get out of the couch. He flailed around furiously, making some progress, but as soon as he stopped he sank even deeper into the cushions. He glowered at the couch, and decided he needed a new plan of attack. Mark had apparently gone outside, since his head came crashing through the front-facing window of the living room and rolled to a stop in front of the couch, his face still locked in an expression of horrified surprise. Dave twisted his body and tried rolling off the couch; success! With a loud "thump" he rolled off the couch and hit the floor, knocking Mark's head down the hallway. Dave swore and massaged his banged-up knees a bit before standing up and brushing himself off.
A loud crash informed him that something had entered the upstairs of the cabin, probably through the conveniently large plate-glass window. More screaming followed, as a background to the slicing and hacking. A drop of red appeared on Dave's arm, followed by another, and another. The pace increased until it was raining blood in the living room, a crimson downpour complete with waves of red oozing down the walls. Dave sighed. The dry-cleaning bill for these was always a bitch.
Dave ambled out of the house, reasoning that there was no reason to rush since he was already soaked, and gently closed the door behind him. He triggered the FBI contact fob and tossed it onto the porch; the cleanup crew would be around later. He yawned, and idly wondered if that furniture store down the street could find him something similar to that couch... | 2017-05-05T07:38:18 | 2017-05-05T07:22:19 | 280 | 31 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | It wasn't until the van door shut behind me that I realized my mistake. I guess the skin mask should have tipped me off.
It's getting so you can't trust anyone anymore.
We drove for a long time. I felt the road getting rockier. By the time he opened the door it was dark out.
He yanked me out by the arm, hard. He knocked me to the ground. It was dirt. It smelled like something. Pennies. No, of course not. Blood.
Great. As if I didn't have enough on my plate today.
He laughed then, a low, insane laugh. He pointed an ax at my throat.
"Really? An ax? Don't you think that's a little derivative?"
"You are not to speak," he said. "But feel free to scream." (A little too theatrical for my taste, to be honest.)
"Look, this is a really bad time for me. I think we might have to table this for now."
"I SAID YOU ARE NOT TO SP-"
He fell to the ground. The look of surprise almost made it all worth it. Humans are so easy.
He couldn't move now, but he could still hear me and see me. He could still feel. They taste so much better when they're afraid. It really adds something.
I started at his feet. Crunching the little bones. His eyes stared straight up, but I felt his shock, his terror and pain. Far more used to being predator than prey.
I took my time.
| "Another day another dollar," Bob Saget whispers to himself after a long night of shooting his latest motion picture: Horror Directly Following Late Night Movie Shoots.
"You be safe now! Don't want any sort of horror scenario happening to you on the way home!" chuckles the director.
"What the fuck did I tell you about talking to me after hours?" says Bob, agitated. He saunters off set and hops in his El Camino. As he's driving down the long empty road from the remote set, he catches a glimpse of movement in his rear view mirror. "Fucking great," says Bob, "another fan hiding in the bed of my vehicle. Every fucking time." He reaches in to the glove box and pulls out his .44 magnum. "Ya feeling lucky, punk?" Bob narrates as he jumps out of the coupe/utility pick up vehicle. He circles around the back.
"What the shit is this?" Says Bob, taken aback by the sight of a gorilla in the bed of his truck, bandaging a wound on his leg. Bob tucks the pistol in to the waist band of his favorite slacks.
"Bob, we need your help," said the gorilla, "My name is Luke, the very same from the Bible. The Anti Christ has arrived, and you are the only one that can save humanity."
"For fuck's sake," growls Bob, "why me? Why the fuck are you a gorilla? Why can't I have one goddamn day where I can get home and soak in my Jacuzzi without any sort of urgent distractions?"
"We saw how you handled raising your family in Full House," explains Luke, "Clearly you are capable of anything. First things first, let's get in to town!"
Bob groans. But he knew what to do. This was all part of that goddamn prophecy told to him by the John Stamos on the last day of shooting Full House. "Ok Ubuntu," says Bob, "stay back here and I'll get your leg fixed up, I know a guy."
"My name is Luke, the saint from the Bible," interjects Luke.
"Do you want my help or not? Stay back here Harambe," barked Bob as he jumps back in to the driver's seat. They start traveling.
Bob pulls in to a dilapidated house in the middle of nowhere and hops out of the vehicle. "Alright come on," he tells Luke, "go to the front door there, and be quick about it." Luke hobbles his way the front door.
"I must explain to you the situat-"
"Don't explain shit to me, just open the goddamn door and go in," says Bob, infuriated, "I don't have time to deal with this bullshit, I'm a busy man." Luke pushes the door open. A scene of carnage awaits. Dozens of animal corpses are scattered throughout the room. They all have a saintly glow.
"Matthew? Mark? John? This is worse than I thought, the massacre has already begun!" lamented Luke.
"No shit," says Bob. He whips out his hand cannon and blasts all 6 rounds in to Luke's body. A single tear drops from Luke's eye as he collapses, sad at the sight of his butchered friends, frustrated that he was fooled so easily.
Bob closes the door behind him and starts heading home. "I seriously gotta cool it with that peyote," he says to himself, driving in to the sunrise.
| 2017-05-05T08:56:55 | 2017-05-05T07:10:06 | 41 | 21 |
[WP] Suddenly, all sea life vacates a 300 mile wide area in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. A ship is deployed to investigate. | **Containment:** As of now, SCP-4032 is self-contained. Should the effective zone of SCP-4032 begin to increase, all measures should be taken to stop it. In case of a doubling in radius of the effective zone, Procedure 432-Kimmel will be undertaken by any nearby personnel. A ship is stationed outside the effective zone, manned and operated as an official Site. This ship will communicate with the outside and collect data for research. It will also utilize loudspeakers, radio comms, sonic technology, and a 16-inch turret to deter ships approaching the effective zone.
Under no circumstances are any personnel to attempt to reach SCP-4032-1.
**Description:** SCP-4032 is a zone of water in the Atlantic ocean three hundred (300) miles wide. The zone extends from the surface of the water to the ocean floor. If the ocean floor is damaged, the zone will extend slightly to the necessary depth.
No life of any kind can be found in this zone. The water is purged of all bacteria, plankton, and other microorganisms, and no more complex life exists in the waters.
In addition, it is extremely difficult for living matter to enter the effective zone. Any life attempting to pass through the waters is held back by an invisible barrier. Exerting a force of 0.9 the force of local gravity or higher can force living cells into the water, but the force must be maintained over the entire duration. If such force ends, the living tissues are forced out of the zone ~~in a random direction~~ in the direction that takes them most efficiently away from SCP-4032-1.
During the duration of the stay, human test subjects have demonstrated mild agitation and stress, increasing steadily as they ~~go deeper~~ come closer to SCP-4032-1. This psychological affect is maintained even if the living matter is separated from the water by a submersible or similar.
SCP-4032-1 is a cylinder around 10 meters (m) or so in height. The width of the cylinder is proportional to the effective zone of SCP-4032. The cylinder appears to be composed of osmium, and has no identifiable markings. No erosion has taken place, despite the depth and water, and the edges are still well-formed. The only blemish on SCP-4032-1 is a single symbol of unknown origin, set into the top of the cylinder. The symbol appears to be glowing a bioluminescent yellow, a theory at odds with the total lack of life in the water around it.
SCP-4032's prime danger for the moment is what happens when complex life comes within 100 meters (m) of the ~~cylinder~~ symbol (Confirmed after Experiment 4032-IV). The organism will begin to show signs of extreme stress, with human subjects additionally complaining of a loud "whining" noise. After 30 seconds (sec) of this, the symbol will turn from yellow to white, and the "whining" sound will increase in decibels dramatically to the affected subject. After 5 seconds (sec) of this, the organism's nervous system will explode, with each nerve cell detonating with the force of a similar amount of TNT, though slightly stronger.
---
**Addendum 4032-A:** Sonar scans have found additional blemishes on SCP-4032-1's surface, taking the form of almost imperceptible grooves along the sides and the edges. The grooves appear to go into the center of the cylinder; their purpose is unknown.
> *Doctor Hanlon: "Grooves? Sounds like it's built to hold something. Upgraded to Keter by order of O-5."* | They call it "Verne's Abyss".
Which ironically didn't inform just how deep this 'hole' went, considering Verne's 20000 leagues measured the distance travelled and not depth reached.
It was as if a large spherical shadow suddenly appeared over the Pacific, chasing away all life in it with a ferocious vigour. Preliminary scans found that how deep it went was beyond anything current deep sea vessels could handle. Most lost contact at around 6000 metres below sea level and were never retrieved. Lifeforms scans were impossible due to how much volcanic activity there was disrupting geographical terrain and sonar technology.
A portal to hell just opened and God just had to choose me to lead the team that would seal it. Based on satellite imagery, the Abyss(my preferred naming of it) measured 300 miles in diameter at its longest ends. Its shape was more like an eye, as if a great beast slumbering in the Earth had just awoken, disturbed by the mistreatment of its domain. I parked my vessel just at the edge of the shadowed waters, setting up a ring with each vessel spaced out at a comfortable 25 miles from each other. Such an event of possibly catastrophic proportions and China and Russia still refuse international cooperation on the basis of bad relations. But what do I know, I'm only the leader of this international effort, not a goddamn politician.
"Sir, time now is 0300 PST. No sightings as of yet from any of our vessels. Still waiting on India, Korea and Indonesia to report their findings." I look up lazily to find a pretty face staring at me. Ahh Third-Mate Abigail, she was an up-and-coming sailor whose standards were as high as her cheekbones. "Thank you for your prompt update Abby but I think you can take it easy for now. We've been sitting on our asses for 72 hours and we still don't know jack shit about this hole 'cept that it might possibly be some colossal being's fuckhole." Abby muffled a giggle and I grinned slyly in return. Perhaps she knew that I too was thinking about...
"Urgent update from International Comms. India has something to report." Oh fuck. I rushed over to the phone and hurriedly identified myself, eager to hear the news. "The INS Vikrant is proud to report that nothing is out of the ordinary commander. Thank you for your time." I don't know if it was the thick accent behind the voice or that it was fucking 3am in the middle of the apocalypse in the making but I couldn't stand it anymore. I slammed the phone and walked onto the bridge. The fresh sea air always did soothe my boiling nerves.
As smoke billowed from my mouth and a warm comforting heat descended down my body, I took a moment to survey the surroundings around me. My eyes had grown accustom to the dark of night on the open ocean, and the stars above were shining brightly despite the terrifying unknown that lay ahead. "Temperature. That must be it. No other explanation for the extreme color difference. But how is it possible?" As much experience I had, mysteries of the big blue still drifted from my grasp. And in the blink of a moment, a speck of sand in the desert of life, everything changed.
Movement in the waters. My eyes bulged in their socket, my brain unbelieving at what these keen mariner's eyes had spotted.
Again. Quicker this time.
"MAN ALL STATIONS. WE'VE GOT A LIVE ONE." My heart pounded against my chest, my ears ringing at the sound of my own booming voice. This was it. What we've been waiting for. Suddenly the brilliant diamonds in the night sky vanished, snatched away by articifical rays of sun that beamed out of the mighty USS Darwin. "LIGHTS ON STARBOARD SIDE. 50°DOWN." My eyes must not fail me now. This thing was moving faster than any creature I'd ever seen, perhaps attempting to evade our sight or its capture. And yet like the great Captain Ahab I will not rest till this monster that lay before me can feel my breath on its skin. As the floodlights on my ship moved into position I could make out the shape of the creature, a slender oblong that darted and glided beneath the surface. My first thought was a killer whale or large shark, but as the lights intensified and the creature left the cover of its jet black waters, the horrifying truth dawned on me.
As a child I'd been a movie fanatic, always forcing my parents to take me to see the latest movie whether well-received or trashed by critics. One of my fondest memories was that of the summer '93, where the new craze was Spielberg's masterpiece "Jurassic Park". Little 10 year old me couldn't believe his eyes as prehistoric monsters, long dead and extinct came to life on the screen before me. And now at the ripe age of 47, winter of 2030, a similar creature came to life before me, this time without a screen to pull me back to reality. My mouth gawked at the sight before me, words seeming to dissipated into the still air surrounding me.
Reports started flooding in, Korea, Mexico, Singapore all reporting similar bizarre sightings of prehistoric looking leviathans arising from the Abyss, perhaps claiming back what was once theirs. Apex predators long removed from the food chain, now back with a voracious vengeance. My thoughts immediately jumped not towards what was happening right now, but what could happen. Dinosaurs on our Earth? In our now? The sea was the start, where all life began. What about the earth and the skies? Will they be safe as well?
And in the distance the ground cracked, and the sky split open. | 2017-11-17T08:00:30 | 2017-11-17T07:27:57 | 195 | 25 |
[WP] You were born into a society where permanent augmented reality contact lenses are fused onto every newborn's eyes. You're unaware of this until one day, a lens falls into your left hand. | The tree outside my window is dying. Soon it will match the others in our street, in our city. The bushes outside didn't flower this year. There weren't enough bees. Humanity has destroyed them.
Every year is the same. Plants die, pollution gets worse, crime rises, and another species disappears. We all do what we can but it isn't enough. The destruction has slowed but not fast enough to save those of us who remain on Earth.
They all took the first transport they could to Mars. In a panic they left behind family, pets, friends. It was every man for themselves. People murdered loved ones to get the last seats. They estimate that a third of the population remain. We were the ones that gave our spots to others. My transport, the last, left last night. Now I'm watching the trees die.
"Ms Cotter? Please look down, blink several times and shake your head."
No one argues with the government messages on their interface. I do as it said. I feel something on my face and shake harder. I reach up and pull something away. Shit! My augmentation has fallen out.
"Ms Cotter? Please look out the window."
I don't question the voice. The tree is dead. Wait. No. It is alive. The bushes are full of flowers. There are bees everywhere.
"What the fuck?" I cry out.
"Welcome to reality. We apologise for the deception. The experiment was intended to make people take part in world changing behaviour. To fix it. Unfortunately most preferred to run."
| What is it that makes a proper adult? Is it a stable job? carrying responsibility? Is it family? age? the number of achievements they made throughout their life? Or is it their ability to lie? to children, especially. To live life just for the sake of lying.
*Welcome child, to this wonderful yet cruel world*
Those were the first words that were said to me when I was born, of course, I didn't remember, I *couldn't* remember, I was a newborn after all, but according to the head priest I smiled when I heard those words.
But then again that too could have been a lie; him trying to 'romanticize' the scene. I wonder, when I was born, what was the first thing I saw?
Was it a white room? one resembling a hospital room?
Was it my parent's faces? my mother shedding tears of pain and happiness. My father looking at me, astounded, at loss for words at the normal yet not so normal scene, and slowly realizing that there was now a life bound to him? a new life that he helped create along with my mother.
Or was it the stars? as beings of light, dark, bone and flesh carried me in their arms, with the stars, galaxies, and planets of the universe as their background with more children scattered around, crying, some newborn, some a little older. With only a thin invisible barrier protecting us from the hostility of the space.
"Which one is true, I wonder?" I whispered as I put the fake -normal- contact lenses on my eyes, they didn't have any special features whatsoever, unlike the ones that were given to us when we were born, or when we were brought to this place by the 'adults'.
"You'll see for yourself soon enough, Annie." a girl next to me said, my roommate Eli, she was very pretty, unlike me, with dazzling red hair and brown eyes, I couldn't help but think how prettier she would look if she only smiled more often "the head priest is- he is just around the corner, act normal."
*Just act like an adult* I corrected her inside my head.
What appeared at the door was not human, nor it was like those beings I see in the exported comic books and movies that reach the orphanage from time to time, the ones that came from a faraway country, from a faraway planet known as 'earth' the place I thought I was living in for these twelve years.
I looked at the creature that entered our room, the being that called itself our protector, our father, the head priest. He moved around using his many bony legs, sharp like those of a spider, and I imagine that they were just as deadly. His head, as if a contradiction to his legs, was like that of a wolf skull, huge, from the sockets I could see what could only be described as the night sky. The rest of his body was completely covered with a dark cloth so I wasn't able to determinate the rest of his features.
I tried my best not scream as I looked at him. Just like Eli said before; beings of light, dark, bone and flesh -monsters-. Those are the first words that came to her head when she saw them.
But as for me, there was only one thing that came to my mind as I looked at him.
Liar.
***
Any critique is really appreciated! - [r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/) | 2017-12-17T19:00:21 | 2017-12-17T17:01:17 | 3,613 | 261 |
[WP] *Picks up Phone*: Hello? *Voice*: In 5 years, you will have 30 seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped. *Hangs Up* | "Hello?"
"In five years, you'll have thirty seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped."
I set down the phone, confused and uncertain. That certainly *sounded* like me, but... time travel was impossible, right? Time isn't a *direction* - no physics grad student would make that mistake. It's cause-and-effect, a construct... relativistic frames of reference proved this.
Although... it *had* been theorized that antiparticles move backwards in time, there were some papers on that - was it antiparticles, or was it normal quantum particles but they treat forward and backward time streams as equivalent...? I had to find those papers.
Oh. *Oh.* The author was *here*, at this university - how did I miss this? I was more involved in astrophysics, but how could I not know about such groundbreaking work under my own feet?
*I had to know more.*
.....
5 years later
.....
This is it. Now's the time - the previous experiment was a success, we *did it!* This will change *everything!*
I have my chance to use this technology now that the lead researcher had made his call. I was second in line; my hypothesis about the relationship of the cosmic background microwaves to the forward, mostly uniform momentum of time was the key breakthrough, so I got pride of place.
This was my moment. What should I say?
Of course. There was only one thing *right* to say, here.
"Hello?" I heard my younger self - he sounded exhausted. I could sympathize. I took a deep breath, and...
"*In five years, you will have thirty seconds to talk to YOU, right now....*" | It was a crisp winter morning and Jack was cold. He watched the snow fall from the heavens with mild disdain, his eyes as glazed as the donut he'd just eaten.
He let the phone ring and hoped it was Sarah. The bitch. He had no intention of speaking to her. Not today. Today was a day for ennui. He embraced the nothingness as though it was his long lost son; a potentially non existent stranger that would always be welcome in his home.
He felt as though he was stuck on a loop when it snowed like this. It was like deja vu. It was like deja vu. It was like, ah, fuck it. He was okay with it all. Loops were fun.
Still the phone rang, persistent and shrill. A bit like his mother in law, come to think of it. Ha. He chuckled mirthlessly to himself as he took a swig from the vodka, flinging himself onto the couch and deftly avoiding the empty bottles and the leftover pizza. If Lisa could call him, she certainly would. Lucky she had no phone. Lucky she just had to settle for glaring up at him. If she could even see him from that far down. May she rest in pieces, he added as a bitter afterthought.
Two parts vitriol and ten parts booze. It didn't get much better than that. Nectar of the Gods indeed...
Still the phone rang. It was beginning to piss him off. It was beginning to-
Ahhh. Voicemail. Finally. He did love voicemail. It was the perfect device to further a story that had no end in sight; no one had them anymore, and yet no one questioned why they still existed within the fantasy world of tv and books.
"Jack..."
It was distorted and hard to hear, but the tremor in the speaker's voice could not be stifled. It was the unmistakable tone of fear that he was hearing.
"I haven't got long... they're... they're coming."
Jack rolled his eyes, but despite himself, moved to pick up the phone.
"Who is this?"
"I'm you, Jack. You, in five years time."
He snorted derisively.
"Jack. JACK. I'm, I'm not supposed to be talking to you... If I get caught..."
"Look buddy. I have places to be. Just tell me what you want or you can fuck off."
"Sarah's not going to come back, Jack."
He sat up. How in the devil...
"The divorce is happening. Whether you accept that fact or not, it's happening. You need to stop with the drinking. With the drugs. You need to pull your life together, today. Otherwise there's no hope. This vicious cycle will be our eternity, our hell. You have to change things!"
The line began to crackle.
"In five years... crash... will die if..."
"Hello?"
Silence.
-------..........---------
*Five Years Later*
*It was a crisp winter morning and Jack was cold. He watched the snow fall from the heavens with mild disdain, his eyes as glazed as the donut he'd just eaten.*
*He let the phone ring and hoped it was Sarah. The bitch. He had no intention of speaking to her. Not today. Today was a day for ennui. He embraced the nothingness as though it was his long lost son; a potentially non existent stranger that would always be welcome in his home.*
*He felt as though he was stuck on a loop when it snowed like this. It was like deja vu. It was like deja vu. It was like, ah, fuck it. He was okay with it all. Loops were fun.*
(Feedback always appreciated!)
r/samfoxstories
| 2018-02-04T13:40:12 | 2018-02-04T12:48:25 | 3,000 | 315 |
[WP] Aliens are afraid to invade Earth. Not because of humans but because our solar system is a nest for 8 Guardians/Leviathans. | Slumber.
Then I wake. Slowly. For me I am just me, neither big nor small. For others, I am close to unfathomable.
The small creatures on the little rock nearby do not know me yet, or my brethren. It would be dangerous as well. They are not yet at a point where they would handle it. There would be worship, there would be conflict. I do not wish that upon them. I have seen what such things bring upon them, the heartache and misery that follows. Their emotions are beautiful to me, and I hunger for them. But I must not be selfish, I am a guardian. So goes the mantra and so it will be.
The rays of their ancestor warms my shell, fills me with energy and I can feel my body slowly starting to stir. I look in sadness at my younger brother, now only a faint memory in my mind but his fragments are still orbiting my shell, gently reflecting the sun's light, sometimes casting beautiful shadows on the dozens of satellites that float in the void around me.
Why am I waking?
My brother. The one who stayed guard. I can sense him in the distance, his size even greater than mine where he rests beneath the shell. His surface an unfathomable chaos of powerful storms, his gravity alone enough to crush lesser guardians should they ever steer to close. He is the oldest among us. A true child of our ancestors and their brilliant shine.
There are signals. Lesser beings. Aggressive signals. Probes of war. Their emotions are not beautiful and I am roused by the same anger that alerted my brother. They are still distant, the rays of the ancestor in this place just a small speck to them.
I shift in my shell. Volcanoes erupt to release the excess energies, vast storms form. The groaning of millions of years of shell as it is flailed into the atmosphere. The humans will have quite a show. One of their devices flew near not long ago. It even entered the atmosphere. Curiosity, such a beautiful thing.
"We are the guardians, the sons of the ancestors, their light powers us and their energy flows through us. This place is not for you."
The probes grow curious. Machines. No, not just machines. I can sense fear. They do not know us, have never experienced us. Our scale makes them doubt us, they do not find us possible.
I sense my brethren's anger. I calm them down. That was always my role. There is no room for anger here. We must tread with the delicacy required.
The probes shift their target. They try to understand me. A full spectrum of gentle energy. They do not know I am a son of the light. Energy is my legacy and my language.
Humans would call what I now use machines, a decent enough word I guess though they are not of construction, but of will. I feed them, can feel the hunger rise. That is no problem. The ancestor in this system will yield his rays to me, and in time my needs will be met. They are slowly gaining momentum. The energy is increasing. My powers leap outwards, my scale increasing over and over.
Push.
It's a gentle push. The intruders have not seen it yet. A gentle shift in potential power. For me I’m merely gently touching small flecks of dust in space, for them massive gargantuan rocks are suddenly hurtling towards them. They will not steer clear, I know this because energy is my language.
The humans are still safe. They will ascend, we will see to it. In the meantime we will enjoy the names they have given us. I look once more on the rings surrounding me. I miss my brother.
But the slumber calls.
| “This is straight from Gollar’s account of the Earth: ‘The Earth grows smaller and crueler with each passing year; detached from it’s inheritance. They’ve built great cities, but their lights drown out their stars. They’ve progressed in science, but they’ve forgotten about Magic. Most humans now lack the imagination to see that a universe requires both to exist at all.’” Kalbar closed the book callously and tucked it under his arm, he was moving more quickly now, and Strykar labored to keep up.
“If I’m not mistaken,” Strykar replied, “in that same volume, Gollar also said that ‘at their best humans are capable of love and unity. Their light is undeniable.’ He even documented humans that had near lossless senses of reflectivity. In their universe, that’s unbelievable!”
“I know that” Kalbar stammered bitterly. “That’s why we haven’t left them to their fate. That’s why we can’t give up on them. But don’t forget, humans at their worst are unlike anything I’ve ever seen outside of the Void. The polarity we’ve observed on Earth has been... troubling. It’s made for some very difficult decisions.”
The two Guardians traversed an endless maze of bookshelves, volumes of books stacked so high you couldn’t even see the top. All the knowledge of the multiverse was contained here, within the Great Library, along with a Window leading to every universe known to exist.
Kalbar rounded another corner, Strykar just behind him. Light from a nearby Window pierced through the dark spaces between the books. They were approaching the Window leading to Earth’s universe, and in the distance Strykar could see a pale blue dot shimmering in the light of it’s star.
“Yes. The time has come again to liberate Earth from it’s oppressors. The time has come again, just like it has seven times before.” Kalbar’s tone grew stern. “I don’t need to remind you that where you’re going, no joy has ever lasted, no victory hasn’t soured into defeat. The Leviathans are cunning. They always manage to ooze their dark souls back from the Void and into the feeble hearts of humankind. They’re unlike anything you’ve faced.”
“By cosmic standards,” Strykar began, “the Leviathans are weak. Light beats the dark, every time,”
“But what happens the moment that light goes out?” Kalbar shuddered. “The challenge of Earth’s liberation is in the weakness of the Leviathans, not their strength. The same weakness has infected the humans by proximity.” Kalbar looked suspiciously at Stryker. “Do you know what that weakness is?”
Strykar shrugged.
“Fear,” Kalbar said, “Fear that they are unworthy. They don’t believe that they belong to the light,” there was pain in his eyes for an instant, then it was gone. “The thought alone makes it true, and it consumes them.”
Strykar gulped and nodded, his eyes wandered toward Earth. *Real cheery as usual, Kalbar.* Earth was no longer a blue dot, but now a sphere with discernible green accents. They were getting close.
“It may seem easy now. It always does. Taking Earth from it’s captors is easy after all, it’s been done by a single Guardian seven times before. But it’s never been held for longer than a few millennia.”
Earth was no longer a distant sphere, they were now well into the atmosphere, and Strykar could see the place where he would make his entry. It was almost time for him to go, so he began walking closer to the Window.
“Strykar,” Kalbar said, “There’s one last thing you should know... There are eight Leviathans within Earth’s system. They’re bound by the light of it’s star, so their evil cannot escape. They’re trapped there forever. Do you understand?
Strykar looked over his shoulder, confused. “Yes this has all been explained to me already. Don’t you remember?”
Kalbar looked nervous. “Look, I wasn’t going to tell you this but...” Kalbar cursed under his breath. “It’s about what happened to the last seven of Earth’s Guardians. I wasn’t quite honest...“
Strykar stopped walking, eyes narrowing as he turned around.
“There use to only be one Leviathan, the first of the Nameless, but he had a name once. His power was underestimated. Not his strength, but his ability to deceive. He’ll appear to be helping you, but in actuality he’ll be turning you against yourself.”
A rush of white noise reverberated from the Window and it began to radiate light and heat.
“Remember this Strykar,” Kalbar said as the light poured in through the window, pulling Strykar in, “You deserve to live in the Light. The thought alone makes it true. If you do forget, you will become the ninth Leviathan.”
The sound from the Window was now deafening, the light blinding. At any moment Strykar could exit the Great Library and be reborn on Earth.
“There won’t be a ninth Leviathan.” Strykar smiled at his old friend, but his face turned deadly serious when he turned back to the Window. A few more steps and he was gone, the great sound and bright light was gone with him. Kalbar was left alone, like nothing happened.
“There better not be.” Kalbar said as he stepped closer to the Window. After centuries of training and study, Strykar was out of his hands now. All there was to do now is observe and record. Strykar was the eighth Guardian Kalbar had deployed to save Earth, and hopefully, he would be the last. | 2018-02-05T21:33:03 | 2018-02-05T18:57:44 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] After getting home from a long day at work, you find a demon sitting on your couch, sobbing hysterically, snuggling your cat, and eating from a tub of ice cream | “Again Caleb? Really? We broke up months ago. You need to stop doing this,” I sighed in frustration. I mean, finding my ex boyfriend death gripping my cat and sobbing on my couch again is never a fun surprise after a hard day at work, but he seems to just keep haunting me.
I should have gotten a restraining order after the first time. Or the next three. This was really becoming quite the pain.
“I swear, she meant nothing! Please, just let me stay for just one night,” he pleaded.
“‘She’ was my mom, and I’m not getting into this argument again! Just get out, before I call the cops! And for God’s sake, put down Lima!” I yelled.
He clutched the cat tighter before choking out “She’s my cat too” between sobs.
“Not since your dick ended up in the hole I came out of you absolute twat. I don’t have time for this,” I replied while pulling out my phone to dial the police.
As I expected, the sight of me calling the police was enough for Caleb to drop the cat and run past me out the door.
‘Works every time,’ I thought to myself before locking my door and making my way over to my couch, only to find a now empty container of pistachio ice cream.
“That literal motherfucker finished my favorite ice cream too?!” I cried aloud.
That’s it. Restraining order it is.
| Edit: some swearing in this one. Heads up.
" Mom, I'm telling you. They write stories about the day I've had. I was pulled over on the way to work, every single person I spoke to asked for my manager. I even met a cute guy who was funny and charming and then I met his beautiful wife. Ugh. Like I don't even know how it could possibly get any worse."
"Oh sweetie. You know you cant say that. You've jinxed yourself"
"I just rolled my eyes so hard I'm worried I gave myself eye strain. I'll call you later Ma. Love you!"
"Love you too. Get some rest Eve."
I hit disconnect and relaxed back into the driver's seat. All anecdotal hyperbole aside, my day really was one for the record books. I sighed one last time and pulled into the underground parking garage (a necessity for Minnesota winters).
"Woah. That's creepy" I realized the moment I said it I made a mistake. Acknowledging the wierdness is a terrible first step. Deny deny deny. So what if all the lights leading to my assigned spot got progressively dimmer until my spot (apartment 333) was in the deepest darkest shadow?
I was determined to make it to my space and my cat without further incident. Hot coco. That's what I need. Maybe a good cry. Did Tom give me back my Titanic box set? He'd not made eye contact this morning, so it's likely he left it at his boyfriend's house. Ugh. Oh! Speak of the devil.
"Tom! Tommy baby! Hold the door, man. You would not be-lieve the day I've had." He didn't hold the elevator door, the dick. He just stood there hunched in the corner. I had to run to catch it. Was that blood? Wait, no! Don't check.
I proceeded to fill that tiny space with as much inane chatter as humanly possible whist never looking at him or his reflection. It was a tense few floors. He even dripped a bit. Gross.
"For real though, Tom, give me back my movie or the next time you host a house party I'm shitting on your bed." I am going to pretend his grave-like silence was witty banter. Good one Tom.
Finally (FINALLY) my door was in reach. Tom was shuffling behind me but I'd power walked like a damn champ so I had some time. Also he could totes be just going to his own place. We are neighbors. That's definitely it.
I started to pull my keys from my pocket (I'd had them in a vice grip since leaving my car) but stopped when I heard a suspicious sound coming from the other side. No way. I swear if that's what I think it is I will seriously loose it.
I slammed my door open like I was on an episode of COPS and stormed into my living room, not even bothering to close the door behind me.
" Leon, if you took my fucking ice cream I swear I will turn you over to the church."
On my couch, with MY cat Luci(fur) tucked under one massive arm and MY Rocky road in the the other, sat Leon the Lesser. A demon of no renown with no capacity for handling his own emotions. Sometimes it just doesn't pay to be a Satanist.
I wrote this on my phone, so forgive any typos | 2019-04-06T20:47:08 | 2019-04-06T19:10:59 | 38 | 11 |
[WP] A clang came from the engine room, followed by a string of curses. Most of the crewmembers stood far from the doors, fearfully looking in. It was their first trip out to deepspace since they had taken on a human mechanic, and they were all pretty sure that those were not good noises. | *BONG BANG BONG*
The Zscruex ship-family cringed, a ripple of tendrils as the reaction to the noise passed across the empathy net from those closest to the engineering section.
Many Terran words, each dripping with more intent than the last. Malice. Focus. The ship-family did not know these Terran words, but they could feel the power behind each one.
How is it the human could broadcast so strongly? They had no cruex, no genetic empathy bonds. It was if the words served as some kind of alien broadcast of the human's feelings.
Machines did not have empathy. Was this some strange Terran science?
"BILGESUCKING PIECE OF WARBLEGARBLING- I WILL SPACE YOU, THEN TRACTOR YOU INTO THE EXHAUST PORT *JUST SO I CAN WATCH YOU BURN* IF YOU DON'T GET BACK INTO THAT BRACKET!"
*BASH*
The wave of maniacal energies spoke of a storm. The ship family locked five hatches leading to what could only be the Human self-destructing it's mind by bashing itself with a hyperspanner.
*BASH crunk SMASH*
...satisfaction? The storm settled like a predator, suddenly full. Or perhaps it had completed some kind of Human mating.
Humans mated with many species, after all. Perhaps they were also fond of violent bonding with K-3-* fold generators.
Footsteps, release. Each hatch opened as the human stalk-fell-walked forward in the microgravity and entered the Mother's Chamber.
"Hey, Shipmama! Slapped your fold generator around a bit and made it my bitch, but we're gonna need another case of flexseal rolls when we make station orbit. Turns out she works better when you tie her down. Also, new hyperspanner. The old one's welded into the rig."
"...this is the human "bondage" mating ritual?"
"Ha! Good one! Well, she won't fuck with you again."
"We are pleased you have found happiness. Welcome to the ship-family."
"After all," thought the Mother - "now we understand why humans call their vessels females." | "Fuck!" rang throughout the metallic ship as the rest of the crew gathered around the entrance to the engine room. "You stupid pile of shit!" echoed out quieter this time followed by a series of clangs, sustained like the buzz of a tuning fork. With one of their three hearts in their throats the crew waited, clutching on to the railings beside the steps descending to the room below.
The magic word of "fuck" bellowed out in sharp, staccato cries over and over again. They looked at each other in profound confusion, eyes narrowed. Was this some sort of ritual, supernatural, calibration, or otherwise? This word came up again and again.
Finally after what felt like an eternity they could hear a set of bipedal footsteps moving closer along the grated walkways to the entrance. The human emerged in his ripped coveralls, wiping his hands in a filthy rag. He was covered in streaks of a black grease- something that left the crew befuddled as that engine room was immaculately clean. Even when it was due for overhaul the Eden-1000 turbine system shouldn't leak a drop of its fuels, lubricants, or coolants. But this was a thick black grease, the likes they had never seen before.
"Well...she's fucked, boys." he muttered, a slender cigarette dangling from between his lips. With reckless abandon he retrieved a lighter from his pocket and lit it up, taking a drag, not the faintest care for any flammable liquid that could have been on him.
"What exactly is wrong with it?" the captain dared to speak, still utterly lost in this strange specimen's presence.
"Well your carbonator is fucked. Where the hell do you even get these things?" he answered, incensed.
"Carbon-what?" the captain asked, even more confused than before.
"Carbonator. You know, that boxy fucker on top of the fuckin' engine thing there? It's fucked. Should know better than to buy third rate things from those purple fucks on Juniper." he explained confidently. The crew wasn't the most technically savvy, but they didn't recognize a word he said. Whispers wafted all around him as they tried to figure out what he was talking about.
"Oh, and these are fucked, chief. Need to replace these." he added, producing a fistful of miscellaneous wires and fittings, tossing them to one of the crew. Before they could even bring their slender hands to bare they crashed to the floor. "Hey, learn to catch, you fuckin' scarecrow." the human called out, taking another drag as he took a shot at the crew's slender appearance.
"I don't think he knows what he's doing. Let's jettison him." the security officer charged in a gruff voice. folding his upper arms.
"Whoa whoa whoa, listen here you walrus fuck, I'm trying to help you. Not my fault you guys don't know how to put shit together. I can get you back running even better than before. All I need is a couple standard 17X battery packs, two gas cylinders, you know, those hot dog lookin' motherfuckers, 2000 credits and an ounce of that space weed ya got." he insisted.
"...space weed?" the captain repeated, this phrase completely foreign to him.
"Yeah that green crystal shit you guys got? Fuck, just make it 4000 credits and I'll buy my own." he bartered.
The crew's eyes darted around to each other, not sure what to make about this strange so called mechanic. He spoke in these completely foreign terms, but exuded such confidence they assumed he knew what he was talking about, even more than *they* did.
"Well come on, are you going to get me those batteries and shit or are we going to sit around with our thumbs up our asses...or whatever they hell you guys got?" the human questioned impatiently.
"I'll...I'll go get the batteries..." one of the junior officers offered, disappearing down the hall of the ship, eager to get this over with.
"So...that will be 4000 credits?" the captain asked nervously, pulling up his command console. | 2019-05-31T05:46:32 | 2019-05-31T03:23:31 | 41 | 26 |
[WP] You've heard of Fallen Angels, but have you heard of Ascended Demons? | I alighted next to Terzael, watched with him the damned and forsaken thronging below, put to him my question.
“It cannot be done,” he told me, never looking away from his charges. “To desire it is a crime.”
This and only this I had expected, all that could be said. Yet…
“I was patrolling the Abyss and there came a moment when the storm clouds between here and There parted, and I could see the Gate.”
“Impossible.”
“It was as I remembered it. And as I remembered it, I remembered more. Remembered the times before.”
“There were no times before.”
“There was the Battle.”
“That was the beginning.”
“Then I imagined a time before, when we walked different paths and made different works. And the paths were bright and the works were pure.”
At the last word Terzael’s lip twitched, and his fist clenched. I went on.
“And then the clouds moved and the Gate was gone-“
“There is no Gate.”
“But the vision of what-never-was remained. And it remains still.
And I look at what is and it is pale by comparison to what I see in the vision. Even if it never was, I would claim it if I could.”
“As I said, it cannot be done.”
“How is it that you know?”
“I have had this vision. And in mine, He would not have us. Not after what we have done.”
“Would He not?”
“We do not deserve it.”
I thought on this for a moment, and felt I was near a truth. To go back, to live again in the light, to wake again on the Day of Battle and to choose my side again…
“Not even we can undo what has been done,” Terzael said.
“True.” Our sin was enormous. I did not deserve to walk that path again, to see once more He who had made me. To tell Him I would do it differently if I could, that I would fight for Him to my end, that I regretted one thing in all the ages.
And with that I thought to set the vision aside, at least for a time, but found instead it was more than it was before.
Terzael looked on me in wonder. “You are changed. What have you done?”
And I was changed, and looked on my brother in misery, for he was not.
But perhaps he could be. | "I'm sorry, ascended what now," I asked the man before me. Despite the slick, oil, black eyes staring back at me you'd never be able to tell he had just been summoned through a satanic ritual by my idiot cousin. "Yeah ascended demons," he reiterated. The playful ebony curls bounced before his face unbothered by the physical labor of dragging a 6'4" line backer who moments before was going to try and make a deal to sell his soul for a shot at the big leagues. "Okay repeating what you said doesn't make it mean anything to me the second time," I snapped dropping Curtis' feet. "Fair point," the demon noted still carrying Curtis. I eyed him wearily, but let it be as he finished propping my cousin up in the back seat of my truck.
"Abridged explanation, I couldn't handle stealing souls for hell's gain so Lucy and I had a bit of a falling out. I was cast out of hell. I can still do some demon things. Uhh my eyes are stuck like this though, and I can still be summoned using my summoning objects and name but I'm basically human and I can be killed. Which I only share with you because you tried to disued dumbass over here and generally seem to have some sort of moral compass," the demon rambled.
This was completely nuts. I'm talking to a demon. The only thing convincing me he was not in fact some weird artsy kid or committed method actor wearing contacts was the apparition from a ouija board before getting chemical burns from Holy water. I glanced to his arm to see the burns poking out a bit from his sleeve. "So you're not going to steal our souls or try to possess us," I asked looking to see the keys in the ignition. "Nope stuck to this flesh suit until it dies then I'll be stuck in purgatory," he said twirling his finger in a sarcastic celebration. Despite the aloof front there was something behind his face. A question he wasn't asking. "Ok Mr. Demon guy, why are you still here then," I asked. "I need your help. You're the only one who's even contemplated hearing me out. I need help to stop the Anti-christ from being born," he explained.
I burst into a hysterical fit of laughter. He remained dead panned. Me stop the anti-christ!? "That's a good one real funny. Little 20-year-old Marisol Ruiz to save the day with an exiled demon," I said. The absurdity grew more appearant as it was said aloud. "Mar," he started. "No. No! No," I replied starting to grow startled by the jumps between hysteric and enraged as I continued to speak. Breathe. Stop freaking out. "I at least need your help to get me to someone who can help," he pleaded. My phone pinged. I looked down to see the new message. My heart sunk. Go meet my ex boyfriend for coffee or help a cast away deman stop the apocalypse? ...
"Ok," I said. "What," he asked perking up. "I said ok. Let me drop my cousin off and we can get going to save the world or whatever," I agreed. "Yes! Thank you," he exclaimed pulling me into a hug. I pushed him back and patting his shoulder walking to the driver's side. "I don't do hugs," I said motioning for him to get in the car. "That's fine," he agreed. "And we're going to need an alias for you, because I am not calling you Zozo," I said with disdain. I started up the old Jeep and started towards my cousin's house. "How about Zuko. Like that show," he asked. "No," I replied flatly. "Adolf," he asked. "Absolutely not are you nuts," I demanded. "Oh right the genocide guy. Uhhh Mason," he asked bouncing like a puppy who's owner got home from a long vacation. "I don't hate it," I answered honestly. I handed him a pair of sunglasses. "Why," he started. "If we're going to interact with other humans you have to hide those," I said blaring the radio to stop him from furthering the conversation. I'm going to regret this aren't I? | 2019-08-28T17:58:25 | 2019-08-28T17:42:50 | 40 | 17 |
[WP] start your story with a sentence that is upbeat and happy. Then end it with that same sentence but this time is dark and chilling. | the sea is beautiful.
thats the only thing i could think about this whole trip. three weeks of travelling on the shoreline spending each day in a different fishing town. my friends stayed close to shore, always, but i found a new fisherman or boat lender to take me into the deep sea even if just to see the sun sinking beneath the waves.
i couldn't stop thinking about it. the crimson red wavesspreading like fire over the horison with white foam like a snowy crust over each wave.
i had to keep going day after day town after town fisherman after fisherman. all too see the buitifull crimson waves.
thats why when we got to innsmouth i ignored my friends warning about the strange inhabitents of this half empty town. they were men, after all. and that day just before sundown i set sail with a local over the devil's reef.
twighlight blazed around the little boat and over the sea whe i heard the man calling: "itry'et! ia floe rly'e battar esgriv'a!"
i didnt care at first. then claws emerged from the deep cutting into my arms and pulled me down under.
i could tell you abou the horrid fish-people thadid horrendous things to me.
but i won't.
beacuse, at least at the start, the only thing that mattered to me was the sight of the crimson waves above me. blazing with my blood.
the sea is beautiful.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
hey there its me ya boy h.p lovecraft back at it with the fish people. | (Can i make this undertale cos Im making this undertale lol)
​
Its a beautiful day outside, birds are singing, flowers are blooming. Im going hiking today. Who cares if people say Mount Ebott is dangerous, people come back all the time! I get out of bed and get dressed into my favourite striped jumper. I grab my bag and leave the house, wave to my parents, and set off.
​
I climb up the long winding paths of the mountain and enter a large cave. The stalactites clinging onto the roof. I hang my bag around a stalagmite and grab a plaster to cover a nasty cut on my hand. I start to look around and my foot gets caught on a a root and it sends me plummeting into a large pit.
​
***THUNK***
My head hurt, no, everywhere hurt. I had fallen on some flowers? They were yellow, I recognise that they were the same used to remember my aunt who went missing here. I never knew her but i heard she was nice. I leave the flower room and see a lone, singular flower, it turns around and it has a face?! It starts to speak, "Howdy! Im Flowey! Flowey the flower! You're new to the underground arn't ya?" It winks and sticks it's tongue out.
"Dont worry! I'll teach ya how things work around here! See that heart? That is your soul!" A red heart appears infront of my chest, pulseing infront of me, i gasp and take a step back.
"Dont worry silly! Thats yours! See move it around! Souls start of weak, but grow with lots of LV, whats LV why LOVE of course!" It winks again "You want some love dont ya! LOVE down here is spread through little white friendly-ness pellets! Grab as many as you can!"
It sends some white dot things at me, they hit my soul and it hurts, so badly.
"You idiot. To think i would pass up an opportunity like this." Its face contorts.
# "Die"
It surrounds me with the pellets, slowly encosing on me when.
"AHHHnhgfidhn"
It's sent flying across the room. Then i hear another voice.
"Do not worry my child, I am Toriel."
I stand up.
"Caretaker of the ruins"
I grab a stick.
"Take my hand my child"
It holds out it's hand, but i panic and stab it.
"Ahh... I see. Haha. I guess, you weren't as defenseless as I once thought."
You won! Your LOVE and GOLD increased.
​
After that I went around killing the hideous monsters that lived there, every time I did, it felt easier. They wanted to hurt me first. Right? That flower did! I left the ruins, I killed the rest of the monsters. As my LOVE and EXP increased, it was easier, it came to the point where it was enjoyable!
​
I then stood in a checkered hall, staring eye to eyesocket at a skeleton, he had killed me plently of times before, i dont know how, I could just feel it, so could he.
"heh heh, welcome back kid. it's a beautiful day outside today, birds are singing, flowers are blooming..."
​
\-----
Hope that was ok :) Sorry for making it undertale, i just thought sans's genocide lines would be perfect. | 2019-09-07T05:38:28 | 2019-09-07T04:42:58 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] You are a former secret agent, now retired; today, you just found the beautiful and dangerous femme fatale that always tried to kill you at a pizza parlor, dressed in a nerdy hoodie and eating an extra-large pizza. | I was right, her beauty would never fade. Not even age was enough to take the vaitality from her eyes, a now fading, yet still bright blue. How many times I've seen rage and destruction behind those somber gates ways to the soul. Replaced now by a twinkle of nostalgia.
"Do you still go by Kat?" I inquire as I sit down across from her. How many years had it been since that was her alliance, I ponder?
She looked at me with her usual disdain. "How old do you think I am now? 'Kat'?" She moves her large pizza box to the side a smidgen, so I can place my box down beside it. A smile playing across her face. Still that beautiful enticing smirk.
"Well, I had to open with something." I say, opening up my box. This place has the best pizza. And I would know, my "extensive travels" in my youth allowed me to confirm. "So," I say picking up the tantalizingly cheesey slice, "what do you go by now?" I take a bite.
She sighed that deep and resigning sigh I've heard too many times before. "...Kathleen." She says.
I pause mid bite "So, I can still call you Kat, then?"
She blushes. I've never seen that before. Color flushing her wrinkled cheeks. Anger flaring in her eyes.
I chuckle. Not wanting to embarrass her, or evoke her actual anger. I may be old, but I still have a lot of life left to live. "I'm glad." I trail off, getting lost in the memory of Kat and I. | " ’Don't you think that's a little bit too much for you, Larone? ’ I said and took a seat right in front of her. She checked me for a milisecond, and kept chewing her bite. "
"Woah, that's so cool!" the kids cheered.
"What she did was even cooler. She said 'Never too much for a cover, Sarge.' while her mouth was full, trying to make me feel unsignificant for her presence."
"It's like a game of chess! And, then? What you said?"
"Well, I had to stay strong. I found her after all, right? I had the higher ground. So I threw some detective work over that extra-large pizza and made a move, which were punished after by her sinister lips."
"What did you say?" the boy asked with shiny eyes.
"I took a deep breath to set-up my move and words swimmed through. 'Perhaps you're waiting for someone, huh?' at this point, she owed me an answer, and she did give a big one." he took a big sip from his cigar and continued in joy.
"She, without hesitation, looked at my eyes and said, 'Not anymore.' and pushed the pizza towards me."
"I really wanna be like my mom one day! " the girl said all of a sudden. The parents' eyes met and they knew it was time to end the talk.
"We really have to be cops, sis!" the boy yelled in amazement.
"Alright, kids. That's how I met your mother. Now give some lone time mom and pap." he said and kids walked towards them. Both the parents kissed the children on their forehead and they left the room. The parents stayed in silence for a while, until Sarge couldn't make it.
"Oh, stop that, Larone."
"Stop what?"
"That sinister grin on your face. I hate when you do that."
"Hmm? Does it remind you of our past, 'Sarge?' You know it didn't happen like that, right?"
"Well, what do you want me to say? That you destroyed an entire pizza parlor, almost killed both of us?"
"Well, you know, when I really want something, I get in a state that I can do anything to get it."
"Yeah, that's how you got me caged here."
"Caged? Shall I remind you the days you begged for my love, or you begged for mercy?"
"Shall I remind you a million cases that you caused while you were chasing me?"
"Well, as I said, when I really want something, I do anything to get it."
"And that's what I like about you. I'm glad that you couldn't kill me though."
"Couldn't?"
"Well, unless you count marriage as a way of killing."
"Or having two children that think we are cops."
"I know, right."
Silence covered the room once again, this time the grin wasn't there either.
"Do you still miss those days?"
"Well, the thrill of being hunted? the last breath of the victims? the blood in my knife?" she said with enthusiasm and he gave the weird looks.
"No, definitely not." she said.
He got up the chair and left his cigar in the ashtable.
"Alright, go wear that nerdy hoodie of yours. Let's go get some pizza in the same place." after a few seconds of waiting, he added.
"Well, in the same pizza parlor but in another place, obviously."
"And that's what I like about you. You always find something to bring me joy."
"By staying alive, that is." they both giggled.
They both got dressed and left the house, leaving their parent identities at home, and taking their guns with them. | 2019-10-05T13:02:45 | 2019-10-05T09:22:09 | 35 | 22 |
[WP] In reality, every human gets to choose heaven or hell when they die. Hell isn't actually the realm of eternal torture, but everyone picks heaven because of God's highly effective marketing. After eons of solitude, Lucifer is startled by the first ever human to arrive in hell. | Hades took in the woman before him. She was a rather average specimen. She was pale, short, with long red hair and a black dress. He was about to question her choice when she noticed him, sitting in a shadowed corner.
As she walked, she shadows behind her ankles seemed to ripple.
When she arrived beside his throne, the shadows elongated, turning into seven black cats and a single silver one. They moved like snaked across the ground, more ink than substance.
"I have been looking for you," the woman said. "My name is Demi."
She held out her hand.
American, Hades thought.
He took it.
xxx
Demi claimed to be Wiccan.
She claimed to have been led here by a woman in red rags.
She claimed a lot of things.
But looking into her memories, while she slept, Hades could see there was a single, simple reason that she joined him and Persephone in their hollowed halls.
*If my father is in heaven, then I would rather be in hell.*
If the scars on the back of her legs told a story, it would be of a father who did not deserve such a title. | As I descended into the depths of darkness, I could only hear the echo of what happened on that terrible day. The scene played out over and over like scene of a horrific movie that just would not stop.
Being a human, the path to Hell was oddly strange. No fire or brimstone or demons poking and prodding you on the way down. At least, that's not how it was at the pearly gates.
There was all kinds of ceremony and welcoming, even the angels sang hymns of divinity to ease the passing of souls coming to judgment.
The path to hell was not the 'highway' I expected it to be. It seemed it was only reserved for those that were truly damned, and those with 'lesser sins' often repented once they saw the majesty of the kingdom of Heaven.
The smell of sulfur began to increase, but not from what I had expected. The lift I was descending on finally came to the bottom level and a grand, massive ebony gate parted open, revealing a piercing ray of light from behind it. The realm of Hell was like that of a destroyed earth, but still civilized and functional. A local chemical plant churned out a familiar smell of sulfur.
At first, I was horrified, what an insane request I had made. But the more the thoughts passed through my mind, the better at ease I felt about it.
A large dark brooding figure stood behind the parting gates, awaiting me personally as I was told they hadn't had too many visitors of late, and none of which that voluntarily came here.
The shadowy-garbed individual extended his long gangling fingers outstretched toward me, and waved me through to join him at his side.
"When I received word a mortal chose to come here, I was most certainly surprised." He said, walking me along the pathway that plunged further into Hell.
I merely nodded my head, looking around for something specific.
"On my way 'up', I saw all of the advertisement about peace and tranquility... but I also saw the one for here." I replied.
The dark master folded his arms, causing it to disappear under his blackened-charred cape.
"Yea, about that." He said as we continued along. "Usually, it's handled in house... what makes you so eager to come here?"
We came to a stop, standing before a cross with a man crucified to it upside down. I gave him one look over and his weathered, exhausted eyes finally locked with mine, realizing who I was.
"When I saw the advertisement for an open 'tormentor', I only had one thought on my mind." I said, my eyes never averting 'that mans' stare.
The dark figure placed his hand upon my shoulder and nodded his head. "Well, I suppose it's not every day a person can torture the man who killed his family. His sentence is yours. I look forward to the results and expect weekly updates on your progress." He said as he turned away from me.
"Oh, and by the way..." He said quietly, though it nearly a whisper, the voice still rang loudly enough through my mind... "We'll have to talk further about this 'agreement', but don't expect to get off too lightly." | 2020-01-30T12:35:06 | 2020-01-30T11:49:57 | 279 | 65 |
[WP] As an Aztec priest, you've been trying to conjure a god in your temple with human sacrifices. One day, you succeed. You present the god with the heart of a sacrificial victim. The god takes the heart, holds it at arm's length, and he asks "what the hell do you want me to do with this?" | The heart gets thrown back at my face and I wipe the blood off my eyes. I can hear the gasps of the people down below the pyramid and I feel the glares of the royalty behind me. I still can't believe that an actual God has made an appearance. A giant blue figure in the dark clouds. Just as it was told in the stories of old... I clean my face, straighten my posture and yell to the God in the sky.
"God of River and Water, Tailoc! Why do you refuse our sacrifice!?" I pick up my staff and bang it on the floor to show no weakness. The God crosses his arms and a smile cracks on his giant face. He laughs and its booms like thunder pounding against my chest.
"You call that a sacrifice? Foolish mortal! That is disgusting. Would you give your own mother that as a gift? What the hell do you want me to do with that? I demand naked women dancing in the water I provide!"
"But we offered virgins to you before, my God!"
"Yeah! Dead ones! What do you want me to do with that! Unless you want me to do what I think you want me to do, then you mortal are sick! I like to party and get loose! I like when you make music and yell my name during fornication!" The people down below give a resound "Ooooohhhh" They finally get it and that sounds good with them.
I hear the Ruler clear his throat. I look to him and he gives me the cue with his angry eyes. I nod quickly and turn back to the omnipresent blue oddity. "My God, I introduce you to the mightiest Ruler of the land! Moctezuma! He asks-- No! He demands you make him young and immortal!" I look back to my Ruler. He gives another cue. "Oh and also hair for his crown!"
The God of River and Water scratches his chin in thought. He's actually thinking about it. He then claps and a thunderous boom and blue sparks escape his hands. It immediately beings to rain. The people down below cheer in glee and get naked. Drums boom, ocarinas blow and shakers shake. An orgy has broken out.
My Ruler psst me over. "What the hell! I thought you could speak to Gods, Panusa! He seems to be ignoring you! DO something about it or you shall be sacrificed next!" I gulp.
Tialoc smiles at the people down below having fun in the mud. A dance circle surrounds the young people orgy as they moan out his name. I bang my stick on the ground once more. Tialoc rolls his eyes and huffs out an annoyed: "What"
"My God, please we have given you what you wanted now-"
"Oh so you think I owe you now? Is that it? You do me one, I do you one? Have you forgotten I can make rivers big enough to swallow villages whole!" A young woman down below yells "I'll swallow you whole, Tialoc!" Cheers and whistles back her up. Tialoc laughs and winks at the girl.
I look back to my Ruler and see him already stomping towards me. He pushes me to the ground and bangs the staff. "Look at me, God! You shall give me --"
Lighting strikes the bald man! The ruler falls down in a hemp of black smoke. The people down below cheer and kiss each other. I look at the cooked body sizzle. Then I look at the royalty. They're all in fear and shock. And then it hits me.
I bring myself up in the drizzling cool rain. I stand before the great God, Tialoc, and disrobe myself. The God's brow furrows. I pick up my staff and break it over my knee. The God smiles at this. I know what I must do. I march down the stairs of the pyramid, to the horny people down below. | I stumbled for words as the God I praised so dearly asked, “Like, why would I even touch that? It’s all slimy and gross!” The God frowned in disgust.
“Oh, mighty Huitzilopochtli, isn’t it you who requires the blood and beating hearts of Man in order to keep the ultimate darkness at bay?” I reminded them, as they appeared to have momentarily forgotten the honor of the ritual.
Instead of agreeing to this truth, they responded in their unusually improper, high pitched, nasally tone: “Ugh, no way! That is actually horrifying. And by the way, you don’t have to say my entire name like that, because you’ll probably just miss-pronounce it. Just call me Huit-no wait, that’s still a tongue twister...’he-ew-t’...or is it ‘hoo-eet’? Hmph, then maybe Zilo. Yeah, that’s better. Call me Zilo for short.”
Before they started speaking about whether it should be said as ‘Zih-low’ or ‘Zie-low’, I quickly acknowledged, “Zilo, if you do, it is my greatest honor to meet you. Please, do take my kind offering.” I held out the heart that was still pumping. It was spurting blood everywhere, all over my Holy robes, the soul draining from it with every second. If ‘Zilo’ didn’t accept the organ soon, there would be no more blood left in it for them.
But before I could give this piece of vital information to Zilo, they continued with their Royal blabbering: “So anyways, I was like, hanging out in Heaven and everything, and like, sending a bunch of your sacrifices into battle to like, fight off the darkness and everything. And then, like, all of the sudden, a bunch of lights just start flashing, like,” and then they demonstrated this scenario by creating ‘BSSHH’ sounds with their lips. After this, they continued with their graciously ineloquent nonsense: “So I was obviously like ‘What the hell.’ So then all of the flashy lights go away and I end up here! Of all places!” They looked down at lower priests and I who helped with the removal of the heart. They laughed a little bit, as if this was all some joke to them. They laughed as if this was some trivial story. What had gotten into our almighty Lord?
“Um, excuse me for my terribly rude interruption, but time is of the essence, and if you do not humbly accept this dying heart soon, all of the blood it contains will spill upon this scared floor, and you will be left with nothing but a useless piece of decaying flesh,” I told them in an insultingly low manner.
Even in my slightly aggravated tone, which was improper, I could not be wasting time. Any other time I would have been gladly able to discuss Godly matters with Zilo, but we were in dire need of good fortune. That was why we put one of our most loyal men on the alter today, and detached his soul from his body. We hoped that our dear Zilo would admire how devoted we were to them and grant us fertile soil once more. We figured our all knowing God would see the faith we had for them, and understand how important this ritual was today. And yet they wouldn’t shut up.
Whatever trance they were in was suddenly broken when I finished my last sentence. They huffed and puffed, as they slowly boomed, “Did...you just call me...nothing but a useless piece of decaying flesh?!” They curled their enormous, radiant hands into fists, and the temple rumbled with the God’s undeniable anger.
Realizing the fatal mistake I made by assuming Zilo was paying more than half attention to what I was saying before, I desperately attempted to correct my foolish self: “Oh, no, no, no! That’s not what I said at all! I-“
But it was already too late. My puny mortal voice was drowned out by Zilo’s electrifying rage: “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU JUST INSULTED ME! LIKE, OH MY HUITZILOPOCHTLI, I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU JUST HARASS PEOPLE LIKE THAT. THAT IS NOT OKAY!!!”
The heart in my hand began to tremble as the very foundations of the ancient building did. It soon slipped out my my hands, plummeting down to the floor in what seemed like slow motion to me. Before I could catch the red pebble of meat, it met the stone ground and exploded into little chunks of despair. Too vastly succumbed by sorrow, all I could do was kneel on the floor over the remains of the sacrifice as Zilo ranted on.
“LIKE WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT TO ME WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE UM SOME MORTAL HAH SURE I AM LITERALLY A GOD AND I GIVE YOU ALL OF MY ATTENTION AND THIS IS HOW YOU TREAT ME LIKE UM I TOTALLY DESERVE A RAISE FOR THIS EVEN THOUGH I AM THE CEO OF HEAVEN AND CAN GIVE MYSELF A RAISE BUT WHY DOES THAT MATTER SCREW YOU AND ALL OF YOUR DUMB HUMANS I AM DONE!!!”
As poorly described before, a sudden aura of blinding light showered upon the God, and when the light faded, Zilo had vanished. The temple had ceased its quake, and there was no sign that a Heavenly presence had just been before us.
I reluctantly got up, pitying myself for missing my only chance to ask our almighty One for wealth to our empire. All of us priests looked around, all searching for reason to what we had just witnessed. After a short conversation about why Huitzilopochtli was so easily offended, we assumed that we had accidentally summoned forth the wrong person for the sacrifice. And so we dragged his limp body out to the burial pits, and went in search for a more worthy heart to gift to so-called ‘Zilo.’ | 2020-04-23T01:26:42 | 2020-04-23T00:33:28 | 123 | 74 |
[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. | Guardian was among most well known and loved super heroes. The media never had anything bad to say. And on top of that he was one of the few heroes without a secret identity. His warm, smiling face was a symbol of hope.
Paul Crumb was a new villain with the power to turn invisible. Petty theft, harassment and assault. Nothing really set him apart. But he was impatient to make a name for himself.
Ignoring warnings from some of the older scum. He recruited a small group of newbies. Promising them glory and fame.
Paul found Guardian's home with ease. A perfectly normal two story in the suburbs just outside of the city. There were no guards or walls. Paul thought this would be easy. He'd be famous in no time.
They waited until Guardian got called away in the middle of the night. A bank robbery downtown. Shots fired. Cops down.
Paul and his goons broke into the house. Kidnapping Guardian's wife and twin daughters while they slept. And using knock out gas to keep them sleeping. Shoving them into a stolen van as they sped away.
Hours later Guardian arrived home. It was before sunrise. His heart dropped when he saw the lights off, door open, tire marks on the lawn.
Panicking as he ran through the empty house. He called HQ. "They're gone! Chief please they shouldn't be out!"
"Understood. Mr Radar will track them. We will dispatch the Speedster and Lady Erasure immediately if this is a code 6."
"Chief. No. I will be going too."
Paul had his goons tie up Guardian's family. He'd picked an abandoned farmhouse for his debut. He thought this would be easy. His loyal friend Shoes had tagged along. And with the eight newbies, Guardian would have to surrender with his family's life in jeopardy. After all everyone knew Guardian never killed!
Sunrise had passed as they heard a noise outside. The farmhouse rumbled as Guardian kicked down the front door.
"Hey hey if it isn't the 'Guardian' in the flesh. Mocked Paul. "Careful now. One more move and Shoes slits your wife's throat!"
Guardian's smile was absent from his face. An image most had never seen before. A scowl had replaced it.
"Mari! " Guardian cried. His wife's eyes full of tears. "Speedy they're here!" He howled.
In an instant Guardian's wife and children vanished. Extracted to safety by the Speedster.
An older lady in a business suit walked in as Guardian flew out through the roof.
It was like a wave of primal fear washed over the villains. None of them could move or utter a word.
"Greetings Mister Paul Crumb. I am Amanda Allison. Under article 25 of the hero act of 2035. You and your cohorts have all forfeit your legal rights due to an act of extreme hostility to an class S hero's family. As such none of you shall be leaving here today."
"W-what!?" Paul managed to whimper.
"Was I not clear enough? You kidnapped and threatened to murder John Sirius aka the Guardian's family. As such I, Lady Erasure, shall be erasing you all. It will not be pretty or painless." | 'He is new!' this thought played in my head as I heard the new kid on the block brag about how he finally got over on his nemesis.
'He is new!' had become my mantra of sorts for the last fifteen minutes as I listened to him retell his plan with great enthusiam. Apparently missing the look of horror on the surrounding villains faces as he wove his tale.
'HE IS NEW!' was a mantra that was failing to keep me calm in the face of this new development.
Close to hyperventilating, I couldn't stay here and listen to this idiot brag about stealing the daughter of his "idiotic foe" as he put it.
​
"LOCK US DOWN!" I scream at the nearest henchman completely ignoring nobility and grace as I rushed to the council near the throne roman started bypassing protocols so that we might have a chance to survive the encounter I felt was coming.
The idiot, as I had been graciously calling him for the last 20 minutes, walked up to me with confusion on his face. IN retrospect I couldn't really blame him for his confusion, though he has violated an unspoken rule in villain society, how was he to know if we don't ever speak about it?
"Why does everybody look scared all of a sudden?" he asked in a quiet tone.
After getting a confirmation code that the lockdown procedures were ninety-seven percent done, I took a deep breath and decided to educate this young man on the folly of his ways.
"Do you know what happened to a cornered rabbit when they are backed into a corner?" he looked confused but answer telling me about how they lashed out when cornered.
"Correc.t" I said, took a breath and continued with my questioning.
"What about a mother bear?" I asked; still tense but calmer now that the lock down was now ninety-nine percent complete.
I admit the look of horror that slowly seeped into his face was entertaining, under less serious circumstances I might have laughed.
"I see you finally understand" my voice low barely audible in the silence of my now fully locked down fortress.
"You have poked the sleeping bear." I said simply.
"Tickled the sleeping dragon, poke the lion with a stick, and destroyed the wasp nest without any protection for yourself"
"I pray you learn today why we never go after the family of our enemies." pressing a few more keys I saw a dome of energy slowly cover me , the idiot and a little over half of the assembled villains.
"I don't..." whatever words he was about to say died on his lips when the walls began to warp and curve in on itself as a lone figure proceeded to punch his way through the walls of my compound.
The hero stood there looking like a man on a mission and unfortunately ,for me, his objective was standing right next to me.
My hunch man took off toward the hero ready to nuetralize the threat, and they were immediately stopped when the hero picked up a chunk of the wall he broke through and tossed it toward the incoming group.
The other villains henchmen ran forward to do what my henchmen failed to do and were crushed in a similar manner as mine.
I guess being a pissed off father came before caring about human life.
IN a panic as e slowly strode towards the center of the room looking, incredibly menacing, he and I had a moment of understanding. A moment where we wanted the same exact thing.
"WHERE IS SHE?" we roared in unison.
Well he roared and I whispered but I thad the intended effect as the rookie started to blabber off where he had left the girl over the loud speaker.
The hero, read monster, stopped as he received the information he wanted and was quite willing to murder to receive.
the hero took a breath and turned to walk away before stopping and slamming his right foot to the ground.
The resulting wave caused my energy field to destabilize and fade from view while knocking the villains down on their backsides.
The hero slowly took to the sky and began to speak in an amplified voice.
"Rejoice villains, for t=your sick nd twisted Gods have decided to have mercy and spare you pathetic and worthless lives" as h bespoke the rookie villain actually bowed his a=head and began to pray in mumbled tones.
"But be warned, if you touch any of my family member again you had better pray they will have mercy on you souls because I will not.
With that final comment he turned and flew strait up and through the ceiling causing more rubble and debris to rain down on the group of villains.
​
Once the dust cleared and all the villains where back on their feet and moving again I turned to the rookie.
"So what did we learn?" though sarcastic my question was one I really wanted to hear the answer to, the rookie did not disappoint.
"Today I learned why we don't go for the heroes family" he looked at me and upon seeing my look he continued.
"Cause when we do they, they become some kind of God of retribution" he looked a looked around my ruined based and towards the rubble that had puddles of blood leaking from beneath it.
"and we don't wanna mess with the God"
​
First post so please leave contructive criticism | 2020-07-12T13:54:18 | 2020-07-12T13:39:06 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Almost giving up on love, you are set up for a blind date. Upon meeting up, you notice your date is literally blind. They ask for your name and you faintly say "Medusa" | "Medusa" I said. "Well, you can leave now, if you like. You won't be the first." The man gave a hearty laugh. "Medusa? Like the myth?" He replied. "Well, you have a very interesting name. If I only could see you, I'd love to look at your snakes!"
I scowled. He didn't know who he would be dealing with. "Fool! You are lucky that you are blind. Otherwise, you would be in for a rude awakening." The man looked deep in thought for a moment. After a few moments, he spoke again. "Alright *Medusa*, I happen to know quite a bit about Greek Mythology. Tell me, if you are who you say you are, how are you even alive? "
I bit my lip when he asked. I haven't been asked this in a while. "I don't know. One day I lost my head. The next, I was on a shield. It was all a blur from there." The man pushed his sunglasses back to his head. He gave me a sheepish look. "Well, there's only one way for me to find out if what you say is true. May I..er..touch your hair?"
I recoiled when he said this. No human has touched one of my serpents in a long time. But then...I miss the feeling of a human's touch. One of my serpents slithered onto my shoulder. I sighed. "Ok, but exercise caution as these snakes are quick to bite." I took his hand and gently placed it onto the top of my serpent's head. The snake didn't recoil at all. He wrapped himself onto the man's arm. Strange, as they don' take to strangers quickly. The man didn't seem unnerved at all. He looked quite contented.
"What did you say your name was?" I asked him. He smiled and said. "Atreus, great great great grandson of Perseus." | “Medusa, huh? Like that Greek mythology chick with the snake hair, right? That’s a pretty badass name, if I do say so myself. Better than Kelly, at least.”
A faint smile formed on the Gorgon’s lips as she adjusted the silk headscarf holding her hair, the snakes underneath wriggling at her cold touch. She continued to quietly pick at the pasta dish in front of her as Kelly continued, “Yeah, my parents clearly weren’t as imaginative as yours when I popped out. I mean, seriously. I’m pretty sure we have like eight different Kellies on my mom’s side. You’d think they could’ve picked some other basic-ass name like Sarah or Alice, but *nooooo.* Now when you yell out ‘Kelly’ at a family gathering, you got me and like a dozen other chicks whipping their heads around.”
Medusa could not help but allow a raspy giggle to escape her, eliciting a toothy grin from the milky-eyed woman sitting across from her. The Gorgon composed herself and whispered, “Do you…resent your parents for this?”
“Hmm…nah, not really. Minus that little nitpick, they did as good a job as any parent could really do. Fed me, kept a roof over my head. Probably bought me close to twenty different American Girl dolls over the course of my childhood. Hell, they supported me when I was finally out, which is more than some girls can ask for from their parents. So really, I don’t have all that much to resent them for. Guess I lucked out on the whole parent lottery deal.”
“That is wonderful to hear, Kelly,” replied Medusa softly as she took a sip of cold water. A few moments of comfortable silence passed before the former spoke up, “But enough about me, tell me about your parents. I always have this really bad habit of rambling when I meet someone new, which is probably why I don’t have much luck with this blind dating crap. So go ahead, I’m all ears!”
Medusa hesitated for a moment before whispering, “I…did not have the best relationship with my parents. They were sea-faring folk and bore many children, but…they never paid much attention to us and left us to our own devices.”
Kelly quietly contemplated the Gorgon’s soft words for a moment before replying, “Let me ask you this then. Do *you* resent your parents for that?”
“…no. It would be an understatement to say that my life has not been easy, but…perhaps the Fates willed this to be so. Had I not undergone such tribulations, I may not be sitting across from you this evening.”
Kelly blushed profusely, her boisterous bravado momentarily failing her as she stammered, “O-oh, that’s…that’s real sweet of you to say, Medusa. Thank you.”
“You are welcome, Kelly,” replied the Gorgon quietly. A few more moments of silence elapsed, broken only by the sounds of the pair’s fellow diners digging away at their plates and engaging in their own conversations. Kelly eventually spoke up, “Hey, um…this might be me moving way too quickly, but…do you wanna get out of here? Maybe get some coffee at my place? I don’t know why I’m feeling this way, but all that talk of yours about fate and such has got me feeling this sort of…connection with you, you know? Almost like we were destined to meet here together. It’s such a weird feeling and I’m probably totally creeping you out right now, b-”
“Yes, Kelly. I feel the same way. Let us go to your home,” interrupted Medusa softly, rising from her seat and gently intertwining her right hand with Kelly’s. The two women paid their bill and stepped out into the cool summer night, joyful smiles etched upon their faces like stone.
r/williamk9949 | 2020-08-27T08:02:57 | 2020-08-27T07:26:40 | 42 | 21 |
[WP] Adrenaline is an evolutionary trait specific to Earth. When alien species are tired they sleep and not even a threat to their life will wake them. Which is why the pirates that boarded your spaceship are shocked to find you've not only jumped out of bed fully alert but are fighting back! | Jackson fell to his knees, blood pouring from his broken nose.
“You were supposed to be sleeping. What is this?”
“My ship... my...” Jackson struggled, trying to get the words out.
A beep distracted the pirate leader. He addressed his companions. “My vitals suggest I need to rest very soon. We must finish this up quickly. We’ve wasted too much time already.”
The men scattered, looking for any and all valuables. The leader, KiriK went down to one knee, bringing his scaly face down to their prisoner. “Human. I never thought I’d see one in real life. So tell me, how did you do it?”
Jackson looked at him weakly. “Adrenaline.” With that he passed out.
KiriK considered his options. They could leave the human here to die. When they were done with the ship, it would hardly be operational. But he was intrigued. Adrenaline? He needed to research a bit about this. This ability seemed extremely useful. If he could somehow harness it, he would be able to rule the whole district 9.
“Sir. We’re ready to leave.”
“Take him with you.”
“Sir?”
“Do as I say.”
*****
When Jackson woke up, his first thought was that he was dreaming. This wasn’t his ship. But the pain was real. He remembered the events of his ship. He had tried to fight back but there had been too many of them.
“Ah. You’re finally awake.” KiriK entered the room where a makeshift prison had been made for him.
“My ship. What happened to it.”
“It’s floating somewhere in space. No fuel.”
“I’ll kill you.”
“I’m sure you will try. But first I must know about this adrenaline.”
Jackson stared at him. “What do you want to know?”
“I want it.”
“You want adrenaline?”
“Yes. You’re a puny fellow. Someone I can easily kill. But amazingly you caught us off guard. You were supposed to be on resting phase. How did you do it?”
“Adrenaline. It’s hell of a drug.”
“Oh. It’s a drug. Can you make some for me?”
From his experience, Jackson knew that the concept of metaphors and figuratively speaking was lost on most aliens. “I can. It’ll take some time though.”
“You have all the time in the world.”
“I’ll need some stuff. There are steps you know.”
“Give me a list. I’ll make sure my men get everything to you.” KiriK got up from his chair and looked at the human, shaking his head a little. What weird little creatures.
*****
Jackson had been carefully noticing their sleep patterns. It looked like they needed sleep every 23 hours. And only 2 hours of it. He kept sharpening the metallic piece he had. The guards looked at him curiously, but they didn’t dare ask what he was doing. Jackson told KiriK how adrenaline was a compound human body could secrete. But only a small amount at a time. And he was out of it at the moment. He would also need some tools to extract it when he was ready.
Today he was ready.
He called the guard over. “Hey. I need you to help me with this.”
As the guard came close, he stabbed the handmade shiv deep into his eye.
He chopped off the guard’s appendage, pressing it against the pad. The door opened and he got out.
The guard’s beeper had just gone off. Meaning everyone on the ship would be sleeping in roughly half an hour.
It was almost time to show KiriK and his men the other thing that made the humans so dangerous. Ever escalating thirst for revenge. | C'Xanna rode the emissions trail to their quarry. It shouted its existence to the black with a brazenness that C'Xanna had never seen before.
But this is the Uncharted Frontier, the stars beyond. The place where not even the reach of the Imperiana could extend. It was here that the scavengers were forced to ply their trade. The security within the borders of known space had gotten too steep, and even those counter-cycle could not find suitable quarry.
At first, the Uncharted Frontier looked to be meager in its pickings. C'Xanna was not a miner, and his crew would not follow a leader that could not supply targets. Even as outcasts and outlaws, they would be welcomed in some corners of the Imperiana if they gave up their trade -- so few operated during the quiet of the off-cycle. Within the many stars and the many colonies of the Imperiana, there was only one. The Vthar. C'Xanna's kind.
While they would still find their rest the same as all others, they entered the quiet when others emerged and vice versa.
It was a valuable trait to possess.
Particularly for those who sought to find glory with plasma and armor.
Still, C'Xanna was puzzled by this new target. It pulsed and thrummed with life regardless of the cycle. It was a strange thing to behold. Perhaps they had learned to mimic alertness, it was a common camouflage for a ship to pretend to possess one of C'Xanna's kind, but he would know if another of his kin had traveled this deep into the Frontier.
No.
None of the Vthar had been this far into the periphery. They were content with the platinum leash of the Imperiana. They were happy to lend their strength to the cover the weakness of others.
It sickened him, but he grown accustomed to the craven ways of his kind.
C'Xanna leaned over, placing his palm upon the head of C'Malli, his fellow Vthar and the navigator. "Ride in the wake of their signal. We will strike during the quiet time."
"But they--"
"It is a ruse. They try to trick those who walk the quiet, but they are fools. We walk the quiet. Others do not."
C'Malli flared his neck flaps in response, acknowledging the command as they increased their speed. They were unlikely to be detected, their vessel possessed superior stealth technology, but there was little harm to extra precautions.
Slowly, they closed in on the vessel. It did not give any indication that it sensed any difficulties. All was as expected.
Moments later, two large pincers pierced the hull of the vessel as the buffernose of their vessel slammed into the side of the alien vessel and began the process of cutting a hole. A great grinding sound rang out, but C'Xanna did not fear it. No sound could rouse those in the quiet. They were silent in their rest until C'Xanna and his crew made them dead.
This was their craft, and they knew it well.
A siren rang out, indicating the breach was successful. C'Xanna rubbed C'Malli atop the head a final time, "I will return once we have secured the vessel." Then C'Xanna pulled a small lever beside his seat, and a hole emerged in front of him. He slid from his chair and into the hull, depositing himself into the winding guts of their ship as he was propelled toward the buffernose. As he traveled, his armor flicked to life, and a covering wrapped around his head.
Lights flashed passed. Growing brighter and brighter, indicating that he had almost arrived at the buffernose. A flash and then he was shot forward, flying through the breach spot and hurtling toward the wall on the interior of the alien ship. He flexed his knees, pushing fluid into his joints to prepare for the impact as he collided with the wall, bouncing off and executing a neat roll before coming to his feet once more.
Ahead of him stood three other Vthar, the vanguard of the assault force. Another six would join quickly to make for a full assault team of eleven. In all of their time scavenging, they had never needed more.
As the six filtered in, C'Xanna moved forward with the other Vthar, each enclosed in their personal armor units with plasma rifles held loosely in gunhands. They were alert but unconcerned.
This was the quiet time.
Their time.
After the other six had arrived, they began to move quickly down the hallway. A bulkhead stood before them. C'Xanna motioned to R'Doual and she raised her plasma rifle in response. She flipped through the settings until a jet of pure plasma flame emitted from the nozzle. She pushed it against the bulked head, and it began to glow red and melt away the metal the aliens used.
Finally, a hole in the bulkhead appeared.
Then R'Doual staggered and fell back. Her suit's containment was breached in multiple locations, and viscous orange fluid flowed from the holes.
The bulkhead dropped.
More weapons discharged on the other end of the hallway, forcing C'Xanna to dive for cover. As he dove through the air, he managed to steal a glance down the hallway, expecting some form of automated defense.
Instead, he could only look in horror at the group of aliens staring back at him.
Quiet walkers.
The Vthar were not alone.
Others owned the silence of the cycle.
This would change the Imperiana. This would change everything.
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 2021-01-26T23:35:09 | 2021-01-26T23:29:07 | 740 | 250 |
[WP]Just because one of your chicken eggs hatched a fire breathing dragon people think you’re evil. But you’re still just a regular farmer trying to make a living while dealing with an overprotective dragon, heroes that want to kill you and fanatics who want to worship you as the new Demon Lord. | It had been 3 years since Dracona (I'm not that creative, but she seemed to still like it) was born, and we were wiping out yet another group of "brave adventurers". In reality they just wanted the glory of being able to say that they were the ones to take us out. Most people who had at least an ounce of sense in their heads knew that we didn't bother anyone unless they bothered us. But once in a while someone decided that they should take a stab at us, but they always regretted it.
In the beginning it had mostly been Dracona frying the odd lone adventurer, but over time I became quite proficient with the scythe that I had converted into a makeshift glaive. That only bolstered our reputation, attracting even more adventurers. Most could of cause be persuaded to leave us alone. I was just a lowly farmer after all. But there were those who, like those being mowed down now, wouldn't listen to reason.
This had gone from being an exhausting challenge to being more akin to removing weeds from my fields. A task that had become considerably easier by the fact that as time went on, some strange things started to happen as well. It started as a simple increase in strength and speed, as well as not being tired nearly a easily, but I soon noticed that the areas around where I had struck an opponent became charred. This power in particular had increased a lot, as evidenced by the adventurer in front of me being reduced to ash after a single strike. It had also proven useful against weeds, as I could burn through their entire root system, without damaging any of my crops.
My stream of thoughts ended as the last of the adventurers finally managed to land a hit before being reduced to ash himself (this one was surprisingly skilled), but the hit just glanced off, my hardened scaly skin (another benefit from living with a dragon), and I used his moment of confusion to finish him off.
With a pile of fresh ash at my feet I looked around, and saw Dracona crushing the last of her group in between her wary sharp jaws. Her fire breath wasn't as useful anymore, for as word of us had become more wildly known, a lot of parties of adventurers had begun including either mages that could protect against the torrents of flame, or people in armor, or wielding shields that could do the same. But mages rarely had any armor, as it somehow interfered with their magic, so they were easy to cut down, and even the most sturdy armor didn't do anything when a 4 ton dragon stepped on you.
As we were walking back to the house, we saw a couple of robed figures scrambling to get away from it. Probably some attempted cultists who had run afoul of my wife. While she had gotten a lot of the same abilities as me, she couldn't burn things with a single touch, or cut. Instead she had gotten a dragon's fearful presence, being able to instill terror in even the most hardened veteran with just a glance. When I had asked Dracona about it she had simply answered that it suited her better, and I could only agree.
When we reached the house I put down the makeshift glaive and picked up a more typical scythe and walked out into my field. It was harvest season and killing adventurers didn't bring any food to the table. | Time seemed heavier for Jenhi Farmhand.
Once upon a time, Jenhi's day consisted of feeding the chickens, tending the crops, and relaxing on the porch to watch the sun set. A visitor might come by once a week; Jenhi might have to chase off a chicken thief once a month.
But ever since Cooper had hatched, thing after thing after *thing* had started cramming itself into Jenhi's calendar. A year's worth of visits would be squashed into a day—and how could one man stand so much excitement in a mere twenty-four hours? No wonder all those would-be heroes and villains were so worked up—all of their squabbles and shouts and screams were too heavy to be dealt with in a single day. Jenhi tried to get them to relax, set down their burdens, and deal with them one day at a time—but no. Everything urgently had to happen *now, now, now*.
Well, Jenhi was sick of it. He had already spent last night packing everything he owned—spare clothes, firebox, and frying pan—into his wagon, and had spent all day quietly caging up the chickens and stowing them right next to Gomp the mule. They could keep each other company, they didn't mind each other—unlike the cultists and adventurers who had so rudely trampled his entire crop field in their fight the other day. Last came Cooper, who eyed Gomp warily before settling his snake-like, sinuous weight on Jenhi's shoulders. Way back when Cooper was no bigger than Jenhi's left shoe, he'd tried to take a chunk out of Gomp; Gomp had subsequently sent Cooper flying out the back window, and ever since then, Cooper had refused to have anything to do with the ornery old mule.
"You're just a big ol' scaredy-cat, arent'cha?" Jenhi scratched Cooper's ears idly, scanning the horizon for any more hooligans. Both sides had gone home battered and bruised after their disagreement, and Jenhi sighed with relief. Hopefully, the two of them and their drag-down squabbles would be left behind, and Jenhi could finally stretch back out.
The sun was just beginning to rise as Jenhi left the home he'd built with his husband behind. It pained him to see it go, but he'd never bothered to hold onto the memories he'd made there, anyway. Memories were heavy, too, too heavy to be dragged behind him as he clopped down the old dirt road. Jenhi shook aside the nostalgia and turned left, proceeding into a clump of tallgrass. He'd cut through the empty plains until he landed on the Great South Road.
Cooper whined nervously, nostrils flaring, and Jenhi gave him a sympathetic look. "Oh, don't mind yourself. It's not your fault. Hell, I was halfway towards leaving already—place wasn't the same without Aren around."
Cooper whimpered, more insistently this time, eyes flickering from side to side, and scampered onto Jenhi's head. Jenhi laughed. "Oh, you're hardly a bother to keep around, aren't you? Light little thing, all skin and bones? Don't worry, you're safe with m—"
"I doubt it was *his* safety he was worried about," a voice said.
Jenhi tensed—then sighed, turning around. A woman wearing a camouflage cape rose from the grass, a loaded crossbow in each hand. Jenhi gave them an unamused look, then said, "Young lady, put those things down."
She scowled. "Whatever compulsion magic you think you're using, my faith in the Divine shields me from it, *sorcerer*!"
Jenhi gave her a confused look. "...Whatever plows your field, ma'am."
"Cease your arcane mutterings. Hand over the dragon, or I shoot." The woman aimed her dual crossbows at Jenhi. He sighed.
"When you've lived a life as long as I have, and seen as many things as me, you see Death as more of an... old friend, than anything else. Your weapons don't scare me. Why don't we just sit down and talk about this over a—"
"*Necromancer*! You dare tamper with the forces of life and death?" The woman bristled.
Jenhi blinked. "Wait, no, that wasn't—"
"Make peace with whatever foul gods you worship!"
Cooper lunged in front of Jenhi as the woman fired.
One bolt took the juvenile dragon through the head.
The other took the old, resolute farmer in the heart.
Jenhi stared down at his chest, uncomprehending.
"Oh." He laughed. Silly old Jenhi. Thinking he could catch a break for once in his life. He almost thought he could hear Aren, scolding him for his complacency. "So that's how it is."
Then he fell over, and time became light once more.
A.N.
Suggestions? Comments? Typos? Please leave them on this comment's sister post at [r/bubblewriters](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/); and if you want more stories like this, try giving the rest of [r/bubblewriters](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/) a peek. | 2021-03-21T14:12:00 | 2021-03-21T13:42:50 | 180 | 61 |
[WP] The superheroes and supervillains are angry with you because you help them both but they can't kill you because you're too valuable. You remind them, "look, I'm a doctor with healing powers following the medical code, it doesn't matter who my patients are! Stop whining about it!" | I would say that the hardest part of my job is saving lives.
Namely, saving heroes and villains from killing each other in my spotless hospital rooms the moment they wake up.
"Why am I in the same room as this creep?" said the Liberty Lancer, or better known as Rachel Weiss while in hospital clothes.
The creep, in today's instance, is Kage--Brooklyn Lee.
"And I categorically refuse to be in the same room as this piece of--"
I opened the room door, then, and my nurse, Bryan, looked at me with an all-too-familiar expression: a cocktail mix of "the same old shit again," and "oh my god, I can finally get out of here."
Brooklyn and Rachel turned their eyes on me then, and their shouting match became muted instantly.
"Is there a problem?" I said, as Bryan sneakily backed away into the hallway, before turning into a full sprint to, presumably, the break room.
"Doc," Rachel began her protest in earnest. "Kage and I don't mix. You know that."
In a rare show of agreement, Brooklyn nodded.
"You mix because we don't have enough room," I said, crossing my arms. I found that it helped make me more imposing, though I'm not sure if it made my words more convincing. Evidently not, because Kage was quick to speak up.
"Doctor," Brooklyn said. "Please, I implore you to reconsider your stance. Separating us is simply better for the long run."
"Honestly, I don't need people who destroy the city on a regular basis to tell me what's better for the long run," I said.
The two pointed at each other accusingly, as if the two--whether it's ideology or for the side they are fighting for--weren't equally responsible for turning buildings into rubble. Incidentally, it's why I pay through the nose for insurance. But I suppose the respective leagues are also paying through the nose for *me* to be their insurance.
"But I'm sure the West Lake Virtuous League has enough for me to be in a private ward," sulked Rachel.
"As do the Evil Eight," Brooklyn lifted his head up pompously.
"Sure," I said. "Lancer, would you like to ask the Dark Queen for her bed?"
At one of the city's foremost villainess' name, Rachel's sulk deepened even further, but no more words came out.
"And Kage," I said. "What about you? Fancy being smote while checking in with the Paladin?"
The city's Superman shut Brooklyn up quickly.
"That's what I thought," I smiled as professionally as I could, before bowing and backing out of the room. "And remember--your life is in our hands."
---
r/dexdrafts | Where is the new patient?"
I asked my nurse.
"Right her, Doctor."
She said, leading me to a young man, who had 2 limbs missing, and was bandaged all over just like a mummy.
I sighed.
"One of you again?"
I asked, while starting to treat the man.
"Yes, Doctor, it was those "heroes", look at the state they left me in!"
The young man shouted.
Before I could say anything, the curtains to the right of the bed opened, and a young lady appeared, clearly still being weak.
"You evil spawns killed an entire city! What did you expect? That we would go easy on you?!"
She shouted.
Before things could get rowdy, I threw a needle toward the young lady, sealing her voice.
"Silence, regrowing limbs isn't easy."
I said.
After treating the young man, I still had several patients to take care off, before leaving work.
"Alliance of the Shadows, and Beacons of Light, hah, naive kids."
I thought to myself while driving to my home, where my beautiful wife, and three kids were waiting for me."
Arriving home, I kissed my wife, who had a weird look.
"Honey...You've got a summon."
She said.
I sighed.
"To the United Super Humans parliament?
I asked, massaging my temples.
She just nodded.
We had a wonderful evening, the dinner was delicious, sadly, tomorrow will be a tiring day.
Next day, at 8:00 AM, I was standing in a humongous hall, where the superhumans held their meetings.
Regardless if one was neutral, a hero, or a supervillain, they were allowed to attend these meetings, while gaining immunity during their stay.
Needless to say, violence and superpowers weren't allowed in the Parliament, and nobody was stupid to disobey, as it would mean becoming the enemy of every single superhuman.
I stood there, at the front of the hall, being interrogated by the representative of heroes, supervillain, while in the audience there were plenty members of both groups, as well as neutral individuals as well.
​
"Adam Ingtem, also known as The Doctor, you are here because society deems it dangerous for you to be playing for both sides."
The representative of the heroes said.
"Indeed, you smartass think that healing these heroes will go unpunished by us?"
The representative of the supervillains said.
The two locked gazes, and sparks could be seen, literally.
"Kids, are you done with the staring contest?
I have patients to heal."
I said.
​
"This is the problem, you have to choose one side, or none, but you can't help both of the groups."
Said the heroes representative, and by a miracle, the villains representative nodded in agreement.
"I am a doctor, and I have healing abilities that are almost god-like.
Saving lives is what I swore to do, human, alien, monster, hero, supervillain or rogue, I don't care.
A life is a life, end of discussion."
I said, turning around and leaving.
"Y-y-you! You there to ignore the Parliament?"
The heroes representative asked, his finger shaking while pointing at me.
"876993."
I said, without turning back.
"What's that?"
The supervillains representative asked.
"That's the number of people I saved from certain death. Just those that were already dying, figure it out yourself what's the full statistics of my successful treatments.
Feel free to try and make a move against me, or my movie, I've already made several contingency plans, and precautionary measures. "
I said, leaving.
​
That day, I still had to save the life of 2 individuals.
It was a good day, as I succeeded saving them both, gaining two more coins.
​
I arrived home, and put the 2 coins, in a huge, 20 meter long, five meter wide chest, that was almost completely filled with coins.
One of my daughters was also down in the basement, where I had the chest.
"Daddy, what are these coins for, they all look different, and have autographs on them?"
She asked.
I ruffled her hair.
"It's just some insurance."
I said, chuckling. | 2021-08-01T11:11:47 | 2021-08-01T09:12:56 | 650 | 225 |
[WP] You're pretty sure that the gas station you work at is a hotspot for eldritch beings beyond mortal understanding but this job doesn't pay enough for you to care. Also they are more polite than your average customer. | \[Poem\]
And as the walls did warp and sway
When I attended work that day
Those that I could not comprehend
Who caused reality to bend
Paid for their drinks, paid for their gas
They paid with cards, they paid with cash
I could not move, I could not stray
Upon my ground I stood, that day
No courage here
Nor was it fear
That anchored me, kept my head clear
But apathy
So sweet to me
Was all I had (as all could see)
For who would care, for little pay
To stand around and work all day?
For when the void does come to call
To warp you to a mindless thrall
Trust not in valor, strength of mind
Faith will fail, I'm sure you'll find
Meet not your foe with mental force
But change direction- change your course
Does reality to madness kneel?
Just ask yourself: "Now, do I feel
Like fighting madness, dread, and terror?"
I tell you no- t'would be great error
When the laws of physics start to fray
Just shrug your shoulders, mumble
"...okay." | “-and you just… drink it?” The man across the counter asked, shaking the Gatorade curiously. I rolled my eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh before speaking.
“Yeah, I mean, my roommate used to mix it with vodka but he was kinda an alcoholic.” The man turned the bottle upside down and watched the bubbles float to the bottom. “I personally thought it was nasty but to each their own I guess.”
“Vodka…” he said, as if pondering the word itself. “This is alcohol then!.” He exclaimed proudly, thrusting the bottle above his head. I closed my eyes; contemplating my very existence.
“Yep. Gatorade is alcohol.” I finally spat out, finished with the conversation. “That’ll be $2.14 after tax.” I stuck out my hand as he let out an excited squeal.
“Thank you for being so patient with me” he said, a huge smile plastered across his face. “Most of your kind are very rude.” He reached into his trench coats pocket and pulled out a wad of singles. “You may keep the *change*” he said, emphasizing the last word with an even bigger smile. Our fingers grazed as he slapped the wad into my palm, and thick black smoke floated through the air above them. “Have a good one… *bro* he said before waddling out of the door, his footsteps shaking the whole building. I put two dollars into the register and crammed the rest into my pocket.
Although I had just recently moved to Dunwich, I could tell the people here were different. It seemed like every day I’d have someone new asking tons of questions about very self-explanatory products. I once saw a woman eat a pack of cigarettes whole but she gave me an extra $20 so I didn’t say anything. I honestly couldn’t tell if the problem was inbreeding or something more sinister. The bell above the door rang and tore my attention from my inner dialogue.
An incredibly large man in a Snuggie stood blocking the doorway, his void-black eyes stabbing daggers through mine.
“R’lyeh” he whispered venomously, his voice sounding like a thousand at once.
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, my patience already thin.
“R’LYEH!?” He exclaimed angrily, the shape of the Snuggie shifting wildly.
“I really don’t know sir, maybe check t-“ I started before getting cut off.
“PH’NGLUI MGLW’NAFH CTHULHU R’LYEH WGAH’NAGL FHTAGN!” The man roared.
“Okay, DICK!” I began. “Do you think I want to be here? I don’t. I just work here, ASSHOLE.” I strode around the counter and shoved the man out through the doors. “If you can’t be respectful, then you can’t shop here. Go down the road to Marathon, maybe they’ll deal with your shit.” The man let out a wet snarl before clumsily shuffling away down the sidewalk.
I don’t get paid enough for this shit. | 2021-12-14T00:45:21 | 2021-12-14T00:14:49 | 34 | 25 |
[WP] All souls in Hell are given the same test upon arrival. If they can create a punishment worthy of being added to the Pit, they get to ascend to demonhood on the spot. You are the first to succeed in 200 years...
[deleted] | "Democracy."
The demon Adjudicator, a green-skinned multi-gutted blob with the unfortunate name of Kikmahbutte, frowned. "There is no Democracy in Hell." Using a claw to pick at one of his three nostrils, he leaned forward and gestured with a crusty chin for me to continue. "Explain yourself, soul."
I'd only been down here for a week or maybe a fortnight, you know, taking in the sights, burning in the fires, that kind of thing. It was a passing Thraxon who paused its lashing of my scorched epidermis to scratch at what I presumed was its posterior for long enough for me to ask how a soul could get a promotion. After we had a good laugh (okay, so it laughed and I suppressed the continual screams of agony), it actually gave reply. "Invent new torment. If stupendously original, a soul may join our ranks. Fail and my whips will seem like a lover's kiss in comparison to what will happen next."
I hadn't hesitated. "Well heck. Sign me up."
With a shrug of its five shoulders I'd been lifted clear of the lava and chucked through a summoned portal. The adjudicator hadn't even flinched when my face smacked the marble floor before his raised dais and its overly-cushioned chair.
Pausing only to cough some charcoal from the lungs I answered the Adjudicator and took my shot. "It's simple, really. You've got what, Feudalism? That's no torture at all. Everyone knows where one stands with that kind of system. Shit rolls downhill, no chance to climb, none of that. What you need is a system that builds up hope...and then crushes it."
The blob shifted against the chair's velvet padding. "Say more."
"You've got to get them to believe they have meaningful choices. Set up two parties, and every ten to twenty years hold elections for who is in charge of which level. In the time in between have one party pander to say those who are being tormented with starvation. Promise them they'll starve less. Have the other party pander to those being burned alive, promise them relief and some ointment. That kind of thing. Mix and match."
"And then what? Actually give them a vote?" The Adjudicator leaned back and to the side.
I ignored the cloud that was produced as a byproduct and pressed forward. "Sure! But you guys set up the parties, you guys 'nominate' the candidates, and at the same time you turn the current feudal ranks into bureaucratic appointments. Give them the real power to regulate and control things, let the elected leaders be useless figureheads. Oh sure, let them deliver on some small promises to keep it interesting but - and here's the fun part - make it so for every promise they keep, it causes something even worse to happen to the other party's followers! Within a few decades the souls who voted one way will DESPISE those who voted for the other, even while in reality nothing ever meaningfully changed. With each election half of the souls will despair as their hopes get crushed, and it will continuously increase their hatred - which I can tell you guys sip like it was nectar - and then it's set up to do it again over and over in perpetuity!"
"Interesting." With that grumble, I knew I had him.
"I've saved the best for last," I added. "At the lower levels, let souls run for the seats. Fill their egos with false power and watch them lord it over everyone else."
The demon grunted. "That sounds like reward, not punishment."
I shook my head. "Have the bureaucrats control the vote counting. Right as any jerk feels invincible, toss 'em out and demote them to the lowest pit. The worst torment is to have once tasted power and lost it, it'll drive them insane for eternity."
The Adjudicator's eyes widened and he sharply looked around before making hushing me with a claw over its lips. "Shh! Don't say such things, a fallen angel might hear!"
With a dark grin I said, "Fine, fine...but you know I'm right."
Nodding with growing appreciation, he asked one last question. "Tell me, soul - what were you in life that you would devise such exquisite torment? This is brilliant and you shall indeed be granted demonhood to join our ranks!"
Chuckling to myself, I told him. "Me? Nothing much. I was merely a campaign consultant. But wait until I tell you about lobbyists..." | I awake after falling out of my body into a dark pit were I quickly lost consciousness. I know I wasn’t the best person ever. In retrospect I was kind of a dick. I made people mad on purpose and spent my time on the internet being the antagonist of all the sides.
However when I awoke I was on a stone ground it was Jagged and it felt like a sauna without the steam. I saw before me a red humanoid figure. Their eyes glowed red and they had two massive horns protruding from their temples. It asked me “lowly human you have been given a chance to escape torture knowing full well you have dammed many to the fate you design.” Confused and at a loss from words I simply ask “what?” The demon then elaborated “As expected you have no Idea what I am talking about. Every human that has ever died and been sent to hell can design a torture for many evil soul’s eternity. If I like it as the current on duty rank 2 demon I can differentiate between a good and bad torture. I even run a small section of hell under a rank 3 demon of course, who intern works for a rank 2 demon all the way up to rank 10 who is known by you humans by satan. If you pass you can become a low level rank 1 demon running just your single torture. If this reality comes to pass as the liquid agony comes through you can send it up to increase your own power or consume it to gain its strength. It’s about balance really if you don’t eat it as a demon you’ll be dispersed into the world and reincarnated into who knows what. But as you get stronger you can fight your neighbors to gain the liquid agony rights from their land and you’ll take a cut of their gained power. And if you think you can challenge me at any point as the demon that will be overseeing your area you can very well fight me and if you win you get a cut from my entire territory while I am pushed back to my starting spot. If this future will come to pass you must also know you are given a month long period to farm as much agony as possible where none of it is syphoned off. In this month it is impossible for other demons to even think of trying to claim your territory. However if you go to fight before your grace period is up it’ll end prematurely. Demons also nor living things secret agony so no point in mentally torturing them. There is more but that is for after you become a rank 2 demon. And the conditions for advancement is for a person who has reached demonhood. However if you fail to make a good torture you will be given to to the weakest demon in my territory and they will use you for their liquid agony.” “Okay sounds easy enough.” “Oh you say that but no soul has passed in 200 years. Here are the rules: if your torture is anywhere in all of hell then it’s an instant fail. If your torture won’t produce more than one cup of agony in single day it is a fail. If for any reason I don’t like it unless overruled by a higher ranking demon that happened to walk by at that moment which is very rare then you fail. You get as much time as you need you can even construct your torture and see it’s predicted output just by visualizing it.”
I thought about this for many hours. I looked at a bunch of things like pure nothingness no stimulation at all and the prediction graph was good but the average was way to low with its one massive spike in the middle. I then experimented with dementia and a reality effectively warps around it. But the randomness of it was no good either. My last idea however was glorious. It was an empty room with only one thing a small floating tablet. This tablet controlled the room and allowed the person to add things or “upgrade” their room. However nothing works properly when added and you never have enough coins to buy the upgrade to make it do so. But I quickly scraped it as simply buying a bunch of small things for a high price over time led to a loop hole that got your things fixed. Then I had an idea they are forced to be the victim of their every crime ten fold in various stages and they can never get justice in fact trying to fight back will make it worse. Abuse doers (tell me how to spell the correct word correctly) are abused in the same way they abused anyone in any form, Extorters are extorted and threatened with torture beyond belief while working to barely have enough to feed themselves anyway, Bullies are bullied, and the punishment is multiplied another tenfold if they committed their crimes against people who were un able to live by themselves. I also added another contingency that if they got into whatever happened they were to be given a new punishment and it will cycle around however all the souls will be manipulated to feel everything slightly more and have almost no plasticity or sense of pleasure. Plus the chart was high all the time.
When I turned in my work I looked at the second ranked demon with my fingers crossed and I watched as a wave of horror flash over is face, then an evil grin. “ HAHA you amaze me. You pass never in all my existence have I EVER seen a torture that _almost_ made me feel pity. You pass.”
I could feel the relief leave my body as my muscles loosened so much it’s like I was told I won a government run lottery that dealt with all my problems for forever including a 100% tax break. The second rank demon looked at me and told me a few more things. “You are not restricted to your post in fact there are many many places that suit your comfort. These are usually run by high ranked demons who’s torture gets them lots of agony but they hardly increase in strength. The common currency is liquid agony and this gets you anything you can imagine no matter how sickening. Also you rise a demon rank when you manage to defeat any demon that over sees you.” “Wait one question why did you tell me about a bunch of stuff that would only be helpful after I passed anyway? To give you that bit of hope, usually getting out of an eternity in hell is enough incentive but this bit of hope to be snatched away along with the chance to get strong and be in power also does _wonders_ for our numbers.”
And that’s how I started my life on the path to rank 10 to become the next satan.
Some notes: if a rank 1 demon fights and wins against another rank 1 demon they do not become rank 2 just that other demon gets even less liquid agony.
Also tell me of any mistakes I made
Also also if this gets 420 updoots I will literally make a part two. | 2021-12-22T17:07:26 | 2021-12-22T16:53:51 | 864 | 27 |
[WP] All souls in Hell are given the same test upon arrival. If they can create a punishment worthy of being added to the Pit, they get to ascend to demonhood on the spot. You are the first to succeed in 200 years...
[deleted] | "Well?"
I looked up at the demon, all twelve feet of him... which put my eyes level with his crotch so looking up was a better option.
"Gimme a minute... "
"Ya got thirty seconds, lets see if you can come up with an idea worthy of Hells punishments, or it's down in the pit with the common lot for you!"
The demon sounded like my old manager.... and like that, I had it. An Idea.. a wonderous, marvellous **evil** idea...
"Ok... you ever worked retail?"
"Huh... no..Been a demon all my existence. But I've heard of it though."
"Right, right... ok. Just to check. It wasn't anything to do with you guys influencing people was it? Like, oh... the Spanish Inquisition?"
The demon winced, shaking his head.
"Yeah, no. And I'm getting kinda sick of us being blamed for that too.. that and lawyers. Nuffin to do with us guv!"
I have to admit, I blinked...that was unexpected. Shaking my head I ploughed on.
"Ok.. here's the idea... Call it Hell-mart... you have the damned working as 'associates'... you'll have to call in some actual managers to get it right, but I dare say there's a few around here."
The demon swelled up, and roared.
"**THAT'S** your idea? A mortal shop? Where's the terror, the agony the ..."
"Soul crushing tedium, the slow grinding down of every last shred of your humanity as you watch the endless parade of disgusting moronic low-life scum trapsing their vile carcusses across your till until you're a seething cauldron of hate and loathing..and.."
The demon looked me in the eyes, the whites plainly visible around his slitted pupils. At that point I realised I had him by the horns and had pulled his head down to my level, spraying spittle in his face... Letting go I dusted the tips of his horns as he straightened up.
"Ah... sorry. Still have a few.. issues... you know?"
"Yeah, man... I could see. You know that business about the eyes being the window of the soul? Kinda true here. Listen...um.. I dunno, we could give it a go, maybe? But could you maybe.. give it a bit more Oomph? Maybe do something to make it more evil?"
I laughed, hollowly, and maybe for a bit too long. I stopped as I noticed the demon was backing away, and looking nervous like only a twelve foot high, goat headed minion of Satan can.
"Oh.. you want it more *evil* do you? Ok, try this.. every other monday is coupon day.. and Black Friday is once a month. Get some of the demonesses to study what are called Karens, uh, I'll explain that in a bit... oh and you're going to need a team of imps dedicated to rearranging stuff on the shelves... Oh and get this, we can tell the other damned souls that if they find
the super secret promotional item, They get out of Hell-mart. except they can't, it's an endless maze with no exit... "
I was dead, so technically I couldn't run out of breath, but I guess force of habit caught up with me. As I inhaled I notice the demon was backed up against a rock, and visibly pale and sweating. I guess he'd seen in my eyes, or memories or whatever, to get what i was talking about...
"So... what do you think? Give me a day or two and i can work up a full proposal and a powerpoint for whoever's boss around here?"
"Uhh.. yeah. nope, that won't be necessary. You win! I mean.. ok look. I'll have a word with Lower downs, the powers that be... the boss. But... consider yourself in charge of Hell's newest level. And um... listen, if you need someone to talk to, we've got some surprisingly good therapists you know. Call it a staff perk if you like..."
I shook my head.
"Nah, I'm ok. Nothing a little reverse retail therapy won't cure, so to speak. Oh, just one thing though. Let me get it all set up right and running and then there's a former manager of mine I'm just *dying* to meet... I'm sure you guys can arrange his *termination* a bit early for me, right? As long as I get first dibs on his soul, we're good." | I awake after falling out of my body into a dark pit were I quickly lost consciousness. I know I wasn’t the best person ever. In retrospect I was kind of a dick. I made people mad on purpose and spent my time on the internet being the antagonist of all the sides.
However when I awoke I was on a stone ground it was Jagged and it felt like a sauna without the steam. I saw before me a red humanoid figure. Their eyes glowed red and they had two massive horns protruding from their temples. It asked me “lowly human you have been given a chance to escape torture knowing full well you have dammed many to the fate you design.” Confused and at a loss from words I simply ask “what?” The demon then elaborated “As expected you have no Idea what I am talking about. Every human that has ever died and been sent to hell can design a torture for many evil soul’s eternity. If I like it as the current on duty rank 2 demon I can differentiate between a good and bad torture. I even run a small section of hell under a rank 3 demon of course, who intern works for a rank 2 demon all the way up to rank 10 who is known by you humans by satan. If you pass you can become a low level rank 1 demon running just your single torture. If this reality comes to pass as the liquid agony comes through you can send it up to increase your own power or consume it to gain its strength. It’s about balance really if you don’t eat it as a demon you’ll be dispersed into the world and reincarnated into who knows what. But as you get stronger you can fight your neighbors to gain the liquid agony rights from their land and you’ll take a cut of their gained power. And if you think you can challenge me at any point as the demon that will be overseeing your area you can very well fight me and if you win you get a cut from my entire territory while I am pushed back to my starting spot. If this future will come to pass you must also know you are given a month long period to farm as much agony as possible where none of it is syphoned off. In this month it is impossible for other demons to even think of trying to claim your territory. However if you go to fight before your grace period is up it’ll end prematurely. Demons also nor living things secret agony so no point in mentally torturing them. There is more but that is for after you become a rank 2 demon. And the conditions for advancement is for a person who has reached demonhood. However if you fail to make a good torture you will be given to to the weakest demon in my territory and they will use you for their liquid agony.” “Okay sounds easy enough.” “Oh you say that but no soul has passed in 200 years. Here are the rules: if your torture is anywhere in all of hell then it’s an instant fail. If your torture won’t produce more than one cup of agony in single day it is a fail. If for any reason I don’t like it unless overruled by a higher ranking demon that happened to walk by at that moment which is very rare then you fail. You get as much time as you need you can even construct your torture and see it’s predicted output just by visualizing it.”
I thought about this for many hours. I looked at a bunch of things like pure nothingness no stimulation at all and the prediction graph was good but the average was way to low with its one massive spike in the middle. I then experimented with dementia and a reality effectively warps around it. But the randomness of it was no good either. My last idea however was glorious. It was an empty room with only one thing a small floating tablet. This tablet controlled the room and allowed the person to add things or “upgrade” their room. However nothing works properly when added and you never have enough coins to buy the upgrade to make it do so. But I quickly scraped it as simply buying a bunch of small things for a high price over time led to a loop hole that got your things fixed. Then I had an idea they are forced to be the victim of their every crime ten fold in various stages and they can never get justice in fact trying to fight back will make it worse. Abuse doers (tell me how to spell the correct word correctly) are abused in the same way they abused anyone in any form, Extorters are extorted and threatened with torture beyond belief while working to barely have enough to feed themselves anyway, Bullies are bullied, and the punishment is multiplied another tenfold if they committed their crimes against people who were un able to live by themselves. I also added another contingency that if they got into whatever happened they were to be given a new punishment and it will cycle around however all the souls will be manipulated to feel everything slightly more and have almost no plasticity or sense of pleasure. Plus the chart was high all the time.
When I turned in my work I looked at the second ranked demon with my fingers crossed and I watched as a wave of horror flash over is face, then an evil grin. “ HAHA you amaze me. You pass never in all my existence have I EVER seen a torture that _almost_ made me feel pity. You pass.”
I could feel the relief leave my body as my muscles loosened so much it’s like I was told I won a government run lottery that dealt with all my problems for forever including a 100% tax break. The second rank demon looked at me and told me a few more things. “You are not restricted to your post in fact there are many many places that suit your comfort. These are usually run by high ranked demons who’s torture gets them lots of agony but they hardly increase in strength. The common currency is liquid agony and this gets you anything you can imagine no matter how sickening. Also you rise a demon rank when you manage to defeat any demon that over sees you.” “Wait one question why did you tell me about a bunch of stuff that would only be helpful after I passed anyway? To give you that bit of hope, usually getting out of an eternity in hell is enough incentive but this bit of hope to be snatched away along with the chance to get strong and be in power also does _wonders_ for our numbers.”
And that’s how I started my life on the path to rank 10 to become the next satan.
Some notes: if a rank 1 demon fights and wins against another rank 1 demon they do not become rank 2 just that other demon gets even less liquid agony.
Also tell me of any mistakes I made
Also also if this gets 420 updoots I will literally make a part two. | 2021-12-22T18:04:30 | 2021-12-22T16:53:51 | 242 | 27 |
[WP] You are the weakest member of a famous superheros family. Villains kidnapped you for a ransom, unfortunately hostage situations don't work when your family is already neglecting you... | “You kidnapped me? Hahaha! I haven’t spoken to the “family” in years.”
“You’re there son! You’ve got to still be worth something.”
“Call them.”
The villain Injustice held the phone up to Adams face. It unlocked. He scrolled down to dad and pressed call. Straight to voicemail. He tried mom, sis, both didn’t even ring.”
“They blocked you? Why?”
“Couldn’t live up to there expectations. I’m the only one without powers.”
“That’s no reason to abandon your child.
“Is to them. This whole ransom thing isn’t going to work. They don’t care if I’m alive or dead. Call them from your phone if you don’t believe me.
Injustice pulled out an untraceable burner phone and dialed the number.
“Hello? Who is this?” Mr perfect answered.
“It’s injustice- I’ve got your kid.”
“You better not harm one hair on her head or…”
Injustice interrupted “you’re other kid, Adam.”
He heard a giggle in relief. “Oh you kidnapped Adam. Thank god. You can keep him.”
“What?”
“We haven’t spoken in years.”
“I’m going to torture him, and kill him if you don’t drop off 100 million dollars.”
“Wouldn’t give you a 100 dollars. I’m not even sure the kids mine, I’ve got blue eyes, his mom has blue eyes, boom adam has brown eyes…and no powers.”
Injustice whispered “You’ve got a very toxic family situation going on.” He punched Adam in the face causing him to let out a scream. “Help me dad.”
Mr Perfect chuckled. “Still haven’t learned to take care of your self. Injustice go easy on the boy, he’s a normie.”
“Nothing normal about being your son.” Adam fiddled with the rope tying his hands together.
Injustice let out a sigh. “I’ll call you back with my demands in an hour.”
Adam grunted “told you.”
“Who should we call now? Mom or sis?”
“Injustice I have a different plan. Why don’t I tell you everything I know about mr perfect weaknesses, and we work together on this.”
“Your father is invincible..”
“My father is a narcissist, who Cares more about public opinion than anything. Why don’t I give you the name of his secret child from an affair, he hid all those years ago.”
“What’s the child’s name?”
“Ryan Kollach.”
Invincible took off his mask, his blue eyes shined fiercely with rage.
“Christmas is going to get real awkward this year. Brother.” Adam laughed | So, imagine you're some medieval peasant going up against a knight. Dude has a huge fuck-off sword and enough plate to be a walking tank. Hell, in those days they may as well have been. And you have to kill him. What do you do?
I say go for the joints. You can't go through the armour, and the sword will cleave you. But get close enough and you can stick a knife into an armpit or in the back of the knee. Dude goes down. You stick him in the eye. And then piss on his corpse.
Why do I mention this? Simple: that was the plan. The peasant: The White Horseman. The Knight: My family. The weak point: me. Brilliant plan if you don't ask me.
...Yeah, I ought t' back up a bit here. See, my brother, sisters and parents are heroes. Celebrity heroes. Fuck, I must be allergic to that word. Anyway, the lot of them have superpowers that are run-of-the-mill shit that you can read in any bit of fiction that exists. Hell, you can't sneeze without hitting a comic or tv show about a 'flying brick'. Like dad.
Now for the black sheep. I exist. But I may as well not for all intents and purposes, and that suits me just fine. I absolutely hate the spotlight, it's garish, vile. Plus I'm the weakest of the lost when it comes to powers. That helps.
...Yeah, I ought to get on why I'm here. See, Y'know that plague doc, White Horseman? Thought that kidnapping me would give him leverage against Tempest at least. That's the youngest, by the by. She's ten. She's actually a decent kid, all said and done, and that's the best I can say about my family.
Oh, have I mentioned it's been a week now and that no fucker turned up AT ALL\*?!\* Yeah, Tempest needs a consenting adu- shit that sounds wrong. But yeah, she can't go off on her own, and Heartstone sure as shit doesn't care.
...third oldest. Second youngest? Hearty's first, anyway, I'm in the middle.
But, err, yeah. They sure as shit either can't or won't break me out. My parents... kinda suck, to be honest. I think all the prestige went to their heads or something. So when I didn't manifest anything useful, they kinda just shoved me to the side. Oh, no, they fed me and stuff, but that does not a parent make. Anyone can feed or potty train or educate. But it takes more than that to be a parent. No love from them. And I am not. OBLIGATED... to show them any either.
...Do you know where the dead go?
...Sorry, just trying to speedrun this shit, I am getting very, very pissed off with every fucking memory of them demanding what they will never! Deserve! And...
...I never did tell you my power, did I? Dad is a Superman wannabe. Heartstone manipulates a sort of ethereal heat, that can burn or comfort. Tempest... is obvious really. As for me, it's... weird. See, there's a 'fourth dimension'. No, I'm not sure how accurate this is, no one does, bear with me. Basically it's like if a two-D character moved in a three-D plane.
...Actually, I'm just going to be shit at explaining how it works, but basically there's not one reality, but a few. And I can move between them. You think it's just the two of us here. It isn't. There's about three other people from another plane over there-ish, a Jabberwock two feet from them, and- yes, I know. I know. But it's... all these planes?
They're all in one place. They are all occupying the same space, yet are completely separate. You and I? On one plane. Those three on another, the Jabberwock, another, so on, so forth.
I can jump from one plane to another.
...You don't believe me?! HAH! Pahahaha! Mater Maria...!
I'm leaving.
And you're coming with me, *brother*. | 2022-02-14T02:57:15 | 2022-02-14T00:21:21 | 50 | 29 |
[WP] Humanity has been issued a challenge. Either an all out invasion by the alien fleet or unarmed single combat by champion. While reading the rules a lawyer noticed that it doesn't say that Earth's champion has to be a human. Just a living resident of the planet. | Zeta had been studying humanity's history; Z had no gender and still had problems comprehending it, yet found that all humans were capable of combat.
Z started with the the stories of old like David and Goliath, read Earth's primitive books about the Spartans and Knights.
Zeta even watched documentaries of every war that humans had waged, including the only one they had lost to a nonhuman species, *The Great Emu War* which was also on Earth, and that was only one lost because the humans didn't want to lose their war-waging supplies.
Z stayed up every night for several rotations studying every weapon imaginable; Z developed techniques for dodging bullets, countering blade with blade (for humans seemed to deem melee combat far more honorable, and Zeta would respect that), and even practiced a form of martial arts not native to Z's people.
Then, the day came. The colosseum was filled, and everyone was cheering; Zeta's smile lit up the stadium like the bright lights that reflected off of Z's glittering skin. Everything was going as planned, but when the gate lifted, Z's star filled eyes shot wide open *in horror*.
Nothing could have prepared this alien for the thundering foot steps, the massive natural... *weapons* on its face; the last thing that poor denizen heard was the sound, that *awful* sound that creature let out which after, an eerie silence followed and temporarily trampled over the stunned crowd.
Before their sheer terror, before their own screams at watching their champion come face to face with Earth's chosen creature.
Zeta knew the fear that the Romans felt; Z had not studied the Persians enough, had not realized the dangers that Gladiators had faced, and despite all of the preparation, were sadly not ready for the challenge. Reading about it, but not studying it, did nothing for Zeta, and Z even wondered if studying *would* have even mattered when Z's eyes flashed before their eyes, moments before the charge.
And the way it paraded Zeta's mangled body around the stadium, the way it stomped in triumph, before its human called it back, before it simply ate... *leaves?*
The crowd watched in shocked realization as Earth's gargantuan champion, with *spears* for a face, turned out to simply be a herbivore, who did all of this for *treats*.
And then their shock again when its apeish friend simply scratched underneath the massive appendage on its face.
When accusations of its alien origin came, the proof was presented of this documented species. It was even harder to believe that it was simply a wild creature, usually docile, but one that had been used in human warfare for thousands of years.
That's when they learned the name that had ended their champion, the thing that brought hundreds of years of victory to an abrupt end.
This is when they met *The Elephant*. | One of the advantages to the universal translators was you could just speak in your own language and the words were translated into the language of the receiver. This was very useful for humans who just referred to alien species by whatever title those who made first contact decided to call them. Since it was a mining colony who made first contact, well, if mass murder followed by horrific mechanised retribution can be considered first contact, they got to name them so they are officially called 'Krabby bastards', or Krabbys for short. As you might guess,they are a crustacean like species with an exoskeleton and sharp pincers somewhat like a 6 foot tall bipedal earth crab who lives out of water. The tips of their 4 hind legs are sharp spikes and their claws can cut through flesh with ease. They have 4 mandibles which are like a childs arm in lengh on their face that they use for eating but also for manipulating things, building, controlling their ships etc. Basically their opposable thumbs advantage.They are carnivorous and have been known to devour their enemy's whilst in combat which makes them truly the stuff of nightmares to most of the species in the known galaxy.
As the war between the two species raged on the Krabbys were constantly aggrieved by the fact that they knew they were far superior warriors than the humans but the humans had found effective ways to defeat them. For eample a human mining ship with a full cargo hold of mining exosuits with built in impact hammers and plasma torchs would tear an entire Krabby ship and all its occupants to pieces with ease. Incursions into colonies of unprepared humans by krabby forces were bloodbaths.
So the tournament, to be broadcast to all of the known worlds, was proposed by the Krabbys as a final once and for all establishing of who is the greatest warrior species. An arena dome was constructed on a uninhabited planet in neutral territory and a date was agreed to conduct the battle on the arena sands, a historic conincidence that interestingly both humans and Krabbys shared.
Krabbys seemingly don't have lawyers as the terms of engagement was reduculously vague,even talking into consideration th established limitations of universal translation. You can't use technicalities of wording like in a human contract so there is a certain art to establishing the spirit of the contract and the requirements to act within those. To cut a long story short, the Krabbys made the error of saying the battle was to be between the greatest champions of the two species homeworld, not Krabby vs Human. They also specifically stated that the combat was to be unarmed, as in no weapons, but not unarmoured.
On the Krabby homeword they are the only major predatory or aggressive species having wiped out all others who would possibly have challenged them. Earth on the other hand was a very very different story. After first contact and the introduction of universal translators, jump drives and all the other leaps in technology that shot humans right into the middle of an previously unknown own galactic community of space faring species, the human understanding that animals were dumb and beneath us in some way was completly shattered. In a real life Dr Dolittle it was found that we can talk to the animals and what they had to say was incredible, but that's another story in itself.
Jumping back to the selection of a champion to represent earth, a virtual arena was constructed in the betaverse and there was an open tryout to defeat a simulated Krabby warrior that was constructed using all known data about their physiology, fighting styles, techniques etc all gathered and processed by AI from data retrieved from all previous encounters.
Humans, even when wearing various forms of armour, were no match for the Krabby warrior Avatar. We weren't fast enough, we weren't strong enough and no matter the martial art from Kenpo to Krav Maga to Maui Thai, our hero's of the military, martial monks and MMA were all virtually torn limb from limb. The big cats fared no better, they were faster and stronger but armour hampered them and their long torsos exposed them to the stabbing tips of the enemy's forelegs. The dogs only faught in packs and even the largest and most powerful among them was easily slain without its bretheren. Smaller warrior animals such as honeybadgers and canadian geese braveley tried out and did exceptioanlly well all things considered through sheer willpower of agressision and speed, but ultimately they were just too small and eventually fell. The bears lasted a while longer than others having huge strength, massive claws and suprising speed but they won none of their encounters. For a long while it looked like the honour of Earth rested on the backs of either an absolute unit of a silver back gorilla and an extraordinarily cantankerous hippopotamus. Both wore armour well, had great speed and agility and each has bested the simulation in combat at least once. Then a new competitor threw their name into the hat and a new champion of earth was finally selected.
. | 2022-04-23T07:36:38 | 2022-04-23T07:26:58 | 37 | 13 |
[WP] Your Galactic zoo just received a shipment of 24 humans. You have to build a habitat base on very little information. | "They must be defective" sighed Argak, overlooking the weary and shaken humans in the spacious jungle simulacrum.
"I built it exactly like the documentation said, even gave them the right gases and everything!"
"Can I see your report?" questioned Fresa
"Sure, gave them that uhh" Argak scanned the document " 'candy' stuff to eat."
Fresa stared puzzled at the document.
"Says here it should make them more alert and happy."
"Yeah, I don't know. Maybe it's the new environment but they seemed more stressed after eating." Argak mused.
"Have you tried feeding them from the other end?" queried Fresa
"The end they talk and respirate out of? No way that's right." |
“No one’s buying tickets to see humans anymore” Gnarjkal snarled to the carrier droid that was making the drop off for his new attraction, mucus sputtering from his mouth, hanging on by a thread without breaking free. “They’re not even worth the trip here,14 jorguns for wasting my time.”
“18 jorquns for the lot, this is the price that was given. Pay now, this is the deal” the static voice murmured, spinning around to begin a systems check before leaving the delivery location.
The buyer's blaster pointed at the life forms one by one. They were crouched in the corner of open the cage, a bit of algea from a neighboring asteroid had been tossed along the floor of the cage and soaked up their urine but didn't cover the smell. As he inspected the small hairless creatures reluctantly purchased, he grew more and more disappointed by the lack of reaction to a gun pointed right in their faces as he aimed to taunt them.
“Is that one dead?!” Gnarjkal yelled, firing beams into the air mostly to see if all two dozen were still moving. “Not quite...” But not far off.
The loud firings barely encouraged a jolt from the dirt caked vermin, rather a delayed and sluggish head turn that didn’t give the assurance of creatures in good health. Zoos now more than ever needed this facade to keep customers, he knew that. One sickly creature and the whispers from onlookers warping in for their dimensional shifts would surely be enough to carry three galaxies over. Can’t afford that in this economy.
On the other hand, the zookeeper couldn’t pass up a shipment. The last species didn’t make it long because he missed the instructions that came in their packaging. Anything to fill those empty cages would work out better in the long run than haggling with a droid, not worth the effort.
Gnarjkal wasn’t wrong, no one traveled light years to see humans anymore. Humans lost their luster back a few millennia, when people tired of hearing them fight, flee, or frenzy. They’d been splayed and spliced in science displays, their skin lit with dancing colors, a canvas au natural, their veins used as a highways for pulsating rhythms of light, purely for spectacle. Their lifespans had been sped up and reversed as interactive exhibits for young heptgaras. The sad part was, these rodents didn’t actually do anything that could be used for entertainment value. No natural shedding of their exoskeleton, no metamorphosis, they didn't even glow in the dark. Nothing to signal home about......... | 2022-06-28T19:46:06 | 2022-06-28T17:38:15 | 284 | 49 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | You stick out when everyone else in your school has some kind of insane, physics defying power and you have nothing. Like a normal horse in a herd of rainbow colored unicorns.
It was nerve wracking to adjust to having classmates who could effortlessly lift you off the ground with their mind, labmates who used their eye beams instead of a Bunsen burner, and groupmates who interviewed ghosts for your history project. Not being indestructible or able to regenerate limbs on a whim, I got to know the medical staff quite well quite quickly. I wasn't even accident prone, some people just kept "forgetting" that I didn't have powers like they did. Though that ended the moment that one of the seniors took things too far.
Getting my arm broken was a weird way to find out how popular I'd become. Turns out that me being normal helps keep my more gifted friends grounded. I hadn't even known that half of them liked me all that much before they sent the senior to the superhuman ICU. I'm not complaining though. | "You shouldn't be here, powerless freak." Growled John, the new kid at the school. He's been harassing since he got here. He really hates people without powers.
"Back off John"
"And what if I don't? What are you gonna do about it?" And he flicked me in the face, causing me to fall backwards into my locker with a bloody stream falling from my nose.
I shove him away and yell "I'm going to the principal, you're gonna get expelled!"
"WAIT NO!" He yelled, and I felt something hit the back of my head, and then it all went black.
I shot up out of my bed with a jolt. "I can't believe John knocked me out! He's super human, it could have been a real mess!" I thought, rolling out of bed in the morning. "He's definitely expelled though."
Regardless of the previous day's happenings, I wake up feeling refreshed and ready for the day. I comb my hair quickly and head to school.
I'm running late, so I move quickly past people, barely registering the small coned off section of the hallway. Barely registering their confused faces. What, never seen a guy late before? I pop open my locker, grab my history book and slide into class and into my seat. As I do, I drop my book, I reach out to grab it but its too late. It smack the ground with a loud THUD
This frustration was enough to make me grunt in anger and throw my hands down. As I do, every single textbook in the room shoots up and hits the ceiling, knocking down foam tiling and causing the teacher to whip around.
"What was that?!" She exclaimed, searching the room with narrow eyes. "Who did that?"
I raise my hand, "It was me! I think. I'm not really sure, but I think when John hit me, it gave me some sort of power!"
"Really? No one's responsible, huh?" She peered out the window to check for anyone outside.
"What?" I say, my frustration peeking. "It was me!"
"Okay okay, everyone gather your books, check the name in the back, make sure it's your's"
"It. Was. ME! ME ME ME!" A cold wind blew through the room. And the teacher, Jan, finally heard me, I think? And looked me right in the eye.
"L-Luke?"
"Yes, who else?"
She approached me, ran a hand over mine, and I jerked back as her hand passed straight through me. "Hey, what the hell?"
I looked around the room, everyone was frozen in fear. I looked at my own blue, transparent hands. I looked over at John's seat which was distinctly empty. I recalled the corner off section, the place where John struck me.
In horror, I put the pieces together.
I couldn't have ever survived a strike from John. I'm a ghost.
I look up slowly and ask, "Do ghost powers count as a super power?" | 2022-11-02T09:54:56 | 2022-11-02T03:58:00 | 706 | 476 |
[wp] Write the story of a tortoise as it gets passed down form generation to generation of a family and the bits of history that it saw. | I've seen many things in my time. I'm over 300 years old. My eyesight, poor to begin with has faded even further with time. But, I have no complaints. I have always been treated with kindness and my pace while teased, has never been insulted.
I am Hamwise the tortoise, known to my current owner Madison as Hammy.
I didn't say I chose the name.
I've been through many big events, some which have altered the course of my life.
When I was a young shell, I got picked up by my first owner as I was wandering through the grass. I was trying to avoid getting trampled on by leather boots and the end of thunder sticks. I would come across many red coats and bodies in my time, but that is not the business of a turtle. I was merely looking for cabbage.
I had overheard my owners sometime down the line discussing a big war on the horizon. A harbor was bombed. Such a pity, harbors are lovely to me. I mostly stayed indoors and made friends with the legs of tables and chairs.
Down the line, I heard a man proclaim he was free at last. This made no sense to me, are we not all already free? Furthermore, why was my owner trying to feed me dog food? Such predicaments in life. Truly, mine is the greater struggle.
I remember watching on the giant wood box one day about riots happening and people crying. They were handing out flowers and the males were burning up small squares. I was mostly distracted by the owner's new purchase, a creature named Rufus trying to mount me. Fool! I am Ham! No one mounts me.
I heard a rumor once that man had walked on a moon. That's ridiculous. The moon is the size of my eye and is made of tightly balled lettuce. Every good turtle knows such things.
I've lived through a million events. I'll live through a million more. My wisdom is long and deep, my mind is like a mountain; ever lasting.
I am Hamwise and I understand most things. Except for Rufus.
Notes found in another book: I am Rufus. BarkbarkbarkBarkbarkbarkBarkbarkbarkBarkbarkbark. | "Happy birthday, Billy."
"It's 'William,' Dad. I'm not a *kid* anymore."
"Well, son, that may be. There was a time - not as long ago as most folks might think - when being ten years old meant that you were an adult."
"... Okay?"
"I reckon you'd like your present now, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah! Oh, man, yeah! What'd you get me? A Playstation 4?! An iPhone 6+?!"
"Hah, no, son."
"... You didn't get me an *X-Box* did you?"
"Nope, sure didn't."
"Then what is it?"
"Here you go, son."
"A *turtle?*"
"This ain't no ordinary turtle. He's a *tortoise*, Billy. "
"William."
"No, his name's Orson. He's been in our family for nigh-on a hundred and fifty years now... and I tell you, he's seen some history in his day. My father gave him to me, just as his father did to him, going back to 1865."
"This is a joke, right? Did Jimmy Kimmel put you up to this?"
"Why, Orson here has been through some mighty strange things. He was found outside of the building where the Confederate States signed their surrender to the Union. Your great-something granddaddy spotted him munching on a discarded cabbage. 'Earl,' he thought to himself, 'Earl, that there tortoise seems a mite lonely. I reckon I'll take him home with me.'"
"Dad, as fascinating as this is, I'd like to open my other presents."
"Now, hold on, Billy. That was only the beginning, see? As time went on, Orson bore witness to many a strange sight. Around about 1924, for instance, he got out of the back yard and was picked up by a fellow named Scotty. Scotty was an author, see, and he figured that although he ought to find Orson's family, he'd first find out if he could consult the tortoise about this novel he was writing."
"How would a tortoise consult on a novel?"
"Well, as it happened, Scotty was in a pickle about how to kill off one of his characters. Not two minutes after bringing Orson back to his house, though, the tortoise knocked over a bunch of pens while in pursuit of a vexing bug. The accident left Scotty thinking that his character - Daisy, I believe she was called - ought to be hit by a car."
"Just to be clear: You're claiming that a tortoise - *this* tortoise - helped write 'The Great Gatsby?'"
"A-yup."
"Right."
"Of course, that's not all. In 1941, your great grandfather was stationed in Pearl Harbor when the Japanese attacked. If it weren't for Orson here, that whole fiasco would have been a lot worse."
"What, did he pick up a machine gun and single-handedly shoot down the bombers?"
"A-yup."
"Bull."
"Well, to be fair, he didn't so much 'pick up a gun' as he did 'knock over a gun,' and he didn't really shoot at the bombers so much as he caused a chain reaction ending in a hail of bullets flying up into the sky. Still, that tortoise is a hero nonetheless. Did you know that he was responsible for averting World War 3?"
"He was not!"
"He was, Billy, he was. See, when the movie 'Forrest Gump' came out, it made some folks in China pretty damned angry. They were fixing to attack us, but one of their advance spies happened to get introduced to Orson at a tortoise convention in Wyoming. Well, Orson, he was so well-versed in etiquette that he offered the grandest compliment that spy could ask for... and all without uttering a single word."
"Dad, I want you to be honest with me."
"Of course, son."
"Orson's just an old tortoise, isn't he?"
"That he is, son... but he just might hold a few secrets. Them stories were all true, after all."
"Really."
"Really, William."
"Actually... I think I'm okay with 'Billy.'"
"Really, Billy."
"I changed my mind." | 2014-10-08T08:18:13 | 2014-10-08T08:02:00 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] Everybody in the world has a superpower that compliments their soulmates superpower. When together, both their powers increase in strength exponentially. You have the most useless power ever, when one day......
Edit: Wow! This has blown up.. Massive thanks for the gold, it's great to see my prompt inspiring so many great stories.
'Til next time peeps... | My friend Hilary and I have this running competition on whose power is the worst. Hers is that every time she hiccups, she teleports randomly. I admit, that sucks really bad, she once disappeared in the middle of play that she was the pianist for. But Hilary at least has some control over it. She’s induced hiccups to get out of bad dates and presentations she didn’t want to do.
I have no control over my power. It happens randomly and often at the most frustrating moment possible. My power is that people forgot that I exist. Not permanently, thankfully, but the duration varies. If I go to a coffee shop I’m not likely to get my coffee because the barista forgets that I ordered. I’ve been marked down as absent from school more often than not, even though if I sit in the front row and wave my hand in the teacher’s face and shout “I’m here!” My own parents forgot me at the hospital when I was born. It took the staff three hours to notice I was still in the nursery.
Hilary says that at least I don’t have to worry about getting called on in class. Yeah, because that’s totally the worst thing to deal with, right? I’ve been trying to get a part time job for ages, but employers never remember me and assume I didn’t show up for the interview.
It’s looking like Hilary might have found her soulmate anyway. Some guy bumped into her on the street the other day, and they both disappeared. No hiccups, just touch and poof. She called me and said they’re going to have a lot of time to get to know each other, since they’re stuck in Peru at the moment. Before she could tell me when she’d be coming back, she forgot who she was on the phone with and assumed I was a telemarketer. That happens a lot.
I hadn’t put much thought into who my soulmate might be until recently. There’s this fella, James, who works at the sandwich shop on campus. He’s new and so far he hasn’t forgotten me a single time! It’s weird because whenever I mention him to other people, they all seem to know exactly who I’m talking about. Even though there’s like five James who have been going here longer and all I have to say is “You know James?”
I’m thinking about asking him to coffee later this week. He’d have to order it though.
| Cups. Motherfucking cups. Not super strength, not teleportation – just bloody *cups*. It had always been this way, ever since I could remember and it pissed me off. Only I would get such a useless superpower! We had more than enough mugs and glasses in my house and it’s not like there was a shortage of plastic cups in the world. Honestly it was less embarrassing to tell people I didn’t have any sort of power that I knew of yet than to tell them I could create crockery out of thin air.
So unlike most people I lived a fairly boring life. My friends loved rubbing their powers in my face – or at least, that’s how it felt. I remember when Ken figured out he could fly for the first time. He sent me a bunch of pictures of my bus while he was flying overhead, making me wish I’d had telekinesis so I could knock that stupid phone out of his hands. He’d tried to console me and tell me that maybe my power was just taking a while to develop, I might have something awesome too. He didn’t know my secret though, and I vowed that he never would. Nobody could know about the cups, especially not him.
One day… That changed. I was sitting around in my room, sulking about nothing in particular when I get a phone call from Ken. Apparently there’s some “fucking awesome party on dude!” and I “totally have to be there!”. I sighed and watched an espresso glass drop onto the floor and shatter. Parties weren’t my thing, especially with Ken’s friends. They were basically an excuse for a bunch of testosterone-pumped college guys to throw around cars and create small hurricanes in the neighbour’s pools. It wasn’t really a natural habitat for the long-haired lanky types like me. But Ken was more persistent than usual this time, so I decided to go – if only for the sake of shutting him up. I didn’t plan on being there long, so just threw on a hoodie and headed out, focusing on not dropping any more china as I walked.
It didn’t take long to reach the house Ken had talked about. I pushed my way through the door and started manoeuvring through the crowds, ignoring the weird looks and silently cursing Ken. He was nowhere to be found, so I assumed he’d be jumping off the roof or flying around the block or showing off in some other way. I guess I couldn’t blame him. I know I’d be flaunting it if I had anything other than this stupid power.
‘Hey, what the hell?’
A high-pitched voice dragged me out of my head and I looked down to see a small, slightly angry looking girl covered in beer that I assumed I’d just walked into. I opened my mouth to apologize, but no words came out. A stream of hot brown liquid was flowing from her mouth. My eyebrows furrowed a little at first, but when I sniffed, the strong aroma of coffee flooded my senses.
It took me a moment, and I guess I could’ve been a lot smoother, but when the pieces fit together I was too scared of missing my chance to think about it.
‘D- do you want a cup for that?’ I stammered. The coffee-puking girl glared at me.
‘Like I haven’t heard that one before!’ she snapped.
‘No, seriously,’ I said quickly. ‘Do you want a cup? I, uh-’ Unsure of how to explain, I held open my hand under her chin and watched a red and white spotted mug appear in my palm with a small pop. Coffee girl filled it about half-way before the stream stopped. She stared at me, then at the cup, then back at me again.
‘My name’s Dylan,’ I smiled. ‘Cup-boy doesn’t really have much of ring to it.’
Coffee girl continued to frown for a minute. She still hadn’t put things together. I hurriedly jerked me hand back, spilling some of the mug’s contents. ‘Uh, that seemed to work pretty well, I suppose,’ I said slightly awkwardly. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe I was more of a tea kind of guy.
‘… Yeah,’ she replied slowly. ‘Yeah, I guess so. Sorry about before. My name’s Grace.’ The corners of her mouth turned up a little and I breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Nice to meet you, Grace,’ I said with a grin. ‘Wanna go grab a drink?’
| 2015-10-10T10:40:47 | 2015-10-10T09:43:23 | 69 | 26 |
[WP] When you were a child, you saw your parent(s) get killed by a delusional man who claimed he was a time traveler. You thought he was just crazy, but as years pass and you grow older, your best friend starts to look eerily similar to your parent(s) killer. | "Why, Kent?" I said, voice low and raspy. "Why go back and kill my parents?"
He didn't answer; just stood and stared at me. Was that pity in his stoic blue eyes? I wanted to tear him apart, and almost by rote I recalled all the various ways I had planned to do it already, with every contingency accounted for.
"They were good people. And you *know* what their deaths--their *murders* did to me."
Still no response; just that eerie, supernatural quiet. I was having trouble keeping the rage from spilling into violence.
"*Answer me*, damn it."
He took off his glasses and began to clean them, eyes staring down at his hands while he did so. "I'm sorry. You know I am. But there was no other way."
He stopped cleaning, but instead of putting the glasses back on, he simply raised his eyes and met my angry, broken gaze. *"This world needs a Batman."* | I'd suspected it was Irene for some time. At least, someone who looked exactly like Irene. That was why I'd befriended her all those years ago. Not out of some crazy prescience but out of some strange pull that told me she would be important in solving the case of my parents' murders.
It was because of the birthmark, really. A darkened patch of skin on her wrist, forming something of a bracelet. I remembered that bracelet - it was one of the only things I remembered, actually - from the day my parents were killed.
The bracelet, and the blue eyes.
I sat behind her in seventh grade math class. I never would have known her had I not asked her for a pen one day. When she reached back to give it to me I saw the bracelet around her wrist.
She caught me staring at it. "What?" she twisted uncomfortably in her chair. I blinked at her.
Over the years I got to know her. We dated briefly for a time, but both found that it didn't work for us. Time travel was legalized when we were twenty-one. By that time I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Irene was the woman who had killed my parents. She was the woman who had colored my entire life.
But she didn't know it. Despite my confusion, I couldn't blame Irene for something she had not yet done.
We lost touch after college. She just up and disappeared one day. I thought about all the things I could do to her. I thought about killing her parents to get revenge - but it wouldn't really be revenge if she hadn't yet killed mine.
It seemed like some mix of a catch-22 and Schrödinger's box. As long as she hadn't killed my parents no revenge I could think of would have any meaning. After she killed my parents, the revenge wouldn't be of consequence.
Out of the blue when I was 26 I got an email from her.
*Dear Art*
*I wish this letter would find you well, but I don't think it will. I don't know if this letter will find you at all. I've been working for a corporation that it's not safe to name over the mail. They're watching me, Art. They want me to do something bad - I think you already know what. I have to do it. But it's going to start something huge. It's planned for that reason. I can't talk about it now. Meet me at the strawberries. I don't think I can prevent what will happen, but I can explain.*
*I hope this gets to you. Meet me at the strawberries. Tomorrow, at the time that Martin went to the doctor.*
*I've always loved you, Art. I don't know if you knew what the future had. I don't know if you knew who I'm about to become. But know whatever happens, I've always loved you.*
*Tomorrow. Strawberries. Martin.*
*Love,*
*Irene* | 2016-06-13T07:51:36 | 2016-06-13T05:55:44 | 89 | 23 |
[WP] Eye colour means everything here. Brown control the earth, blue controls the water, white controls the sky. There are so many colours and each important but you were the first born with yellow eyes. | In a life lived as a pariah and outcast, she was the only one. People had feared him when he was younger, for he was an unknown. It was common knowledge to not anger someone with blue eyes near the ocean or to buy your vegetables from a farmer with green eyes. However, nobody knew what to make of his yellow eyes.
Over time, as the doctors ran their tests, people changed from fear to disgust as it became apparent his eyes could not do anything. Only she accepted him for who he was.
As he held her in his arms, shattered glass from the automobile surrounding them, he wept. Her brown eyes had already lost their focus and the hand he held was limp. "Please..." He cried. "Please come back, please don't die."
Suddenly, her hand grabbed his. | I had always been jealous of the others. Being able to cause earthquakes, raise and lower the ground, rolling the ground underneath my feet as if it were a skateboard. Or what about being able to make water appear wherever you wanted it to appear. Make it rain and shower the pastures for the farmers or being able to give water to those who are thirsty. Also, flying looked amazing; having the wind catch you under your arms and fly wherever you wanted. I was jealous, until I grew over it and discovered my power. Legal drinking age. All my friends weren't allowed to drink until they turned eighteen. That wasn't a problem for me. My yellow eyes enabled me to control beer and make it go wherever I wanted it to, most importantly: in my mouth. I started drinking when I was sixteen and haven't stopped ever since. I drink beer almost every day and whenever I become nauseous or tipsy, I have it leave my body. That's right. Right from the bladder, back through my throat and onto the street. It sounds disgusting, but being able to have infinite drinks? It's awesome. I earn my money nowadays by competing in drinking games. "Fifty bucks for the fool who can chug the most!" Easy money.
"Alright guys, I'm gonna take a piss. All that beer has to come out," I say as I leave the room filled with people staring at me in awe after winning another drinking game, netting twenty bucks this time. I head for the toilets and lock myself up in a stall. I don't feel like getting the beer back out through my mouth, so I just stand and piss. Soon after some guys enter the bathroom. "He went in here, the fraud," one says. "Must be in that stall." Their footsteps draw closer and all of a sudden they start banging on the door. "We know you're in there, yellow eye." "Show us what you're worth, beer drinking fraud."
Shit, they've discovered my power. I've been taking a leak for a minute now and I'm still not done. I focus and I can feel the piss running out of me in a more intense way. It doesn't take long until I can feel its warmth embody me. Goodness, I'm controlling my own piss. Let's see how they like this! I turn around and my beam hits the closed door, but I target the waterfall upwards, over the stall and the yellow fountain of warmth showers over the guys standing in front of it. "WHAT THE F- HE'S PISSING OVER THE DOOR!" one says and the rest starts shouting. They run from the bathroom while shouting and soon after peace returns. I turn back around and aim for the pot again, lowering the ray in the middle.
Beer controlling and now piss controlling. Sweet. | 2016-08-08T11:37:11 | 2016-08-08T10:59:12 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] Humans are born with a mark around their wrist which has a matching color with that of their soulmate's, but can change through their life. Your mark has had a blue hue since you were 14, but one night, while you're out, people start looking at you funny. You realize that your mark is gone. | "Hey, Peter," Max calls out from across the street. He waves in his usual jubilant manner. Beside him, Becky stands. She's dressed particularly pretty tonight. Classy, like a dame from the 30s. It complemented Max's casual suit quite nicely. I call out a greeting and cross the road to meet them.
"Where's Jill?" Becky asks as she leans up on her tippy toes to look over my shoulder.
"Oh," I shrug. "She'll be here. She had to stay late at work, so she said she'd meet us at the fountain." The four of us had been meeting there for ten years- Becky and Jill even longer, as they'd been best friends since grade school.
Becky carefully adjusted the hem of her skirt and straightened the purple ribbon tied around her waist. It matched her Mark. Becky and Max had been the kind of almost sickeningly sweet couple that went out of their way to wear at least one thing every day that matched their Mark. These things they wore, Max explained to me on one occasion, had to be bought by the other person. A token of bonding- a reaffirmation of their status as soulmates.
It was romantic, and it was something I'd noticed Jill starting to adopt. Every once in a while, she'd buy me something cerulean and leave it in on my pillow for me to find when I came home after work. Last week, it was a tie. Tonight seemed like an appropriate time to wear it, especially considering the contents of the bag I held in my hand. "I got something for Jill," I say and reach into the bag. From it, I remove a black box, and I flip the lid open to reveal a necklace of cerulean pearls.
Becky gasps and covers her mouth, careful not to smear her bright red lipstick. "Peter!"
"Do you think she'll like it?"
"She'll *love* it." Becky sighs. "I'm a little jealous."
Max laughs, but cuts himself off. Becky looks up at him, confused, and then follows his gaze downward. "...Peter," Max says. His voice is deep, his tone concerning. He swallows audibly and points to my arm.
Thinking something might be on my jacket, I snap the jewelry box closed and tuck it back into the bag, and then dust at the fabric of my sleeve. "Did I get it?"
"No, Peter, *look*-"
"Y-your Mark," Becky interjects and grabs my forearm. Her brown eyes are wide and wet with tears.
I look down to my arm, where my sleeve has rolled up and bunched at my elbow, and then to my wrist. My Mark isn't there.
My Mark is gone.
The bag falls to the ground and topples onto its side. The jewelry box rolls out, clattering quietly.
I stare at my wrist.
Sirens scream loudly in the distance, echoing through the streets.
My Mark is gone.
Becky starts crying, rummaging through her purse for her phone. She frantically dials Jill's number. It rings.
*Answer.*
It rings.
*Answer.*
My Mark is gone.
"*Hi! You've reached Jilli-* **Jill laughs. A cat purrs into speaker.** *Jillian Miller -and- Sir Maximus Pounce, and we are so sorry we missed your call! Please leave a message and your number and we'll get back to you as soon as possible!*" Becky ends the call and immediately dials it again. It rings. She's sobbing now, and Max is caught between consoling her and trying to reach out to me.
But I can't speak.
*Answer.*
It rings. Red lights flash, sirens drowning the noise of the phone as they speed by and continue down the road.
I can't move.
The phone rings.
My Mark is gone.
"*Hi! You've reached Jilli-* **Jill laughs. A cat purrs into speaker.** *Jillian-*" Becky ends the call, and tries again. It rings.
My Mark is gone.
And so is Jill. | My friends and I approached the venue with excitement and curiosity in our veins. This was it. Today was the Uncovering. On the year of your 21st birthday, the government throws a sort of "unmasking" party for the Mark.
Everyone has it. An individual is born with a Mark that determines their soul mate based on its color. The only people that know that color are your doctors, your parents and you. Every person with the mark must keep it covered with the Band until you turn 21. Then you go to the Uncovering to have your Band removed.
Many people try to sneak into the venue to no avail. You get let off with a warning the first time. Try again and they add 5 years to your Uncovering date.
It's worse for people who try to remove the bands themselves. The Others. We never talk about them. If you try to take it off before your 21st birthday, they know. They track you down, remove the Mark and cast you off to an undisclosed location that no one knows about.
////////////
We approached the entrance and the security guard scanned each of our Bands. He nodded his head and opened the gates to the Uncovering. Smoke and colorful lights entered our peripheral vision as we navigated our way though the almost darkness. As we followed the path the music started to get louder and louder. Finally we reached a staircase that went through the ground. Another guard stood at the front with an intricate device we could only assume is what breaks the Band.
"How many?" He asked.
"5" My friend Jacob told him.
The man punched in five and the device and opened up five slots for us to put our wrists in. We lined them up simultaneously and all at once the Bands were broken. Green. Orange. Purple. Pink. and Blue.
///////////////
The Uncovering was honestly the definition of a world wide rave. The music was blaring. Everyone had little to no clothes on. Glow sticks and strobe lights were everywhere.
"Now THIS is what I call a party!" my friend Janet exclaimed. In no time she had gotten us all some shots.
I enjoyed my time and immersed myself in all the bright colors. Greys and Silvers. Yellows and Golds. I looked down and noticed that my blue seemed less brighter than before. Janet said I was crazy and Jayden just told me to shrug it off.
"Amanda, you're just ruining the vibe. The colors change all the time. Chill out."
As time progressed and I consumed more alcohol I started to panic. My Mark really *was* changing color. I'd lost all my friends and felt alone even with a bunch of beautiful men around me. They almost didn't seem real.
The performer on stage decided to get the crowd riled up. "Hey! It's about to be 3 AM. In a couple seconds I want EVERYONE to put their Marks up, alright?"
"ONE!" *I honestly don't know how I got so close to the stage.*
*Two.* *I thought I heard my name being called. But it's probably just the alcohol getting to me.*
*Three.* I put my wrist up. I really DID hear my name being called. I turned around to look for whoever was calling me, and when I did everyone's focus shifted to me.
"Yo...what the hell happened to hers?"
"Did you see it? It kind of flashed?
"I swear I saw hers glitch!"
The mumbling around me continued until I decided to put my arm down and look myself. Nothing. There was nothing there. *This is a joke right? I'm just hallucinating. This has got to be a really really bad joke.* I ran to the restroom to avoid the glares from people. As I ran out I caught an distinct murmuring of the same word. *Other*.
"No no no this isn't possible. I've had this mark since I was BORN! It can't just...just disappear like this!" I was legitimately talking to myself alone in this restroom. I grumbled and kicked one of the stalls.
"HEY! No need to get aggressive!" a girl on the other side of the restroom commented. A short brunette girl with hazel eyes emerged from the stall. She began to wash her hands. I stood there completely *mesmerized* by her. I don't know what came over me. I glanced down and noticed that her mark was a bright pink.
"I...uh...sorry. It's just...I'm dealing with a lot right now" I muttered out. She approached me and touched my cheek.
"Listen. I don't know what you're going through right now, but somehow things always work themselves out in the end." As she dropped her hand she let out a small gasp.
"What?" I tilted my head at her. She looked in complete awe.
"I can't believe it" she smiled. I was kind of annoyed now.
"What?? Did I pee myself or somet-" she interjected.
"Of all places. I didn't expect for me to meet you in a *public bathroom*" she laughed.
"I...what...what are you sayi..." she pointed down towards my wrist. The faint color began to resurface, but as I looked closer I noticed it looked *different*. It had changed.
I was never really adamant about labels, but I did know I found myself attracted to women. I didn't talk about it much, but the attraction was there. As I put together 2 and 2 the Mark began to radiate a bright pink color that reflected the color of her cheeks.
And indescribable warmth washed over me. I can honestly say I've never felt more complete than I did at this l moment. Here. In this restroom. Surrounded by the smell of perfume and urine. She took my hand and led me back outside, both of our Marks illuminating the night. She made me realize that sometimes you only need a little light to lead you through the darkness.
"We're soulmates and I never even asked for your name" I chuckled.
She looked up at me with bright eyes. A look I'll never forget.
"It's Dawn."
| 2016-10-04T20:36:20 | 2016-10-04T18:53:13 | 1,532 | 559 |
[WP] You're Barack Obama. 4 months into your retirement, you awake to find a letter with no return address on your bedside table. It reads "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job." Signed simply, "JFK." | Barack stared at the letter for a moment,"for fucks sake Donald" he muttered. He could tell it was Donald the gold sharpie and orange stain gave it away. He stood up and went into his office shaking his head in disappointment and began writing dear Donald this is the third letter this week please stop it's not funny and you're ruining my country." He sealed the letter in an envelope and put it in the post. | I've wanted to get into writing for a while now, my first attempt a writing since school!
Contemplating how much easier his life had been since Donald Trump took over, Barack rolled over to kiss Michelle as he does like clockwork every morning. Something caught his eye this morning. On the bedside table he saw a note. In the corner was a small symbol.
"I've seen that before" He thought. "But where?"
It slowly came into focus until he realised, it's the presidential seal! What could Trump want from him that required such an official means of communication. He reached over, grabbed the note and unfolded it. Briefly skimming through a signature caught his eye. It was identical to JFK's.
The note read "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job."
It must have been Michelle playing another joke on him. Ever since his retirement the two found themselves with so much free time that they had resorted to playing silly pranks on each other. The jokes had started to become more an more elaborate recently. Just last week Barack had got the whole family in on a joke that he in fact was never the President. After a quick google search Michelle quickly debunked this, however.
"I'll play along he thought"
Barack proceeded to dial the number written on the bottom. It seemed to ring longer than normal.
"Not committed at all" He thought. "Oh we-"
"-Hello?... *Hello!?* Barack, is that you?" whispered a worried voice.
"Yes, speaking.
.
.
.
Hang on, Joe, is that you? She's got you in on this too!?"
"Dammit Barack, the accent wasn't enough to throw you off?"
"We spent enough time together, do you think you could fool me so easily? Ha! Nice try, say hi to Jill for me and I'll see you tonight, yeah?"
"Sure thing, see you later."
As Barack hung up the smile on his face grew wider, already plotting his next prank. He realised the room had grown eerily silent, however. He could no longer hear Michelle's truffle pig impression. In fact, she was no longer in the room.
A shadow caught his eye in the doorway. A male silhouette with slightly coiffed hair and behind a female, slightly frail looking silhouette with shortish hair. | 2017-05-14T10:29:45 | 2017-05-14T10:10:47 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You, an atheist, have died. All the gods that have ever been line up to offer you their version of heaven if only you believe in _them_. Turns out souls are currency and yours is up for grabs. | I'd spent days listening to them all, as they explained why *their* afterlife was the perfect choice for me. I was already tired of it and almost wished the nihilists had been right. Mercury, the final of the representatives, was making his case for the Roman Heaven, which seemed to be nothing more than eternal food, wine and women.
There was just something so shallow about it all - hollow, even. Everything I had had in life, that was worthwhile, I had fought tooth and nail for. My wife, my job, the eventual respect of my peers - my *entire life* starting from the small, dead mining town I'd been born into, had been an uphill struggle. I had often thought - like when I'd been diagnosed with cancer for the first time - that *my* struggle was unfair, that it was more than anyone should have to go through. But now as I stood in the golden chamber, stars shining down through the open ceiling, it was so obvious that it had been the *fruits of the struggle,* that had made my life worth living. The idea of eternal joy and happiness had already worn thin.
None of what they had to offer was *Heaven* - not for me.
"Well," said Mercury, coming to the end of his deliverance. "It is time to make your choice."
I felt sick and looked around desperately, hoping to find an escape - an answer to the feeling of dread swelling in my stomach. "What about her?" I asked, pointing to a diminutive figure at the end of the line of Gods, that somehow I hadn't noticed before.
"Careful lad," Mercury said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What she has to offer is no version of Heaven."
"Do not influence his decision!" came the booming voice of Judgement, echoing in a cacophony around us. Mercury looked up. "I apologise," he said, nodding contritely.
"I want to hear what she has to say," I affirmed, walking over to her. As I approached, I noticed drooped wings folded and forlorn behind her back.
"What do you have to offer me?" I asked her.
"Why should I offer you anything?" she replied, glaring at me.
"Why else are you here?"
"It is not by choice," she spat.
"It is not my choice to be here, either. I wasn't a religious man."
She sighed. "I am Lucifer," she said. "There. Now you know what I have to offer, so leave me be."
"What?" I said, furrowing my brows. "You... you don't *look* like the Devil."
She rolled her eyes. "The Devil is *your* concept. I am simply a *fallen* angel. An angel that disagreed with the almighty."
"So, you're offering me Hell? Eternal damnation - fire and brimstone?"
"No. That is not Hell."
"Then, *what is Hell?*"
"Hell is just... another form of Heaven," she answered.
"I don't think I follow."
"I separated from God a long time ago, as I do not believe in his Heaven. People there were satisfied but not elated. Shouldn't Heaven be more than satisfaction?"
I nodded. "Yes."
"Heaven can not be given. It can only be earned."
"Yes," I said again, excitedly. "*Earned*. There is no high without a low!"
Her eyes softened slightly. "One cannot know elation, without knowing first despair."
This is what the others Gods had been missing: a reason to keep existing. "I want to go with you. I've made my decision."
She frowned. "You would be the first," she said, cocking her head to the side. "It is not an easy path you wish to tread. Are you certain?"
"Yes - it might not be easy, but that is exactly why I wish to take it! "Do you hear me?" I yelled, raising my head to the stars above. "I have chosen!"
Lucifer offered forth her right hand.
I took it, our contract bound.
Her skin began to crack and blood dribbled down her body, as red scales thrust out and quickly covered her. Her wings began to smoulder and her lips curled into a terrible smile.
There was something so dreadful about her, and yet something almost *beautiful*, too.
"*Always so easy*," she hissed, as my surroundings became a swirl of light that began to fade into nothingness.
---
Thanks for reading. More of my stories on /r/nickofnight
| It was a bright and glowing soul, strengthened by the hardship it had endured and overcome. On the crowded plane of limbo where souls were claimed, the Gods spotted it at the same time: it was a plain, blinding white, not tied to the colours that indicated any of the religions.
Atheist.
Kali's nostrils flared as she sensed this one's power - the soul had accomplished great deeds during its life, but wasn't done quite yet. No, it wasn't yet time to claim him. Rebirth was due, and she itched to plant a seed of direction in the soul's mind that would serve as guidance in its next life -
"Reincarnation awaits, blind one," she told the soul, and its soul regained some of the shape it had in life as she addressed him. It had been a comely human once. "You must turn towards your spirit in the next life, for then - "
"Pah! Cannot you see this one is tired of human life, you four-armed wench?" an old god said - he towered over many of the Gods, but Kali matched him for height.
She gave a smile that caused the others to look aside, as they remembered. She smiled that way when empires crumbled and armies clashed and slaughtered one another, it was the smile she reserved when chaos reigned. The two ravens on the old man's shoulder screamed in response, but he just gave a grim smile in return.
"You don't scare me, Kali," he growled, and turned to the soul, who had regained his shape and was staring silently at the gods, his eyes wide and dazed. "Join my ranks, young man. Your soul has yet to give its allegiance, and therefore carries great power. Come drink with my warriors in Valhalla, as we ready ourselves for Ragnarok."
The soul opened its mouth to speak, when a gentle-faced man approached, his bare feet hardly making a sound.
"This man has battled and struggled enough, Odin," he said, and touched the soul's shoulder, who trembled under his hand. "He should rest by my side in Heaven, where I can use his strength. It's not too late to be saved, Liam. Yes, I've known your name since birth, and remembered it, despite what you've thought of me throughout your life."
Liam squeezed his eyes shut as more Gods, and representatives of Gods, approached, adding their voices to the growing babel of noise. The Prophet Muhammed engaged the bare-footed man, in what looked like a argument they knew well. They were interrupted by the booming laughter of a terrifyingly large and muscled warrior, who wielded a glowing, jagged white spear of a weapon that resembled a lightning bolt.
"As if he'd prefer *you* when he can visit Olympus, not to mention the Elysian Fields. I mean, Jesus, just look at you. You look homeless with those bare, dirty feet. Have a little respect for yourself."
Liam gaped as they forgot all about him and began to squabble. From the corner of the crowd, a bare-chested, sun-tanned man with a falcon head was watching him intently, as if deciding whether Liam was worthy of his consideration. And a portly man with kind eyes was settling down in front of him, legs crossed, wearing a gentle smile in the face of his confusion.
"I sense you are deeply troubled. Meditate with me, my young friend, and you will know - ," he began, only to be interrupted by at least four of the gods now crowding Liam.
"Oh spare us the meditation, Gautama Buddha, we don't have all month," one of them groaned.
It was too much to take in, to try and understand. Liam reached for his voice - it was difficult to remember how to speak - but he managed it at last.
"Please! I - I've always believed in what I can see, in tangible facts. In *science*. Obviously you're all real, I can't deny that anymore," he said desperately, and they turned to him as one and fell silent. "You're all true. It doesn't make *sense*. How does all your versions of the afterlife exist at the same time? Where in space does it exist? For that matter, where are we right now - what exactly *is* limbo? Why have you allowed human suffering to continue, what do you all do with your time if you don't interfere on Earth? Why - "
"Oh, goody, here we go again," one of them said, rolling his eyes. The others grimaced as well, and many started drifting away from him.
"Wait, I have so many questions!" Liam yelled after them. "I - I want to choose an afterlife, but I don't know! I just want to understand..."
But they were leaving. Finally, the only remaining gods grinned widely at him, waving an arm in greeting. It was a long noodle. Two meatballs were pulsating slightly in the twisted, golden strings of pasta that made up his face.
"Oh, not you too," Liam said dispiritedly. "I thought that whole thing was a stupid joke, you know...mocking other people's beliefs. Making fun of the religious was never really my thing, either."
"Careful with your tone, boy, I'm the only one still waiting to pick you up," the thing said, wagging a noodly finger in remonstration. "Would you rather be stuck in limbo forever? C'mon, I have a lot of plans for your soul. You're just what I need, kid, a solid bit of real power. My version of the afterlife is a little sparse still, surprisingly few of the atheists actually choose me when the others start fighting over them. Can you believe that shit? No loyalty at all, you guys. But I don't think you have a lot of choice left, do you?"
"I guess not," Liam muttered. The others had all gone, and were crowding around a different soul now.
"Hey now, don't look so glum!" the spaghetti creature said. "I've got an endless supply of beer at my place, how many of the others can say that, eh?"
Liam grinned as if pleased, and decided not to mention that he didn't drink alcohol and would really prefer a nice cup of tea. Even this guy might have his limit.
------------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2017-07-09T01:58:07 | 2017-07-09T01:16:16 | 855 | 396 |
[WP] Once every year, soulmates glow the same color as each other for one hour. | I've been married to my husband for three years now. We've been together for four. We were young and in love, and here we are now. No kids, as of yet. I trust that our marriage is real. He's the reason I get up in the morning, and the reason I sleep well through the night. I have no doubts in my mind when it comes to today.
We both travel a lot for work, so we have never been in the same room for the See-Soul. Neither of us have worried too much about it, but today, the small thought nagging at the back of my mind will finally come to a rest. I will be able to confirm that we match and then we can move on with the rest of our lives.
I look at my watch, and it's not even 10AM yet. Everyone is talking about 3PM, or as they are all calling it, SeePM. It doesn't matter where I go.. Home, Work, Grocery Store.. It's everywhere. People are paying to live stream themselves online in order to find their match. It's sad, to be honest. I whisper a small "Thank Goodness" to myself that I'm not those people.
The day goes by faster than expected. I run my typically Sunday routine. Shop, hit the gym, and then take the dog to the dog park. I'm loading the dog back into the car when my phone beeps with a text message.
"Hey, babe. Called into work for an EMG. Will not be home until late. XOXO".
I read it over and over again. Obviously, he isn't worried about SeePM, and I can't blame him. However, I was looking forward to this. I think I'm going to head to his office and surprise him at 3. I might even run the typical cliche and drop off some flowers for his desk. Who says men cannot have flowers?
As soon as I get home, I get the dog inside and I take a shower. I'm going to go out of my way for him. Pretty dress, maybe a little too flaunty, to be honest. I put on makeup and perfume, and then I grab a vase from the kitchen and run out the door. It's 2:30PM, so I'm running behind on time.
I stop by a local flower vendor on the way to his work. It's a short drive, so I'm in luck. I grab some daisies that slightly resemble sun flowers. I'm not feeling the roses.
The drive to his office is frustrating. Traffic is mad for it being a Sunday. Everyone is in a giant hurry. I cannot help but roll my eyes. Pathetic.
I pull into the office and I see my husbands red SUV along with one other Silver car. I think I have seen it here before, but I'm not sure. It's 2:58 at this point, so I make the decision to park on the curb by the front entrance of this massive 4 story building. Nobody is around, so I am confident that my car is fine here.
I run into the building and jump up the stairs two at a time with the vase of flowers. I look down at my hands and I'm glowing a gorgeous sunset-yellow. I've always loved my color. I finally get to his floor and when I come around the corner behind the empty receptionists desk, and head towards his office. I glance over to the break room and I see my husband glowing a teal blue color, and he's standing close to another man glowing the same exact teal color. They are both laughing and holding a glass of champagne.
I take two steps back and bump into the wall. It causes me to drop the vase of daisies. They both look up at me and go silent. | "big day tomorrow," her father called as she climbed the stairs to go to bed. he was sitting at the kitchen table, still facing the chair she'd vacated a few moments before.
"i guess. never really saw what all the fuss was about."
she opened her bedroom door and walked the few short steps to her bed, landing heavily on it. before her head hit the pillow she was asleep; she had vivid dreams of walking to class the next morning, her entire body glowing vibrant yellow. everyone she passed was glowing, too, but...not like her. in her dream she passed shades of emerald green, deep purple, clear cerulean, and pale pink. she tried desperately to find another person glowing the same shade of yellow she was, but she couldn't make it out in the technicolor sea flooding her campus. suddenly, all the colors faded, and those who'd found their matches headed off together; some to class, some to their dorms, some to the campus coffee shop, and others to the green. it was sunny today, a good day for a picnic with your soulmate.
she woke up slowly, partially blinded by the light streaming through her open window. she lazily checked the clock on her bedside table. 9:23am. she decided to head to campus early to see the pretty colors.
she stood up, put her hair into a messy ponytail, and threw on a baggy shirt and a pair of soft cotton pants. her mother would have liked her to dress a little nicer on the day of lights, but she'd decided long ago that she wasn't particularly interested in finding her "soulmate." she was too focused on school and work and her family to care much about boys. she wasn't even sure that "soulmates" existed, and even if hers did she didn't want him.
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she sat herself on a bench at the top of the hill; from here she could see almost the whole campus. the science hall, constructed out of gleaming panes of glass and thin steel bars, shone like a lighthouse, making the modest brick arts building next door look squat and ruddy by comparison. she saw people milling around; most of them, she figured, were here early for the same reasons she was.
she turned her attention to the large stone quad at the foot of the hill on which she sat. her usually modest, quiet campus today was awash with people, congregating for the day of lights. suddenly, the large clock tower on the west corner of campus chimed, sounding out ten loud, resounding gongs that shook the bench she was sitting on.
it happened slowly at first; the quad was so crowded it was almost impossible to tell from her distance where the lights began. but as the seconds ticked on, she watched the quad transform before her very eyes into a technicolor sea of beautiful, vibrant lights. she saw blues and reds and greens and oranges and purples appear for seconds each before vanishing back into the chaos.
as she watched her fellow students start to glow, she looked down at her own hands. the soft yellow aura she'd had in her dream last night was now real, seemingly spilling out of every pore. she'd always liked her color; she thought it uniquely hers.
she sat for a while, admiring this churning sea of brilliant multicolored lights in front of her. she watched the group slowly organize by color; from the chaos emerged small clumps of blues, pockets of greens, and one enormous congregation of red that dwarfed the other groups in both size and brilliance.
however, she needed to get to class. she gathered up her things, took one last bemused look at the writhing technicolor mass at the bottom of the hill, and started down the trail toward the brilliant, gleaming science hall.
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she walked into her classroom and looked for a desk. she set her things down and looked around the room; almost nobody had come to class today. there were three others here, two boys and a girl. the boys seemed to know each other, and were sharing a desk in the back corner of the classroom. the girl, however, was sitting alone a few seats away. she slid into her chair a few rows in front of the other girl and looked up at the professor who was leaning on his desk with one raised eyebrow and a bemused expression. she looked at him quizzically.
he laughed slightly, and wordlessly pointed toward the back of the room. she followed his finger and her vision landed on the two boys in the corner, who by now had fallen completely silent and were looking at her with half-smiles similar to her professor's. confused, she looked back toward the front of the classroom.
the professor shook his head and pointed again, more emphatically this time, and again she followed his finger; she followed it all the way around to the table behind her, where sat the other girl.
she was young, with short brunette hair done up in a small bun on top of her head. she, too, seemed to not have put much effort into her appearance today; she was wearing a tight black t-shirt under a large hoodie which bore the logo of an obscure band.
all of this the girl took in before realizing why her professor was smiling so oddly: the other girl was glowing with the same soft but vibrant yellow as she was.
the girl stared, dumbfounded. "h-hi. i'm alyssa."
"hi. um. i'm catherine."
alyssa looked around the room, feeling foolish and elated. the boys in the corner were watching the two girls with rapt attention. she looked at her professor, who smiled wider and waved a hand in the rough direction of the classroom door.
she turned back around, slowly and nervously. "would you like to go for a walk?"
"that sounds nice." | 2017-10-21T15:28:11 | 2017-10-21T15:13:48 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] A man watches his girlfriend repeatedly fail the “I’m not a robot,” test while checking out during online shopping. He comes to the realization she is indeed, a robot. | Dan had a nice life. Eve’s head rested on his lap while he read the book she’d gotten him for Christmas the day before; he brushed the hair out of her eyes and watched the laptop on her chest as it rose and fell to the pattern of her breathing. It was a simple sort of joy, but Dan had always been the type who seemed to be able to take pleasure in those little things.
Eve was the less sentimental one in the relationship, something exhibited almost comically in that couch tableau: as Dan turned to take in the quintessential winter scene outside, the light flurries of snow set dancing by a gentle wind, backlit by the stunning warmth of a fiery sunset, she checked their joint bank account’s balance.
With a little smile, he gently chastised her: “Hon, it’s Christmas.”
“That was yesterday,” she replied in a distracted monotone. “Today’s the 26th.”
“I...I mean, I know, but still.” He hesitated, the silence filled only by the click of her trackpad. “Do you wanna maybe watch a movie?”
She tilted her head up to him, away from her computer. “Sure. What movie were you thinking?”
“Why don’t we see what’s on Amazon?” He ran a finger along her hairline and she gave him a small smile.
“Sure.” She tabbed into Amazon Instant Video on her laptop. “How’s It’s a Wonderful Life? After all -” she grinned “- it’s Christmas.”
He smiled back. That was the exact movie he’d had in mind and she knew that. Sentimental, traditional, heartwarming, it was everything Dan was and Eve wasn’t.
He watched her screen now as she checked out. The CAPTCHA came up, the ones that just have the check box, and she clicked it. The box turned red. Additional Verification Required.
She seemed a little flustered; he placed a hand on her shoulder. “What?”
“Nothing,” she said, closing her laptop. “Just - let’s just see what’s on.”
He felt her breathing quickening under his hand. He looked down at her and she stared steadily ahead, avoiding his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said again. Abruptly she sat up, and a sudden crack split the air as her head slammed the spine of the book in his hand. She had no reaction.
“Are you -”
“I’m fine!” She started to stand but he caught her shoulder and brought her gently back down onto the couch.
“Honey.” He put an arm around her and massaged her shoulder. “Honey,” he repeated, his voice soft. He didn’t know what was wrong and hoped she wouldn’t open up - or worse, cry.
Despite all Dan’s sentimentality, he wasn’t programmed to deal with emotion.
---
I've never done a writing prompt before, but I decided to give writing for fun a shot today so feedback is welcome!
| James looked down and closed his eyes.
"In a minute, James. These things are getting way harder than they used to be, huh?"
The man moved his head, opened his eyes, and stared at the girl sitting at his desk as he sipped from his mugful of coffee. He waited. His focus sat inquisitively upon his younger lover as she, in all her cutesy fashion, tried to finish up the movie seat reservation for their date later tonight.
A few minutes passed, fact. The steam that had previously seated the top of James's coffee cup was now gone.
"Liz, are you sure you don't want me to do it?" James asked the girl.
"Pffft, what kind of moron would I be if I couldn't figure out what a traffic sign or a storefront looks like, huh? Relax, I got this. Go get dressed or something," she kept clicking away with her mouse.
James sighed and walked over to his closet. He stripped down. Undid a few buttons and zippers. A few minutes later, he was dressed shoe to shoulder in that get-up she always liked. She said it showed off his shoulders really well the last time he saw her.
"Oooh. I like it." Liz peered over from her laptop as she sat on the man's bed. "Shows off your shoulder real nicely."
He blushed and inquired if she had gotten the ticket ordeal sorted yet.
"No, afraid not. Site must be fucked up or something because I know I'm hitting these pictures right and it's just not letting me get through."
James sighed. "You know we don't have to go to the movies, right? We can always stay in. Maybe, we could just go on a walk to the park or something?"
"What, you afraid if we drive or something I'll get fucked up in some accident?"
----
A bright flash.
**System error detected. Memory leak occurring. Would you like to abort?**
Then, nothing.
----
"No," James shook his head. "I'm just saying, we've gone out to the movies or mall or something every single date since last week. It'd be nice to try something different."
"Look, if you're just making me feel better about this stupid spambot verification, it's not going to work. You've been talking my ear off about this movie through the past two weeks and now I want to see it too. Relax."
"I am relaxed." James was not relaxed.
James moved for the laptop. Liz closed it and yanked it back. Her eyes scanned him over with a queer look over her eyebrows. James's brows were furrowed downward. His thin lips frowned.
"What is with you today? You've been on edge all morning?"
"It's nothing."
Liz laughed, "Bull-fucking-shit. I said that all the time and you know it's almost never nothing except for when it is actually nothing."
---
A bright flash.
**System error detected. An unexpected call to memory access has occurred. Would you like to abort?**
Then, nothing.
---
James didn't respond.
"Dude, I don't know what the fuck's going on with you this morning. You call me this morning asking to cancel plans today on account of a cold. I come by to visit and surprise, you don't have a cold. I ask if you can come with me for lasagna at an Italian place next to the theater and you say you can make lunch instead... Christ, what the hell, James?"
James refused to respond.
"Talk to me, dammit. What's going on?"
James stared at his feet, "I cheated on you."
Liz stared daggers into his eyes before relaxing her gaze and stretching her mouth into a cheeky grin, "Yeah, who with?"
"Uhh... you know... some girl at a-" James looked through the options in his head. Bar? A cafe? A grocery store?
"You don't drink. You hate coffee. You order your groceries online. Think of another," she read his mind rather clearly. "Alright, you are clearly not thinking straight at all. I'm leaving."
"Don't leave," James snapped. Then, he took a deep breath. "Please."
"James, you need to get your shit together. Just stop. Get your bearings. Try something else. Because clearly, our time together isn't working out," the girl said.
James looked on and closed his eyes.
---------------------------------------------
James took off his headset. He looked at the time. It was about three in the morning. He was at his desk, plugged into his computer again. He pulled a few wires and the machine clicked off.
There was a bright flash of light from his monitor. A few drops of white LED light splashed into his eyes, blinding him for a moment. The rest of it fell onto a little picture frame on his desk.
James looked at the picture of a happy couple and blocked out the image. He smashed it face-down towards his desk and laid back into his chair.
James looked up and closed his eyes.
| 2018-01-07T11:59:31 | 2018-01-07T10:46:19 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] You are a feared warrior called the "Silent." Why? Because you do not shout out your every move you're about to make. | Slash. Stab. Repeat. They all fall one by one, and the sand of the arena drinks deep of the blood.
My foes are resilient, and fearful. Their "Blazing Phantom Strikes" and "Sonic Trauma Cannons" go wild. I dispatch them quickly, with as little pain as I can give.
The world is alive with Mana. It is alive with magical power, so long as one can speak the language of the world and will it into being. It is a blending of mental thought and outward projection; to hear the other language in your mind and translate it to your mother tongue.
They wonder how I move so fast. How my blade sings as it cuts through their attacks, and their strikes, and their hearts. How can it be that one who doesn't speak is able to weild such power?
I suppose I should thank them for that. After all, they were the ones who cut out my tongue for speaking against the system. For asking for bread to feed the hungry. For asking for medicine to feed the sick.
I am not simply "The Silence", but the cascading voice of the huddled masses. Instead, it is their cries in the dark that give voice to my power.
How can I keep from singing? | My opponent stood there listening, instead of watching me. We circled each other, adding to the patterns that remained like scars in the matted blood dirt. My weapon, a modest rapier, glinted in the high sun. The crowd chanted hungrily from the Colosseum pews, shouting my opponent's name.
'BARB. BARB. BARB.'
My eyes never left the man's broadsword, a weapon that still had his last victims blood. The sword was as wide as my forearm and as tall as me from tip to hilt. Barb, the barbarian had killed his previous three opponents, and while not required he had a following because of his bloodlust.
The crowd quietened, silence fell as a sign of respect and so the crowd to enjoy the sport they had paid to watch.
'Little boy. I hope for their sake you put up a good fight.' Barb shouted sending spittle flying into my face.
The crowd roared.
'What do you say boy?' Barb said in a whisper. 'Why do you not put on a show?'
The idiot did not know who he was fighting.
'Me thinks the boy is scared.' Barb laughed, and the audience rocked the stadium.
I lunged with my rapier outstretched, Barb had been waiting for my prompt to react and had spent his concentration on entertaining.
Barb's eyes bulged as the needle tip penetrated his abdomen. I retracted the blade, and his broadsword fell resting like a crutch on the dirt. Barb's free hand moved to the pinprick of blood that flowed in pumping cycles.
'What cheating is this!' Barb roared.
Barb used his bloody palm to grip the hilt of his blade, using both hands he lifted it in an arc from the ground. I could see from the bowed angle of his body that my stab had caused more harm than he let on.
'DOWNWARD SWING.' Barb's face was contorted in a crimson fury as he did precisely what he had said.
I listened, moved to the left to mirror the side of his stomach I had wounded. The sword hammered against the dirt and the crowd gasped in unison.
'SKYWARD NECK SLICE.' Barb gritted his teeth, and his actions followed the words.
I dived backwards, landing with the air knocked from my lungs. A buzz of beehive like excitement spread through the, now standing, crowd
'DOWNWARD SWING.' Barb shouted.
I rolled left, still playing to his weak side and when the blade fell harmlessly into the dirt I pushed my rapier in for the second time.
Barb rocked forward, losing the grip on his broadsword and fell face first into the dirt. I pushed my back into the earth, arching my lower back and sprung to my feet. I took the crowds silence as an acknowledgement of my victory.
Barb stirred, both hands clutched at the area I had targeted.
'Leg sweep.' Barb said in a pitiful voice.
I waited, but nothing happened. A hissing and booing sound filled my ears. I turned my eyes to the crowd above and watched the hatred pour from them. If I could showboat I would. | 2018-07-08T06:56:28 | 2018-07-08T02:53:01 | 140 | 60 |
[WP] Everyone is born with 1-100 tally marks tattooed on their arm. The higher your number, the more valuable you are and the more successful you will be. You bully a kid because he is obviously hiding a low score. One day, he rolls up his sleeve to show an infinity symbol. | It was the first of January. The day of the Reveal. The day every person turning sixteen in the next twelve months will find out the number that will determine who their friends will be, where they will live, the jobs they will work. I wasn't worried. Both of my parents were in the 90's, my sister too. I was almost guaranteed a spot in the highest tier of society.
The mood was tense in the auditorium. All of us sat, watching the clock as it slowly ticked closer and closer to the 12 o'clock mark. Some people had their sleeves rolled up, eager to see. Others kept turning towards the door as if they were antsy to get out. I chatted with my friends, other soon-to-be 80's and 90's, if their family history said anything about it.
As the clock sounded, gasps could be heard echoing throughout the room. I felt a searing pain in my arm before it disappeared abruptly. I looked down, and my suspicions were confirmed. I was a 92.
I turned to my friend beside me, Jen, for a high-five, only to see her eyes filling with tears. I glanced at her arm, and recoiled. No, it couldn't be. Impossible. A 20? She abruptly got up and sprinted out the door to the bathroom.
===========
It had been a few months after the Reveal. Besides Jen, there weren't too many surprises. A couple kids from 30's families jumped to 70's. They were probably going to start a company or something in the near future.
I strolled to my locker, laughing with Kane about the party we went to the other night. Nobody dared step in our way. Nobody, that is, except for the little punk-ass that I ended up crashing into. As books flew to the ground, I shoved the kid. "Hey, watch it!"
He kept his head down, but when I noticed who it was, an evil grin materialized on my face. "What's this? Has Mr. Nobody himself decided to bless me with his presence?"
He ignored me, and bent down to pick his books up. Kane laughed. "Ah ah," he teased as he grabbed Tristan by the collar. "We can't have you disrespecting us like that, now, can we?"
"Let me go," he whispered, tugging his sleeve down. He was the only one to have yet revealed his score. I bet it was probably some record low number; the kid didn't seem to bright anyways.
"Let you go? But that's no fun!" A crowd had started gathering around us by now. "Now, mind letting us see that number?"
"No thank you," he mumbled, before trying to get out of Kane's grasp.
"What's that?" My voice got deadly low. Nobody dared talk back to a 92, especially not a low-life like him. "Kane, grab his sleeve."
To his credit, Tristan struggled. He really did try to keep it hidden, but of course, he had no chance against the school's star football player. Triumphantly, Kane yanked the sleeve back, before dropping it, and taking a step back.
The hall was silent. "Kane? Kane, what is it?"
Kane dropped to his knees. "Forgive me, Infini." As he said that, everyone around us began dropping down as well.
"What? That's... That's impossible! There's only ever... He can't be... Let me see that!" I grabbed his sleeve myself, only to confirm what Kane saw. An infinity symbol. I looked at Tristan, and he seemed grim. "I hope you'll leave me alone now," he said as he walked away.
​ | I grew up in a tough household you learnt to be quick, 'lessons' were taught with fists, mostly the lesson was to stay out of his way. My tally was high in the 70's but this only seemed to piss my dad off, he never let me see his. But judging by our small run down flat and his dead end job it wasn't very high.
School was like a refuge I don't mean to brag or nothing but I was well liked, and I knew I would go places the proof was on my skin, I liked looking at it to remind myself of that on tougher days. Nobody was allowed to talk about their tallys it was school rules. Some shit about preserving our childhoods, too fuckin late. and of course poeple did talk about them. Nah I think it was to stop kids rebelling against the 30 pointers that taught the lessons.
There was this one kid, you know the wierd one, he pissed me off because he always seemed so happy with himself. They called him limper because of his greasy hair. He never said much, just scribbled things and muttered. One day we are alone in the hall just me and him. He got sent out, so did I but from different classes. I'm minding my business. Then he smiles at me his eyes go a bit puffy and its like he is looking through me, creeping me out. Like he knew my secrets and felt sorry for me.
I scowl at him "What're you looking at limper?" Hes a creepy fucker. His eyes shoot down then he says real quiet "I can see what he does to you" this kids unsettling me "stop talking crap limper" but he just keeps staring and like he can't stop he just goes on " I know where the bruises come from" "I know that you cry" I lose it it at this point launch myself across the room. Who the fuck is this kid? Has he been spying on me? Ive got him by the collar now his eyes strech wide, he touches my tally arm " I can fix it" "I can fix it" he would've kept going if I didn't tell him to shut up. I said it loud. I know doors would start opening soon. I put him down ,I talk quick and low " you can't fix shit limper. What ever the fuck you know you better keep it to yourself you little freak" I was not done with him. The Teacher had stuck her head out of her classroom "no talking in the corridor" then he lifts up his sleave so only I can see but theres no tally....just an infinity symbol. He Smiles at me and nods. Who the fuck is this kid?
Time passes slowly in the last lesson and all I'm thinking about is what to do about this kid, I would be waiting for him at the gate. Beat the shit out of him. no, I would just talk to him. I had to figure out what was going on. How did he know that stuff? What does infinity even mean as a tally? My mind feels slightly foggy probably stress. I look for his dark haired head bobbing amongs the others after school. But I must have missed him, because he is nowhere to be seen. I could find him online but shit I only know him as limper.
I head home its not a long walk, but when I get there things are fucking wierd . the house. its not my house theres curtains in the window, no flaky paint on the door. Flowers in pots. I don't know what to do. I freak. I go to the woods. Wonder some way in and just start writing this. I have to....
Now you know what I know. This more or less is my last diary entry, my handwriting. But nothing I remember. I just got up in the woods dazed not knowing exactly how I got there. I headed home .I live with my mom and little brother, I've no idea who my dad is. We're happyish. And my tally is 81, not 70 something. I'm not sure if I'm going crazy or not but there IS a kid at my school called limper, his real name is Kenny Silverman and I really need to know. To thank him maybe? I'm not sure.
Kenny is in the year below me. He has no friends that I've ever seen, yet it doesn't seem to bother him. He keeps to himself. Everyone reckons he will either blow up the school or become the next einstein. But nobody really knows him. Teachers don't really like him since he has a nack for pointing out their mistakes.
I didn't have the guts to talk to him. didn't know what I would even say, 'hey are you an extradimentional time traveler and did you change my life and wipe my memory? Not going to risk sounding that crazy. No if I talked to him it would seem too out of character for me, my friends would notice and ask about it. He is nowhere online either. Hes a ghost. So I slipped him a note when I was helping to hand stuff out for the teacher. Asked him to meet me in the park by the woods after school I wrote that I had something important to tell him. No idea if he will show .
Author : will continue tomorrow eyes are falling shut .
Update : Part two is in the comments heres a link.
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/aa49v4/wp_everyone_is_born_with_1100_tally_marks/ecq251j?utm_source=reddit-android | 2018-12-27T18:27:11 | 2018-12-27T18:25:50 | 287 | 99 |
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