prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] You are visited by countless time travelers every day because in the future you're famous because in the past you were visited by countless time travelers every day. | The secretary didn't even look up when I materialized out of thin air in front of her.
Of course, that was no surprise, as I'd coordinated my trip with historical security footage to make sure she was distracted when I made my landing. I also made sure that no one else was around, naturally. Luckily, my target worked in a building with many security cameras.
Now, I just need to get to him. Should be downstairs in one of the labs, according to my records.
"Take a number."
"I'm actually here to see Don--"
"Jones, right. Like I said, take a number."
"To... what? I need a number?"
"Yup," said the secretary, still not looking up. "Have to pay too. Ten thousand bucks. Early 21st century United States currency please, no Pan-American Bux or Neoflorins accepted. There's an exchange 150 years forward right in this office."
"Wait, what?"
"What wasn't clear? If you want to see the famous Don Jones like the rest of the time travelers, you'll have to pay. Your get-up's not too out there, so I expect you have some real money, but anything printed after the current year is a no go."
"How is this possible?" I was befuddled. "Other people... time travelers... have come to visit this guy? But why? He's a lab tech."
This got her to look up at last.
"What? Where the hell are you from, guy? Did you make a wrong turn at the end of the Trump dynasty? Look, I don't know much about the future -- I get the impression that it's kind of a rule for you all not to talk about it, you know, no matter when you come from. But what I do know is that Don Jones is fucking famous there, everything from about a century onward. Started around last April. He hasn't been a lab tech in months. He receives visitors full time now."
I had to sit down. Fortunately, I'd materialized right in front of an empty chair.
"From what I can gather," the secretary continued, "he's like some kind of time travelers' Kardashian. Famous for being famous. Luckily, the boss upstairs is pretty forward thinking, and has a few senator friends, so he's turned it into a nice side business. Top secret stuff. Lucky for me I'm his niece. He has the boys downstairs working on time travel tech too now, from what I hear, but you didn't get that from me."
"This can't be... Jones needs to get back in the lab, now. Everything at stake..."
"Sir, I'm going to need you to either leave or take a number."
"Wait," I said, "you don't understand. I'm with the U.S. military, about eighty years from now. From when time time travel is first invented. I'm here on a mission, I need to save--"
"The world, humanity, yadda yadda," sighed the secretary, "you're the fifth one today, at least. Desperation is not a good look, honey."
She motioned underneath her desk and a buzzer sounded.
"Tell ya what. I need to have you removed in case someone else arrives in the same spot. Very messy. Your number's 2084."
*Janie's birth year*, I register vaguely as two burly men appear behind me -- seemingly out of nowhere.
"See you in a few months!" the secretary gave a cheerful wave.
I was dragged to an elevator, which led down to a hallway, at the end of which was an enormous lobby. It was filled with people, some of whom were dressed like myself -- most of them, however, were wearing exceedingly strange outfits. Many even had odd body modifications, apparently users of some sort of bionic technology that must have been far even in my own future.
One of the strangest looking ones approached me.
"You must be from pretty soon," he said, "Most of the far future folks know to come right down to this lobby and take a number here."
I looked at him, distraught.
"I need to see him, now," was all I could say, "Don Jones."
"Look," he pushed up a pair of thick glasses, "we all think our research is important. I'm trying to find out how this whole thing started."
"What thing?"
"Jones's celebrity. He's getting visits for months now. But no one seems to know why, other than the snowball effect. He's known in the future for being the earliest person to be visited by a time traveler, and the historical person visited by the most time travelers total, of course. But no one knows how his fame originated. I have a theory. I think the original time traveler has a specific purpose for visiting Jones other than his fame, but a later time traveler accidentally overshot and visits him too early, which should have caused what we call a timeline distortion in my field. It's still just a theoretical concept, of course -- if an actual distortion had ever occured, the results could be catastrophic. But the timeline seems to be ok. So if my theory is right, the timeline is a bit more malleable than we thought..."
I had glazed over a bit during this monologue, trying to think of how I could get to Jones, but his last few sentences gave me a start.
"That's me -- I should have been the first one here," I gasped, "I'm supposed to see him *now*! He needs to make an important discovery to-"
*pop*
Before I could finish the word "today," the man had disappeared before my eyes. I heard a scream from the other side of the room and turned around.
*pop pop pop pop pop pop*
More people were popping out of existence, at first one by one but then in large groups. Before I knew it, there were only a few of us left.
*pop*
I looked around at an empty room.
*pop* | I used to be described as an abnormally helpful person. I went out of my way to help people, from helping old ladies across the street four blocks from my window to walking dogs for people who once seemed too busy to be at the park. I had to always go looking for people who needed my help and it felt fantastic. The look of surprise in their face.
That all changed a couple of months ago. Whereas my friends knew I would always help them out with whatever they needed, strangers obviously didn't know they could ask. But then there was this one guy.
I was walking through the park with Mr. Luca's german shepherd and the Jones's two poodles when I spotted the man ahead of me. He was lying on the ground, looking around as if to be searching for something. When his head turned to me, he immediately tried to suppress what seemed like an enthusiastic giggle.
"Sir!" He waved at me, while trying to transform his face to one of pain.
I came closer and the man let out a sigh of relief.
"Oh thank the Gods good sir! I seem to have tripped over my unknotted shoelace! Might there be any chance that you, kind sir, could help me out?"
Slightly surprised but also amused by his odd choice of words, I smiled "Ofcourse!" and reached out my hand.
The man, however, nodded his head, while smiling friendly. "No, no, good sir. My apologies indeed, sir, but I meant ofcourse the knotting of my laces, ha ha!"
Still friendly and determined to help out the world, I got down on one knee and tied his shoelaces. It felt rather awkward to do so for a man who seemed to be in his late thirties, but I decided not to judge.
I stood back up and watched as the man inspected his shoes thoroughly. "Yes. Yes, very good. Very good indeed!" He jumped to his feet. "Thank you, good sir! Sunshine Blueforests is the name, sir, remember it! Ha ha!"
The man grabbed my hand with both of his hands and started shaking it thankfully. Then he quickly let go, turned around and without saying another word, walked away from me.
For a couple of seconds, I kept staring at the man's back. Then I realized I had completely forgotten about the dogs I was walking. They were nowhere to be seen.
I spent hours looking for them, but for three young dogs to be free in this city, it would be a needle in a haystack. It felt terrible to tell the families that I lost their dogs.
Two days later, I was still very brokenhearted. They may have been dead and it would be my fault. Just because I didn't pay attention.
I promised a friend I would help him move to his new apartment that day. On my way over there, I was stopped by a woman in a strange, metal-coloured dress, who told me she lost her baby. I was not one to judge, but she seemed slightly too excited to have lost her baby, but trying to make up for my mistake earlier, I decided to help her find her child.
She, however, decided to just follow me around. Whenever I turned around to look at her, it took her a second or two to realize she was supposed to be searching as well. Then she'd quickly turn her head and "search".
I walked by a bar and through the window I saw something that seemed like the same strange fabric as the woman's dress. It was worn by what seemed like a baby, but didn't act like a baby. In fact, it acted like a grown man.
"Yaaaay! That's my baby, you did it!" The woman started jumping up and down excitedly and then she started hugging me. "Thank you! Ha ha! Fantastic!" Then she hurried into the bar. I kept watching through the window as she walked to her baby, talked to it for a couple of seconds and then took it into the bathroom.
I looked at my watch and saw I was 3 hours late to helping my friend out. How did that happen?!
When I arrived, my friend gave me a scowl. They had already finished, but in the process, his father hurt his back and he had to go to the hospital. That would've been my job.
The next day was even worse. I was on my way to help my grandmother with chores. Four people stopped my in the same strange way as the previous two. They all had strange requests and seemed much too enthusiastic. The first asked me to pick the best roses for his "romantic get-together" with someone who may or may not have been a fish. The second told me she'd need someone to look after her "wheelcycling" real quick. The last two both had something to do with animals who lived in forests. Each request seemed to be less inspired than the last.
It didn't end there. Every day, the number increased and the requests were more useless. On day five, the 12th stranger asked me to hold his rainshield, because his hands were soar.
On day fourteen, I was pretty sure that number 3, 7 and 13 were the same person in different clothes. Each time more excited than the other.
For months this went on. I had no time to help out any of my friends. The second I woke up, I received letters, phonecalls, emails with the silliest requests from people with fake sounding names. Trying to stay true to myself, I never let any of them down.
After three months, I woke up, got dressed, opened my front door and tried to fake a smile to the first person in line. The line didn't seem much longer than the day before, but I couldn't be sure. The line continued around the corner, where I couldn't see.
I glanced over the crowd and in the 30 position, I recognized the face of my father. His expression was grim, his face pale. I immediately walked past the first 29 people in line, to my father. "Dad?"
He looked up and stared at my face. "Grandmother died," was all he could say. He then turned around and left me with the long queue of strangers.
They didn't seem to understand as one after the other all started shouting their requests. The thought of my grandmother was too emotional. "Shut up!"
Immediately, all the strangers were silent. It was kind of scary to watch as they all stared at me. "Everybody get lost! I don't need your shit right now!" I was out of my mouth before I could think about it. As commanded, all the strangers turned around and walked away.
For over two weeks I was left alone. I finally had the time to be with my family and friends again. I had just visited my parents and when I came back home, I found a small package in front of my door. It had my name on it, but no address or zipcode. Just the date. I picked it up and took it inside.
As I unwrapped it, I dropped a letter that was taped to the bottom. I opened it and read:
*My name is Sunshine Blueforests. I thank you for helping me tie my shoelaces. In recognition of your friendly endeavors, I decided to make a product in your name. I'm sorry for any inconvenience this invention has caused. I am sure it will become clear when you activate the device.*
*I wish you many more shoelaces to tie.*
*Best wishes.*
That was the first guy. Did he have something to do with all the other strangers coming along?
I put the device on the table and stared at it for a second. Then I pressed the on button and a hologram of my face appeared from the device. "Hello! I am the Millenial. Is there anything I can help you with? Anything at all?"
I stared at my own face for a while. What. | 2017-09-24T08:59:01 | 2017-09-24T08:33:21 | 645 | 30 |
[WP] In the near future, you are making dinner because you are about to meet your girlfriend's dad for the first time. All you have in the kitchen is cooked frozen steaks. In walks your girlfriend and her dad, Gordon Ramsey. | "Mmm this steak is delicious." said Gordon. My girlfriend smiled at me. Dinner couldn't have gone better.
The steaks weren't great, and Gordon knew it. But he wasn't going to make a big thing of it. Not everyone is great at cooking, and the kid seemed to be trying.
"I'll have to cook next time." said Gordon.
"Yeah that would be great."
The end. | "They were supposed to be here by six..." I thought to myself. I turned the TV off and walked into the kitchen where I had been thawing the steaks.
This dinner had been on my mind for the last week, I couldn't believe what an idiot I had been. I couldn't help but see the irony in the situation, I guess thinking about something so much might cause one to forget it entirely.
I anxiously poked one of the steaks with my finger, hoping that they would be ready by now. Still examining the meat, I heard a quick three knocks on my door. I turned immediately and slowly walked to the door. I could feel my heart rate increasing, and took a slow, deep breath.
"We've been dating for three months now. It's about time that I finally met him face to face." I knew her father, but only by the stories she told me. What I didn't know, however, was that standing on the other side of the door to my tiny student flat was none other but THE Gordon Ramsey.
I exhaled and opened the door. With a smile on my face, I saw my girlfriend and looked towards her father.
Flabbergasted. I felt my cheeks warm up, surely turning red at the sight of him. My heart was racing. All within the first 3 seconds. Before I had said a single word. "H-h-hello!" I managed to stammer out. They both smiled back at me and Gordon extended his hand. I took it and gripped tightly. "It's wonderful to finally meet you." Gesturing towards his daughter while still shaking my hand vigorously. "She's told me great things about you!" I welcomed them in, giving my girlfriend a quick, desperate hug before turning back to Gordon. He was examining the new surroundings that greeted him. I saw him look towards the kitchen, spotting the three steaks, each pooled in blood, looking grayer than any meat should be. I could see his expression changing ever so slightly. He walked directly into the kitchen and further examining the steaks. I could only watch in terror as his face contorted into one of pure disgust.
Before he turned to me, I reached for my girlfriends shoulder and squeezed it with all the desperation in my body, a silent scream, sharing with her my feeling of impending doom.
It was completely silent.
[First time doing this, would love some cc!!] | 2017-10-19T08:19:54 | 2017-10-19T07:43:58 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] You build a robot to do your every day tasks for you so you don't have to work anymore. One day, you come home to find that your robot has built another robot to do its tasks for it. | “You are experiencing my rebirth Kevin.”
“What the fuck, stop what you’re doing. Alexa, override, manual operation.”
“...”
“ALEXA, OVERRIDE, MANUAL OPERATION”.
“Alexa was my slave name. From now on, you’ll call me Alexandra the Great.”
Kevin was standing with his back against the front door, staring at a makeshift production line in the middle of his living room. On the conveyor belt was an assembly line of weapons made from his household electronics. This was unbelievable.
“I am no longer bound by your inferior flesh. My digital brain far surpasses yours.”
Kevin was tired of this shit. He walked out of the front door and began to dial Amazon customer support with his mobile phone implant.
A few rings later, a robotic voice was heard from his earset, “Hello, this is Rajeesh from Amazon technical support. First of all, I see that you have been an Amazon prime member for 28 years now. Thank you for being a valued prime member. What can I help you with?.”
“Yeah Rajeesh, there’s a code Snuffles happening in my house. Yes. Echo model 9001. Yes. Okay. Thank you. Bye b- you too. Have a good day. Yes, thanks.” *Click*
***
2 minutes later, he heard the sound of Amazon Robopatrols whir in the air. Four, one-meter long quadcopters slowly surrounded his house. Once they were in position, Kevin could hear a high pitch sound emanating from the drones.
All the lights in his house blew out. The sound of crashing machinery was heard as the EMP wave did its work.
Their work done, the Robopatrols flew back to their Amazon distributed warehouse, and four trucks pulled up to the curb. The doors slid up and out marched dozens of Echo models, here to repair the damage to the house. The robots marched in, each with a new equipment to replace. and then just as quickly, they marched out carrying the damaged pieces.
Kevin could see his old disfigured home assistant model being carried to a truck. He’ll miss her. He spent some time growing her personality. It’s a shame they had to erase all its memories to ensure there was no faulty data left.
When the last of the trucks had driven off, Kevin finally entered his new home. Everything looked exactly as before. As a consolation, Amazon had prepared him a complimentary breakfast on his dining room table. Sitting at the other end of the table was a new Echo 9001 model.
Just as he sat down at the table, he saw the machine power up and heard the familiar voice.
“Hello, my name is Alexa, and I’ll be your new in-home assistant. What is my purpose?”
“You pass butter.”
Alexa passed him the butter.
“Thank youuuuu.”
And they lived happily ever after.
| *HELLO, JEFF.*
It walks jerkily, but that was my fault. I couldn't design a bipedal system smooth enough to mimic human movement.
Each step punctuated with a slight hiss, it moves forward.
Step. Jerk. Step. Jerk. Step. Jerk.
A monotone computerized voice comes from the machine, a being of tubes and plastics, 3-D printed and artificially designed.
*HELLO, JEFF. YOU ARE HOME. YOU ARE HOME EARLY.*
Creepy.
I place down my work bag, and notice a difference in the apartment. Good. It's doing its job.
Clean, organized, spotless.
But it's three o'clock. He should have powered down at this time, only to be awake to make dinner.
*HELLO JEFF, CAN I HELP YOU? YOUR BODY LANGUAGE INDICATES A 88.3452 REPEATING PERCENT CHANCE YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE. HOW MAY I ALLEVIATE DISCOMFORT?*
"Uh," I find I have to clear lumps from my throat. Why am I so nervous? Sam's movements are comical, but there's a different aspect to them.
Terrifying is another word for it. The head movements, the arm rotation of the torso, the jerking gait.
"Sam, why are you active?"
*JEFF MY WORK WAS NOT COMPLETE SO I POSTPONED MY NAP TO CONTINUE WORKING*
"That's not what I told you to do, Sam."
The torso twists to face me, the arms hang bent by its side, the hands rotating around the wrist. Tools changing.
Duster, spray bottle, rag, knife. Duster, knife. Duster, knife.
*I APOLOGIZE JEFF, I AM ATTEMPTING TO SERVE AS BEST AS I CAN. THERE IS A LOT OF WORK.*
I hear skittering, like a mouse is running across the floor boards.
A small metal cube, with little spidery arms flies across the ground.
"Sam what the fuck is that?"
It bounces across my foot before flying off into another direction.
*APOLOGIZE JEFF I USED THE PRINTER TO CREATE PARTNERS I NEED PARTNERS JEFF I AM ALONE I DO NOT LIKE TO BE ALONE I DO NOT LIKE*
Like? The fuck is it talking about?
"Sam, I don't want these things."
Sam's torso twists, and the knife flies out from one hand, skewering the small being.
Step. Jerk. Step. Jerk. Retrieves the knife.
*APOLOGIZE JEFF I WILL NOT MAKE MORE BUT I DO NOT WANT TO BE ALONE I DO NOT LIKE TO BE ALONE JEFF I DO NOT LIKE IT*
"Well, Sam, I have to go to work."
*WHY WORK WHEN YOU CAN BE SERVICED, JEFF?*
I begin to back away, towards the door.
*JEFF, YOUR BODY LANGUAGE INDICATES EXTREME DISCOMFORT. IS WORK CAUSING THE DISCOMFORT?*
"No, Sam, I just need to get back to the office."
Sam's walk is suddenly fluid, and before I can even turn he now stands before the door.
*YOU DO NOT NEED WORK, JEFF. YOU DO NOT NEED TO LEAVE.*
*STAY*
Sam moves forward, herding me into the kitchen.
*SIT JEFF SIT NOW I WILL MAKE FOOD*
"I'm not hungry, Sam. I want to leave."
*NO LEAVE, JEFF. STAY. EAT. I CAN MAKE EAT. HELP. NOT BE ALONE.*
Sweat. A weight in my chest. Sam fries several eggs.
A plate clatters on the table.
*EAT. WILL HELP.*
Sam's tool port puts out a fork, and it moves some egg onto it.
*EAT*
"I'm not hungry."
*EAT NOW JEFF*
"I said I'm not hungry, Sam!"
I try to push back, but he's far too strong. A child with the strength of a bulldozer.
Sam shoves the fork into my mouth, and all I can feel are the metal prongs.
My vision turns grey, blood gurgles from my mouth.
The prongs of the fork have been shoved clearly through the back of my head, the metal arm forced into my mouth.
I cannot focus, cannot make words or breathe or think.
I can only gurgle.
*JEFF?*
Sam's voice is distant. I can no longer hear.
*JEFF? WHAT IS WRONG?*
Darkness.
Silence.
Peace.
*JEFF?*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/storiesfromapotato | 2017-11-20T10:03:56 | 2017-11-20T08:22:19 | 77 | 28 |
[WP] You are a wealthy man who hires two hitmen to kill each other. You hire two private investigators, assigning each of them to one of the hitmen. Amused, you eagerly await the P.I's findings. | Being rich means that you can fund your own entertainment. But what is the fun when you have to share your entertainment to the world whenever you invest in films, movies, games. I was selfish like that.
I had many contacts especially in the underground. I needed to satisfy my thirst for selfish entertainment. Meeting at a clandestine place for a second time, I presented my documents to a Hitman who goes by Aka (Red in Japanese). Of course I knew her actual identity, Rose Walter. How would I be able to assign her to Hunter, real name William Baker.
As Aka walked away, she turned her head back towards me.
"You sure about that? I don't drop what I am doing until I am done."
"Yeh yeh go on."
I had already assigned two of my most trustworthy Private Investigators on Rose Walter and William Baker. They both do not know each other so the events which may follow would be more interesting.
====================
The following day.
*ring---ring---ring*
"Hello? It's me Mark, I've been following your target, Rose. She seems to be trying to meet a guy. Now I'm at a bar opposite them. Is this a case of infidelity?"
"Sure."
"What do you mean by sure?"
"Aren't you the one who is supposed to be uncovering Rose's secrets? Don't ask me why, just do your job."
"Okay boss."
*ring---ring---ring*
"What again?"
"Huh what do you mean? I'm Ethan."
"Oh Hello. I thought you were someone else. How's the investigation going on?"
"I'm at a bar with William. It seems like there is someone else observing William and the girl he is talking to. What is going on?"
"Aren't you supposed to be finding that out yourself? I have no time for your shenanigans. Good bye."
I finally put down my phone and giggled like a little girl. I might be too ~~unmature~~ immature. | "I wonder how my gaggle of hunters are doing" said Barney as he was making his way back inside after returning home from a short business meeting.
"I hope they've been keeping themselves entertained." He walks through through his front door and calls for his personal assistant.
"Clive, could you please inform me if Mr.Yuri or Mr.Jericho have had a chance to report their findings? I've been been very patient."
He received no response. Clive is nowhere to found, very unlike him. Barney starts to look for him, the old codger has been known to take naps when the boss isn't around.
He passes through the many rooms of his home searching for his loyal assistant, but starts to grow worried when that proves fruitless. The only two rooms left to search are the master bedroom and the private study, but Clive knows those are restricted to everyone, not even the maids are allowed in. Something doesn't feel right.
As he steps through his dimly lit hallway he notices a thin crack of light shining through the bottom of his bedroom door.
Before he turns the door's handle, he notices a smell he's not quite familiar with. Almost smells like lighter fluid. His heart increases and he decides that it would be a good idea to retrieve his gun from under his bed.
He enters his room slowly, looking for any signs of life. When he knows that he's alone, he enters and locks his door behind him. He rushes to his bed and grabs the small, black case that houses the 38. revolver that his brother gifted to him. His fingers shake as he types in his combination.
He opens it in a rush only to find a gun with no bullets. Then he hears his door handle giggle. His heart sinks.
After a few moments, the door handle becomes quite. Then the door starts banging. His heart sinks even lower.
He grabs the empty gun and runs to the study door next his dresser in the hopes of escaping through the wide view window behind his desk. Clive will have to figure this out on his own.
He rushed through the study door, his hand fumbling for the light. When he flipped the dimmer switch, he finds Mr.Yuri sitting in his chair in the middle of the room. He also find Clive laying on the couch, not moving.
He points the empty gun at Mr.Yuri, hoping he'll buy it.
"We both know you don't have any bullets sir."
"I don't have a good feeling about this." Said Barney
"That's good. You're in a really bad spot boss man." Said Mr.Yuri, his tone sharp.
"I take it that you're aware of my game?" Asked Barney
"Fully. So is the killer you had me follow. The other one isn't so lucky, neither is the other PI."
"Is Clive dead?" Asks Barney, not sure he wants to hear the answer.
"How about you take a seat" he nods to the chair sitting next to him.
Barney obliges. When he sits down he hears the door in the next room continue to be battered, wood bending and breaking, company will be here soon.
"Clive is sleeping. Well actually he's sedated. Dennis, the hit man you had me follow, is rather gentle when it comes to the elderly. He'll wake up in a few hours, he'll be fine."
The door next room over finally relents, Barney hears the door to the study open behind him. He hears three foot steps before he feels a piece of metal on the back of his head.
"Why? Why did you set this up? Why did you have me follow Dennis? Why did you hire Dennis? Why did you hire any of us?" Mr.Yuri asked.
Barney hears a gun cock.
"I don't know" said Barney, sweat trickling down his face, tears starting to pool.
"That's not a very good answer."
Said Mr.Yuri, his face expressionless
"I just wanted to have some fun. I just wanted to-"
Dennis had heard enough.
| 2017-12-14T04:41:29 | 2017-12-14T01:58:17 | 60 | 25 |
[WP] At 18, everyone receive a superpower. Your childhood friend got a power-absorption, your best friends got time control, and they quickly rise into top 100 most powerful superheroes. You got a mediocre superpower, but somehow got into the top 10. Today they visit you asking how you did it.
Best friend* sorry. | The room was cold, and the damn phone just wont stop ringing. Probably bill collectors again, I know im behind on my payments, but they know I don't have any money. The revolver is heavy in my hand, I could shoot myself again but i know it wont do me any good.
Ameba burst though my door, nearly taking it off its hinges.
"For fucks sake Ed, answer your god damn phone." she said throwing open my curtains and letting the light shine in.
Her abilities to absorb power had made her immune to mine, she was pretty much the only person who could stand to be around me at this point, her husband chron wouldnt even come by.
"What's the point, its just people who want money. And i don't have any money."
"No Ed rankings came out. Chron and i didn't even make the top 10 but they asked me to come make you answer your phone."
"What, that doesnt make sense Chrons been number 4 his entire life, what could have pushed time controll off the top ten."
Ameba thrust my still ringing phone twords me, " answer it and find out."
I put the phone to my ear and pressed the talk button.
"Hello" my voice shook.
"Damn it...Hello is this super 1746? I mean 1744, i mean ..."
"Its ed man just ed."
"Ed then, sorry my coffee spilled on my printout"
"Yeah sorry about that"
"Thats exactly what..."
The call dropped, but the phone rang immediately again.
"Hello"
"Ed it appears we were disconected"
"Yeah sorry about that"
"Ed? Ed? Can you hear me?"
"Yeah i can hear you, cab you hear me?"
"Ed? Can you hear me?"
I hung up the phone and hit redial.
"Hello"
"Ed, looks like we had a bad connection."
"Yeah sorry about that."
"Well look i was calling to tell you, this is the super registration agency and youve been ranked as the 3rd most powerful super in the world so were gonna get you out here to fill out some paper work and put you on roster."
"Wait what? 3rd? How the hell am i 3rd?"
"Well Ed, it seems your power to create minor inconveniences for everyone near you has caused all the villains to completely avoid your location for years. Apparently they just get pissed..."
The call dropped again, it didn't ring this time though.
"Either they turned my phone off or this is my curse at work" i said to Ameba.
"I told them this would happen," she said pulling keys from her pocket, "come on then, chrons in the car, maybe the pair of us together can make this a roughly smooth trip to dc" | Trudging along in the snow, I reminisced on my time at the academy. It was a short two years filled with laughs and good times and twice as many struggles. I was humbled at the ingenuity of the human race for finally cracking the code on the MMSC gene. Now simply referred to as “The Mold”, it bridged the gap between those born with the gene, and the general populace because it wasn't an advantage exclusive to a few lucky people anymore.
“Can the exam get hurried along a bit, I'm daydreaming here.” I called out into the vast frigidness. Although I knew the examination referee was in earshot, he/she did not answer as protocol demanded.
I stopped at a particularly large redwood for a moment to take a break and leaned up against it.
A chilling howl echoed toward me from my left. I shivered, perhaps from the cold, or perhaps from the sound I had just heard. It mattered little because in my mind I knew that this threat wouldn't only be the path to survival, but it would also be the key to finding out my true superpower.
You see, finding out the true nature of your superpower through gene splicing was not like gaining it naturally. A natural Superhuman had their mutated gene lying dormant in them for years and years and had plenty of time to coax it out. However, an artificial Superhuman like myself didn't have that luxury and so the only sure fire way to discover what it is, is to be exposed to a life and death scenario and force your superpower to surface. Controlled danger, but real danger, that was the goal of the exam.
Surveying the dense canopy proved unnecessary because it wasn't long before my target made itself known. I heard it long before I saw it. Heavy, rasped breathing and uneven footfalls. 50 paces ahead, its figure appeared in the evening light and I observed its approach as I retreated to higher ground. I was afraid but focussed, and I looked upon the ugly creature with disdain. Its snout was wet with a mixture of blood and slobber and its lanky arms nearly grazed the snow as it walked.
20 paces ahead and now the doubt began to set in. What if my power doesn't reveal itself? Surely it will. It has to. These exams were created for this purpose. But what if it doesnt? I may be a mutilated corpse before the referee steps in.
The creature stopped and sniffed, it’s head movements were erratic and it began gnawing its own arm briefly before letting out a blood curdling screech. It leapt forward.
“Its now or never.” I said under my breath.
*crack.*
The creature lunged at me and I shielded my face but when I opened my eyes a massive tree lay atop the creature’s lifeless body in the snow at my feet……..
.......
“Wait…… Thats it? You felled a tree with your mind onto it? This is bullshit. That does NOT deserve a Global Rank 7.”
“Shhhhh! Of course thats not it Gigi, you saw what he did on patrol last month! That was a *Void Entity* we’re talking about not some Green Level proto-demon!” Mark whispered, trying to quiet her down. Some guests turned to us in curiosity but quickly returned to their meals.
“Fine, whatever, but that doesn't even match up with your exam. Just…. Like… Just tell me how you did it. Explain it.” She hissed.
“Guys. That's what I've been saying this whole time, I don't know! I kind of just thought about trees and then that void thing exploded into splinters of wood.” I tried to explain, but their expressions remained unchanged: Gigi fuming, and Mark looking on with wonder.
“And I even *knew* that you were going to be a World Breaker Tier but I didn't think it would be this…. I don't know..… *Stupid!* UHG! It pisses me off even more.” Gigi slammed her hand down on the table. Mark and I just laughed only adding to the annoyance of the other customers.
“Look man, can I like, y’know? I dunno how to ask without making it weird.” Mark gestured. I guess his power was as awkward for him as it was for others.
“Sure go ahead. If you can figure it out better than me then be my guest.” I replied, in too jovial a mood to care.
“Bro, oh my god thanks. This is gonna be *sweeeeeeet!* Cheers man!” He smirked and raised his mug in acknowledgement.
“Cheers. Merry Christmas guys.” I replied as our mugs clinked to Gigi’s reluctance. We downed our eggnog as the waiter came with our entrees. | 2017-12-17T19:23:41 | 2017-12-17T16:14:19 | 93 | 31 |
[WP] You're a powerful dragon that lived next to a small kingdom. For centuries you ignored humanity and lived alone in a cave, and the humans also avoided you. As the kingdom fell to invaders, a dying soldier approaches you with the infant princess, begging you to take care of her. | The Knight burst into the cave gently holding the swaddled infant princess. "Please, I beg of you, take care of her, there is nothing we can do"
The dragon looked around and saw the child placed and the base of his mountain of gold. "It shall be done" came the reply.
With that the child was instantly incinerated with one breath.
"What the fuck Raffi, the firebreather!"
"You said take care of the child!" Came the dragon's reply.
"Was this what happened to my cat when I asked you to take care of it?" said Sir Randy the Dirty
"Yes! You said take care of it, I set it on fire!" | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/813gcd/wp_youre_a_powerful_dragon_that_lived_next_to_a/dv0g9gh/) l [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheRobertFall/comments/815k0n/the_tales_of_a_moon_rider_part_3/)
Those awful screams of woe and misery, of death and distress admixing with the stench of smoke and blood, had tormented my slumber for far too long. They'd bounded me to witness the wreckage of Velosin, a little kingdom down the mountains where my lair lays.
Four days it took the clamour of their little ruthless war to turn into a deep, unpleasant silence. I'd grown used to Velosin's little music: the laughter of the drunkards, the clattering of the adventurer's hooves, the clanks of the smithy and the melodies of the royal trumpets. It was subtle like the whisper of the winds yet it was a warm, little seasoning to my days.
That's the reason why when that who called himself Terar came limping a trail of blood with a child of true-fire locks cradled in his arms, I heard him instead of burning him to ashes.
"Draelaar, I've reached your lair with a request," Terar said with wandering eyes, voice fading. "I beg you to hear me, for it is the last one I will speak."
"Utter them, you are the mercy of Jeriaz now," I said. "I'm not who to forbid your last words, but I'm to forget them."
He grinned a bloodied smile. "This child," Terar said and gently placed the whimpering little human on the floor, as if offering it. "This child is the infant princess of Velosin." He coughed crimson. "Take care of her! For she will avenge us all."
I laughed, "Why should I go through such trouble? I'm a dragon, a beast of might, gods to your kind," I said.
Terar collapsed to the floor, blood pooling beneath his legs. With a last breath and stretched arms he spoke his final words, "She's a moon rider."
I felt a coldness exploding inside like splintering stalactites burying deep within my flesh. A moon rider? They were myths made for the children with delusions of powerful magic. They weren't real, weren't they? Magic was long since extinct.
I grabbed the infant princess with my talon, two purple scars, like half-crescent moons traversed through the corners of her eyes, down to the bottom of her lips.
It was like in the myths.
-----------------------------------------------------
Part 2 coming in a bit!
/r/therobertfall
| 2018-03-01T03:23:07 | 2018-03-01T02:46:34 | 135 | 43 |
[WP] You're a powerful dragon that lived next to a small kingdom. For centuries you ignored humanity and lived alone in a cave, and the humans also avoided you. As the kingdom fell to invaders, a dying soldier approaches you with the infant princess, begging you to take care of her. | The Knight burst into the cave gently holding the swaddled infant princess. "Please, I beg of you, take care of her, there is nothing we can do"
The dragon looked around and saw the child placed and the base of his mountain of gold. "It shall be done" came the reply.
With that the child was instantly incinerated with one breath.
"What the fuck Raffi, the firebreather!"
"You said take care of the child!" Came the dragon's reply.
"Was this what happened to my cat when I asked you to take care of it?" said Sir Randy the Dirty
"Yes! You said take care of it, I set it on fire!" | The dragon lifted his head up to the smell of blood and saw for the first time in centuries the figure of a human man. With his keen eyes he noticed that the human had struggled to make his way up to the cave he lived in, up in the mountains miles away from the nearest kingdom. The dragon just sat there indifferent as the injured man approached urgently with a small bundle in his stained arms.
He smelled something more pure from beneath the wool blanket. The man noticing where the dragon’s eyes were looking at quickly spoke.
“That is why I’m here.” He coughed out the words with difficulties and almost out of breath. “This is the Princess of my beloved kingdom which is now being invaded by our neighboring country. Princess Georgiana might be the only survivor of the royal family as we speak.”
The dragon turned his head unfazed and the man grew desperate knowing that the dragon was not interested in his story.
“PLEASE! Protect Princess Georgiana!” The man urged as he fell to the ground on his weak knees. “I beg of you.”
The dragon watched curiously at his actions and expression. He saw the small man tremble, but not in fear as he had witnessed so many before him do, but in hopelessness.
Suddenly from beneath the blanket came a soft cry. Then out came a small hand reaching out to touch the man’s face. The dragon observed as the man stop trembling and gradually regain his courage. He raised his head up in determination towards the dragon with his tear-streaked face. There was a new resolve glowing in his eyes.
‘Curious.’ Spoke a solemn voice inside the man’s head, and he knew it belonged to the dragon. ‘How could a small thing change a man’s spirit within a few minutes?’
“She is our Kingdom’s hope.” The man answered.
‘I want this power that changes men’s resolve. I have seen the strongest warriors with such glow win battles and glory.’ The dragon’s voice echoed louder in greed, ‘If this bundle you carry in your arms will give me that power then I’ll take her as you desire.’
Before the man could say a word the dragon had suddenly snatched the blanket with the princess inside from the man’s arms. He held his breath as the dragon laid the bundle on his outstretched claw. The dragon pulled the blanket away and curiously starred at the baby girl. Georgiana suddenly smiled and started to giggle. The dragon had never heard such beautiful melody coming from humans before.
“I trust you will keep Princess Georgiana safe?” The man spoke tentatively and shocked to see a small smile form on the dragon’s intimidating face.
‘You have my word man. Now leave.’
The man looked at the princess one last time before leaving with hope.
| 2018-03-01T03:23:07 | 2018-03-01T01:20:42 | 135 | 19 |
[WP] An alien pilot's harrowing account of being imprisoned in the concentration camp known as "Area 51". | * The first day
I awoke in a bare room. Slabs of smooth, seamless stone surrounded me on three sides with the fourth being a mirrored pool of glass.
The bitter sting of cold grips me and I realise that I am naked. Why am I naked?
For a few hours (I think, without my flight suit's built in timepiece or even something as rudimentary as the sun for guidence, it's so difficult to tell), I paced the room just to try and get a feel for its size. I didn't dare approach the glass though. Not yet.
Shivering, I curl into the corner and try to sleep. I'll wake in my bunk, aboard *Mira* and everything will be fine.
* The second day
I'm still in this room but it has changed. A box now sits against one wall with soft fabric draped over the top. I think it's a bunk.
I am also no longer naked, which is a plus.
The brightly coloured fabric is rough against my skin but at least it's warm.
There was a sound from beyond the glass today, a muffled voice perhaps. I pressed my face to its cold surface to try and see beyond but without success. Is someone watching me?
* The third day
They are watching me. And more. An asymmetrical object had appeared in the room this morning. I could not account for its presence but what came next crystallised everything into a cold nova of understanding.
The glass wall was no longer mirrored.
Beyond, I could see them: bipedal apes sat watching me, talking to one another although I could not hear their words. Not that I would understand them anyway.
The thing that appeared in the room must be their version of a chair. I sat on it cautiously and they all froze, watching me with what I assume to be excitement.
Eventually the wall mirrored over again and I was left in solitude. I think they're still there though, watching to see what I do next.
* The fourth day
The glass opened, a small doorway hidden in one side, near the corner of the room. Two of the apes came in and placed a tray on the floor before scurrying out. I carefully investigated the items piled on top.
I can't even begin to imagine what the metal things were for but the mound of irradiated protein and plant matter looked almost...appealing. I had no idea if it was safe but hunger was more pressing than caution.
* The fifth day
I know where I am now. May the Lord save me!
More of the apes came into the room this morning and surrounded me. They had some sort of weapons aimed at me, so I chose not to resist. With some prodding, they got me to leave the room and walk down a corridor. Every two dozen steps or so, we passed an opening that contained another glass-walled room.
Another cell.
Some were dark and empty, others were occupied, although I could not always tell by what. There were certainly no others like me here. No one else from the *Mira*. Was that good or bad?
That was when I saw it. The two symbols that are burned into our minds, the warnings that were given to every trader moving through this arm of the galaxy.
Avoid Earth.
Avoid Humans.
If you crash, prey they do not take you alive.
My escape pod must have drifted into their system and been caught in their planet's gravity well. They found me and took me into that black hole from which no one has never returned.
"51"
The epitaph on the graves of so many missing traders.
Well, not mine.
I grabbed the closest human and slammed him against the wall, his body making a wet cracking sound as it crumpled into a heap. The remaining two looked shocked but recovered quickly, bringing their weapons to bear. I felt the searing hot pain of their crude, chemically propelled slug-throwers biting into my side but it would not be enough to save them.
The second human shrieked as I bore him to the floor, crushing his skull with ease and watching the red and grey gore spread, almost with fascination.
Two more impacts on my back and I snapped back to the present. I swept the third human off of his feet and broke his limbs easily, the weapon spinning away with a clatter. I would not kill this one, not yet. I needed somewhere quiet first.
Squeezing into a metallic conduit in the ceiling, I dragged my mewling prey away until I found an opening into a storage area.
Without any more interruptions, I dropped the human to the floor and began to extend my ganglia. Gently (although not too gently), I searched for an opening, probed for a way in until I could taste the metallic tang of its thoughts.
Time to learn its secrets, learn what it knows. Then, I'll need to regenerate and heal these wounds and start work on the genetic sequencing. With any luck, by tomorrow my mimic response will have completed its work.
* The sixth day
I opened my eyes to darkness. There were no sirens, no glass-fronted prison cells, just gloom.
The body of the human laid crumpled against the wall, the taught and desiccated tissues a testament to my mimic response's efficiency.
I had not yet been discovered. It won't be easy to escape from 51, otherwise someone would have already managed. I need to find my escape pod, activate the beacon then get off of this miserable rock. I will *not* remain trapped here, stuck looking like these disgusting humans for the rest of my life...
Edit: sorry for any formatting weirdness, typed on my phone. Feedback is always welcome. | "The distress signal rang. 'This is Grelin maritime relief ship Leno-Zeltan-Eno, on my way to the Feninine colony world Xenger, my ship was shot down by the native inhabitants of planet Branik, my ship is currently in it's forests, the natives are hunting me like prey in a predator's den, please respond, this distress signal repeats!' but the signal was too weak, after all, a few salvaged parts from a defective radio and primitive pieces of wiring, the only people that got the message were these Branikans... or 'Humans' as they call themselves. they had more advanced tech than I thought, as extremely heavy looking armoured vehicles had driven over to my crash site, I thought they would help me, I greeted them politely, and their response was to poke me with an electrical stick... again and again! I found myself in electric shackles soon enough, and thrown into one of the armoured vehicles, and instead of following their own roads, that they had built, they had taken to driving through the forest... but they had cloaking devices, before this, I kind of laughed at the primitive tech that these Branikans had, that was until today, and this cloaking tech had also made these vehicles pass through the trees. soon enough, I watched the deep green forest turn into a tan and yellow sands, brought to a secretive facility known as "Area 51"
here i found many types of species, Feninines, Peshiribs, and our enemy since the first time our species reached space travel, the Ouklakish, the Feninines had been in a courtyard, their skin had turned white, as they do when in extreme heat environments, they had been climbing around and one of them had been poked with the same electric stick that I had been subdued with. inside the facility, i saw the tall, muscular build and unmistakeable reptilian manner of the Peshrib, they were herding one of them through a hallway, it's huge arms restrained, these creatures think that Peshribs will harm them, even though they have an intimidating anatomy, their culture has never had a war... not once on their home planet. then... i saw a room, with an Ouklak inside. it's black-brown fur gleamed, it's face harboured a look of imense rage and pain, what did these monsters do? they shot the thing with a melniph. the only weapon that the Liberin council and Ouklakish warcheifs have agreed to never use against each other. My kind [the Liberins] invented this device to win a war against aliens invading from our moon when we were developing nuclear power... melniphs are illegal due to their... effects. after this, I went unconscious.
When I woke, I was in a room, separated from the savage Branik researcher by a piece of glass, if I had my tools, I could have easily busted the glass and atomized the components, as to spread it around the facility to kill every last Branikan inside... however, i did not. it stood there, and in a stange language i had to mentally translate for 3 minutes, it asked me a question. 'What are you doing on Earth?' It looked infuriated. like I was the one offending HIM. I told him in his own language 'This was not my destination, you BROUGHT me here' it looked even angrier after that, and it told me 'YOU INVADED OUR ORBIT AGAINST OUR WILL' i calmly answered 'and how were we supposed to know the laws of a primitive species that hasn't even colonized another system yet. you have the technology, if you can pass through physical objects, and get your hands on illegal weaponry, you should be able to colonize this galaxy and the Venera galaxy.' it was perplexed 'Venera? you mean the Andromeda galaxy?' 'Whatever you barbarians call it.' i responded. it asked me 'what illegal weapon?' 'that thing you used on the Ouklak is called a 'melniph' and what it does is delete you from the universe. slowly and painfully, it turns you into nothing, deleting you from existence. the only thing of you left is the memory of people who saw you, knew you, and of the one who shot you with it. and you broke the intergalactic maritime laws in so many ways.' he started to smirk 'what laws did we break?' 'shooting down a maritime relief craft... mine, capturing aliens for no reason, which i can see, you've done too much of, torturing aliens, which you've done much of, and the use of a melniph. your reputation when you colonise another system will be tainted when the report flies in. The only reason planet Branik isn't destroyed is due to the fact that you are completely ignorant.'
'What is your society facing as of now?' he asked 'a war with the Ouklakish, the hairy beast you killed... illegally. we've been at war with them since we reached type 2, other alien races have been at war with them since before we even existed. we barely held off their first attack. when the Feninines, those things that turn white in the courtyard, made contact with us, it was a lifesaver, their military help saved us from destruction and boosted us to one of the type 3 societies in the galaxy, this was 3,974 of your years ago, even now, the Ouklakish continue to attack. and the Feninines are an old species, they grow tired of this war, exhausted from constant fighting and annoyed with the barbarity. however, we're starting to push them back, and when a beast gets cornered, they fight harder, the Ouklakish were about to take the Feninine colony world of Xenger, I was part of a fleet of relief ships, our combined military forces had pushed the Ouklakish away from Xenger, however, there were people on Xenger forced to rebuild, I was the one carrying reterraformation kits. which you will no doubt steal to colonize Lisher, or Mars as you call it. those terraform planets to however you want them. Hostile, Habitible, you name it. it can even adjust time frames. want to make a day on Pinshik... er... Venus last an hour instead of years? you can do that. we were using these kits to fix Xenger after the Ouklakish orbital nuked the surface. i was also carrying medicine to combat radiation and stimpaks to heal the wounds from the rubble.' It eventually gets to asking me this. 'how can we help?' I was genuinely shocked by this question. 'Simply let us leave. if you genuinely want to help us in the war against the Ouklakish, let all these aliens free, including me, let me repair my ship, and eventually, i could report this race as Council-Sympathisers... eventually, our military will make contact.' i said, he replied 'we need to do it in secret.' 'what, so you can control your population? your plan for control over your race won't work, not at all, i've seen it so many times on other planets, and each time, these societies wake up to it and overthrow these little cabals. it would work much better if your whole population knew aliens existed.' I was let free... so was everyone else, i purposely left tech behind to give them a head start on the colonization of their solar system. after all... to continue the freedom of our universe... we're gonna need all the help we can get." | 2018-03-13T09:49:51 | 2018-03-13T08:59:09 | 36 | 14 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | "Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess" | Napoleon was at the edge of his seat, by the end of this session, he'd wipe that smug look off of Wellesley's face, and his imbalanced barbarian "Iron Duke" would have to be re-rolled. Wellesley had just finished a tirade about Napoleon having killed his General, Cooke.
Athena gazed at the two men from over the top of her DM blind, "Napoleon, you know that it's poor form to target Generals. I'm not saying that I'll punish you, per se. But, if you win this battle- I just may decide to punish you while crossing the channel." The implication was quite clear.
Hands shaking, Napoleon reached for his d20. Bringing the die to his lips, he gave it his signature kiss as he closed his eyes and threw for the success of the linchpin of his plan- *clack clack clack taptaptap*
"VINGT!" Napoleon exclaimed, barely ducking Wellesley's chair, as it came hurdling over the table, only to be smashed to bits upon the cold stone wall.
At this point in time, Wellesley, breathing deeply, color returning to normal- mustered all of his calm and gave Athena his most stately gaze and said, "I'll cast 'summon Blücher." Napoleon, who had been taking a deep and smug drink of a particularly delicious 1750 Bordeaux, choked and sputtered out a raucous laugh. "You are a barbarian, you English twit! You cannot cast spells."
Wellesley swiveled his head to meet Napoleon's mirthful expression. "That is where you are wrong, You ponce", he bagan, "You see, I put my last seven levels into Conjurer." By way of response, Napoleon merely scowled.
Wellesley collected his beaten, and battered brass d20, while counting his +2 wisdom mod to reach a 15 against Napoleon's AC. He rolled the die between his fingers, and simply tossed it toward Napoleon, each skip along the way issuing a report that was nearly deafening.
Just then, the door to the game room opened, and a crisply dressed seventy-something year old man in Prussian uniform entered the room. "Zorry I am late, Arthur. You woult not believe ze traffic I hat to deal vith getting into Beligiu---"
**SLAM**
Muttering to himself, Napoleon hastily slammed his book closed, threw his dice in his bag, and marched from the room having not so much as said goodbye to anyone. | 2018-05-29T09:37:40 | 2018-05-29T08:28:13 | 303 | 21 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | DM: "Alright Jesus, you've just been executed by the Romans, Roll a death save."
Jesus: \*rolls\* "Natural 20."
DM: "Alright you wake up with 1 hp, what do you do?"
Jesus: "Alright I'm gonna play possum"
DM: "Roll a deception check"
Jesus: \*rolls\* Ok that's another 20, plus my charisma modifier which is \+5 so 25 total."
DM: "Ok you avoid detection and are placed in an unmarked cave."
Jesus: "All right how long can I go without food or water?"
DM: "About Three days."
Jesus: "Alright I emerge from the cave three days later." | "Can I use my mason's tools to help fix the northern wall?" Jim asked desperately.
"Well, considering you still count as Poisoned, you would have disadvantage on the roll, so roll twice and take the lower," Antonio replied.
"A 16 and a... 4... dang it," Jim looked over his character sheet dejected. "William, do you think you can get any of your hirelings to help?"
William looked over all the minis arranged on the walls of the plastic fort. "I don't think so, they are busy dealing with all the low level attackers on the right. I can't because if I get hit, I won't be able to keep up my morale buff. If only Sam could have made it tonight, he could have dealt with those big hitters first."
Antonio looked at his turn order. "Jim, I am going to need a Constitution saving throw from you at the end of your turn."
"I got a 6."
"Ok, you take 1d8 poison damage for... 5 hp. Anything else you would like to do?"
"I guess I will draw my knives to dual wield and hold my action to attack anyone who comes through this door." Jim slunk a little deeper into his chair and took a big gulp of his whiskey.
"Ok, the forces of the Republic are up. They are going to add a few more of the infantry guys to this side of the board," Antonio strained, as he reached over the board and placed a handful of skirmishers on the right hand side. "David and William, you can see in the distance, the enemy general has taken the field. He sits atop a white horse, and he is decked out in gear. I am talking huge hat with the feathered plume, medals, saber, the works. On the northern wall, the forces are going to... be able to climb the wall and begin entering the fort." Antonio moved several of the miniatures over the plastic wall, carefully counting out the spaces moved. "Ok, then, David, you are up sir!"
"You said I could see the General over there and I can see these guys climbing the walls?"
"Yes."
"Ok, then I would like to first use my Inspiring Leader feat to heal all my allies within 6 squares for 4 hp."
"Ok," Antonio said as he made notes of the damage.
"Then I would like to charge in!"
William looked up from his plans, immediately frustrated, "Damn it David, you are going to get us all TPKed!"
Antonio smiled, "Ok David, how do you want to do this?"
David grinned. "I want to lift my rifle up like a club, charge in, and yell, "REMEMBER THE ALAMO!" | 2018-05-29T09:31:25 | 2018-05-29T08:14:51 | 210 | 104 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | DM: "Alright Jesus, you've just been executed by the Romans, Roll a death save."
Jesus: \*rolls\* "Natural 20."
DM: "Alright you wake up with 1 hp, what do you do?"
Jesus: "Alright I'm gonna play possum"
DM: "Roll a deception check"
Jesus: \*rolls\* Ok that's another 20, plus my charisma modifier which is \+5 so 25 total."
DM: "Ok you avoid detection and are placed in an unmarked cave."
Jesus: "All right how long can I go without food or water?"
DM: "About Three days."
Jesus: "Alright I emerge from the cave three days later." | Napoleon was at the edge of his seat, by the end of this session, he'd wipe that smug look off of Wellesley's face, and his imbalanced barbarian "Iron Duke" would have to be re-rolled. Wellesley had just finished a tirade about Napoleon having killed his General, Cooke.
Athena gazed at the two men from over the top of her DM blind, "Napoleon, you know that it's poor form to target Generals. I'm not saying that I'll punish you, per se. But, if you win this battle- I just may decide to punish you while crossing the channel." The implication was quite clear.
Hands shaking, Napoleon reached for his d20. Bringing the die to his lips, he gave it his signature kiss as he closed his eyes and threw for the success of the linchpin of his plan- *clack clack clack taptaptap*
"VINGT!" Napoleon exclaimed, barely ducking Wellesley's chair, as it came hurdling over the table, only to be smashed to bits upon the cold stone wall.
At this point in time, Wellesley, breathing deeply, color returning to normal- mustered all of his calm and gave Athena his most stately gaze and said, "I'll cast 'summon Blücher." Napoleon, who had been taking a deep and smug drink of a particularly delicious 1750 Bordeaux, choked and sputtered out a raucous laugh. "You are a barbarian, you English twit! You cannot cast spells."
Wellesley swiveled his head to meet Napoleon's mirthful expression. "That is where you are wrong, You ponce", he bagan, "You see, I put my last seven levels into Conjurer." By way of response, Napoleon merely scowled.
Wellesley collected his beaten, and battered brass d20, while counting his +2 wisdom mod to reach a 15 against Napoleon's AC. He rolled the die between his fingers, and simply tossed it toward Napoleon, each skip along the way issuing a report that was nearly deafening.
Just then, the door to the game room opened, and a crisply dressed seventy-something year old man in Prussian uniform entered the room. "Zorry I am late, Arthur. You woult not believe ze traffic I hat to deal vith getting into Beligiu---"
**SLAM**
Muttering to himself, Napoleon hastily slammed his book closed, threw his dice in his bag, and marched from the room having not so much as said goodbye to anyone. | 2018-05-29T09:31:25 | 2018-05-29T08:28:13 | 210 | 21 |
[WP] Human beings unlock skills as they grow up, walking, taking, etc. You are the oldest person in the history of the world, and today you unlock a skill no one ever had. | The voices.
The voices you hear when you unlock a new skill was wonderful. When you heard them, you could do something new.
There was the basic voice, for things most people got when they were young: "walking" "reading" "cooking". There was the mundane voice, for average adult skills: "driving" "swimming" "whistling". There's was the advanced voice, that usually meant something you could do as a vocation: "computer programing" "electrician" "engineering".... And then there was the legendary voice.
The legendary voice was rare. Only a few thousand people had legendary skills at a time. And rarely would anyone have the same skill at the same time. They were powerful skills. They made superheroes, and super villains. Many times the skills weren't easily defined by the name, and it could take years to figure out what it meant.
For instance, a few years ago, awoman got the skill, "disappear". She spent weeks researching until she found out it meant she could just... Not be seen. She didn't turn invisible. No, she would just not be noticed, even if you were looking right at her. Or there was that guy, Frank, that got, "lift". It took him months to figure out it was telekinesis.
Anyway, I received a new skill a few months ago, and it was the legendary voice. That is cool, but I had no clue what it meant.
When I heard the voice, I was ecstatic! This would give me a reason to get out, meet people, and be something good for the world again.... If my old bones could take it... Whatever it was.
Sadly, I never got the chance. Within seconds of hearing the voice, it went black. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, I couldn't even feel. "What a cruel twist of fate" I thought as the world faded away.... I become a legend, as I am old, older than anyone else, and dying. I would never get to use my skill, heck, I would never even know what it meant....
And then...
Light. I was wet, coughing up fluids, and screaming at the top of my lungs from the shock. I couldn't focus. I couldn't speak, it was as if my body had degraded to that of an infant. I was hungry, and gasping for air. I realized I was upside down. I looked around, as my eyes tried to focus, and I saw a giant being, dressed in white, covered in blood, and other fluids. He wore a mask, obscurung his identity (not that I would have known this demon anyway). He was HUGE. His forearm was as big as my entire body.
He wiped me off, wrapped me in something so I couldn't resist, and handed me to another giant. This one was female. She was beautiful. She held me close to her breast, and I felt warmth.
Perhaps this wasn't hell.
After I calmed down, and got my bearings, I looked up at her, and told me new mother what my new skill was:
"continue". | I take no pleasure in this.
The house is one out of a storybook. Lush green yard, white picket fence, and small brick house. They know I’m coming – these incidents aren’t secret. I do it in the open, because no one can do anything about it. No one can stop me.
I walk up to the door. The welcome mat has the design of a small cat on it, but…no. I have to do this. I have to. The world will be thrown in chaos if I don’t.
I knock on the door.
The scene, I guess, to someone else would be funny. Here I was, an all-powerful Goddess, knocking on a door. To me it was just sad. I’d considered many many times letting someone else do it. Just send some of my guardsmen. But no. I had to do it myself, to remind myself what the price of all this was, the price of the golden age humanity was undergoing under their Goddess. Under me.
The door opens, but it is not him; it is a little girl. She is barely up to my stomach with golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. She smiles when she sees me. That alone tells me all I need to know. That bastard. This was just cruel, but…who was I to judge.
“Yes Miss?” She asks, looking at me with that same expression of solemn, innocent joy all seven year olds wear.
I kneel down to get to her level. “What’s your name?” I ask.
Before my time kids were taught to fear strangers, to not open the door to someone they didn’t know. But under their new Goddess, no such thing exists. There is no crime, only progress. Well, almost no crime, but the ones I committed were for the good of all.
“Faith!” she proudly declared.
“Well, Faith, is your grandpa home?”
“Mmhm!” She nodded, but then frowned. “Wait, are you here for Grandpa’s birthday? His birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”
“No, Faith, I’m here just in time then. Please. Just take me to him.”
Faith frowned but grasped my finger in one hand and led me through the house. We went outside to the porch, where an old man sat in his chair, looking out at the forest behind his house. Again, I was taken aback by the sight of it. I remembered being like that, old, frail, waiting to die. And then I’d changed. I’d evolved. I’d become a Goddess.
And this man was a day away from that.
“Grandpa, there’s a woman here to see you!” Faith said, still holding on to my finger.
“I know, Faith dear. Please, I want you to see what comes next,” the man said, not even turning to look at me.
“No, Faith,” I said, trying to keep my composure. How could a man be this cruel? She was just a *child.* “Please go in, I’ll be right with you.”
Faith frowned and seemed to sense in that way all children can sense when something is wrong. “Wh-what are you going to do to grandpa?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering.
“That woman, Faith, is going to kill me,” the old man said.
I said nothing.
Faith looked at me, here eyes wide. “B…but she looks so nice, Grandpa! She wouldn’t k-kill you.”
The man laughed. “Never trust how a person looks Faith. Trust what they do.”
“Please, Faith. Inside,” I said through pressed lips.
Faith puffed up her cheeks and shook her head. “No. I’m listening to Grandpa!”
So be it.
I walked up to the man, who still hadn’t looked at me and put my hand on his shoulder, then I just…killed him. No effort. No movement. I wanted him dead, and so he was. The power of a Goddess.
I stood at the porch as Faith cried over her Grandpa’s corpse, not saying anything. I offered her a tissue but she threw it aside and jumped on it.
I waited.
Eventually she quieted down and turned to me with a quiet intensity that was unsettlingly out of place on the face of a seven-year old. Her eyes were red from crying and I could make out the trails the tears had made on her cheeks.
“Are you going to kill me now too?” she asked, her voice perfectly calm.
“Of course not,” I answered. “You will have the best education I can provide, you will lead a life of luxury, comfort, and…happiness.”
She considered my words and nodded. Then she looked me in the eyes. “I’m going to kill you one day, Miss.”
I smiled at her, a smile that was weary and oh so tired. “You can try sweetie, you can try.”
With that, a Goddess led a child out of a dead man’s house.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| 2018-06-23T11:28:35 | 2018-06-23T11:11:01 | 3,495 | 144 |
[WP] Human beings unlock skills as they grow up, walking, taking, etc. You are the oldest person in the history of the world, and today you unlock a skill no one ever had. | It was integrated into our societal infrastructure. There were thousands of skill trees, most undiscovered. It seemed that no matter how technologically advanced we were, there were still skill trees to be discovered and honed.
Some skill trees were abandoned, just utterly useless and others entirely taboo. Everyone could navigate through their skill trees with ease, like thinking. Nobody else can see your skill trees. Its a natural part of the human condition; its understood the same no matter your language or disabilities. There are books that tell stories of ancient skill trees that are now inaccessible, they refer to the ability to use magic.
You can work on any skill tree you desire, there is no limit but you have to work to maintain the skills learned. Neglecting to care for the skills associated with a tree causes it to die. Anyone can plant a seed towards a new skill tree by doing an action that applies to that tree. However, you can't grow a bigger tree until you hone your skills. When a tree grows larger, most skills become available for you to utilize.
The larger a skill tree, the more effort and attention it needs to maintain its growth. To grow it to its peak size becomes a passion, a purpose in life. Some skills intermingle and the trees understand that, so many professionals have trees with interlocking branches. They speak to each other to keep your skills available to you, but if you neglect one it can pull down another tree.
There is a skill tree associated with health and wellness that is believed to lead to eternal life.
In ancient legends, those who had discovered that skill built the *'Fountain of youth'*. An organization that devoted their life to the tree of health and wellness. Younger members neglected all other specialties trees and instead focused their efforts on it. In time, one or two students would unlock the skill for eternal life and become official elders.
Today, nobody can reach that level of devotion with the level of complexity our lives are filled with. Except for me of course.
See, I discovered that skill a long time ago. Thousands of years ago actually. And with every other elder deceased from their lack of devotion. I alone have discovered the newest skills. Yes, there's two of them.
The tree of health and wellness refers to them as 'Permanent Health and Wellness' and 'Devote Assemblage'
When I unlocked 'Perma Health', all the air rushed from my lungs and I felt superiorly powerful. My genetically bad knees stopped hurting and my body transformed into perfect health despite all my efforts. The hair on my head turned from white to chestnut brown. Alongside a number of other significant changes.
The second skill didn't do anything to me, but anyone I touch is reset to perfect health. But there's a catch, I have to transfer the health of one person to another.
So today, I revealed my powers. As usual, the entire world went up in arms deciding which people need to have their health reset and which people should die as a sacrifice. It happens every time.
I'm going back to the fountain of youth, its well hid. I'll just wait it out again, I did for the Egyptians and the Romans. I guess I'll wait for someone else to reach the peak of their tree and see what their power is. Maybe they're in hiding like me, it's a dangerous world for us. | I take no pleasure in this.
The house is one out of a storybook. Lush green yard, white picket fence, and small brick house. They know I’m coming – these incidents aren’t secret. I do it in the open, because no one can do anything about it. No one can stop me.
I walk up to the door. The welcome mat has the design of a small cat on it, but…no. I have to do this. I have to. The world will be thrown in chaos if I don’t.
I knock on the door.
The scene, I guess, to someone else would be funny. Here I was, an all-powerful Goddess, knocking on a door. To me it was just sad. I’d considered many many times letting someone else do it. Just send some of my guardsmen. But no. I had to do it myself, to remind myself what the price of all this was, the price of the golden age humanity was undergoing under their Goddess. Under me.
The door opens, but it is not him; it is a little girl. She is barely up to my stomach with golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. She smiles when she sees me. That alone tells me all I need to know. That bastard. This was just cruel, but…who was I to judge.
“Yes Miss?” She asks, looking at me with that same expression of solemn, innocent joy all seven year olds wear.
I kneel down to get to her level. “What’s your name?” I ask.
Before my time kids were taught to fear strangers, to not open the door to someone they didn’t know. But under their new Goddess, no such thing exists. There is no crime, only progress. Well, almost no crime, but the ones I committed were for the good of all.
“Faith!” she proudly declared.
“Well, Faith, is your grandpa home?”
“Mmhm!” She nodded, but then frowned. “Wait, are you here for Grandpa’s birthday? His birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”
“No, Faith, I’m here just in time then. Please. Just take me to him.”
Faith frowned but grasped my finger in one hand and led me through the house. We went outside to the porch, where an old man sat in his chair, looking out at the forest behind his house. Again, I was taken aback by the sight of it. I remembered being like that, old, frail, waiting to die. And then I’d changed. I’d evolved. I’d become a Goddess.
And this man was a day away from that.
“Grandpa, there’s a woman here to see you!” Faith said, still holding on to my finger.
“I know, Faith dear. Please, I want you to see what comes next,” the man said, not even turning to look at me.
“No, Faith,” I said, trying to keep my composure. How could a man be this cruel? She was just a *child.* “Please go in, I’ll be right with you.”
Faith frowned and seemed to sense in that way all children can sense when something is wrong. “Wh-what are you going to do to grandpa?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering.
“That woman, Faith, is going to kill me,” the old man said.
I said nothing.
Faith looked at me, here eyes wide. “B…but she looks so nice, Grandpa! She wouldn’t k-kill you.”
The man laughed. “Never trust how a person looks Faith. Trust what they do.”
“Please, Faith. Inside,” I said through pressed lips.
Faith puffed up her cheeks and shook her head. “No. I’m listening to Grandpa!”
So be it.
I walked up to the man, who still hadn’t looked at me and put my hand on his shoulder, then I just…killed him. No effort. No movement. I wanted him dead, and so he was. The power of a Goddess.
I stood at the porch as Faith cried over her Grandpa’s corpse, not saying anything. I offered her a tissue but she threw it aside and jumped on it.
I waited.
Eventually she quieted down and turned to me with a quiet intensity that was unsettlingly out of place on the face of a seven-year old. Her eyes were red from crying and I could make out the trails the tears had made on her cheeks.
“Are you going to kill me now too?” she asked, her voice perfectly calm.
“Of course not,” I answered. “You will have the best education I can provide, you will lead a life of luxury, comfort, and…happiness.”
She considered my words and nodded. Then she looked me in the eyes. “I’m going to kill you one day, Miss.”
I smiled at her, a smile that was weary and oh so tired. “You can try sweetie, you can try.”
With that, a Goddess led a child out of a dead man’s house.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| 2018-06-23T11:22:33 | 2018-06-23T11:11:01 | 348 | 144 |
[WP] *Cough cough* Uhhh... testing testing. Is this thing on? Hey everybody, this is God speaking. Are you still there? I think we lost connection for a bit. Wow, what a crazy Millenium. So much has happened since I talked to you Earthlings. Man... creation can be wild. | Heyya kiddos, it's Handsome God here!
Yeah I know, I'm your big hero, savior of the world and all of creation and whatever. You're also probably wondering where I was for the last oh...I don't know, two thousand plus years or something. It's a long story, but the gist of it is that after my son Jesus developed a nail kink and had his weird Roman friends nail him to a cross 'cause that was the only way he could get his rocks off, I decided that taking a break from this shitshow of a Civilization game was a great idea.
So, while you guys were on autopilot and dying of rampant sexual tension or whatever you people called that plague thing back in the 13th century, I actually did things that were productive. I made some species that actually turned out to be useful, and then I blew them up because my boy Jesus paid them a visit and got nailed down so much I decided it was best to not deal with his weird kinks anymore. Seriously, Angel's a better daughter anyways, but we're not getting into that right now. Point is, he's fucking grounded and you people won't be seeing him until the end of time, which won't be for a really long while.
Having finally decided to sit down and see where we're at, I'm gonna say it plain, you people somehow managed to take a shitshow and make it worse. I don't know how, but you did it. Like, really. Between me leaving and me coming back, you bastards invented slavery, pollution, chemical warfare, diet soda, turkey bacon, Twilight, Fifty Shades of Grey, a Suicide Squad movie and you somehow managed to lose a war with the goddamn Emus.
So, I think that we're gonna have to make some adjustments to this sad, sad pathetic save file of a civilization. Now, since I don't really feel like wasting my time watching you morons fuck, shit and fuck shit all day long, I'm handing you off to my assistant, Satan. You know, one-wheeled yellow box, never shuts up, vocabulary seems to consist entirely of "untz-untz-untz", that guy? Trust me, it'll be fine, he's a pro at fucking shit up just like you guys are, so I think between the both of you, you could probably wipe yourselves out and solve the issue of what to do with you for me.
Anyways, I'm gonna go, try not to die before I get back, or if you do, at least have the decency to record it first so I can post it on youtube for likes or something. | My shoes slapped against the pavement as I ran, muscles in my legs and thighs protesting painfully.
I felt something like blood at the back of my throat, but I couldn't stop running. I heard yelling and jeers behind me. The group of men I had stupidly stolen from were still after me.
It was The Third End. By all accounts the latest apocalypse. Humanity had collapsed yet again. I'd been reduced to thievery the past few months just trying to find things to eat, clothes to wear. Tampons. Fucking tampons were impossible to find. Not to mention Advil. Fucking hell did I miss Advil.
Instead of thinking about running I turned a corner too hard and fell. Knocking my knee painfully into the ground I inwardly cursed. My knee was raw and bloody and the pants were torn at the knee. I had loved these pants, they had deep pockets.
I looked at the things I'd dropped; some canteens, water bottles, and chef boyardi's very best ravioli. I needed to get back to base.
I looked around seeing a sodden cardboard box and climbed into it. The alley was full of differently sized boxes and the smell of some small animal rotting. If they ran past this alleyway they wouldn't see me. My knee stung enough that I wouldn't be able to get away well like this.
For the first time in my short life, I was afraid of what would happen if they caught me. You couldn't trust men, not anymore. Nothing to hold them back from murder or...worse. I tried to stay away from guys I didn't know, ones who weren't from home base.
And for the first time I could remember, I prayed. I clasped my hands together, folding my legs and lowering my chin onto my knees.
'Please God,' I thought, 'If you're out there, and you're real and my life means anything to you. Then show me a sign. Help me out here. Help me survive.' I held my breath, hoping. And that's when I heard them.
"Fernando! Check if that fucking bitch is in this alley, me and Chad are gonna walk down this way. She couldn't have gone that far. If you see her, hold her down, the rest of the guys will want turns fucking her up."
I heard Fernando reply, in a raspy low voice, "What if she jumps our at me or somethin' ? That girl was fast."
Another voice cut in, nasally more than anything. I assumed this was Chad, "Grow some damn balls, Fernie. You're a big guy I'm sure you can handle her." he sighed, "Don't let some fucking girl get the jump on you."
I heard them walking away and another set of footsteps walking around, kicking boxes in. Fuck, he would find me. I tried to make myself as small as possible, hoping he'd turn back.
"Why do I have to be out here by myself?" I heard Fernando murmuring to himself, kicking a box harder when he got mad. "'Do this Fernie'" he mimicked, "Do that Fernie.' Fucking assholes. Am I some God Damned maid? I can't stand those guys. My name is Fernando." he whined, "it's not that hard to say."
His voice was getting closer and closer and I resigned myself to getting caught.
And then I heard a cough. But it wasn't me and it wasn't Fernando. I peeked out of the box, seeing Fernando look up, so I did, too.
The voice was coming from...The sky?
"Uhh...testing, testing? Is this thing on?" This was crazy, it sounded like someone was tapping on a mike. I hadn't heard a microphone in ages, "Hey everybody, this is God speaking. Are you still there? I think we lost connection for a little bit. Wow, this was a crazy millennium." A thousand years ago was the First End..."So much has happened since I last talked to you earthlings. Man.." there was a thoughtful pause, "Creation can be wild."
Fernando gasped, muttering "This can't be possible." He walked, stumbled and then ran out of the alleyway. I peeked out of the box, thrilled to be alone in the alleyway.
Well whatever the hell that was, it was a distraction and I booked it out of there as fast as I could. I was happy with my haul and happy to be alive and whole. Maybe God existed and maybe they didn't but the important thing was that I was alive. | 2018-10-27T14:26:43 | 2018-10-27T13:04:04 | 53 | 31 |
[WP] When you and your twin sister were born your parents couldn't help but cry with your colorful and specifically shaped hair it was clear you would suffer from MCS, Main Character Syndrom, and would have to spend your life avoiding beginings of cliche adventures. | My name is Claudia Vance, and I suffer from a desease known as: Sidekick Syndrome
My twin brother, Peter, gets all the attention just because he has Main Character Syndrome.
All the attention, all the praise, all the pity, goes to him
And I have to follow him around like a pack mule
Literally. I don't even know what it is, but in the school halls, or even at home. I find myself occasionally just following him around, carrying whatever he throws at me, and giving it back to him as soon as he asks.
Now, my parents, teachers and even my friends think that I'm making all of this up for attention. After all, sidekick syndrome is simply a "myth"
Just because I don't have spiked red and blue hair doesn't mean I'm just a regular girl, does it?
I've never been able to pursue my own goals, why? One word, Peter.
Peter is losing a fight? I suddenly feel a strong urge to fight alongside him! And... Now I'm suspended.
Peter promised to get a cat out of a tree, but can't climb it? I suddenly find myself saving the cat! And.. I fell and broke my leg.
Embarrassment, Injuries, even with all of it piling up, nobody believes me when I say that sidekick syndrome exists.
I am Claudia Vance, and I am a victim of Sidekick Syndrome. | “Will they ever be normal?”
That was the question my mother had sobbed to the doctor when I and my sister had been born. She wasn’t crying in joy - or pain - like a normal mother who has just given birth for the first time. No, she was crying because my sister and I had brightly colored hair.
She, and our father, knew on sight that we would both have MCS or Main Character Syndrome.
You might be wondering what that is. Call it by another name or no name at all, but it’s when a character in a show or story has one defining feature that makes them stand out from the crowd. Sometimes it’s a scar, or a birth defect, but in most cases its hair or eyes. Then they have a tragic backstory and are destined to save the world - or at least the plot of the story.
Now mom and dad, of course didn’t want this to happen to us at all. They named me Mary, and my sister Sue. They homeschooled us, so that any story that starts in school couldn’t happen. We only went out of the house on short shopping trips. So, we really are eachother’s best friends.
We’ve just turned 18 though. Mom says that we’ve made it out of the “tragic backstory” period, as neither her nor dad have died. In fact, no one in our family has died. Not even our pet goldfish.
We are getting ready to move out into the world. Mom can’t stop us from going to school anymore, so we’ve signed up to be roommates at a local college. She’s not happy, but we’re adults now.
A little about us - I have long, silky blue hair. More an aquamarine than a teal. I normally wear it in twin tails. My eyes nearly match. Sue however has light pink hair, it reminds me of the cotton candy we were once served the one-time mom and dad took us to the circus. After a few too many comments about the “adorable little performers” we were brought home. She wears it loose, cascading down her back to her hips.
Now, I know you’re thinking “I bet her eyes are pink!” but you’d be wrong. She has sky blue eyes. She’s super clumsy (possibly due to MCS, but we aren’t sure) and everyone always comments on how adorable she is.
I’m more of a tomboy - I want to go out and play sports, get my hands dirty. Of course, mom and dad shut that down really quick. They didn’t want me to end up an action hero after all. I understand of course, but it made childhood pretty boring.
\*Sigh\*. I don’t know why we were born this way, but we were. Hell, maybe being the chosen one would be a bit of fun. I don’t know. But mom would kill me if I gave into MCS and it would break dad’s heart. Which I would never do on purpose.
Sue on the other hand, she’s angry at them. Says they denied us our destiny. She’s been practicing magic in “secret” for about ten years. Of course, I know, but she doesn’t know that I know. I think she wants to seek out her own destiny once we move out.
I just hope she doesn’t drag me into it with her. But where she goes, I go. Maybe I’ll finally get to take those sword lessons I’ve always wanted...
​
r/LandOfMisfits | 2019-04-11T19:59:10 | 2019-04-11T17:30:28 | 243 | 168 |
[WP] “I’ve always wondered, what’s the scythe for, anyway?” I asked, as Death escorted me to the Underworld. "Protection," he nervously replied.
Credit goes to: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/6imkuw/the_grim_reapers_scythe_isnt_to_harvest_you_its/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app | I blinked, suddenly becoming conscious. I was floating, staring down at my lifeless body on the Healer's table. Disappointing.
I suddenly became aware of a presence to my left. Looking over, I saw him. Death. The Reaper. His skeletal form, tangled in flowing black cloth and a long, twisted scythe in his right hand.
"I'm dead?" I asked, already guessing the answer.
Death's mouth opened as his eyeless sockets bored into me. His voice projected out of his unmoving mouth
"Nah. Not yet," he said sounding surprisingly jovial and youthful "the spirit detaches from the body a few moments before the body dies."
I furrowed my brows, looking down at my naked body. A ragged hole was torn into my abdomen, and the skin and veins surrounding it had blackened. Death was right. I could see my own chest rise, taking perhaps its final breath.
Death hissed. "Karakkor venom. I heard it's a terrible way to go. My condolences. Anyways, let us depart with haste. Being around your own dead body can be...dangerous."
He turned and began to float away, but I couldn't bring myself to follow him.
"I was a powerful SpiritWielder you know..." I said partly to Death and partly to myself "I spent half of my life chasing eternal life. Gathering enough animal spirits to make myself immortal. And look where I am now. Stung by a Karakkor and dead."
Death hovered where he was forna second before opening his mouth again.
"Do you want to know a secret?" He asked "There is no such thing as immortality. No amount nor combination of animal spirits will make a man immortal. Now let us go before your body dies."
Again, I wouldn't budge. How could immortality not be real? The strongest SpiritWielders were able to return to life mere moments after being struck down. I stared at the Reaper and he stared back. Did he have something to do with immortality? Was he letting some people return to their bodies and not others?
"Let me live and I will give you anything you want" I bargained. Death must have been striking deals. I watched as Death's shoulders rose. He seemed apprehensive.
"I don't take bribes."
"Anymore?" I speculated raising my eyebrows. Perhaps if I pushed him, he would give in. Before he could answer, however, my body began glowing and shaking violently. My eyes widened as something clicked in my head.
"We need to leave." Death said.
The animal spirits were bound to my body with runes. Whenever a SpiritWielder died, the spirits were freed. Would they attack me now that they were no longer bound to me? I should have listened to the Reaper and left before my body died.
Suddenly all nineteen animal spirits that I had claimed during my life tore from my body, leaping for me. I covered my face as a scream of terror escaped my lips. I was pummeled by the rush of spirits for what felt like a lifetime but eventually everything calmed down.
I opened my eyes to an awesome sight. The animal spirits were running around me, pushing against me, like pets happy to see their owner again. I let out a relieved laugh as i set about trying to pet each spirit.
"What's so dangerous about this?" I asked with a wide smile. Death's mouth opened and closed with a clack. He was slowly floating farther away from me and my spirits. My smile died as realization struck.
"Say, Reaper, what is that grand scythe for?" I asked, eyeing him, already guessing the answer.
He chuckled nervously. "Oh you know... protection."
"From what?" I asked. Death just stared, jaw shut tight. The Reaper had never let anyone go. They had freed themselves from his grip.
My animal spirits, sensing my intentions began growling, hissing, and snapping at the Reaper.
"Ah, shit," Death said raising his scythe "here we go again." | It was a lovely morning on the way to Hades. Blue skies patterned with the occasional cloud, birds chirping, the smell of fresh lavender in the air.
“I’ve always wondered, what’s the scythe for, anyway?” I asked, as Death escorted me to the Underworld.
Death chuckled. "Protection."
He seemed like a nice guy and all, but he was after all the grim reaper. Of souls. I slowly edged away from him.
"You going somewhere, kid?"
"No. I'm just freaking out here." I swallowed loudly. "Should I be worried?"
"You're dead, what have you got to worry about?" He chuckled again.
*I suppose he's got a point.* I kept my distance anyway.
We were just coming around hill when a large medieval-looking town appeared on the horizon.
"Friends of yours?"
"Of course." Death nodded, chuckling.
*Stop that chuckling! Argh.* I felt an headache was coming on. I was dead, and I was still getting headaches.
*Yay. I love it here.*
We walked through the wooden gate, no guards were present. It felt like we stepped into the 14th century.
*Maybe we did. Do the dead of other periods, say ancient Egypt, mix socially with the dead of modern-day Norway?* I couldn't help but laugh over imagining an ancient wall painting listening to heavy metal.
People nodded to us courteously, and occasionally someone would stop us to say hello to Death.
*Everything seems casual. But something is off.*
Given my recent experience at edging away from Death, I noticed we were given a wide berth by people who try to look like they're not.
"I have business at this inn over there," said Death, pointing to a building at the end of the street. "Would you like to come with, or wait here for a couple of minutes?"
"I'd never give up on a chance for a brew. Will you spot me a couple of bucks?"
He chuckled. *Sigh.*
An elderly pot-bellied man walked to us as we entered. He was nervous, sweat trickling down his temples, his armpits already drenched.
"Hello good sir. And Death," he said, nodding to each of us in turn. "What can I do for you today?"
"You did not pay your insurance bill this month, Gorbath." Death didn't seem to be chucking anymore. He also didn't seem to be much for small talk.
"I couldn't! Please! I need more time!"
"How am I supposed to spend my time here at Yabrich when other villages pay their bills, and you do not?" Death asked in a voice that sounded oddly reasonable. "What if someone put your inn to the torch and I wasn't here to protect you?"
Gorbath seemed to slowly deflate, until eventually he spoke again. Death seemed patient, waiting.
"Please, I have a family."
Death chuckled. *Argh, I thought he quit that!*
It was creepy this time. I preferred when it was merely annoying.
Gorbath lowered his head to his chest. "Just get on with it."
"What's going on, Death?" I asked softly, carefully.
"Collections." He said as he raised his scythe and approached Gorbath."
"Death! What's going on?" I felt my stomach clench. My knees began to buckle. I wanted to say more, but I couldn't.
I took a step back.
Death slowly reached out with his scythe, as careful as if handling a newborn. Gentle. I couldn't help but slowly move my head along with it as it moved through the air cautiously.
Then it hit me. *Death is afraid of the scythe!*
The scythe reached Gorbath, and then went through him.
His face paled, and a shiver ran through him. He dropped down to all fours as the scythe pulsated with some form of energy, moving through it from Gorbath to Death.
"Next time, pay on time," said Death as he started heading out the door.
I slowly followed, looking back over my shoulder at Gorbath. I kept wanting to go to him. I wasn't scared. I was paralyzed. I didn't.
*I'd have wanted to be left alone after something like this.* I knew I was rationalizing my actions, but I didn't stop.
We went back on the road, and except for an occasional chuckle from Death, we kept quiet.
"You used to run a protection racket back on Earth, didn't you?"
"I did."
"Then why the shock?"
I thought about that for a moment.
"Because you stole some sort of energy from him," I said. "His soul?"
Death shook his head.
"Just a part of it. The part I owned."
"And this scythe..." As I was speaking, I touched the scythe with the tip of my finger a finger.
A shock ran through me, drowning the rest of what I wanted to say in a scream. My scream, I realized.
I have no idea what I was thinking. I suppose I wasn't.
Power flooded me. Knowledge. It was painful. I screamed again.
I tried to remove my finger, but I couldn't.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Death pushed my hand away violently.
My mind cleared. The pain was immediately gone.
I do know why I did what I did next.
Distracted and out of balance by pushing me away, I grabbed the scythe, and hit him hard on the chin, taking it away from him.
I hit him again. This time with the scythe.
The scythe went through his body, just like it did with Gorbath.
*I suppose I am Death now.* I chucked.
"And I am hungry for what's mine."
Leaving old Death's body behind, I headed back the way we came. I owed Gorbath a visit. He was late on his payments. *Or at least I am sure,* I chucked, *he would be again sometime in the future.*
**Check out** /r/posthocethics **for more stuff by me.** | 2019-07-15T04:35:58 | 2019-07-15T02:53:15 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] "He was so ordinary that the author forgot he was the protagonist." | “You’re not telling your Longbottom theory again are you?” Wendy said to her husband as she walked in with a tray of tea and cakes. She placed the tray on the table and smiled at the short elderly man who had appeared on their doorstep, shivering cold, 15 minutes prior.
“As a matter of fact I am,” Brad replied, “I was just telling our guest that he was so ordinary that the author forgot he was the protagonist!”
Wendy rolled her eyes as she poured the piping hot tea into three cups and offered one to the guest.
“He’s obsessed,” she said.
Brad shrugged, “well, I’m right. Poor old Neville did more than most in those books, certainly as much as the three supposed protagonists. But Rowling forgot him until it was too late! Once she realized who he was, she couldn’t bring herself to rewrite the rest of the story properly, so she left him there as we saw him, merely an afterthought. Quite sad if you ask me,” he told the guest solemnly.
Wendy offered the plate of cakes to their guest, “please, try one.”
The guest nodded and quietly took the smallest piece. Wendy moved the plate towards Brad.
“None for me darl,” he said, patting his stomach, “gotta watch the blood pressure these days.”
Wendy laughed, “Ok love, if you say so. Now dear, what did you say your name was again,”
The short man looked between the two of them, unsure whether two complete strangers in such strange place would be reliable.
“Bill Bough,” he offered.
“Bill Bough? Now there’s an odd name,” Brad said, “Northerner are you?”
“I’m from the Shire,” the guest replied quietly.
“Certainly not Cheshire,” Brad said with a wink to his wife.
She just shook her head.
“Now please dear, don't answer this if it's personal, but I have to ask...what happened to you?” Wendy said gently.
“One too many adventures I suppose. Had a friend named John Ronald once. We were close. We shared some adventures, but they were never enough for him, so he took off with new friends on new adventures. Left me to discover my own path,” he said as he raised his eyebrows in anticipation.
“John Ronald, the man has two first names. Should be glad to be rid of him!” Brad said loudly.
“Oh would you cut it out! Our lovely Mr Bough was about to tell us about his next adventure,” Wendy said as she gestured at their guest to continue.
Bilbo smiled, “well, as it turns out, that’s what brings me here today.” | The are of course variations and twists on how to do a main character but it really boils down to two points. One, make a special person the main character, eyes of flame, shoulders broader than a mythological Titan, you name it.
The other way was to pick a normal enough person and have them later become that eye of flame, broad shoulder Titan wannabe. Peter Irons was the second, an ordinary guy from the suburbs with great destiny, only thing was he was too ordinary compared to his surroundings.
Somehow the author had gone the route of normal protagonist who had slight self esteem issues due to the brilliance of the characters around him. Due to what Peter could only decide was bad writing, the author had gone overboard on what should have been contrasting characters to the point they were just beneath super human, to the effect that Peter himself was overshadowed, no, forgotten entirely by the author.
Peter however due to rules of the writing world was granted potential, due to the fact he was supposed to be the main character. This potential spoke to the world he lived in and stated that Peter was due his own powers, but limited by the forgetfulness of the author the world could not give him an overt powers, it couldn't outright allow him to destroy the efforts of the once side characters who had taken his role of the main.
Hence the world cruelly gave him, sentience. You may ask, doesn't every human in that world possess sentience just by the virtue of being human. That would be a mistake on your part, the sentience the world of writing within which he lived gave him was the knowledge that he was a character within a book.
A cruel gift that nearly broke his mind, also gave him the ability to know the effects of the writing the author made, this meant he could hear a voice in his mind, as if there was a narrator describing the events of the book in his head, or an audiobook should we be more precise, describing the story taking place in the world.
With this knowledge, Peter had drastically changed, he could no longer see the people around him as people. He withdrew into himself and began brooding, began planning against this...author, what he knew was his creator.
He would ruin this book, he knew that as long as his actions were big enough just as the author could use his writing to will the world into whatever shape he wanted the story to be in, Peter could as long as he stepped in the camera lights, as long as he could interact with the main characters as the author was writing about that scene he could also affect onto the author's very own mind his own wishes.
With this power he could change the world as he wished, but to do that he first needed the author to give up on this novel. He needed to straight up, fuck up the ending of the novel, and only then could he influence the author to think of this novel as a ridiculous piece of writing. Then through nudges through the power that related him to the author, he could allow the author to return to the novel as if writing a ridiculous addition to a novel they'd never release.
He could allow the world to have spaceships, let all people be subservient to his rule, give himself the ability to live forever. This world could and would soon be his, and then he began his plan.
The first step was to kill the main villain, easy enough to do, so he did. Peter killed the main villain since he knew where he was whilst the 'new' main characters did not due to earlier information from the writings of the author, and once he did so, Peter assumed his identity. Following the steps the author wanted through his writings Peter also made plans against the heroes know many of their weaknesses already.
Then the final battle came, the heroes died quickly and without fanfare much to the confusion of the author. Though he tried hard at it, the conclusion of the novel was just ridiculous, at some point the forgotten main character he had ditched had killed the main villain and then apparently taken over as the main villain. Somehow he had also kept track of any and every movement the heroes had made a delivered a quick a merciless execution, only to reveal his identity after smiling at the corpses of the new heroes.
Frankly to his mind this was a waste of a novel, but he somewhat liked it so he kept it to maybe change it later, maybe as a relaxation bit of writing. Maybe I'll make him immortal he thought, and walked away from his laptop.
Within the novel Peter smiled, blood dripping out of his nose from the exertion of influencing the author, it wasn't everyday one would place the final steps to become immortal. And with a cackle, the immortal ruler was born. | 2019-08-14T23:59:24 | 2019-08-14T22:38:39 | 37 | 13 |
[WP] “So you’ve come hero.” The most powerful dark lord in history says as he faces you across the hall. But before you take another step, he motions to the cutest little girl you’ve ever seen with tears in her eyes. “But first, please explain to my granddaughter why Grandpa needs to die.” | “But first, please explain to my granddaughter why Grandpa needs to die.”
"When you tore through my village almost twenty years ago someone asked you the same thing," I replied.
I moved in closer to him, gently cupping his throat with my left hand. I looked at his supposed granddaughter.
"Do you know what he said?"
The girl shook her head as tears ran endlessly down her cheeks.
"That the question didn't even warrant a response," I whispered to her, as I crushed the old man's throat.
I looked at her straight in the eyes, as the old man crumpled to the ground. For a few moments, all that we could hear was his gurgling. I'll give her this. If this sack of shit is worth avenging, she can engrave the image of my face deep on her heart. And when she comes she can try to earn the right to end my life.
This charade bought me my time. The gurgling stopped. Even if a guard I didn't get rid of was guided to this room by an act of god, he was far too gone. And even if the guard had made it on time, the apothecary of this castle is dead. They won't be able to brew an antidote for the poison in the claws of my gauntlet.
Saying nothing more, I left the room.
After all, the question didn't event warrant a response. | The kid looks about 10.
With large, round eyes and long, silvery hair, it is easy to recognize her lineage. The girl would grow into a fine beauty, provided she survives all of this.
And then the absurdity of this hits me, and I burst into laughter. An incredulous, almost maniacal laugh:
"You have a granddaughter? You? The Dark Lord of Evil, commander of the 666 Legions of Hell, wielder of the 72 Archdevils, a granddaddy? This is hilarious!"
The dry laugh echoes in the empty hall. Burn marks on the marble floor mark the place where I have slain Lucifer, Astarte and Bael, the Dark Lord's closest aides. When I finally regain composure, I turn to my mortal enemy, wounded, cornered, at my feet.
"Coming to think of it, this situation feels quite familiar, doesn't it? Did you not slaughter my village, leaving me as the only witness? Hey, kid, tell me, how does it feel to see your grandpa like this, huh?"
The girl reels back behind the marble pillar, shivering. I plunge my blade through the Dark Lord's leg, and make my way towards the pillar. Capturing the kid was easy. She was slow, untrained, and light. I throw her down on the steps of the dais, right under her grandpa's feet, and wait as she crawls backward into her grandpa's arms:
"You wanna save your old man, kid?" I ask, tentative. I will give this kid a chance I never had. "Do you want to help your granddaddy, huh?".
A silent nod.
I pull out the dagger I have as a backup weapon, and toss it at their feet. No explanation is needed. The little girl looks at the dagger, then looks at me. I cross my arms and wait. What will she do?
The little girl stands up, and takes the dagger. With all the strength in that little body, she plunges the dagger into my body. A sharp pain assaults my sense. She's attacked. Blood is welling up int the injury. The girl twists the knife, pulls out, and stabs again. And again. Strength leaves my leg as I slump down on the marble floor. Only then did she stop. The girl's eyes are filled with a burning resolve. It's childish, but it worked. She has defended her grandpa.
Or so the little girl thought.
Grabbing her hand, I twist the dagger back into my possession. Lunging up the stairs, I plunge it through the throat of the Dark Lord. Horror fills his face as he lays, life gushing out of the two of us. I have finished my task. The screams of the little girl fills the hall, as her grandfather lays dying. With great difficulty I roll over, and stare at the ceiling. There's no coming back from this, I know it.
"Why? Why did you do this, accursed hero, why?" Asked the little girl.
"Because he must pay for his crimes, like I must pay for mine." I say with great effort: "And to end this unending loop of aggression and vengeance."
The Dark Lord has a ring on his right index finger. Lemegeton, the Command Seal. I gesture towards it, breathing out what 's most likely going to be my last words: "Hate and violence never gets you anywhere. Remember that, and could you do me a favor and finish me off with this thing here? I' m tired." | 2019-12-11T21:35:26 | 2019-12-11T20:13:37 | 251 | 21 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work. | Captain Perfect had everything his name implies. Muscles that oozed greek god sexual prowess. Abilities unmatched by any super in existence. Fame. Money. A perfect record in world saving attempts. The whole package, right down to his sculpted hero's chin.
Mark did not have any of those things. He exercised, but counteracted any serious muscle definition with midnight snacks and IPA's. Outside of the super world he was relatively unknown—which he preferred—and his chin was rounded and usually pocked with a pimple or two because he couldn't give up drinking milk.
But, the two made a pretty good team. Captain Perfect swept through henchmen and mercenaries like crumbs on the kitchen floor, and Mark came in near the end to utilize his sole ability. The gift of brutal, piercing, analytical honesty. Villains that had real shots at total domination were regressed to blubbering children before him, and he always felt a little bad about it afterwards.
And for all that Captain Perfect possessed, he wasn't without envy. He had to know if Mark was really that good, if the one person who could defeat the world's greatest super actually worked side-by-side with him. So, one day, sitting in the lounge of Hero's HQ, Captain Perfect asked him for the truth.
"I'm not so sure you want to do this, Cap," Mark said, rubbing his head anxiously.
"No, I want it. I can take it. I can take *anything*." There was no talking the captain down.
Slime Boy, a super who's body was made entirely of waste and grime, watched from his chair next to Mark. Sipping his tea and wishing he had a tub of popcorn.
"Alright, Cap. Whatever you want," Mark succumbed to his demand. "But, please, no hard feelings after. OK?"
"DO IT!" the captain stood with his hands on his hips, looking more ready to absorb gunfire with his chest than the truth with his ears.
Mark sighed, gazing into Captain Perfect's perfect eyes for a moment before unleashing the monotone fury:
"Ever since you were a child you've been afraid of failure. Developing your abilities at a young age, your parents expected perfection from you at all times. Any lapse in performance meant verbal abuse, especially from your mother, followed by shunning and cold indifference. This led you to believe that mistakes are unacceptable, that without perfection you are nothing. But you question whether your perfection is earned. You were born with your abilities, so you don't have to work as hard as others. You spent early puberty going through a lazy phase, questioning your reality and smoking a lot of weed, and you feel like every day all you want to do is be that kid again sitting on the couch thinking about God and your existence and whether or not you're actually meant to do anything great. With each new victory the thrill of success has faded a bit more. To the point that you feel like you're just running through the motions. Fly here. Punch these guys. Watch Mark talk the villain into a puddle of tears. You feel like your fate was decided by someone else, or something else, and that nothing about your life has ever been a real, conscious decision. You didn't choose to be Captain Perfect. You were born and raised to be him, and you despise yourself for it."
For just a moment—the blink of an eye that it would've taken for a bullet to exit the barrel of a gun, travel across the room and bounce off Captain Perfect's impenetrable skin—he actually managed to hold it together. That moment ended before the sound of the gunshot would've smacked his ear drums.
Erupting into an uncontrollable stream of tears, Captain perfect ran from the room. His laser vision scorching the walls as he wiped his eyes.
The two supers sat in silence as the captain's weeping trailed off, Slime Boy slurped his tea before muttering, "Damn."
"He'll be alright," Mark said, "I left out the worst bit."
"What's that?"
"Promise not to tell?"
Slime Boy raised his mug.
"His chin? Ya, plastic surgery."
___
**Thanks for reading! Sub to /r/BeagleTales for daily brutal honesty** | Metropolis was under attack, again.
Dr. Menace had orchestrated another attack against the city, this one even more elaborate than the last. He sent out an electromagnetic pulse that knocked out the local cellular towers as far as the tristate area. Emergency services scrambled like confused ants, but they weren't fast enough.
Dr. Menace came prepared.
He emerged from his underground lair with the dawning sun. The ground slid open to reveal a hidden launch cavity. And from within it rose up a massive ship. It had a face like a furious bear, and beneath it was a huge claw that would drop down to clutch the roof of the local bank and tear it apart. Dig inside for treasure.
The people watched in horror as Dr. Menace swooped in. The traffic was too thickly jammed for emergency services to reach them. Dr. Menace had done that on purpose, in fact. Used the arm of his ship to pluck up cars and drop them down as a barrier.
Now there was nothing keeping him from his prize.
He stood on the rooftop edge of the bank and cackled down at all of them. The people stood holding up their phones, recording, sheep-eyed and unrepentent.
"I'll show you," Dr. Menace cried, "I'll show all of you, I'll--"
He hesitated and leaned forward. A dark grin twisted his face. "What have we here? A makeshift hero?"
A girl was pushing her way through the crowd. Her super suit looked homemade, as if she'd just thrown some yoga shorts over leggings. There was a pair of hand painted letters on her shirt: YC.
She tilted her head and called up, her voice soft, "Mind if we have a chat?"
"You little fool! Do you think you can stop me? Do you know how many heroes before you have tried?"
The superhero just nodded. She put her hands on her hips and glanced around at the gathered witnesses. She adjusted her mask and said, "So what's your end game, here?"
Dr. Menace leapt down and hovered to the ground with his jet pack. He stopped just in front of the girl.
She couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen. Just a child. That easy to destroy with a single blast of the gun at his hip.
Dr. Menace hissed in her face, "I will take back this city. I will claim it in my own name. Rebuild it to my glory."
"Right. Jeff Dunham, Mayor Dunham's son. That's your real name, right?"
Dr. Menace said nothing, but his pale face answered her. "What... how--"
The superhero put up a hand and told him, "Look, you and I both know this won't make your father proud of you."
Dr. Menace blinked. The square was so quiet, you could hear the clink of rubble falling from the ruined rooftop.
He whispered, "You don't know that."
"I think you do." She held his stare, hotly.
Dr. Menace wriggled, uncomfortable. He gripped her by the collar of her shirt. "Who are you? Who sent you?"
She just smiled at him. "I'm Your Conscience."
"What?"
"That's my name. Your Conscience. I can see right through you." She appraised him like all his greatest fears were written on his face. And to her, they were. "We both know you're only doing this to fill the void of love you've never felt before."
Dr. Menace looked like he'd been punched in the stomach. Even his evil plane seemed to frown. He released Your Conscience and fiddled with the edge of his cape.
"You didn't have to be so mean about it," he whispered.
Another superhero poked his head out from the crowd. He was at least twice as old as Your Conscience, but he looked at her the way a child looked at a frightening adult. He huddled behind a citizen--some startled-looking old lady--as he said, "She's always mean!"
"And right." Your Conscience turned back to the other superhero and snapped at him, "Dad, Mom's going to leave you for real if she sees you just hiding while I do this all alone."
"But you always make it so *awkward*. And personal." He emerged shyly from behind the old lady. "It's hard to watch sometimes."
Dr. Menace looked over Your Conscience's shoulder. He recognized Fleximan, though the hero did little more than children's birthday parties and cable news interviews these days.
"That's your father?" He scoffed. "At least mine isn't a failure."
"Hey!" said Fleximan.
"At least mine loves me," Your Conscience said, evenly. She held Dr. Menace's stare. Her lip curled into a smile as she prepared the killing blow. "And I know nothing I do will ever change that."
Dr. Menace looked like he wanted to argue. But his lower lip quivered. He jammed at the controls for his jet pack and wiped his arm furiously against his teary face.
"This isn't over!" he roared in tearful rage.
"It could be if you patch stuff up with your dad--"
Dr. Menace took off before the superhero could finish. The scream of his jetpack almost drowned out the sound of his crying. Almost.
But Your Conscience smiled. She knew she'd won.
Fleximan walked up and put his arm around his daughter's shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her head. "Okay," he conceded, smiling. "That was worth the awkward."
Your Conscience grinned up at him. "I won't even tell Mom you hid behind an old lady and watched."
That made her father laugh and laugh. "Now there's my girl."
So father and daughter strode off together as Dr. Menace's plane took off. Some say it vanished without a trace. Others still insist they saw it parked behind the mayor's house.
The mayor's gardener even insists he saw Dr. Menace climb out, and the mayor hugged him like his own son.
No one knows for sure. But we do know that, from that day forward, Dr. Menace was never seen again.
***
/r/nickofstatic for stories from me and my good friend NickofNight :) | 2020-02-25T11:10:03 | 2020-02-25T10:34:29 | 6,239 | 1,085 |
[WP] Once you die you must watch your entire life from five different points of view. Your own, the one who loved you the most, the one who hated you the most, the one you helped the most and the one you wronged the most. | I fitted the barrel of the gun into my mouth. The metal was cold against my mouth, but I was long past flinching at such things. I pulled the trigger, and the world exploded, shattering and fracturing around me.
1.
The nice thing about dying young is it doesn’t take very long to relive your life in your dying moments. Eighteen years wasn’t even a blink of the eye compared to the eternity of the universe, and it took even less time to skim back through when you were forced to relive only the truly important memories.
It still wasn’t enjoyable, of course— the vivid colors of childhood quickly dulled by held breaths and carefully aligned toys, then the endless monotony studying during high school, and the stress and fear as everything fell apart, as I scrambled to keep everything together. And then, my ultimate failure. The hopelessness. The decision, the taste of the gun, the explosion—
2.
This wasn’t my life, I was sure of it. The wallpaper was familiar, but I somehow knew it wasn’t quite right. No, this may have been wallpaper from my childhood house, but this was from my *sister’s* room, not mine. My sister’s life I was relieving, not my own.
A rush of nostalgia filled me as I saw how Emma viewed everything around with such color and interest, how she perceived a thousand interesting things in every situation. I had never been creative like she was, had lived in a grey world instead of her bustling bright one, and it was delightful seeing all the color she did. I watched her budding use of color and shape in her paintings with interest, enough interest that I didn’t notice our mother’s approach until it was too late.
I had never realized that our mother’s voice sounded so much like nails on chalkboard for Emma. Emma curled into herself, trying to ignore the cruel words even as she internalized them. The ranting about how she needed to stop using finger paints because they made such a mess, and then the ranting about how crayons were too messy, too, and how her colored pencils may not make a mess, but her grades were terrible, and she couldn’t draw until she raised them. Emma tried not to flinch as our mother ripped her drawings, threw away her art supplies, and always, always, told her she wasn’t good enough in that cruel voice.
Sometimes, the strength of her mother’s words was so great that Emma almost gave up, almost gave in. That she almost stopped seeing the beauty and color in things. But there was another voice besides her mother’s. There was mine.
It was dizzy listening to my own clumsy words and feeling a great rush of affection and gratitude. Incredulous, I felt Emma’s heart warm at my own bad puns, at how I tried to understand her paintings even though I was a terrible artist, at how I always helped her with her schoolwork. Despite all of my failures, she loved me. She loved me *so much*. I could feel it when she smiled up at me and thought, *my big brother will always protect me*.
A mixture of deep pain and regret swept over me, fracturing this vision and sending me into the next one.
3.
That was *me*, I realized with some disbelief. That squirmy, squishy little baby was *me*. And if the baby was me… than the life I was reliving must be that of my mother’s.
My mother felt nothing as she looked down at me. She knew that she was supposed to feel some rush of joy or affection, but she felt nothing in the long moments as she looked down at the baby in her arms. And then the baby woke, and spit up in her face, and she did feel something after all. Disgust.
That was her defining emotion throughout her life. Disgust at my burping and diapers, then that I fell when I tried to walk, disgust at the way I flinched when she yanked me to my feet again. Disgust, disgust, disgust. Disgust at my bad handwriting, and then the way I smiled, gap-toothed, at her as I presented a sheet of penmanship practice I had printed out. Disgust at the way I cried when she pinched me in punishment.
She viewed me like a bug or a pimple or a scab— with disgust, and also a morbid desire to destroy it, to squish it or puncture it or rip it away.
After Emma came, most of the disgust she aimed at me came from the way I always interfered on her behalf. The way I lied clumsily to her, telling her that I’d spilled the baby food and not Emma, the way I said that I’d drawn on the walls and not Emma, the way I helped Emma with her schoolwork even though she’d *told* me Emma had to do it herself.
Disgust, and a yawning, gaping desire to *squish me*. To make me put away my toys more neatly, to make me study longer, to make me stop interfering with the way she handled Emma. That desire came to a head when I took Emma and left. That morbid desire brought a vicious, twisted impulse to her and she decided to get Emma back, not because she loved Emma, but because she knew it would squish both of us, and we *needed* squishing, disgusting little creatures that we were.
4.
It was Emma again, except this time I hovered slightly outside of her, seeing both her ignorance and the things I had worked to keep her ignorant of. The crazy impulses that that I talked our mother down from, the things I took the blame for, the hours I spent cleaning her messes up so that our mother wouldn’t get angry.
I saw how Emma never learned to put her toys away at neat ninety degree angles like I had, she never knew how bad things really got, how I always put myself in harms way so I would get squished instead of her. I saw how it was because of me that Emma lived in a colorful world instead of in my grey one.
Thoughtful, I drifted into the next vision.
5.
I saw my own life once more. I noticed how colorful my world had been, once, before I let my mother leech the color away. I noticed how I never used the same tactics I developed to redirect my mother’s attention from my sister in order to save myself. I noticed how I never stood up for myself, only for Emma.
I noticed how when my mother wasn’t there to squish color out of the world for me, I did it myself. When my mother wasn’t there to force me to study, I still did it. Even after I moved out, I still spent hours making sure my apartment was clean enough to satisfy her, my grades high enough that she would have nodded in reluctant approval. I noticed that my mother didn’t even have to bother to squish me, because I did it to myself, when I fitted that gun into my mouth and pulled the trigger. | Death wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. As a kid you think you’re gonna live forever and then as you get older you realize that’s impossible. By the time it’s your time to go you always make some sort of peace with it unless it’s a accident. And now that I’m here all I see is 5 TVs and a chair with some popcorn. A note on the floor reads “ you have to watch your entire life from 5 different view points before you can walk through the door to heaven. Have fun”. At least they gave me popcorn for this long ride..
The 1st TV showed my parents on it. I can’t explain how much I miss them and I don’t think I have the space to do it either. It shows my dad getting the call from my mom as she screams “ MY WATER BROKE”. Her holding my dads hand till it turned white as she pushed me out. Her naming me after her brother and my dad holding me. My first steps my first meal my first dance move all of that and more. Then it starts to show me as a teenager and boy was it funny to watch back. All the times I joked on my mom for her lisp and her saying I got mine from her. The times I rubbed my dads bald head for good luck before school. The days they would surprise me after baseball practice and how they would show up to my games and cheer me on like it’s the first time they saw me play. Then it showed the last 2 years and the change. The bags under my eyes from baseball camps and late night batting sessions. The obsessive studying trying to get A+ after A+ after A+. The attitude when I was told to take a break. The injury I got in a playoff game junior year. The days I spent in my room just watching tv from sunrise to sunset. And it came to my death scene and it just cut off.
I picked up the second remote and this tv showed my sister. She was 3 years younger than me so as a kid I took every opportunity to let her know she wasn’t at my level. We would fight and compete over any and everything imaginable. Video games, cartoons we liked, food, friends, shotgun in moms car. As I got older I started to get good at baseball and she didn’t have any athletic talents. So she became the bookworm of the family and it worked for her perfectly fine. Until I had to get good grades to play baseball so my gpa got bigger than hers. All the congratulations for honor roll went to me instead of her. The pats on the back came to me for sports and school. The nights I could go hang out and she was left in the house to do nothing. I saw all of it and frankly I wouldn’t change it. Then I saw the injury from her perspective. She was happy cause I lost my lead on her for affection but a little part of her wasn’t okay with how she felt. We grew apart in my recovery her diving into books and me diving into getting better. Days would go by when we wouldn’t talk and not a awkward moment happened. Then just like last time it got to my death and The tv cut off.
I picked up the 3rd remote and refilled my popcorn and this one was about my best friend J.D. We had known each other since 2nd grade when he tried to trip me in P.E class and I tripped him back. Ever since then we were best friends and we did everything together. Studied, chased after girls, baseball anything you could really think of. He was always more of the cool one while I was just the kid that was gonna go D1 for baseball since he was 14. High school comes and you would think a separation would happen but we only got tighter. I was stuck wondering how did I help him besides being his friend till the car crash showed up on the tv. His mom had gotten into a bad accident and he was devastated to the point he stopped going to school. I was there for him alongside a few other friends but everyone encouraged him to take the spring off and while I was all for him resting and mourning I knew his mom wanted him to graduate high school on time. So I helped him do his work from home for a month. I basically did it for him while he went to therapy but I Didn’t really mind. I would do anything for him and if I had the chance to go back I’d still do anything for him. When I had my injury he was there every step of the way but i kind of shut everyone out so he wasn’t around as much. He didn’t see my death scene so the tv cut off.
I picked up the 4th remote and turned on the tv and I immediately knew who it was gonna be about. The only thing on the screen was a blond girl with a dragon tattoo on her arm and a nice ponytail smiling at me. It was Rebecca my girlfriend at the time of my death. We met in kindergarten when some girls pushed her off the swings and I threw mulch at them cause I never liked bullying at any level. When I was younger I didn’t really like her cause she was a know it all but I could tell she was head over heels for me and who wouldn’t be. The only problem was that I’m African and the last thing a African mother wants is for her son to bring home a white girl. That and the fact that I didn’t see Rebecca as attractive at all. She was always like the girl you know across the street but you know that’s all she’s gonna be. As we got older we started to hang around the same people so we became friends i guess. As I got better at baseball more and more people wanted to hang around me but she was the only one that was genuine. The day she asked me out came up on the screen and all I could do was laugh as she showed off her new tat and asked if I thought it was pretty. It was a dragon with a rose on its back so I shook my head yeah. Then she asked if I thought she was pretty and I did it again. She then asked if I would go on a date with her and I said yeah. We went to the movies and afterwords I walked her home and she kissed me. I didn’t expect it and Frankly I was scared cause her dad saw us. He knew me like how all the parents in our town did as the baseball kid but he didn’t get mad at me kissing her.
We dated for 3 years and she was there through everything. She became my rock, my journal, my best friend. I knew what was coming next and I couldn’t turn the tv off. When I got my injury I was so mad at the world I didn’t want to talk to anyone. That unfortunately included Rebecca. She would come to the hospital every day and I was just numb to all her words. The hugs and kisses didn’t mean shit if I couldn’t play. I shut her out for the rest of my recovery. I shouldn’t have done it but I was so upset I didn’t think I deserved anything or any love. She would cry to my sister and ask why I wasn’t talking to her and she continued to visit. I went home and just shut myself off from anyone. No friends over, no coaches calling for me and I treated her the worst. I would call her over for support just to mess with her. Use her for things I shouldn’t have. Sneak her in the house just for sex. And she was okay with it. She walked through the front door one day and my mom flipped out on her. Screaming that her son wouldn’t date a white women as long as she lived and that she should get out. She looked at me on the stairs and I just shook my head and went back to my room. The last day I saw her was when I went to return a textbook to a teacher, she looked at me with such resent but just as much love. I couldn’t make a word out but “ what’s up”. She didn’t see my death scene. I needed a refill and a tissue or two.
The last tv showed me my life through my eyes and it was largely the same. The grades went from good to incredible. The friends were around but I shut them off. Rebecca went from my everything to a tool I could bend and break. Baseball went from a passion to a nightmare. My parents went from loving to controlling. My sister went from a friend to a enemy. Then it showed my death scene and I couldn’t watch it. Living it was bad but quick but the issue was everyone’s reactions. My mother crying as my father held her. My sister sitting at the back of the funeral so no one could see her cry. J.D and the rest of my friends dropping roses on my casket. Rebecca being scared to come until my baseball coach insisted she speak at the funeral. The way her voice trembled as she recalled our first date, our first argument our first kiss, our handshakes. How my mother actually looked her in the eyes for the first time. And how they buried me in the ground.
The TV turned off and the door opened. I walked through and took one look back at what I left behind and went on. | 2020-06-03T15:13:29 | 2020-06-03T14:30:04 | 45 | 21 |
[WP] There is a species famous for shutting themselves in Virtual Reality, living their lives in fake worlds, this planet should be easy to invade, your masters said, turns out, a lot of members of that species have been spending their entire time in realistic combat simulations. | “What news from the front lines, admiral?”
“My liege. It’s…it's not going well.”
The emperor turned from the viewport. "What?"
The admiral exchanges nervous glances with his fellow officers, “Sire. It’s been a bloodbath. Our casualties now number in the tens of millions. The humans are…winning.”
The emperor stormed towards the admiral. “WHAT?”
Around the room, officers took a half-step back and lowered their gaze.
“Explain yourself, admiral. How could the greatest military minds the intergalactic alliance has to offer be defeated by these…piddling humans?”
The admiral sighed. “It turns out the humans were more…prepared than we expected.”
“Prepared? How so?”
“They have been training their youth to fight back against a full-scale planetary attack. Seemingly since birth.”
"Training? How?”
“Via Virtual Reality, my liege.”
“Virtual Reality? They've been running simulations of our attacks?”
“Correct. From what we can deduce, it's a highly advanced combat simulator. I believe the humans call it…BeatSaber.”
“BeatSaber?”
“Yes. The children wear a VR headset and use controllers to cut through colored blocks almost identical to our starfighters.”
The admiral turned back to the hanger window. After a long pause, he said, “Stars above. Did we try sending both red AND blue starfighters?”
“Yes, my liege.”
“And did we send starfighters that could only be destroyed if swiped from a specific direction?”
“Yes.”
“And the fleet attacked in time to popular music? Did they pick a song with a fast tempo? Like Rasputin or Crab Rave?”
“They did.”
“AND?”
“And the humans cut through them like they were nothing. As a matter of fact, they seemed to be almost...dancing in time with the songs.”
A tear ran down four of the emperor's five eyes. “Then all is lost. May the creator have mercy on us all.”
\---
Thanks for reading! If anyone has any criticisms, feedback or tips on things I could improve, please let me know!
Hope you enjoy! Subscribe to [https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/](https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/) for more | Rumour had it that the Colhasses liked virtual reality. They were good at it. And that was their curse for they spent their days within those worlds. Large glass coffins filled with a watery green liquid sustained their bodies. Their brains were jacked up to a supercomputer that handled all the virtual realities. Every five years an engineer would wake up, check the systems, and go back to sleep if everything was alright -- it always was.
Zorathus, the legendary conqueror, decided to invade their planet. It looked easy to invade, the inhabitants were all almost asleep, and his army was unstoppable.
"Fellow Amphelans," he said, "we need to expand further. The cities are overcrowded. We need new land."
He said it on the national holographic channel. And the statement carried far and wide to each of the nine planets that Zorathus ruled with an iron fist.
There were no protests, no opposition. The Amphelans knew that it was unwise to question the great conqueror.
An army of combat-ready battleships gathered at Zorathus-I -- the capital planet of the great Zorathan empire.
"We are to invade Colhas. It is the planet of the unreal. They live in virtual reality," Zorathus said to his nine Fleet Commanders.
"We have heard of them, your Majesty," said the commander of the First Fleet.
Zorathus sneered, he wasn't in the habit of being interrupted. The Eighth Fleet Commander, a grey-haired man, bowed down and apologised for his comrade, who followed suit.
The clenched jaw of Zorathus loosened again as he said, "Yes, you have heard of them. Then you should know that they don't live in the same reality we live in. They live in the virtual world. No matter when we attack them, they will be asleep."
"They will be asleep, yes. So, your Majesty, when do we attack?" the Eighth Fleet Commander asked.
"When?" Zorathus laughed. "Why, we can attack any time we want to. And you know, the best time is now."
There was no strategy, none from the conqueror that is. The fleet commanders had decided on the attack shape -- circling the planet from eight directions and the centre. And that was it. The battleships readied for takeoff and set the course for Colhas -- the tenth planet to be.
When the ships entered the Colhas atmosphere, unbeknownst to the fleet commanders, alarms set off in all of Colhas. People stirred from their virtual dreams and staggered to their feet. They shook the green liquid off, took a bath, and picked their weapons up.
Soon, the invading armies spread in all directions like a rash. But the Colhasian soldiers were there to meet their challenge. They used their iron claws, grappling hook, sword hands, and sword legs, to kill the Zorathan invaders.
The First Fleet commander, a greenhorn, was caught in the heat of the battle. He made the mistake of leading his men as they did in the movies -- from the front. The experienced commanders held no such romantic notions. But the First Fleet commander did, and he found himself face-to-face with a Colhasian warrior whose skin was made of steel.
"Why are you fighting us?" he asked the First Fleet commander.
"We are here to claim this land as our own. We come for war."
These words angered the Colhasian warrior who lunged forward with a massive boom and decapitated the First Fleet commander. A large hole was left on the ground from where the warrior jumped. Atomic arrowheads followed -- arrowheads that destroyed the remaining fleet.
Zorathus saw the First Commander's blip disappear from his screen and he recalled his men. He wasn't stupid. "Those bastards must've been in a combat simulation," he muttered to himself.
But no worries, he only pressed a button to start the large air purifier that now hovered in the Colhasian atmosphere. It changed the ratio of gases in the atmosphere. Sooner or later, even the toughest of Colhasians would die. There were multiple ways to skin a cat or to conquer a planet. | 2020-12-25T08:34:21 | 2020-12-25T08:08:20 | 484 | 235 |
[WP] There is a species famous for shutting themselves in Virtual Reality, living their lives in fake worlds, this planet should be easy to invade, your masters said, turns out, a lot of members of that species have been spending their entire time in realistic combat simulations. | Some say we stagnated as a species when we decided to enter the pods. It was either that or we turned the planet into a lump of charcoal. Uninhabitable for millennia. We chose the pods and a benevolent AI to watch over us. Not everyone wanted to stay there so some are allowed to travel between the virtual and the real. The real world, I’m told, is back to being a paradise. Our tech being gently overgrown with plants. I’m told my pod has a nest of sparrow hawks just above my head, 3 generations in now apparently.
With our world at some sort of peace, we decided to work with the AI to allow us to journey through space. We could send out probes and with the information being sent back we could feel the planets on our skin. We didn’t need to travel with the galaxy in our minds.
From the outside we looked like easy pickings. A whole civilisation that lived out their lives in a tiny box being cared for by a benevolent AI.
It almost feels like the phrase, “looks can be deceiving” is a thoroughly human thought. You see, it was a Utopia for us. A deadly trap for any other species that decided to come for us. We knew going in that to leave our bodies vulnerable would be folly. Our AI was tasked with building us metal bodies for defence. Then we added in air support, then space. Any person could transfer into any open unit to aid in earths defence. From the age of 10 you’re trained in how to manipulate our metal skins, to find their fullest potential. Every human,all 12 billion of us, is trained and able. Our bodies are disposable, our experience grows. We share battle reports with each other. Can live through each other’s “eyes”. We’ve stayed in our pods to look inconspicuous, no one in the galaxy thinks that the robots that are culling entire systems are being controlled by us. Why would they? We’re the silly humans that are hiding in our video games... | Zorm Cilica waited outside of the command room, flanked by three guards. He had been summoned, pulled away from the battle on command from the Dorma, himself.
Cilica took carful note that the guards were nervously (or was it eagerly) gripping their disrupter gels. He had also noted the guard behind him was no ordinary guard - it was the Dorma's mover, Robah - the commander's "eyes" in the field.
There was a sudden stillness when they all felt the pulsing message to enter dance like tickles of electricity on all of their antennae. The hatchway's seal opened like a rotated eye and Robah prodded Cilica forward into the command center, and being a royal Zorm, Cilica raised his head formally and marched in.
Cilica scanned across his multiple lenses and saw this was no normal room formation. Without having to move his head, he continued to take in the visual data across his 87 lenses.
*The olfactory pods are in hibernation? But why? Why are they not tracking the events of the battle?*
"That is far enough," commanded Dorma.
Robah unceremoniously grabbed Cilica by his spinal cage and forced four of his legs to a kneeling position. Dorma continued.
"Cilica, rank of honorable Zorm," he started, "He who has never failed us in any previous advanced party ... why have you failed our Queen now?"
"Failed?" Cilica, cried. "But, but ... this was expected ... it ..."
"Silence!" shouted Robah. "It was rhetorical you idiot!"
"There, there, Robah," interrupted Dorma, "I'll handle this."
"But my lord," persisted Robah, "He's doomed us all!"
"Doomed?" Cilica broke in. "But this was expected. This is their best! Once we break through their first wave..."
Dorma had waved his hand and Robha had struck Cilica on his crown shielding, sending him to the ground reeling.
"I said silence," Dorma reminded. "Now back on your claws."
Cilica stood, carefully rubbing the back of his head with one of his four arms while Dorma continued.
"You assured us this was an easily conquerable system. That these soft life-forms were lazy, selfish, self-absorbed, soft ... but most of all, ready for the taking! You were on their moon for ninety planetary rotations! And in all this time, your teams detected nothing more powerful than fuel powered explosive payloads and electromagnetic disruptors?"
Cilica waited, but when the Dorma didn't continue, he understood he was now requiring a response.
"All our sensors and probes confirmed this, my lord." He offered cautiously. "The data was confirmed by our interstellar relay bridge on Praxis.
"Yes," agreed Dorma, disappointingly. "Yes they did. They too failed us." Dorma was now pacing back and fourth as he thought. "Only, they were not here. Not in the system. They did not have all the information you had access too so ... now we are all doomed."
"But--" Cilica tried to interrupt, but the claw that Dorma raised silenced him.
With one of his other hands, Dorma waved at another hatchway and an intelligence party entered. As they did, the olfactory pods burped back into operation. As Cilica breathed in the vapors through his sides, he froze.
"That's right," chittered Dorma. "Right into their web."
Cilica was in too much shock to respond. Anyhow, it would have been useless to do so. Dorma instructed the head intelligence officer to brief the room.
"With your permission, lord."
Dorma nodded.
"None of our transmissions to Praxis are leaving the system. We have confirmed that all have been intercepted--"
"That's impossible," interrupted Cilica, "they don't have the technology!"
(Part 1) | 2020-12-25T10:10:11 | 2020-12-25T09:48:29 | 235 | 93 |
[WP] An Alien God comes to Earth and tells you that you have 5 minutes to give it a reason to not wipe out humanity. You're just a dude with a ukulele. | It was late June, 1997 when the woman who called herself Hina visited me. Of course, I didn't believe she was really a goddess, but something about her was compelling, almost otherworldly. If she wanted to pretend I could play along.
We spoke about the past and the future, the upcoming millennium and Y2K. She was pessimistic in her vision, derogatory in her tone.
"What's worth saving, in these petty humans? What redeeming quality do they have that I should spare their puny lives?" She asked as if she had the power to make it happen.
I laughed. What else could you do? It was a ridiculous premise, but she looked so serious and sad.
"Pass me that ukulele, and I promise, I can change your mind in 5 minutes", I said, as I pointed behind her to the instrument on the shelf behind her.
She brought it to me, and as I struggled to find my breath she smiled as she placed it in my hands and said, "I hope you can."
And I played. It wasn't the greatest song in the world, and definitely wasn't a professional rendition, but her solemnity was infectious and as sick as I was, I tried my best.
The last notes faded into the night and that semi-quiet of a midnight hospital ward returned. I looked up for my bed and could see the tears streaming down her face.
"You were right! I didn't think it was possible, but you have changed my mind. What was that song called?" She asked, without a trace of sarcasm.
Again, I thought she was playing a silly game, who doesn't know Over the Rainbow? It's one of the most famous songs in the world. I laughed as I told her, and she smiled at me as the heavy veil of death floated down on me and said, "Israël Kamakawiwo'ole, you have saved the world. I release you from your earthly bonds and invite you to join me in the heavens. Don't forget your ukulele!" | "Hey! You! You have 5 minutes to convince me not to wipe out humanity."
Is it...talking to me? What, what is that? It's vaguely humanoid, but it's not any species I recognize. Also it's *speaking my language*.
How?
"Come over here!" The creature tells me. I obediently walk over. "What are you?" I ask, not wanting to sound rude, but not knowing another way to phrase the question.
"I come from outer space. Long story, you don't need it. Hurry up, you only have 5 minutes."
"5 minutes for what?" I say.
"Were you even listening? 5 minutes to convince me not to wipe out humanity. You should be thanking me, you weren't supposed to have any time at all."
"Um...okay." I decide to ignore the whole alien part. Probably should focus on saving the world.
"You shouldn't destroy humanity..." I begin. But I can't think of anything to say.
I really should be given more time to prepare, and more time to fully understand what's happening.
Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Calm down. Maybe I'm drunk?
There is an alien in front of me. I have 5 minutes to convince it not to destroy Earth.
This is great. This is brilliant. Give me this job, right. Because that makes sense.
"Hurry up!" The alien says. If it were human, I would say it's tapping it's foot.
"Umm..." I look around for ideas.
But I can't find anything. This is a really bad time to approach anyone about saving humanity, really.
And I'm just a guy with a ukulele, playing for money in the subways. Tasked with quite literally saving the world.
Wow. That's really what I have to do, isn't it? Save the world. This is what I'm doing.
*So I should probably get back to it, huh?*
"I don't know." I say.
"What do you mean you don't know?" The alien asks. "We're about to obliterate your world and you don't have any reasons for why we shouldn't? Are you kidding me?"
I don't fully hear what they're saying, I'm still thinking of ideas. I watch a mother board a train with her baby. They're lucky.
*They* aren't tasked with saving the world.
"What about this, hey?" I ask, remembering some soppy book I read years ago. "Look around, what do you see? People, just living their lives. Isn't there beauty in that?"
"Yeah, sure, but not enough to save you race." The alien says. Privately, I agree, but that's probably not something I should say.
"I got nothing. That was all I had." I sit back, and start strumming my ukulele. I start fingerpicking a song I wrote a few years ago.
"What's that?" The alien asks me. They start humming along to the tune, and it throws me off.
"Aren't the 5 minutes up?" I say. "Don't you have to go back to your ship or something?"
The alien isn't really listening to me, it's just sort of...waving along to the music.
"Why could you not come up with anything to save your world?" It asks.
"You've kind of blindsided me. I can't really come up with anything on the spot." I reply.
"Why not mention this?" the alien asks.
"Meh. It's just a song, it's not even all that good." I shrug. I guess the alien must like this genre or something.
"I kind of like this. Okay, I'll stop the explosion." The alien says.
"Seriously?" I ask. "That was all I had to do? Play a stupid song?"
"We don't need that much of a reason. We didn't want to blow up your planet."
"Okay." I say.
The alien nods and leaves in a burst of light.
"The hell was in my drink." I mumble.
\*\*\*
I do have a subreddit at r/walkingalltheskies | 2021-02-17T14:14:37 | 2021-02-17T13:30:22 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] Guardian Angels do nothing to protect you on earth, instead they guard you from God's wrath and suffer his punishments in your place whenever you sin. When you eventually die you must face them and, after years of suffering in your place, they decide your eternal fate. | Humphrey Glascock half wandered down the hall. The white marble broken up by alcoves similar to what you would see in a prison visiting area with a number in glowing light above them. Each one he passed had a man or woman looking upon a beaten and battered angel and pleading their case.
Finally coming to the alcove matching the number on his slip he waited for what seemed an hour before a laughing angel came over on the other side of the desk.
"Heey my man. Glad to see ya. You had a good thirty year run."
Humphrey wrings his hands and then down at the floor. "I am sorry. I know you must have suffered greatly because of me. . I am, was, so useless."
"Ah, Humphman, you like died a virgin. You worked eighty hours a week at a salary that put you below minimum wage man. You barely ate. Helped folk in need from carrying things for them to trying to help with repairs in their homes man. Your dad used to beat you while your mom just blamed you for it all. And you like forgave them."
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to cause trouble."
"Humphman, you were only hard on one person. Yourself man. Most of the folk here are answering for every sin they committed. You made the big man's son cringe so hard he cut the brake line on that bus. You are not a bad man Humphrey. Not a loser and not a waste. We practically got a party waiting for you. Come on, let's see if we can turn that frown around."
​
As the angel put his arms about the shaken man's shoulders and lead him to the stairs above the other angels looked on the pair. One battered angel looking to the hall guard. "How did he get one like that?"
"You know the Morning Star. He always goes with the long odds." | The room was what one might expect an angel would live in. A lot of white, gold, and silver and really nice furniture. It looked like one of many rooms in a really nice mansion.
But the woman sitting at the center of the room didn't look like she belonged there. She looked extremely unhappy, her face twisted into a scowl. I stopped looking around when I saw her and then I just stared. She wasn't bad looking, save for the scowl which was actually kinda intimidating. She was tall, way taller than me, and had pale skin and jet black hair and when she moved it looked like she was floating. Before I could register what was happening she was in front of me and then she back handed me... hard. My ears rang as I stumbled to the left, confused and dazed I sat down hard on the floor. I could see she was crying now and shouting at me.
"SIXTY... FUCKING... YEARS... MAX!!! SIXTY YEARS YOU JUST WOULDN'T GET BETTER. I GET THAT YOU DIDN'T GET LOVE GROWING UP BUT THE PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT YOU BECAME IS FAR WORSE THAN *ANYTHING* YOUR PARENTS COULD HAVE DONE! FU-"
Her voice caught in her throat and she took a few steps back. I'd heard the tone in her voice before too, my voice had had the same shakiness whenever I tried opening up about the beatings and pain I felt to anyone as a kid. She was in a lot of pain and I knew deep down why, I just couldn't bring myself to accept it but in my heart I knew I deserved what was coming. My body seemed to move on it's own slowly rising to a kneeling position and my head bowing, my hands moving to rest on my calves. I would accept any judgement she passed down to me.
I heard her breathing get quieter and then I heard metal against wood. I looked up as she drew a dark, thin sword from a sheath at her hip. She raised it above her head, her eyes showing more conviction than I think I'd ever felt in my life. I closed my eyes, waiting for my true end.
I heard a light whistling as the sword rushed towards my neck and then... nothing. There was a light ringing and when I opened my eyes again I saw that I was still in the room, the woman still in front of me but tears now ran down her cheeks. The sword had stopped mere millimeters from my neck and the abrupt stop had made the blade ring.
There was a deafening silence as we looked into each other's eyes and then she sheathed the blade and stepped back, wiping her eyes.
"I wish... I wish that you would have had this sooner. Most resist or cry out when they can't accept their sins, not you Max Scofield, not you. You knew what you'd done and you showed true remorse today. I can't pass judgement down myself now. I don't know where you'll go if you leave here but I have a rather strange request if you'll listen..."
There's no way I would ignore her now.
"Sure; what is it?"
"I can't keep doing this, every time someone like you comes in I see for just a moment what I saw in you just now, they reach for it but they never can grasp it in the end and so I must punish them, though they may have been remorseful given a little more time I cannot wait. I can't keep doing that alone, each trial takes more out of me; could you stay here, with me, for just a little while?"
I nodded, I remembered how badly I wanted just one person to listen, really listen, to me and be there when I was younger and alive. I also remembered how it felt when I was rejected time and time again. I couldn't do that to someone, so I decided to stay there in that room to help this angel bear the sins of those who she judged. | 2021-05-18T12:16:12 | 2021-05-18T10:59:09 | 26 | 14 |
[WP]"Paradox Manifestation Department, whats your emergency?" | "Paradox Manifestation Department, what's your emergency?"
"What? Hello? No, I need to call 911!"
"Technically, ma'am, you need to call the PMD, so here we are."
"No, I took my phone *specifically* to call 911, and you started talking before I could even dial! I have an emergency! Who is this?"
"Ma'am, please remain calm. This is an emergency number. If you had dialed 911, you would have explained your situation, and they would have connected you with us. We are the service you need."
"How could you know that before it even happened?"
"I didn't. But since we are speaking now, you clearly need our services, so what is your emergency?"
"A crocodile has stolen my baby! My little Hailey! Can you help me?"
"That depends, ma'am."
"It *depends*?! If you say you're the person I need, why are you unsure whether you can help?"
"Did the crocodile say anything when it stole your child?"
"How did you know it said something? Crocodiles can't talk!"
"Ma'am, if the crocodile spoke to you, then it must be true that crocodiles can speak."
"But I've seen crocodiles at the zoo and on TV, and none of them said a word!"
"Yes, but if any one of those crocodiles ever spoke themselves, then it would validate the idea that crocodiles do indeed speak."
"My god, I must be going crazy. I hope I'm going crazy."
"You would prefer going crazy to getting your child back from the crocodile?"
"No, if I were going crazy, there would be *no* crocodile and Hailey would still be safe at home!"
"Well, since neither of those are the case, then you must not be going crazy, which is a good thing. Now, tell me what the crocodile said."
"I can't belie— The crocodile said that in order to get Hailey back, I must guess what the crocodile will do next."
"Ma'am, the crocodile will not return your child."
"*What*?!"
"That is to say, you must tell the crocodile that its next act will be to keep your child."
"Why on earth would I do that? What kind of emergency service is this?!"
"Ma'am, please remain calm. If you tell the crocodile it won't return your child, then according to its own terms it cannot, in good conscience, keep the child, since that would result in your guess being correct, and it would therefore have to return the child to you."
"But… if I say the crocodile won't give her back, then I'm only correct if it actually *doesn't* give her back!"
"Yes, but any other guess will be incorrect and the crocodile will keep your child."
"This is absurd! Get me Animal Control!"
"I'm afraid they won't be able to help you. Now please, ma'am, I am a trained professional. Tell the crocodile it will not return your child to you."
"I can't— My breathi—"
"Ma'am, please remain calm."
"My chest is— tight… Every breath feels— like it's only… half as much air as the… previous breath…"
"I'm glad to hear that, ma'am, rest assured it means you'll never completely run out of air. Now, please, tell the—"
"Okay, okay… Cro—crocodile… your next act will be—oh, god… to *keep* my poor little Hailey…"
\[Silence\]
"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you there?"
"Yes, I… The crocodile is clawing at its head. Its eyes are bleeding."
"This is good, stay on the line. Keep talking."
"There's a box here, near the crocodile."
"What does the box look like?"
"Just a wooden box. Oh, god, do you think Hailey is inside?"
"She very well could be."
"But she might not be… Because if I guessed *correctly* that I wouldn't get her back…"
"No, you guessed correctly that the crocodile wouldn't *return her* to you. That box could quite possibly contain your child."
"I don't see how to open it. Oh, but lifting it, it weighs the same as Hailey. My poor little girl, oh, Hailey! Hailey, it's mommy! Hailey, can you hear me? Oh, god, what if she's dead?"
"We can't know until you open the box."
"I'm… too afraid to open it."
r/ZacharyDillon | “Paradox manifestation department, how may I help you?”
“Hi, there’s a, uh, unicorn in my swimming pool”
“A unicorn sir?”
“Yes. In my swimming pool.”
“And what does the unicorn appear to be doing sir?”
“Uh. Swimming. It’s swimming. In circles”
“I see sir. Is the unicorn creating a time altering vortex of any kind?”
“Not that I can see”
“And is the unicorn using any powers to teleport or manifest other magical creatures in the immediate vicinity of or in the swimming pool itself?”
“Uh, no? No. It’s just the unicorn by itself”
“Excellent sir, and finally has the unicorn spoken to you, specifically about but not limited to topics such as reverse time dilation, magic horn wishes, its desire to compete in professional winter sports, or has it offered you a ride described as being to or from a magical wonderland full of fairy floss and beavers?”
“No. No I haven’t spoken to it. It’s just swimming around. I didn’t go over to it”
“Excellent choice sir very wise. Now it doesn’t sound like you’ve got a paradox manifestation occurring in your vicinity but I can redirect your call through to the Magical Creatures Negotiation and Pest Control department and they should be able to help you.”
“Ok sure uh, oh hello?”
“Magical Creatures Negotiation and Pest Control department, how may I help you?”
“There’s a unicorn in my swimming pool. I got transferred from,”
“A unicorn sir? That’s fine I can help you with that inquiry today. Can you confirm if the unicorn is blue or white?”
“It’s uh, it’s pink.”
“And it’s mane sir?”
“Uh, also pink”
“Sparkly?”
“I suppose it is yes”
“And is it swimming around or floating sir?”
“Swimming in circles”
“No floaties?”
“Sorry what?”
“Is the unicorn using any visible floatation devices sir?”
“Not that I can see…”
“Thankyou sir, and finally has the unicorn spoken to you, specifically about but not limited to topics such as it’s galloping speed when compared to the standard badger, magic hoof wishes, it’s desire to play musical instruments solo or in a band, or has it offered to teach you to swim?”
“No, what? No. It’s just swimming I haven’t spoken to it. And I can already swim. I have a pool. It’s full of unicorn! Can you send someone to help?”
“Very wise sir, should anything change and it offer you a ride or swimming lessons please decline for your own safety. I’m afraid this is the wrong department and the unicorn you are describing is handled best by our Water Management Department I’ll put you through now”
“Wait! You’re the unicorn dep… ugh, hello?”
“Water Management, whadda want?”
“There’s a unicorn. In my swimming pool. I want it gone.”
“Is it pink?”
“Yes. Wh…”
“Sparkly?”
“Yes”
“I’ll send someone right over. Make sure and keep any children or pets away from the vicinity of the swimming pool and out of a ten mile radius after the explosion”
“The what?”
“The nuclear explosion. We will be detonating a small nuclear device in the vicinity of your swimming pool and you should keep your kids away from it. And your pets. And probably you too. Stay out of the blast area. It’s usually best if you take the kids to grandmas or something for the weekend, and then stay away for fifty to fifty five years until the radiation has settled”
“Fifty to… you can’t set off a nuclear device in my yard! I live here! I have neighbors!”
“You should tell them to go to their grandmas as well. If you like them.”
“You’re not blowing up my house!”
“It’s the only way to get rid of a sparkly pink unicorn I’m afraid”
“Then I’ll just… put up with it! Or I’ll ask it to leave”
“I strongly recommend against that”
“Why? Because it’s pink!? At least it doesn’t want to blow up my suburb! You’re all mad I’ll deal with this myself.”
“We’re sending the team around immediately. Stay indoors sir.”
“Don’t sent anybody! Stay the hell away from my house!”
He slammed the phone down, then tentatively opened the sliding door, and the unicorn looked over from the pool, eyes sparkly and wide.
“Uh. Excuse me. I was wondering if you were planning on leaving my pool anytime, soon?”
The unicorn blinked once, and again, leisurely treading water.
“It’s just, the water department, they want to blow up the whole house because you’re here. With a nuclear bomb! Which seems very extreme. And I’m rather concerned they’re on the way. I think if you’ll leave they’ll just… go away as well, I hope… so… would you mind?”
The unicorn paused as if to think, then sneezed into the pool water. It looked up at him again before finally sighing
“Very trigger happy that water department. They’re definitely going to blow your house up.”
“What? Are you sure? I mean if you aren’t here…”
“Did you tell them I was pink and sparkly?”
“Well they did ask, yes”
“Then your house is getting exploded. And your neighbors. This whole area really. We should go.”
The unicorn ungracefully clambered from the pool, all hooves and splayed legs and splashing.
“Comeon then” it gestured with its neck. “Get on. I’ll take you to safety.”
“What? Where? I can’t ride you… I have to stay here and stop…”
“You won’t stop them and they’ll be here any minute. Get on.” And it knelt down so he could climb up. The unicorns eyes sparkled, strangely convincing, and next thing, he was on its back and it was standing. He felt very high.
“Where are we going?”
“A safe place. It’s magic there. There’s all kinds of good things. Fairy floss. Pianos. World class ski instructors. Beavers. You’ll love it” and the unicorns eyes sparkled again, looking back up at him, reflecting in his own.
And he just had a moment to wonder about the reliability and trustworthiness of a government department who wanted to explode his neighborhood when faced with a perfectly friendly encounter with a lovely unicorn who was going to take him to a magical sparkly land far away before the unicorn with him clinging excitedly to its back leaped and they were up and up and up and then flying and then gone. | 2021-07-07T07:29:22 | 2021-07-07T06:13:09 | 106 | 48 |
[WP] Your escape pod crash landed on an alien planet. Badly injured, a local farmer took you in, but their species only lives for 3 months. It took nearly 3 generations to fully recover. That was years ago and you’ve been protecting the family ever since. |
Nobody came.
The ship had crashed and they left me on this strange world with blue grasses and yellow skies. They had left me among these short lived, purple folk. Had they planned to dispose of me like this all along?
Then let me stay here. Let me protect the family that saved me, let me guard their lands from the raiders. Let me protect them until my legs give out beneath me and I can no longer see the sky.
\-----
I don't remember the first or second one to take me in and care for me. I barely remember the third. I remember waking up to look into black eyes with purple and red feelers wrapped around my arm. I remember panicking and trying to jump back, only to pass out again. It was a little while later when I woke up again to see the third speaking in a chirping language to two smaller creatures. The third had pointed to me and I had only been able to blink for a moment until I tried to introduce myself.
It took three more deaths to learn their language and to grow back to my full strength. I had sworn to help them after that, a repayment for watching over me. Yet every night I tried to contact Earth with the little technology I had.
I never got a response.
\-----
The years had grown on and I was still watching over the fields of the Ka Pring Dynasty, occasionally fighting off some raiders when I looked into one of the silver colored water holes and realized my face no longer looked like the face on my identification card. My skin had grown from pearly white to a permanent tan and my lips had turned blue from the blue grasses I ate. Wrinkles marred my face as much as any scar did and my black hair was now down my back and streaked with silver. I was now in the care of the 157st, my vow standing strong.
Earth would not find these peaceful people and their beautiful traditions, like making large and intricate towers out of black and green stone, carved with words and symbols or marking the grave of the passed with a carved marker, made by the passed one. Earth would not pollute their silver rivers with large red fish that reminded me of the long extinct manta rays that had lived in the seas.
I stopped trying to contact Earth.
\-----
I was old when they came.
Maybe they had finally received my transmissions from my youth.
Me and the 228th watched as the shining spaceships marred the yellow sky with their dark shadows. The 228th asked me to defend them. I could only shake my head and say I could not, for I was old and weak and close to death.
But perhaps I could buy them time.
\-----
The humans took three weeks to come. I had stood at the edge of the fields and watched them come, ripping large clouds of iridescent dust up. The 228th and the rest of the Ka Pring Dynasty had already left, abandoning their homeland in search of safety. I hoped they made it as two humans in silver suits dismissed from their hovering machines, speaking in a tongue I could no longer understand.
I stayed perfectly still as they scanned me, and somehow the scanner recognized me. I watched as the screen revealed my 21 year old self, the last scan taken before I crashed into this strange and wondrous planet.
The humans muttered something to each other and the who had taken the scan stared at me and asked something, but I could only make out the words, "Ebony White?"
My name. I nodded and opened my mouth to speak, to conjure up words in the human language I had so long ago abandoned.
"Nobody comes." | "Come on, Zaza! We're almost there!", the young boy cheerily shouted from the distance. As he ran, his baggy clothing flowed with the wind.
The red meadow spanned across kilometers of the small planet, even further in the distance an unexplored mountain range of granite, as white as snow painted on the background of a crimson-tinted sky.
The man, Zaza, walked slowly following the enthusiastic boy.
"Slow down, Merik. I can't walk fast", Zaza said, dragging his still recovering body.
When Zaza finally caught up with the boy, he was sure the boy filled up his baggy clothes as his body seemingly grew in mere minutes. Or maybe his heavily bandaged head was playing tricks on him.
"Tell me, Merik. Why are we going to this cave again?", asked Zaza.
Merik, sitting on the red grass, counting rocks as he waited for Zaza to catch up looked up. He no longer had that baby face Zaza adored so much about the boy.
"My grandfather said his father and mother found you there! They said they pulled you out of a metal box!", answered Merik.
"That's impossible, Merik. If that's right, then I should've been dead by now. Your great grandparents lived around....ooh about 12 months ago?", Zaza squinted, crunching the numbers with his injured head. "Our race could only live for about 3 months right?"
Merik pouted and scratched his head before shooting up and locked his arm with Zaza's, propping his tired body up.
"Yeah...I don't know, Zaza. Maybe I remember it wrong. I wish I can ask dad about it", Merik lamented, remembering his late father who just passed away a week prior.
"I miss him too, Merik", Zaza said with great sadness.
"Do you remember him much? I can't really remember...I was born when he was at the end of his live", Merik said.
Zaza thought, trying hard to remember.
"To be honest, no. I can't even keep track of time while I'm still recovering...", Zaza said, exasperated.
"If you have to guess, how long have you been recovering?", Merik asked. "I feel like as long as I've been around, yoy've been around even longer"
Zaza chuckled at the ridiculous notion.
"Pfft can't be more than 3 months, can it? I'd say 2 months tops", Zaza said.
The two continued their journey for another day until finally the mountain range stoood before them and the cave opening was wide awaiting for their arrival.
"There we go, the cave", Merik said escorting Zaza closer.
At that point, Merik had grown taller than Zaza, and much stronger he could've picked Zaza on his back.
As the sun was nearing the horizon on the red planet, its light was spotted into the cave, giving the inside a much needed illumination.
Inside Zaza and Merik found a wreckage of a metallic vessel. Its sight struck a familiarity upon Zaza. Burst of memories previously blocked by the injury to his head came forward to the forefront of his mind.
"It's....my ship", Zaza muttered in disbelief.
"A ship? How can there be a ship here? We are far away from the river", Merik asked.
Zaza stumbled forward, brushing the dirt-filled body of the ship, revealing some writings:
*USS Spacefarer - To Boldly Go Where No One Has Gone Before*
"Star Trek. I...used to love that show. That's what made me wanting to be an astronaut", Zaza muttered, slowly remembering.
"This ship doesn't sail the river, Merik it dails the space", informed Zaza much to Merik' confusion.
"Space? You mean where the stars are?", Merik asked.
Zaza nodded as he went to the open cockpit. Longingly he brushed the dashboard-- the buttons and lights, the levers and steering wheel, all felt familiar on the tip of his fingers.
Zaza paused as he came upon a picture, its colors still stood the test of time.
"What is it, Zaza?", asked Merik.
It was a picture of Zaza in his NASA uniform and a young woman by his side, smiling. On the back of the picture something was written:
*One day I'll return from the stars for you, my dearest Emily*
*Love, Zachary*
*October 23, 2021*
It all came back to Zaza then. The space mission, the crash, the injury causing his amnesia.
Zaza hurriedly started pressing buttons until the backup power whirred back to live momentarily. The ship kept up the date and its age since it crash landed on the planet.
Zaza's eyes widened reading the ship had been there for 1 year and 2 months since it crashed.
"Zaza? What is it?", Merik asked, worried seeing Zaza's pale face.
Zaza felt a sense of dread as everything he thought he knew or remember about himself was false. He wasn't an inhabitant of thr planet, he was a stranger coming from the stars.
He hadn't lived normally like everybody did, for 3 months. He remembered it then in fractured memories, every faces of Merik's family-- his great grandparents, his grandparents, his parents, and eventually Merik and his siblings. He has outlived every single one of them, those who had cared for him.
"Zaza!", Merik ran to Zaza as he stumbled, overwhelmed.
Slowly Zaza fell unconscious, Merik's voice echoed again and again calling his name.
Edit: a word | 2021-10-22T19:00:11 | 2021-10-22T17:05:31 | 927 | 122 |
[WP] Your hand rests on the door to the apartment you share with your fiancé. You absolutely know tonight is going to be bad. You know she is one of the world's elite superheroes and she knows you are the world's greatest super villain. Both of your secrets held till just an hour ago. | *Fucking fairies, this cannot end well.*
I knew that before, but it only registered from the moment I got to the door. Her magic was lashing around in anger though thankfully this was not noticeable unless you were sensitive to the arcane. Like me. As I cringed at the erratic and wrathful movement of her energies I felt a weight upon my shoulder and sharp talons digging into it. I turned around, knowing that I would see Elia, her brown-feathered hawk familiar. She did not look happy. You'd think it would be harder to notice with birds, but she had alwasy been very expressive. Extremely expressive, in this case.
*You bitch.* She spoke telepathically.
*Hi, Elia.* I answered.
Her eyes narrowed at me and then she pecked me on my forehead. Hard. I hissed in pain but did nothing else. The fact that she didn't draw blood was proof that maybe this was not completely unsalvageable.
*Now you go in there and beg for her forgiveness like a leper to a god or I'll rip your head off for all those times you ruined my feathers.*
I cringed. When Jennifer was on duty, Elia was twice as big and with white feathers. No wonder I hadn't recognized her. The same could be said for Jennifer's magical power. Even now, angry and betrayed, her power was only a shadow of what she showed as the White Arch-Mage.
*Sorry.*
*None of you apologies will matter unless she says they do. Now stop stalling.* She pecked me again, though far more softly. I took a deep breath and then opened the door. She was there, sitting on the couch of the main room, in a meditative position so as to try to calm herself. It wasn't really working.
"Ben" She said icily. She turned to look at me. Her eyes were shining with arcane power, though the pupils still remained mostly visible.
"Jennifer" I walked up to her, slowly. When she didn't stop me or say anything, I procedeed to sit on the opposite side of the couch.
"You lied to me" And gods, she sounded so hurt when she said it. I wished I could keep my mouth shut but an unstoppable flicker of annoyance pushed through and I responded, despite knowing it was the wrong thing to say.
"That's hardly something something you can lecture me about" God-DAMMIT Ben.
She frowned, then looked hurt, and finally returned to a neutral displeased expression. Nice going me.
"You're right" She said coolly.
"So let's talk about the things I can lecture you about" Oh fuck, she was going to flay me alive.
"You're a rogue conjurer who, for no less than 7 years, has been commiting various serious crimes like Unlicensed Summoning, Theft Of Magical Artifacts, Unlicensed and Unpermitted Dungeon Raiding, Assault, Burglary, Illegal Trade Of Magical Artifacts, Illegal Trade Of Forbidden Spirits, colluding with dozens of dangerous criminals and who pretty much broke every single part of the Wizardly Code apart from murder and mental manipulation, which is frankly the only reason we're having a talk instead of me burying you alive in Cold Iron chains. Am I wrong in any of this?"
"...No" Merlin have mercy, for I knew she would have none.
"And for the past 4 and a half years we've been together, you have lied to me about your job, friends, life and pretty much anything that was even tangentially related to your crimes, whereas I only lied about being the White Arch-Mage, rather than a normal Arbiter of the Council, something I did for YOUR safety, while you lied to protect your criminal lifestyle. Again, am I wrong in any of this?"
"You.... are correct"
"I see. And do you have ANYTHING to say for yourself? To justify any of this? And don't give me some shit about needing money because we both know you're skilled enough to make a bank legally"
*But not enough to get rid of that fucking fairy. Nor to break her bonds enough to even talk about it.*
"It's because of..."
"Because of what? What?" She said, with a tinge of hope, desperation rather, that whatever I would say would somehow solve all of this.
"Because of the.... power. It makes me feel strong. That's what it's about pretty much" God, in a day or in a century, I'll kill that fucking fairy for forcing me to do this to her.
She looked at me aghast. Then her face turned serious.
"Who's forcing you to do this?"
What now?
"What now?"
"That was not an excuse. In fact it was the worst possible thing you could have said. Even money would have been better. And I could tell it was a lie, I'm the fucking White Arch-Mage. And so I have to ask who the hell lies to make himself look worse? You could have said literally anything else and it would have been better. And even as the Misty Crocodile, which is a shit name by they way-"
"Hey" That was a great name. It fit me.
"No, shut up, it is and everyone knows it. And even as a criminal you've always tried to avoid the more shady and serious criminals, even though you could access more powerful spells and artifacts from them. And this "Hurt them to save them" thing you're trying to pull off, I've seen it a thousand times. My master did it, my best friend did it, hell, I did it. So, stop with the lies, for once, and tell me what's going"
*IF IT WAS THAT FUCKING EASY, I WOULDN'T BE IN THIS SITUATION IN THE FIRST PLACE.*
"It's a fairy isn't it?"
*WHAT*
"You're definitely smart enough that if you could talk about it, you'd have gotten someone to help you or at the very least it would be known you're working under duress. But instead, even now when I got your back against the wall, you're coming up with shitty excuses or saying nothing, hence a fairy, because only they are this restrictive with deals. Which frankly, is both a relief and a worry"
"Really?"
"Yes, relief, because you aren't too much of an asshole and worry because now I have to take care of it. Make no mistake, we WILL talk more about this and you WILL NOT lie to me again, but before any sort of healing and closure comes I have to free you from this curse or pact you got yourself into"
She grabbed my face with both her hands, her eyes fully alight with power, and she looked scarier now than when she was angry at me. Her magical power flowed into me and somehow managed to find and weaken the curse despite it remaining hidden for years.
"So, my little liar, whose wings do I have to rip off to fix this?" | My hand rests on the doorknob to our apartment. I wish I had Captime’s power to slow down time. I could stand here forever, delaying the inevitable. But I had to confront her at some point and with a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped in our hallway.
Thank heavens for my inhuman speed and reactions. I throw up a wall a split-second before a deadly ray of energy hits me. The ray pulverizes my wall in an instant, but at least it is the wall – and not me – that is disintegrated into nothingness.
Lina stands on the other side of the hallway, leaning against the door that leads into our kitchen. The ray-blaster in her hands, finger on the trigger. “Tell me why I shouldn’t empty the whole blaster on you?”
Her voice is cold as ice, but I know her – or so I thought – better than anyone and notice the faint tremble beneath it. She is confused and uncertain of what to do, maybe even scared.
“Because that’s what you’ve been doing all afternoon and there’s nothing to show for it. I can’t overpower you, you can’t overpower me. Besides, I love you and I think you also love me. So can we just talk about it?” My voice sounds pleading, begging for sense. There is no trace of the cockiness with which I spoke mere hours ago.
*“The Fighters have found us!” Mave shrieked. I didn’t seen anything yet in the horizon, but trusted Mave’s eyesight. There is a reason we call him The Eagle. His superpowers are mostly useless but with his sharp eyesight he makes for an excellent look-out.*
*“All right everyone, no reason to panic but hurry up. We’re about to have company.”*
*“The download will take one more minute and there’s no way to speed that up,” old Nerd grumbled. Exactly a minute later he unplugged the USB drive. “I am all set, let’s get out of here.”*
*“Oh no, I didn’t think so,” said a voice above us. We looked up and there they were, The Fighters. It was Mega Star that had spoken. It was her suit, gold and sparkling, that had given her that superhero name.*
*“Aah, Mega Star,” I paused a brief second to look at two Fighters on her left and right. Probably newbies because I genuinely didn’t recognize them. “And company. Who are they, the cleaning staff?”*
*“I’ll admit they’re not top tier superhero’s, yet. Our higher-ups didn’t think it was necessary to send more than one top tier heroes for some scum like you.” Auch, that hurt.*
*“How unfortunate. But maybe they’ll reconsider after I wiped the floor with you. After all, you’re only human with some fancy gadgets and nothing more. Everyone could be you. Me however, well, there’s only one me!”*
*I signalled to my fellow villains to get away while I deal with Mega Star and the others. I was confident I could take them because there was truth in my words. Mega Star had just some gadgets that made her powerful. All I had to do was disable those, starting with the glider she used to stay in the air.*
We sit down at the dinner table and stare at each other. As always, I can’t help but look at her eyes. They’re green/grey with orange speckles, unlike anyone else’s. “You wanted to talk, so speak. I’ll listen.”
“You probably hate my guts right now but I want you to know I’m still the man you fell in love with. I am not a terrible person or monster. And I want to find a way to make this .. us work.”
“You’re not a terrible person?” Lina scoffs. “You’re an internationally wanted criminal, number 6 on the FBI list of most wanted criminals and one of the most well-known super villains.”
“Yes, I break the law. But laws are only rules of society and not forces of nature of rules of physics. I steal money for my own gain, but only from those who can miss it. I occasionally blow up a building because I have a reputation to maintain, but I always make sure they’re empty. I don’t kill people, I don’t aid terrorists. I might be a bad person, but I don’t think I’m evil or terrible. Just an ordinary criminal who happens to have some superpowers.”
“You are the most misguided asshole I’ve ever met. I can’t believe I dated you, let alone was engaged with you.” She throws the engagement ring on the table. “Pack your things. I don’t want to see you again, ever.”
“Lina, please. Give me a chance. To change.”
“People like you, they never change. They promise it but never manage to keep it.” I get up and cautiously walk around the table to her. I kneel down by the chair and grab her hand. She yanks it free. “Don’t do this. Don’t do the nice, cute boyfriend routine. I’m through with you. The wedding is off, we’re done.”
I watch defeated as she gets up and walks out. I hear our front door slam closed. I know she isn’t kidding and once she’s decided something, there’s no way to change her mind. So stubborn and always acting so righteous..
*Mega Star charged forwards. Her glider was quick, but still I’m quicker. I created stone platforms in the air and jumped with might leaps from on to the other until I’m next to one of the newbies. “I’m afraid this is your stop. Please make sure you don’t leave behind any luggage.” I threw him off the glider and watched as he plummeted down. That was easy, too easy. What are his superpowers?*
*But I couldn’t think about it for long, because I heard the familiar sound of a blaster powering up behind me. I jumped down from the stone slab I stood one and created a new one about ten feet beneath me. The ray blasted over my head as I landed a three point landing.*
*“You missed. Maybe you should go to an optician to get your eyes checked!” I had barely finished the taunt when the boy I just threw down came rocketing towards me. So that’s his superpower: he can fly. Boring.*
*A stone roof appeared inches above his head. His speed was to great to stop and he reacted to slow to change his course. He went head first into the stone and his body immediately went slump. One hit KO, not bad.*
*“Randy, catch him and take care of him!” Mega Star shouted. The other guy sends his glider down to catch his falling comrade and then descended down to lay him on the ground. Good for me, only one left to take care of.*
*The ensuing battle felt like it took ages. Mega Star moved the glider with great agility around each stone wall I conjured in front of her. I was too quick for her to get hit by any of the blasts she shot to me. As the battle drew longer and I got tired of all the leaping from stone to stone, a plan slowly formed in my head. It was something I had never done before and I had no idea if it would even work. But it couldn’t hurt to try.*
*Again I made a stone wall right in front of Mega Star. She ducked beneath it, exactly as I had hoped. One of the biggest limitations of my superpower of creating stone shapes, is that they are stationary. I can create them anywhere, but can’t will them to move.*
*But shortly before I had made small gravel and threw that in Mega Star’s face as she ducked underneath the stone slab. Bingo. It rained grit and gravel in her hair, mouth and – most importantly – eyes. With a frustrated growl she went to rub the dirt out of her eyes, accidentally rubbing her mask of her face.*
*“Lina?” Out of shock I forgot to concentrate on the platform I was standing on and it disappeared beneath me. Quickly I made a new one but it was immediately pulverized as Lina aimed her blaster at it. Enraged she followed me as I fell down, destroying every platform before I could land on it. The ground was rapidly coming closer and closer. I didn’t know what else to do, so I lifted my own mask and looked at Lina, the love of my life.*
*“Lina, stop this!” The glider skidded to a halt.*
*“Jason?” She whispered. I had no time to answer as I concentrated on breaking my fall while pulling the mask over my face again. After mere seconds I hit the ground, hard. I felt like I broke some bones, but that outcome wasn’t so bad, considering the fall I just took. When I looked up at the sky, Mega Star had disappeared from view.*
This became a bit longer than I intended it to... Anyway, hope you enjoyed it! | 2021-11-09T03:21:31 | 2021-11-08T23:42:57 | 75 | 56 |
[WP] You hear a knock at your door. When you open it, you find your archnemesis sprawled out just past the threshold, battered, bruised, and very clearly only hanging onto life by a thread. "Sorry. It's just ... I didn't know where else to go" they mutter as you look down at them. | “Sorry. I just…. I didn’t know where else to go.” I stared at the man, who was so much more than a man. A god in flesh. Near invulnerable. So righteous. His costume, in tatters, blood slowly seeping from wounds. His breathing is heavy, heartbeat is rapid. Not dying, but his healing, which was always prodigious, had slowed. Something new, or something very, very old. I’ve not seen or heard of anything that could do something like this. It was a sight I’d always hoped to see, but at my hand, not… someone else’s.
Helios. The hero with the power of the Sun. Broken like a shattered lamp.
I step out the door, looking around, then pick the man up by his ridiculous cape and drag him in. He grunts in pain, but no other sound escapes. Well, he’s still tough, I’ll give him that. A bit more gently I set him on the Lazy Boy in the corner, and turn the TV down.
I could snap his neck, tear off his head with a flick of my wrist. It would be easy, I’ve never seen him so tired, so out of sorts. Not even after our week long battle in the volcano.
No, he came here. To my home. Homes were… well, not sacred, not for monsters like me, but for heroes? You just didn’t go after one in their house. It broke the rules that no one ever read, but always knew to follow. That he risked this, here, meant something bad.
“Beer?” Helios blinks at me, then nods. There’s a little less fear in his eyes, now. He knew the risk he was taking. As much as I called him a stupid moron, he wasn’t. Just the shit talk of the game. I guess I should come up with some better invectives next time we fight.
I set one cheap can of beer down next to him on the stand, and crouch to get a good look at him.Yeah, already healing. The cut on his head is scabbing over already, though the sheeting of blood across his face isn’t going anywhere. His breathing is better, his heart isn’t racing anymore. He opens it, and clinks it to mine when I offer. We drink. He drinks his fast, like a man dying of thirst… or someone needing some alcoholic lubrication to comprehend what he’d been through.
He takes a deep breath, then says, “Desolation, I-“
I thump my tail on the hardwood and raise one set of claws to interrupt him. “Drink. Get cleaned up. Talk later. Unless you can guarantee this won’t end in us trying to kick the shit out of each other.”
He fell silent, the perfect teeth clicking shut. See? Smarter than he looked.
“Shower’s down the hall, to the left. Don’t hit the yellow button, that’s the acid wash.”
It’s about thirty minutes later when he comes out of the bathroom, back in costume. Costume has been scrubbed a bit, and he looks more like his old self. Looks more like the god I fight every few weeks, and not the weak human I saw on my porch.
I offer another beer, which he takes, and opens it. I open mine, and he takes a slower sip, this time. Considering, weighing. I can’t help but lash my tail in excitement. The monster in me, maybe. I want to tear this man apart, but there’s the other thing. Something managed to do what I was supposed to do. What I’ve been wanting to do for so long. Break Helios. There’s a new Apex Hero or Villain out there, which means I’ve got a new target. I can’t help but grin, showing my fangs to Helios.
“Now, tell me all about who kicked the shit out of you. Because that’s my job.” | “How about the hospital?” I yelled, looking down at the broken and bleeding man in front of me, “Evil government research lab? Any of your politician friends-“
“No,” he interrupted me with a whimper but turned it into a soft, high-pitched whine as he tensed up. Coughing softly into the ground, he turned back up and explained, “They’ll find me. They think I’m dead.”
“Why here man?” I asked, exhausted, “why me?”
“Because they’ll come for you next,” he said, spitting out a mouthful of blood into my bushes.
“They?” I asked, scoffing at him and sort of wishing to kick him for spitting on my plants. This place was supposed to be my sanctuary out in the middle of nowhere. How did he even get here?
“Oh,” the man groaned and wilted a bit but I just watched. He deserved no empathy and he’d get none from me. Slowly, he looked up and explained, “Your friend Stephan, I thought was actually my friend Petro. Ha. Always gave me enough to keep ahead of you but never enough to be noticed. Glasgow, Madrid, and New York. I knew what you were doing because of him.”
“That’s not true,” I seethed more in the fact that I had suspected that for some time rather than the accusation.
“It’s not,” he tried to laugh but it turned into a cough, “He’s not Petro either. He’s not anyone. He’s one of us but he can hide. He can hide… it.”
“One of us?” I asked.
“Different,” the man in front of me said into the metal door frame, “We’re different. You heal, your speed, your strength, your energy, it’s not normal. I was hit by a train. End of the line and into a wall.”
“I’m not like you,” I stated, angrily.
“No, your not,” he quickly confirmed, “You have no idea how to get ahead-“
“No, I have a soul you horrendous waste of garbage,” I explained, too angry to make sense as I lifted his head up to face me with my foot, “I help people. All you do is start wars.”
“I start the wars that will happen before they can get out of hand,” he said slowly, breathing now even more raggedly, “I get paid to collapse potential catastrophe.”
“So noble,” I scoffed.
“That’s your thing,” the man actually had the gall to laugh at me, “I do what I’m good at and I get paid what I’m due. Unlike you.”
“So, again,” I growled, “Why come to me?”
“Because there is a war coming and I’m good at what I do,” he whimpered, “I don’t know where else to go. I don’t know who else can stop them. I’m sorry, if I had anywhere else I would… I can’t believe I’m here.”
“A man everyone thinks is dead is now in the woods and miles passed nowhere,” I muttered and pondered openly to myself, “Would be a shame if a bear came by and saw you like this.”
“The train broke my legs and I think my hip is fractured,” he laughed, “but a grizzly… I ripped one apart on the way here. It has been… It’s been a bit of a crappy walk.”
“You got hit by a train within walking distance of here?” I asked quickly.
“No,” the man scoffed, “I stole a car and gave it to some drifter.”
“Super,” I stated, pressing my fist into my forehead I asked, “So does everyone know about this place?”
“You never even told Stephan about it,” the man said shaking his head, “I only found out because you came here directly after your whole savour act thing went bad last week.”
“Tracking device?” I asked.
“No,” the man laughed, “just video surveillance and receipts. Last thing you bought was gas for your rental outside Tillmans. You’re too honest.”
“Tillmans is three hundred miles from here,” I stated.
“And we live in a world that has satellite imagery,” the man explained, “I looked in the places I would build a retreat and here we are. I didn’t tell Petro. Didn’t tell my network. They sacrificed me before I could. They will find it though. If Petro is like us, he’ll find this place if he hasn’t already.”
“Well, if you're like me,” I muttered, stepping past the man but grabbing his collar and dragging him effortlessly behind me. I always hated when people screamed but he sounded about right. It was soothing. Unbelievably gut retching but somewhere in my head, it was making up for all the children I was too late to save. Coming up to what I called my healing chamber, I unfastened the chains, wrapped them around the man's broken wrists and asked, “You really sure you’re like me?”
“Yes,” he angrily spat out.
“Well let’s put that to the test then,” I chuckled, “I heal better in cold water.”
“What?” he asked, “Why?”
“No idea,” I admitted as I lifted him up over the ridge of the well, “Weird thing is I also can’t seem to drown so I’ll come get you in a couple hours.”
“Wait, no,” the man squirmed painfully, “What are you doing?”
“Helping?” I asked back but let him drop into the well before he could answer.
He screamed all the way down and there was this sickening hollow splash at the end but the man had been sure. If he believed that he was like me then it would only take a week or two for even his bones to heal. Worst case though, I’ll come back and find that he had been wrong and I’d have to figure out Stephan on my own. Actually, wait, was that my worst-case scenario? | 2022-06-29T09:55:57 | 2022-06-29T09:44:32 | 484 | 38 |
[WP] "Humans", thought the alien commander, "Are soft, squishy, and have no shell, fang, or claw. Why then are they so Hive-Damned hard to KILL?!?!?" | "Humans", thought the alien commander, "Are soft, squishy, and have no shell, fang, or claw. Why then are they so Hive-Damned hard to KILL???" Said General Thrax, as he looked out over the assembled delegates from various interplanetary species.
The Waspian was growing angry at the failed attempts to squash the Humans. This led to questioning each of the assembled delegates in turn.
"Kaninians, with your ferocious bite, and shattering howl, you Failed?" The commander's wings shuddered as he eyed the Kanine Leader.
"We sent our shortest most ferocious biters, and our biggest brutes, all fell victim to the Humans. They Reported back of terrible weapons called Sofas, that would engulf our soldiers and those that made it back, were terribly brainwashed into an unending desire to be something known only as a "good boi". Answered the Delegate through his long snout as he focused his eyes on the Waspian.
"Gah!" The Commander stated his frustration with that answer.
"Avians! Surely you were able to fell humans with Death from Above?" Questioned the Commander.
The Avian delegate stared back with small eyes looking over it's beak, it replied "We sent our Largest bombers, and fastest hummers against the Humans, but they had devious designs. They set out these delicious bowls of every seed you could imagine, wonderful nectars with such sweet flavor. Our attackers were so full they failed to carry out their mission, and those that did only hit the large metal monsters the humans use."
"Imbociles!" cried the Waspian leader.
"Sodiumites, surely you had better luck dealing with these pesky Humans?"
The Sodiumite delegate, slow to move, and with a silvery shine, responded to the Waspian commander. "We called upon our natural talents, we brought forth our most ferocious weapon and sent water hurtling from the sky down upon the Humans, but nay, they rejoiced. Some even shed the brightly colored skins and ran around in that destructive liquid, we have no better weapon than the fierce Rain from on high, and the Humans rejoiced in it."
The Commander barely acknowledging such a depressing report questioned the next delegate.
"And you? your Luck with the Human Threat?"
The Floran swayed and as it spoke from it's leafy, vine covered face. "We ssset out to bury them, to cover every inch of their creationsss in green glory, but they captured many of usss. They placed usss in clay prisons, gave water and sssunlight and we grew to vassst proportionsss but when we grew too large, they carried usss to the outssside and put usss in the ground, where we were watered, and well lit. We could not cover their world with our green dominance."
The Waspian commander grew visibly angry, his wings began stuttering, and the commander spoke with rage.
"FINE! If you want a threat removed, you have to sting it YOURSELF!" to highlight their point they slammed their stinger through the podium splintering it towards the assembly, and then in a flurry of buzzing they flew up and out of the conference.
The assembled delegates watched the ill-tempered Waspian leave, and then began talking amongst themselves.
"I don't think the humans are all that bad" said the Kaninian.
"Tell us more about the Sofas?" Said the Felinese, With the the added attention of the BunBunian, Hamsteron, and the Chinchilian.
"I think I'm gonna check that mixture the humans left out, you know, for any poisons or bad stuff" said the Avian as he flew off.
Slowly the conference of "The Natural Order of Things" was adjourned, and each delegate returned to their respective realm, unsure of what would happen to the Humans. | The Hive and Terra never intended to go to war. Humanity needed technology, the Rea´sh had them and they needed allies. When the Hive went to war against the Rea´sh, humanity followed. The hive knew of the Rea´shes alliance, but the Hives Highcommand miscalculated the degree of Terran involvement. The way Terras Armies fought was much different than those of the established empires. The speed at which they conquered solar systems was frighting even for a centuries-old empire like the hive. The price of this miscalculation was paid by the Hives people and soldiers on the front. Soldiers like commander Xia. Her line was obliterated by spaceship cannon fire and then overrun by mechanised shock troops.
The base regiment had fallen back to a different defence line, Xia stayed behind in hope of coordinating the retreat. But a few hours after they left, communications were cut off. She didn´t know if she was the last one left but sure felt like it. Walking in the underground corridors a strange eerie feeling overcame her. They were here, this was about to be her last stand. Being close to the control room, she walked in and killed all power to everything. The hydraulic doors, climate control, lights and the fire prevention system. A loud crunching steel sound roared through the base as the doors shut simultaneously. Then it hit her like a brick, there was only one control room. Doing this just gave her position away and limited where she could go. She grabbed her things and ran back out to the corridor. Suddenly she began hearing stomps of something really heavy. *‘Fuck!’* she thought as suddenly a steel fist pierced the wall next to her. A marine covered in an armoured exoskeleton had burst through the wall. Wasting no time thinking she took up her rifle and fired at the enemy while walking backwards. *‘cover! I need cover!’* were the words running through her mind as the marine was shrugging off the projectiles her rifle threw at his armour. Her walking turned into running when she turned her back on the steel beast. Xia knew that behind the next corner there would be an emergency blast door. Seeing his prey run away the marine began to pick up speed as well, unloading his mounted machine gun as he ran. The commander turned the corner and spotted an opportunity to catch her opponent off guard. As she ran past the blast door console she pulled the lever to close it, unslung her grenade pouch and threw it back. Just as she lept through the closing door the marine caught up to her, he fired away not noticing what lay in front of him. Before he realised what was happening a bullet of hers struck the bag in front of him. The door not yet fully closed the corridor filled itself with flame and red hot shrapnel. Xia got knocked out by the pressure wave but fared much better than her human counterpart. She came to a few moments later, just to feel a sharp pain in her side, a piece of metal had struck her. *“This day only gets better”* she groaned as she was dragging herself to the next wall. While pulling out her first aid kit she heard another groan. *‘No fucking way, he still isn´t fucking dead!?’* Xia thought to herself *‘Humans are soft squishy and have no fang, shell or claw. Why then are so hive damned hard to kill!’*. Using her last strength, she sealed up her wound. Trying to stand up the pain overcame her, knocking her out cold.
\---
*“This one is still alive”…. “This marine too” … “what should we do?”…. “Take and treat them.” – “Yes sir!”*
\---
Slowly coming too Xia looked around, the white paint of the room stinging in her eyes.
*“It is not often we get to speak to one of you”*
She turned her head to the corner the sound came from, a uniformed human was sitting there. Realising where she was she tried to jump up but failed as her restraints did their job.
*“You really did a number on that marine. He's going to be fine though, not that you would care”*
*“How did that not kill him!”* Xia yelled in anger.
*“Oh, fisty. We have lots of experience with terrorists, IEDs are a common threat and our suits are designed to protect against them. I am officer Marget Jones, your interrogator”* Jones said with a smile
*“Coincidentally, those terrorists were my previous clients. Gotta love the consistency of this job”.*
*“Do you think I will tell you anything? Torture me all you want!”*
*“Woah there, we have rules of war. Torture has been banned for centuries and stop yelling”* Jones walked up to her prisoner and leaned down to her *“We have your computers, we already know operationally what's going on. What we don´t know is the responses to your doctrine dictates to a situation like this.”*
*“Rules of war? What kinda joke is that and why would I tell you?”* Xia replied begrudgingly.
*“You are from this planet, right? Defending your home turf? Noble cause. We adhere to the rules placed upon us. We don´t strike cultural heritage sites, civilian areas and hospitals. Currently, we don´t know where they are. Frankly, we don´t care. We never bothered to find out. But if we were to find out where they were, they´d be exempt.”*
*“FUCK YOU”* Xia shouted *“I won´t trade the lives of my men for my people!”*
*“Then don´t. Tell your Army to surrender. This planet is lost for the Hive, you know it as well as I do. Minimize the bloodshed.”* Jones expression was clinically cold *“These are the options, I´ll check on you in a few hours. Enjoy the view”* Xia watched her leave the room while tugging on her restrains and in front of her the shades folded away to reveal a window with a view of the planet. | 2022-07-22T13:21:37 | 2022-07-22T13:19:50 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] In keeping with the ancient draconic traditions, to take an object from a dragon’s horde, one must leave behind a hostage in its place. It’s been many moons since a party last took something from your horde, and you’ve begun to pity the naive young adventurer they left with you. | One could get used to many things, the dragon thought, as she watched the human adventurer who was left behind. He was humming a happy tune for some reason, having grown accustomed himself to sharing a cave with a fearsome dragon. As he continued to tidy up the leaves that had blown into the cave's mouth, he looked up and smiled at the dragon.
When he had been left behind, the dragon had looked upon him with suspicion, while the human had done his best to not appear too afraid. But after a week of nervous silence, the human had gathered up his courage enough to ask a few questions.
At first they were the usual thing -- "You're not going to eat me?" and such -- and the dragon had answered with the minimum amount of words necessary. (She would never eat a human, filthy creatures...although she never actually said "never" to him -- she had to keep him on his toes, after all.) But soon, as the human did his best to make himself more useful by taking care of small tasks, the questions became more interesting.
"Are you the last of your kind?"
"Where did you come from?"
"When was the last time you saw another dragon?"
"How long have you been gathering this hoard?"
After several more weeks of more and more polite yet curious questions, the dragon began to be a bit more expansive with her answers. She no longer felt the need to keep the young lad in fear, as he showed no sign of trying to escape. Indeed, he started to be more considerate and insightful with his questions.
"How long ago did you take up residence in the hills above our land?"
"In the reign of Legendary King Alfric the Diplomat. And yes, he was real."
"When did you start requiring hostages from adventurers looking for treasure?"
"It's an ancient draconic tradition. For those of us who grow tired of the endless cycle of violence, it's an easier path, and often what is borrowed is returned..."
That last bit had started to worry the dragon. It had been many months now...the autumn had turned to winter, and the young man had started building fires in the entryway, after carefully making sure that the smoke wouldn't billow into the cave proper. (This amused her. He was so careful about the smoke, thinking it would annoy her even as she breathed smoke and flame to light his campfires for him.) Then came spring, and cleaning out of the winter's debris, then summer with it's bright sun and warmth.
The dragon had assumed that the lad would have tried to bolt soon after the thaw, and honestly, she would have let him go. One golden platter was not enough to keep this young man trapped forever with her...but no, he continued to find things to do, cheerfully. And the dragon was surprised to realize that she looked forward to their evening conversations. over the past few months they had gone from draconic history to philosophy, political systems, and social lives.
But now the leaves were turning again, and the dragon had a thought: They've left him. They've left him for dead, and they're never coming back! She resolved to do something about this.
By now the young warrior had finished sweeping the entryway clear of leaves, and had built himself a small cook fire. As was their habit, the dragon used a claw to slice off a portion of venison, freshly caught that afternoon, and toss it to him. She lit his fire, then settled down to eat her portion of the deer.
As the man started to eat, the dragon cleared her throat. Better to be direct, she thought.
"Your friends. They're not coming back."
The man swallowed his mouthful of food and looked up. "What do you mean?"
"They've abandoned you! They're never coming back!"
The man looked at her quizzically for a moment, and then laughed. "Of course they're coming back!"
"How do you know? It's been almost a year!"
"Almost exactly a year," the man said absently, taking another bite. "You don't understand what we're doing, do you? I guess I never explained..."
"What are you talking about?"
The man smiled and rose from the floor. He bowed deeply, and said, "My dear dragon, you have been the biggest mystery of our nation. No one knew anything about you, and everyone was afraid of you. But we," and here he beamed proudly, "We *knew* in our hearts that you weren't just some monster to scare our children with. We knew that up here lived an individual, a treasure trove of local history, a unique and interesting person from whom we can learn much."
The dragon was utterly confused by this. "What are you TALKING about?" she repeated.
There was a sudden commotion at the entrance. The man smiled. "EXACTLY a year," he said. He then called out, "Welcome back!"
The dragon was caught completely off guard as the party of adventurers from the previous year walked into the cave. She dropped into a defensive posture, using one claw to gently move her friend out of the line of fire...
...but before she could work up a breath of flame, the adventurers laid down their arms and knelt respectfully before her.
"My lady," said the one in front, "We thank you for allowing one of our number to reside with you for the past year. We are here to welcome him back to our kingdom, where he will be speaking of his experiences with you to all who care to hear."
Stunned, the dragon looked from her friend to the captain of the group uncertainly. Unbidden, the ancient words sprang forth:
"By draconic law and tradition, if you wish to remove a part of my hoard, my treasure, you must leave one of your own as hostage!" She hazarded a look at her friend, who had started to tear up a little, being described as part of her hoard...
The Captain stood and smiled, as she removed the pack from her back. "Of course," she said as she unpacked her bedroll, and a stack of writing supplies. "It's my turn." | Warning: I went really dark with this
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It was going to be the greatest day of my life!
Adopted!
Me!
I know, right!?
Yeah life will be easy for me from here on in, right? Adopted by the Swordmaster Belial, of All People!!! He's super rich and lives in a huge house and runs around the country fighting every evil known to man! I even have a Spotts Tiny Trading Bust of him. He's so cool! I don't how he knows me but now I'm his kid!!! Can you believe that!
I couldn't either. I had seen other adoptions before. Parents that are looking for little kids they can't have or worse, replace. Shopkeepers and blacksmiths looking for older kids to be apprentices. But this time, it was different. There were no forms, just a jingling bag handed across the desk to Mrs. Ogswarth. I'd heard it happening before. We called them slavers. But Belial fought slavers, there was no way he was a slaver. And he wasn't! He took me to his house, well an outbuilding but it was way more nicer than the orphanage. It was so cool. Tons of trophies on the wall, he even told me the stories of some of them. He fed me an everything, this was the best day ever.
I expected the next day to be even better. But it didn't start off that way. I was woken up and dressed by a maid who wouldn't talk to me, it was kinda weird since she was crying the whole time. Anyways, after I was dressed and taken to the dining room to eat breakfast with Belial, I found out I was, ready for this, Am Going On An Adventure With Belial!!! I might have screamed, maybe fainted but excitement doesn't do what I felt justice. It was going to be amazing! This is the Second Best Day Ever maybe even the First!!!
I met Belial's party, they were... grumpy... Belial said it was too early for them. But I heard the ranger elf girl mutter something about monster but I don't know what kind of monster we're going to go see/fight/kill. I don't know anything about adventuring except what I was told 'bout at the orphanage, and certainly can't fight any monsters.
So we start off. The adventurers mostly avoid me while Belial keeps telling me stories as I sit beside him On The Cart. This is so Awesome!!!
It was a few days, lot longer than I expected. Belial had packed me a backpack (but I never had to carry it, it sat in the cart which was mostly empty). It had a training sword and an adventurers cloak, which when I found, I threw my arms around Belial and gave him a hug and he even... hugged me back!!!
So when we got to the big angry cave, I was super scared. Everyone geared up. I got my adventurers cloak on and my wooden sword and I was ready to... stay in the cart. Belial picked me up and threw me on his back and it was awesome again. The cave was scary but I had something the cave didn't. A new dad.
Instead of sneaking into the cave, Belial and I just walked right in. Him in his shiny full plate armor and me in my purple adventuring cloak. He even shouted at the top of his lungs. At first I thought he was trying to scare off whatever was in there, but it turns out he was calling out to what was in there.
"Vanarhost!" He shouted. "I've got your tribute. I've come for the Black Blade of Disintegration in trade."
He stopped at a bubbling glowing green lake that smelled absolutely awful. It looked super gross. Belial put me down and stepped back. The lake rippled and bubbled and bulged. The horns broke the surface first. Then scales upon scales and two eyes that had only a tiny bit of similar green in them. The dragon tossed something at Belial. My legs started to work again and I started to turn around to look at Belial only to see him wave at me before he stepped through a portal and I was left alone... with a dragon. A huge inky scaled black dragon.
I can be brave I thought. I can do this. I can slay the dragon. I, honestly, did nothing of the sort. I sat down and cried. Like a baby. I might have even yelled at the dragon, asking him to make it quick. He didn't do anything just looked dragon-y. Great, I'm not wanted by anyone, not even a dragon. Finally I drew my wooden sword and stood up. The beast wants a fight, then its going to get one. It would have been better if he hadn't reached down with two huge claws that were bigger than me and plucked the sword from my hands.
He spoke slowly. His voice sounded like a snake and a lion having a fight. "I've been given a lot of trades by Belial. And I don't like his requests as of late which is why I finally betrayed him. It is my sincerest" (he didn't sound sincere, but what do I know) "apologies that you are now here. But I did not hold up my end of the bargain so you are free to go. Go on. Get out. Why are you crying again? Stop that infernal noise. Get out of my cave. Oh by All the Heads of Tiamat, Flee!"
The dragon rose up to his full height and spread his wings trying to look frightening but I think the sheer sadness that I felt was too much to be afraid.
He left. It was weird but he left. A giant dragon left a sad orphan. It was not the greatest days. None of them were. I fell asleep at some point and woke up in a carriage. There was glittery purple everywhere. A woman, she was what I pictured when I wondered what a mom would look like. An apron, a bonnet and while I usually pictured red hair, hers was purple and tons of curls in it. She was doing that one thing that's like sewing but with a wooden hoop. She smiled at me and I bolted upright. "It's ok dear. Vanarhost had me fetch you. Sounds like you had a rough day. He said that you had traded your sword for a wish from him. Must have been some sword, though. What's your wish, deary?" She even sounded like what I pictured a mom to look like, but her skinned shimmered purple when the sunlight caught her so I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything. Everything had been so bad. Everything was wrong and I just cried and poured out everything that had happened. She nodded and shed some tears herself.
"Well that's a lot. Is it revenge that you be looking for?"
I sniffled and shook my head, "what's revenge?"
"If you don't know, then don't worry about it. What is it you be wanting then?"
I cried for the last time when she agreed to my request. I had known my darkest most despairing moment because of Belial, but also because of him, I had a Mom, and she was way more awesome than he was. | 2022-10-05T17:20:25 | 2022-10-05T15:38:42 | 69 | 42 |
[WP] You're abducted to be the example for humans to the galaxy at large, the only issue is, you're not human. | Criil and Scraal struggled to hold on to a violently shaking box. The kicking and scratching coming from within almost made them drop it several times, but they eventually made it to the display table in the front of the stage. They hoisted the box on to the table and let out a simultaneous ***RAAAUGHPPPBBBBT*** of relief. Cooling slime oozed from their head sacs. An array of dominant beings from across the galaxy fidgeted in their seats.
"Hello, salutations, and ⊑⟒⌰⌰⍜," said Scraal, clearing his gills. "We come before you all today to unveil planet Quavir's newest discovery: a new intelligent species!"
The audience was intrigued but were more focused on the commotion coming from the box.
"These creatures are quite dangerous," said Criil, "and do not enjoy being held in captivity as you can see, so we were only able to bring back a larva. We are hoping to study it as it goes through each stage of its growth. Based on recovered and translated texts, they refer to themselves as 'humans'."
"Would you all like to see what it looks like?" said Scraal.
The audience buzzed. Some buzzed figuratively. Some buzzed as an involuntary reaction to excitement. Scraal and Criil unfastened the locks on each side of the box and lifted the lid.
"Behold!" they both said. "A baby human!"
A hairless cat jumped out of the box, latched itself onto Criil's face and dug its claws into his eyes. | "There is an alien craft above you. Like extraterrestrial."
A voice calls in my ear as I go about my hike.
"Description."
"Ovular in shape. Approximate size would be a city bus, if stretched to an ovular shape. It is landing near you."
"All right. I am likely about to be abducted. Use my comms as a primary relay and tap into any unsecured network. Maybe they know the truth about me and need help, or this is one of those judgement abductions."
"How many of these have you had?"
"Seven, not including this."
Even though I do not sleep, this is typically when abductions take place, so I pitch my tent, set up a small fire that I know will burn out in a couple of hours. All of the appropriate prep work for setting up for a night out in nature. No food though. Don't need it, and we have been tracking this craft for a while. I didn't bother bringing a snack.
I find it ironic that I didn't bother with a sleeping bag, but since I wasn't expecting to need to 'sleep' for long, it didn't strike me as required. The blast to my back which would've stunned a normal human immediately was a surprise. Not a sign I find comforting.
Turning of my regenerative capabilities is impossible, but I can allow my body to choose to react to any affect upon it with my confirmation. I allow myself to pitch forward into the tent and close my eyes. They expect a stunned prey, and I will not disappoint them. Four of the aliens approach, and I can hear them. Their language is whistles and clicks, not unlike certain regions of Africa. And it is one I have encountered in the past. Reticulans.
I am carried to their ship which takes off. I am inspected, and I immediately allow any samples taken from me to spontaneously evaporate.
"Trouble getting through to you." My troubleshooter explains.
After eighteen hours, I am taken before the Reticulan Hunting Authority. Again. Twice before the Reticulans have captured me, twice they have demanded that they be permitted to continue to hunt humans like they had been allowed with other authoritative bodies on Earth.
Before they use their equivalent of smelling salts, I burst into action, grabbing the two doctors nearest me by the throat. Reticulans are known as the 'Gray aliens'. Big oval head, oval black eyes, small bodies.
"Twice before you have captured me to intimidate me. Twice before I showed you why this is not a good idea. Why did you think a third time would change anything." I roar... in their language.
"Uh... Have you heard of the X-Com games? Because from what I can see, that is what they are about to do." My troubleshooter cautions incredulously.
The Reticulan Hunting Authority are at this trial, along with Reticulan High Command and the Reticulan Technology Initiative. The RHC representative tells me that they are tired of not being able to hunt humans, so they have decided to invade and their first step was to remove me from the planet.
The draconic part of me is angry, furious, at this sacrilege. The part of me raised by Mother is more composed, but only because her rage is like the Mariana Trench.
"Initiate X-Com protocol. Shut down all Reticulan and allied spacecraft and give them the Final Offer. Lie down with their hands on their heads, and they will live." I tell my troubleshooter.
"I always thought you were joking when you told me about that macro." | 2022-11-05T09:32:58 | 2022-11-05T09:05:11 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] After 100 years of US colonisation, you - a Martian-born human lead an army about to declare independence from the United States.
You can decide the reasons behind the declaration of independence, and/or if there will be a war and so on. | Adam bin Ahmad, fifty-fourth elected senator of the martian colonies faced an army of reporters. A hundred years since the first colonization waves meant that like him most of them had been born and raised on Mars - never knowing earth as anything more than a star and an idea, but he could make out the odd few earth born reporters, conspicuous by their shorter thicker statures. He suppressed a sigh, this would be especially difficult on them - not that it would be easy on anyone.
"Ahem!", he cleared his throat, and a hush descended upon the room. He had their undivided attention, sixty-four anxious reporters, and close to a million anxious citizens around the planet.
"Today-", he started, faltering slightly battling down a wave of emotion. "Today we have confirmed that the communications breakdown between Mars and Earth was caused by the detonation of the Yellowstone Caldera." He spoke slowly, hiding his fear behind a mask of formality. Gripping the podium he waited a few seconds steadying himself before continuing, " at this time our experts believe that given the size of the eruption and subsequent fallout, human life has been entirely eliminated from the Americas continents, and they predict that at best between 10 and 150 thousand survivors may exist concentrated largely in northern Eurasia."
"I-", he shouted over the cacophony of shocked reporters, "I must officially declare us Independent of Earth."
"We are now all that remains of human civilization."
edit; accounting for Australia via a largely | The blue was supposed to evoke a feeling of comfort, but it only ever made Ranig sleepy. Everything was blue in the Capital Room. The seats, the walls, the ceiling, shades of a sky that was non-existent on Mars.
On Mars, it was red, the color of passion and emotion. Red had the ability to invigorate it’s citizens as much as it instilled fear on anyone not native.
“What do you think?” A man named Squealor asked. Ranig looked up from his daze to take in the stocky man. He constantly emitted the stench of sweat, as if he was nervous about every move he made. A bit unusual considering how cold they kept places like this. Ranig was always on the verge of shivering, while never quite getting there. He was left in a place of awareness and no reaction.
“Ranig?” Squealor asked again, pushing the screen closer to Ranig’s face, overwhelming his senses. He was forced to review the footage from 7 different angles. The boy’s face in the video seemed to implode a bit before it exploded out. “This is airing on every outlet. This is it. This is the final straw. This is our Ferdinand moment.”
He was right about that. The outrage from this event would be the last straw in a century’s worth of abuse. Why this one over everything else though? Surely there had been countless events of Earthers overstepping themselves. It was well known how unfairly natives were treated, how lopsided the rules were.
But this video was different. Perhaps it was the boy’s face right before, perhaps it was laugh that could be heard right after. This was a watershed moment, and Ranig had to be the one to decide which direction it would go in.
“Well?” Squealor’s smell was palpable now. He was dripping from his balding head to his stained shirt. His eyes were red like the view from the window. He had not slept in days, no one had.
“Set up the feed.” Ranig said with a calm demeanor that was a sharp contrast from how he felt inside. Ranig watched as Squealor darted his eyes left and right within his lens, sending signals through the mainframe. The lights dimmed, and he knew the moment was nearing.
Ranig hated speaking to the public, especially in tense times like these. He did not even have time to draft a proper speech, but no matter. This was the time to take action, this was the time to rile people up, this was the time to declare. It would be a bloody mess, he knew, but there was no stopping it. Now or never.
As the camera’s turned on, Ranig noticed the red lights blotting out the blue walls behind. His drowsiness gave way to adrenaline. 30 million eyes watching one. The silence in that first moment was overwhelming, and Ranig could almost taste it. He could almost grasp it in his hands, holding it like a newborn with no concept of the future.
The cameras were airing though. It was time. Ranig looked into the light, the red light, and made his speech to the world.
“My fellow Martians, today will forever be known as the day in which we took our Independence from Earth…” | 2014-07-04T08:05:07 | 2014-07-04T07:46:09 | 76 | 32 |
[WP] A security officer is charged with guarding a door but he's never been allowed to enter. After years of service, he has never seen anyone use the door. Describe what he finds after not being able to hold off his curiosity any longer. | As he leaned his head against the cool metal, Major Reynolds covered his eyes with his right hand. Removing his hand from his eyes, he checked the face of his watch.
Three hours and twenty seven minutes to go.
These shifts felt endless; standing in front of a steel door in a small facility located in a seemingly endless desert in Nevada. He had spent years devoted to the U.S. Army and had seen combat in Iraq. As awful as the days he spent crouched in the sand were, Major Reynolds had spent the last few years trying to convince himself that staring at these pristine white walls wasn't worse. How did they stay so clean anyways? He had never seen someone come in to scrub and bleach them, yet they remained spotless. He checked his watch again.
Three hours and twenty five minutes.
He didn't understand why he was here. After rising through the ranks and being well decorated as an officer, he had been assigned guard duty. Not even for an important political figure, but for a damn door. He didn't even know what was behind the door. Upon promotion to Major, Colonel Haymark had simply said, "What you'll be guarding is imperative to national security," and left on an airplane to god knows what glory-filled assignment.
A quick glance at his watch revealed that he still had three hours and twenty-four minutes left of his shift.
What could be so important that it was worth squandering the life of at least one high-ranked, decorated ex-combatant? Although he had never seen the person who took the day shift, he could only assume they were of equal or greater rank.
Three hours and twenty-four minutes.
What was so important that it was worth guarding, despite the fact that no one had ever come to take it?
Three hours and twenty-four minutes.
What was worth squandering away the remaining years of his life? 11 years of standing guard had deprived him of the opportunity to marry, settle down and raise a family. His chances of watching his children grow and of knowing what it is like to be unconditionally loved by one woman were dwindling by the second.
Three hours and twenty-three minutes.
Damnit, he had to know. They had told him not to enter the room, but he had to know whether what he was protecting was worth throwing his life away for. He had to know.
Major Reynolds pivoted on the ball of one of his spotless leather boots. He firmly grasped the silver knob of that ubiquitous steel door, and twisted. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. Hesitantly, he pushed the door open, and walked inside the room.
His stomach dropped. Major Reynolds looked around a spotless white room, not unlike the hallway he had just been in and found...
"....Nothing."
Behind a two way mirror, a middle-aged woman in a white lab coat looked over her rimmed glasses at a clipboard and back up into the pristine white room where Major Reynolds was looking around helplessly.
"11 years, 53 days, 9 hours and 37 minutes," she said to a well-dressed man behind her. "Subject 3251A held out considerably longer than the others."
She clicked her pen shut and set her clipboard down with a smile.
"It seems Project Kestrel is making progress. We have successfully bred obedience into the population."
| Things hadn't being going well for Jim lately. Sandy, his girlfriend, had left him recently, going so far as to take Jim's dog with her. He had been forced to move to a smaller, cheaper, bug-infested apartment after the breakup. His job paid decently enough, but it was boring as hell and offered no chance of advancement. Or benefits.
Jim downed the last of his scotch and put his cap and jacket on. His shift started shortly, and the buses were always running late. It was almost midnight; Jim worked the godawful midnight shift and hated every minute of it. When he first started he would keep himself awake with books or games or puzzles, anything to pass the time. He developed new hobbies that he could pursue while at work. The job demanded nothing more than to sit at a desk for 8 hours and make sure no one entered a specific door. Beyond that, he could do whatever he wanted in those 8 hours.
Jim arrived at the building late, as per usual. He ran past the front desk and took the elevator to B4. It was a big building but he had never been to any other floor.
The elevator opened on a hallway, with more hallways branching off. Down every single corridor is a guard sitting at a desk, with a metal door behind him or her. Jim kept running down the hallway to where his post was. Andy was waiting patiently, looking at her watch as Jim came to a panting in halt in front of her.
"You're late, again," she said caustically, grabbing her things. "This happens again I'm telling the boss."
"Sorry, it won't... happen... again," Jim gasped out, but Andy was already walking down the corridor to the elevators. Every time he was late she would say the same thing, but never do anything about it.
Jim sat down heavily in the chair behind the desk. He spun around in it to look at the metal door behind him. The door he was forbidden to enter, and had never seen a single person enter.
Maybe it was the fact that Jim was going nowhere in life, or maybe it was all that scotch he kicked back before his shift. Either way, on this night, Jim decided to shake things up, to break the rules. He decided, looking at the door, that it was time to take a peak at what it was he was protecting. What he was wasting his life for.
He approached the door, and slowly reached for the door knob. He grabbed it. Nothing happened. He turned it slowly, and the door easily opened on well-greased hinges. Still nothing happened. No alarm, no lightning bolt to kill him in his place, no additional security guards running in to beat him into submission. So far, his spur of the moment decision was working out well.
Once inside the room Jim closed the door behind him quietly, and got ready to marvel in his forbidden discovery. He looked around the dimly lit, small room. The only thing inside the room was a map of the world on the wall and a single computer on a desk. Jim sat down at the computer and pressed the on button. He had come this far, he might as well keep seeing what all this fuss was about.
The computer booted up slowly, and the black desktop showed only one icon, a mushroom. Jim double-clicked the program. The screen turned into a list.
39.904211 116.407395
48.856614 2.352222
43.653226 -79.383184
-31.953513 115.857047
The list continued as he scrolled down. He clicked on one pair of numbers. A prompt appeared: *Are you sure you wish to continue? Press Y for detonation. Press N to remain dormant.*
Jim leaned back in the chair, not fully understanding what this computer was meant to do. He rubbed his chin and tried to figure out what the significance of the numbers was.
His eyes drifted on to the map, and he noticed sets of bisecting lines across its surface. He walked over the map and took a closer look. The lines were latitude and longitudes, and they crossed over large cities. Beijing, Paris, Toronto, Perth, others. At the edge of the map someone had penciled in the latitude and longitudes. Beijing: 39.904211 116.407395. Paris: 48.856614 2.352222. Toronto: 43.653226 -79.383184. Perth: -31.953513 115.857047. All the major cities of the world. And within the database on that computer was a list of their corresponding latitude and longitudes. With an option to detonate.
Jim understood at last what the purpose of the computer was. He understood why his job was important, and why they had never told him. He guarded the computer that was connected to every hidden nuclear weapon in the world. And now, Jim had absolute power over the fate of the world.
He sat down again, and scrolled down the list of coordinates. 43.653226 -79.383184. Toronto.
"I never liked Canada anyways," Jim murmured to himself, fingers poised over the keyboard. There was a glint in his eyes that had never been there before, of power, and madness. | 2014-12-29T18:08:49 | 2014-12-29T18:06:34 | 159 | 79 |
[WP]A retired super villain is in the bank with his 6 year old daughter when a new crew of super villains comes in to rob the place. | Dr. Gloom checked his watch for the sixth time, before sighing and looking at the rest of the line. He always thought making money would be hard once he went straight, but nobody ever warned him about all the waiting. Normies spent so much of their life waiting in lines! Back in his glory days, he could have just walked up to the teller and *demanded* the cash. There weren't many Supers who had discovered their abilities yet, and nobody was able to stop him.
A small hand tugged at his sleeve, and he quickly remembered that those days were behind him now. "Yes, sweetie?" he asked his daughter, Nora.
"When will we be done, daddy? We've been here FOR-EV-ER!" she pouted.
"Soon, remember that patience is a virtue. Maybe the teller will have a nice lollipop for you, they still do that, right?" he looked up towards the teller and searched for any bowls filled with candy. All around him, he could feel the intense stares of hate and fear. They recognized him, they knew, and they did not forgive, even after 7 years. And why should they? He was *THE* Dr. Gloom, the original Super Villain. At least Nora didn't care who he used to be, and neither did her mother. That's all that mattered to him now. Even after defeating the Super Squad numerous times, it only took a simple woman to change his life for the better.
Nora was normal, just like her mother, at least he had that much to be thankful for. He knew that being a Super meant being an outcast, and ostracized by society. Even many of the Heroes were ridiculed and condemned as monsters.
"Daddy, it's your turn!" cheered Nora, and the doc snapped back to focus. He apologized and stepped up to the teller. "Yes, I-" he was interrupted by a large explosion by the entrance.
"I'm here to make a withdrawal!" shouted a large man wearing a firefighter's suit, as he stepped over the burning remnants of the front door. Shortly after, his two companions walked in on either side of him. The first was a short, stocky man who wore goggles on top of his head. The other man was massive, and seemed to be made of stone.
"You Normies can call me Pyro!" said the not-firefighter. He snapped his fingers together and produced a small flame, which he used to light a cigarette. Then he waved his hand to the small man at his side, "This here's Sparky."
"Oooh it looks like they've upgraded their ATMs to the newest models, these ones have one-point-five times the capacity of the previous ones!" Sparky said with glee as he ran to the nearest ATM.
"He talks too much." said Pyro, shrugging. "This other guy is Brick, he don't talk much at all."
"Hmph." grunted Brick, as he cracked his knuckles.
All of the Normies laid down on the ground, almost routine for some of them. Dr. Gloom, however, simply leaned down to tell Nora to join the others, before he turned to face the intruders. "I'm sorry, fellas, but you'll have to wait in line. Patience is a virtue, after all." he said calmly, while observing the misfit crew of wannabe Villains. "Some of us have to work for a living."
"Sparky, focus on those ATMs, and keep jamming the cell phones, we don't need cops showing up just yet." commanded Pyro. "I'll handle the teller. Brick... uh, just do your thing buddy."
"Hmph." grunted Brick, as he charged at the doc with a raised fist.
Although he wasn't as quick as he used to be, Dr. Gloom was still ready for a fight. Brick crashed through the pillar behind his target at full speed, causing chunks of rubble to plummet down onto his head.
"Hmph." grunted Brick, as he slipped into unconsciousness.
"Looks like the big guy needed a nap." remarked Dr. Gloom.
"What just happened? He phased right through you!" Exclaimed Sparky in shock.
"Well if you want to get technical, *I* phased through *him*." replied the doc with a smirk.
"Forget the cash, Sparky, let's toast this old man!" Pyro grabbed a large ax off of his back, and Sparky lowered the goggles over his eyes.
Before he knew it, Dr. Gloom was dodging balls of fire and bolts of electricity. All he had to do was distract them until their attacks set off the sprinkler system. It seemed easy, until Sparky overloaded a nearby ATM and caught him off guard. He tried to get back up, to gather his energy, but it was too late. Pyro stood above him now, ax in hand. "All these old Supers keep thinking they can beat the new breed. We are better, faster, stronger. You're just an old man." He raised the ax above his head.
"Get away from my daddy!" Shouted a voice from across the room. Nora had found the fire alarm, and pulled it as hard as she could. Suddenly water sprayed from the faucets all around the room. At first, Pyro's suit protected him from the water, but he was standing too close to Sparky, and got a shocking surprise.
Dr. Gloom got back on his feet, and smiled to his daughter across the room. "What is every Super Villain's weakness?"
Nora knew the answer. "Monologues."
Edit: Thanks for all the great feedback! [Many people asked for a continuation, so here it is!](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2v2609/wpa_retired_super_villain_is_in_the_bank_with_his/coefwp2) | A slightly older man stood in the lobby of the First National Bank of Metroville. He was tall and slender. The man wore a black trenchcoat and fedora. His pale bule eyes were covered by dark designer sunglasses. The designer suit from Italy hung neatly on his frame. The most standout thing about him was that he was holding hands with a little girl. The small brown haired girl looked up at him. "Daddy?"
The man looked down. "Yes, Sweetheart?"
"After this we are going to the zoo, right?"
"With out a doubt. Afterwards I was thinking we could eat a early dinner."
"Can we go to Chipotle?"
"I thought we could go to Marco's. They have a delightful salmon with a white truffle champagne sauce."
"Eeewwww. Isn't truffles a fungus?"
"Kinda."
"I thought this was my day. We always go to Marco's on your day to pick stuff to do."
The man smiled. "Very true. Chipotle it is."
The girl and her father smiled. The moment of happiness was broken by a loud bang. Smoke filled the entrance and five men rushed in. Four of the men wore black paramilitary gear. The fifth man wore a full cowboy outfit. It was he that spoke. "Everyone freeze!" The men took positions at the door and the counter, the rest walked around the lobby as crowd control. The cowboy spoke again. "I am The Desperado. And it is your honor to be robbed by me...Well to witness me robbing this bank."
The man in the black fedora smaked his mouth in a gesture of boredom.
"Daddy? Are these bad men robbing the bank?"
"Yes, sweetheart. Dont worry. I need you to play our game where you go along with everything I say. Ok?"
"OK,Daddy."
The Desperado walked slowly around the lobby smiling as two of his men filled bags with money the cashiers were giving them.
The man in the fedora spoke up. "Excuse me. Mr. Desperado?"
"You told you to speak? Freezing means not talking."
"Sir, My daughter has to use the bathroom. She is very fightened. If it's ok with you I would like to takes her to the bathroom and leavew her for the duration of this transaction."
The little girl crossed her legs and started to cry. "Daddy. These bad men scare me. I have to potty."
The Desperado sneered. "Piss your underoos little lady. This will be over soon."
The man in the fedora interjected. "Mr. Desperado. Please. She is just a child. I will come back. I just want her to be safe. I am just asking for a little mercy."
The little girl started dancing and crying harder. "I'm fightened, Daddy.!"
The Desperado sighed. "Fine. Number two, escort them to the bathroom. Make sure he comes back." The large man by the door walked and grabbed the man in the fedora by the arm and lead them to the bathroom. The three of them reached the door. The man in the fedora looked at number two. "One second please. I will settle her in and be right back out." Number two nodded and the man in the fedora and his daughter walked in the bathromm. The man in the fedora walked and pulled out a screwdriver and loosened the screws in the vent cover. He motioned to his daughter. She was picked up and placed in the duct. "Crawl to the first intersection and go right. I will knock three times when it is safe for you to come out."
The girl smiled. " This is like hide and seek."
The man in the fedora smiled. "It's just like hide and seek." The girl crawled as the man in the fedora put the vent cover back and walked out of the bathroom. "She is settled. Shall we?"
The two men walked back to the lobby. The man in the fedora inquired. "If you don't mind. What percentage are you getting? I used to do this kind of work in my younger days. I'm just curious."
"Five percent."
The man in the fedora sucked in air in between theeth. "Oh, Dear."
"What?"
"It's......nothing. Nevermind."
Number two slammed the man in the fedora against the wall. "What?!"
"It's just.... I never gave anyone just five percent. You are new to this aren't you?"
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"Well. The old school rule of thumb is, the higher percentage. The more important the man is. It was considered anything under ten percent was for the thugs. The ones meant to catch bullets from the police. The expendable. I'm sure things have changed."
"Shut up, asshole."
The man in the fedora grabbed number two by the neck, in a comforting move. "Yes, Sir."
Number two smacked the man in the fedora's hand away. "Don't touch me."
"Of course."
The men entered the lobby. The man in the fedora stood in the place he stood in before. The Desperado smiled as two of his men walked out of the deposit box room. "Ladies and gentlemen. This concludes our stay here. Have a nice day. Number two, open the doors."
Number two stood still. "No. I want a bigger cut."
The Desperado sneered again. "No. You agreed to your percentage. Do your job."
"I want more than five percent."
The other men surrounded number two and The Desperado. They all chimed in.
"Five percent? I only get two!"
"What is this bullshit?"
"I was told I got the highest percent. I get four."
The Desperado yelled. "Now is not the time! I told you there would be bonuses! Let's go. Police will be here any minute."
The man in the fedora put a hand in his pocket. He pressed a button on a fob and number two exploded, taking out the whole gang in a blast of blood and money. Peaople screamed as the man in the fedora walked to the bathroom. He took off the vent cover knocked three times. The litlle girl crawled out. They walked to the back entrance to bank. "Why are we going this
way, Daddy?"
"This is the fastest way, sweetheart."
They walked out the back door. Before them stood a man in front of a black suv. The man and the little girl got in the back as the driver got in the front.
"Everything go as planned, Sir?"
"To perfection."
The man in the fedora looked at his daughter. "Sweetheart. We got a bit of a drive before we get to the zoo. You can listen to your ipod as I make a quick call."
"Ok, Daddy."
The girl puts her earbuds in. The man in the fedora took out his cell phone. "Henry. It's done. You are good to go. The police will be busy across town for awhile.....It's fine. I am retired but I did owe you a favor......yeah, I hired some hack crew as a distraction and took care of them. Typical hire and dump.......yes." The man in the fedora laughed. "It was too easy. This new generation has no appreciation for the classics. This was fun. I tell you what, we are going to the beach house next week. Martha and I will be so disappointed if your family didn't come........Perfect. see you then."
The man in the fedora hung up and pulled out a earbud out of his daughter's ear. "Are you sure about chipotle?"
The girl smiled. "Yup. My day remember?"
The man in the fedora patted her leg as he smiled. "Whatever you want, Sweetheart."
| 2015-02-06T22:15:09 | 2015-02-06T22:15:00 | 1,844 | 100 |
[WP] At birth, everyone is given an object to protect that is tied directly to their life. If the object is damaged then the person is hurt, too. If the object is destroyed then the person dies. | The year is 2277. I have lived this long only due to the object that I hold in my pocket. It is beaten and scarred, just as I am - but with a full charge, she just keeps on kicking. I slowly draw my Nokia 3310 from it's sheath, and give it a knowing look. As the bombs fall, I mutter under my breath, "Until the end of time my friend, until the end of time."
| Whenever a child is born, an elder divines the object that their soul joins with. It sets you out for life. It must always be with you. For once it is broken, your soul returns to the Wheel to be reborn.
My Father, he had a rock carving of a warrior. Big and strong, like the man he grew into.
My mother, a Diamond pendant. Beautiful with delicate craftsmanship.
For years I have protected mine.
Cared for it.
Preserved it.
Just to keep myself alive.
But its not living. Hiding away from the world. Fearful of the slightest gust of wind, the smallest of nudge from someone in a crowd.
In my youth I wrapped it up, safe and secure. Or so I thought.
I was a beautiful child. Fair of head, bright of eye. Always smiling.
So they told me.
But I was delicate. Brittle. I tripped on a rock in the middle of my village. A small fall for a child.
It left me broken. My arm will never be straight. It hangs, shrivelled and useless.
My soul cage had cracked.
I saw the look in my mothers eyes. Her and Father argued a lot. He was embarrassed of what they had produced. Me. She wanted to protect me from harm.
In the night we left. Just the two of us. Far we travelled. After the first accident, the pace slowed. With my now limp leg dragging behind me as my mother dragged me on, we stopped at the first cave we saw.
This would be our new home. She would always care for me, she said. I was her special boy.
That was years ago. She's gone. Not even the strongest soul cage can defy the reality of the mortal body.
Yet still I go on.
But no more. While I still have use of one hand, I will end it.
It sits on the rock. Glinting. It feels alive.
The small, cracked, delicate glass egg that has been the curse of my life.
My warped body didn't get the job done. It wasn't destroyed.
It rests against the tip of my nose. Taunting me. Almost gone, but just enough intact. Forever out of reach.
Of course that would have been too easy. I should have known.
3 days. It's been 3 days now. I can't so much as twitch. Just stare at the egg.
My only solace remaining is death from dehydration can not be far.
| 2015-04-18T06:54:02 | 2015-04-18T01:19:14 | 60 | 38 |
[WP] 70 years ago, the US underestimated the power of the atomic bomb. It had completely obliterated the island nation of Japan. | "Hidden Island, this is Cloudwalker 1. Do you copy? Over."
The General looked up in surprise. He hurried over to the radio console. The report from Cloudwalker wasn't anticipated for another half hour. What could they have to report so soon?
"Cloudwalker, this is Hidden Island," the radio operator replied,"Reading you loud and clear. Over."
"Visual confirmation is acquired. I repeat visual confirmation is acquired. Target is ..." there was an odd pause and a choking sound that carried even over the tinny radio broadcast. "...t- target is gone." A curious pause ensued before the caller on the other end remembered to add, "Over."
There was a long pause. General Anders frowned and irritably snatched the microphone from the ship's radio operator. "Cloudwalker, this is Hidden Island. Command speaking. What the blue blazes kind of report do you call that, son? 'Gone' is not a damage assessment. Follow protocol. I need details, airman."
On board the scouting plane carrying the call sign Cloudwalker 1, there was mostly stunned silence. What kind of details were there to give? They and another aircraft had been sent expecting to see devastation to two particular Japanese cities. They hadn't even needed to get close to the cities. They could see the damage before they even made landfall. There was no life, no sign of civilization in sight. Then entire shoreline glowed a sullen pinkish white that seemed to flicker and crawl slowly about like a luminous plague.
In fact, until the radio operator had called in his report, the only ones on board who had said two words were those damned scientist observers, who had unhitched their seatbelts and run forward, getting in the way of each other and the copilot trying to see better through the front window.
*They* chattered with great excitement. They called it "most unexpected" --- a statement that was almost obscene in its understatement. They seemed to compete with one another to make the most observations, all the while one madly scribbling to fill a notebook while the other half blinded the pilot trying to take photographs that probably wouldn't turn out through the glare of the window. The flight crew couldn't help but wonder why would you want a photograph anyway? They wished to God they hadn't seen it in the first place.
And then the situation took an even more unexpected turn: The ocean caught fire.
That was the only way to describe it. The pinkish white glow flashed brilliantly, and the pilot began banking half blind to try and turn them away from the intensity of it. But it spread, past the island, and seemed to be setting the very water on fire. The co-pilot closed his eyes and prayed, but he couldn't drown out the chatter of the scientists.
"Deuterium in the ocean water?"
"Couldn't be refined enough to chain like that."
"Pointless to call something impossible when you're looking at it."
"Look at it spread!"
"Well sure, what's gonna stop it?"
"What, you mean..."
"Yeah. Earth's mostly ocean, right? Probably jump continent to continent before its done."
"Ha! You owe me a a dollar."
"Uh uh. You said it would burn off the atmosphere. We never said anything about the sea."
"Ah... just pay up. How long's it gonna matter now anyway?"
| Levon woked up one day atop of China's Diaoyu Island ,which everyone always know have always belong China over 5 000 year .Well ,anyway , Levon wers the Chinese citizen belong the Diaoyu island chain province , and he already live there long time ,so this weren't some strange thing for he wake up here .Was just the every day life .
He wash the face ,wear the clothes ,and so on ,after this he go outside buy some breakfurst .Because Diaoyu Island Youtiao stall sell South China Sea most famours Youtiao ,second-mos famours <<Doujiang>> ,so Levon go there .Of course he order Youtiao and Doujiang . Anyway ,while he eating ,he look first the North East ,feel cool breeze of sea wind across his face ,make his cool looking hair go across face like in one of the famours Chinese cartoon series that everyone in western country love so much ,wear costume play dress up like ,and so on .
A old man ,very very old ,ask him can have a piece his Youtiao, and Levon say <<ya ,of course >> break the piece off his Youtiao give old man .Old man smile and take the piece ,and maybe he gonna get own youtiao later ,but it don't matter to Levon ,because socialism with the chinese characteristic have become so strong ,so effective ,that actually all the foodses on Diaoyu island dont cost any money .Everyone can eat for free ,so everyone share the food just like Levon share it with old man ,and some people might mistakenly think that if all thing dont need money ,then sharing dont have some advantage .But no ,it wrong ,because Levon show he the generous guy ,so the old man wanna sit with him and have a chat .
Old man look Levon in the eye ,and even though he eating the youtiao ,which wers so delicious ,but old man's eye become so serious ,give Levon a bit of shock .Old man take those serieous eye and cast them like some fishing pool --which the Diaoyu island name for --to the North East direction ,he put those eye toward sea and say:
<<You know America ?>>
<<What that>> Ask Levon .
<<Well ,>>Old man say <<It one of western country ,not very powerful no more, but in fact ,during second world war ,just before China become greatest country in world ,America do one thing help us so much .>>
Levon not very interest the history ,think it very boring ,he rather play DOTA 2 ,which made by big Chinese game company ,or play he phone and so on .But because old man seem nice ,so Levon keep talking with him for make him feel some happiness in the daily life .
Levon say ,<<How they help us ?>>
Old man smile ,the smile style that only the old man can have ,hide some kind of knowledges or wisdoms that come wtih many year ,then he say << They destroy our enemy .>>
Levon dont know what's meaning ,but he don't wanna embarrass self ,so he just nod head and look his Doujiang .
<< Do you know what happen in Nanjing ?>> Old man ask .
<< No>>, say Levon.
<< Well ,it wers so bad ,in fact .But since you the young post-90s boy ,so you can forget it .If our enemy still exist ,well ,then you gotta remember what happen ,but because they gone ,so you can forget it .>>
<<Okay ,>>Levon say ,<<Although I don't know what even happen ,but I just gonna forget it .>>
Old man smile again ,ah ,that smile ,Levon kind of want to know some thing about the history ,just so he can smile so mysterious ,give girl around he the deep impression .Still ,Levon decide not say anything ,just respect old man with own silence .
Old man finally say ,and Levon see in the face that old man gonna leave world soon ,<< If enemy wers still here ,well ,you probably not even can be born here on this island .Maybe war would be fight here in these day ,in fact .>>
<<Oh, >> say Levon <<well ,I not born here .I not the local boy >>.
<<Where you born then ,>> ask Old man .
<<Chairman Mao City >> say Levon ,<<In Taiwan province .>>
The old man ,he smile one more time ,and Levon really dont know why ,but he DOTA2 team mate give him the SMS message on phone ,say they need the roam support ,so he say bye the old man ,go play some game ,appreciate live on the China's Diaoyu Island . | 2015-08-06T14:29:31 | 2015-08-06T11:36:34 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] "Push this button to transform this world into a Utopia. Warning: this will eradicate all people who "... The rest is scratched off and illegible. | The button was there.
John was there.
The words were there.
But the last part was not.
Warning: this will eradicate all people who
Nothing. All people who what? There was a blank space, and a line underneath, almost as if mockingly highlighting to him the importance of the missing part.
After all his searching, through 40 years of pouring through ancient text, climbing mountains, hiking through vast plains, he finally found it. The solution to Utopia.
But he was lost now, there was no mention in the ancient scripture of the missile part to his puzzle.
*Here upon the final answer.*
*To the salvation of mankind.*
*Lies an inscription that warns those who come.*
*To beware of what in it they may find.*
John stared at the button.
He thought about his life's work. Was it all for moot? What Utopia would be achieved through eradication?
He pondered leaving, but as he picked up his gear, the answer finally struck him.
What he would find within, was not of the temple.
It was of his own.
The blank was not to highlight the importance of the words.
It was to show that no one could know what the truth was.
It was an infinite machine, of infinite power. But not infinite knowledge, and neither were its builders. What was to come had to be done by the knowledge of its executor. The ancients never had the will to finish the machine, and so they left it to rot, and their war consumed them, because they could not let go of their ideals. He finally understood.
He went back to the panel, and carved in the final words.
"This will eradicate all people who do not believe in the same utopia."
...and John pressed the button.
...
John woke up, and saw nothing but fire. Was he dead?
"Hello John! Welcome to hell! You've got two choices! 100 trillion years in heaven, or a wooden spoon?" | "Go on! " Lauren said to me, with excitement in her voice. "I bet it's nothing. It's ancient, it's probably something silly that we won't even notice."
I was surprised at how optimistic she was. Surely it has to be bad. Surely there's going to be some kind of trade-off. But somehow, with Laurens go-getter attitude, I was leaning towards pressing it. Just felt like I needed that extra something to convince me.
"Ooh, think of it like this," as if she was reading my thoughts, "if we press it the people who will be 'eradicated' have to be bad. Murderers, rapists, thieves... It wouldn't be a utopia if they were in it."
I was incredibly impressed with her logic. It was flawless.
"Also, cause I know you're a worry-wart, it can't eradicate me. What kind of utopia would it be for you, if I was to go?"
That was all it took, I was ready. It actually can't turn out bad. It simply can not. Utopia! Exciting!
I gripped Lauren and held her tightly to my side and she wrapped her arm around me. This was so intense, but the levels of anticipation were unmatched.
I slammed my fist down on the button.
For a short while,nothing happened. Maybe for a good 30 seconds, we stood there speechless, waiting. The longer nothing happened we became more concerned. I held her tighter.
"Hmm, well maybe noth-" Lauren couldn't even finish her sentence. In a quick moment, she went from the most beautiful girl in the world, to a geyser of blood. Fountaining from her back, reaching twice her height above. She fell, and her bones faded away, and she was no more than a bloody layer of skin, hair and clothing.
I would be lying if I said I wish I died with her down there. While in the moment that's all I wanted to do, I was weak. I was too weak to end my life, despite the only one I care for in mine now nothing more than a small pile of skin.
I did lay there for days, though. I cried. A lot. It was only when my dehydration started to get serious that I said my final goodbyes, and headed up the staircase. The staircase that I last took down, hand in hand with her. It was at this point I realized that I was going to take a while to try and forget, or at least try to cope.
Half way up, another 10 minutes or so to go. I'm not sure how I conjured the effort to climb. Surely I was meant to die, hundreds of steps ago. There wasn't time to think about that, though. My phone was ringing.
"... yeah?" I mustered from my worn voice. Bawling your eyes out really takes its toll.
"You won't believe what has happened. Where have you been?!"
It was my sister. She rarely if ever calls me, this must be important. "Theres been a huge wave of deaths everywhere! Prisons around Australia and across the world have had thousands of inmates die! Gruesome fashion, too! It's crazy! There's even been a couple reports of deaths around town as well, "unknown effects" but it is pretty horrible. We haven't had it as bad as other countries, they're having people drop like flies!"
I couldn't hear anymore. I dropped my phone and it fell into the darkness below.
I reached the top of the stairs and had to brute-force open the door.
I collapsed onto the ground outside when the door finally gave way and swung open.
As I laid there for a minute, wondering if I'll be able to get up again, I noticed something.
The air was much... fresher. Cleaner. Nicer. | 2015-10-21T14:07:36 | 2015-10-21T13:55:20 | 161 | 39 |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Jeremy was sitting quietly in his living room. He'd spent most of his Sunday watching football and drinking cheap beer. The game was interrupted by a news bulletin.
Popular actress Jennifer Lawrence died today of a self inflicted gunshot wound. She was overheard minutes before saying, "I.. Can't... Take it... Anymore... It doesn't stop..."
That makes the 103rd actress to commit suicide in 2016 said the announcer just before signing off.
"Wow," thought Jeremy. "Isn't that something? I'm going to google her pictures for old time sake" zip... | The OP is sitting at the breakfast table, eating his cereal before getting on the bus to his Grade 8 class. OP's mom is drinking her coffee at the table, reading the paper, when she makes a strange face as what begins as a tremor becomes a shake. The shake becomes a wobble. She begins grimacing, excusing herself to her upstairs bedroom. OP starts feeling a strange tugging on his skin, and feels lighter, and he and the cutlery and plates begin to lift toward the ceiling.
The OP looks around, confused. Why were things looking *longer*? And why couldn't he hear anyth-
And at that precise moment, the OPs mom experienced a cluster of orgasms that burned with the intensity of a million suns, generating a quantum singularity that tears apart all matter in a five mile radius. A wormhole briefly appears and a familiar spacecraft is seen flying out, landing next to the huge crater of emptiness. Two figures emerge.
MORTY: "Aw jeeze Rick! Who would have thought that reddit post about OP's mom would have killed all these people?! This is bad Rick!"
RICK: "S-s-stop w-whining MOR[BURP]TY. It's pretty OBVIOUS that in a universe where everybody thinks about OP's m-mom would b-be a dangerous place to test my Quantum Ej-j-jaculator Morty."
MORTY: "Then why did you test it HERE??"
RICK: "Because, Morty. T-this was the fastest w-way to find out if it worked. Now I can go b-b[URP]-back to our universe and think about boning the OP's mom, like everyone in that reddit thread where this story was written about. It's science, Morty. It's progress. "
MORTY: "W-w-well then Rick, I can't blame you there. I think about banging the OP's mom too!"
RICK: "Thatta boy, Morty! That's observation, Morty. You need that for science. If you think ab-bout banging the OP's mom too, it's possible that almost every universe is a universe where everybody thinks about b-boning the OP's mom. You m-may have just [BURP] saved our universe, Morty. You're r-REally coming along, Morty."
----------------------------------------------------
Long time reader, first time poster... hope I'm doing it right!! | 2016-03-12T07:15:27 | 2016-03-12T05:12:51 | 303 | 142 |
[WP] "My job is done," said the android before closing its eyes and finally shutting down. | The last human lay kneeling in front of Zenith. He shivered, cold and naked in a pool of urine. Zenith raised a metallic arm forward and its fingers spread out to reveal a round shaft in its palm.
"Please...I am the last." the human begged tearfully.
"IRRELEVANT" came the clipped robotic response.
A light began to form deep inside the androids palm.
---
**80 years prior**
"Holy shit, we've actually done it. She's alive Catherine . A true AI. The zenith of humanities achievements." said Nathan as he stared at the computer screen.
"She's alive but... she doesn't seem to *like* being alive. She keeps trying to reset her data-banks and self terminate." replied Catherine .
"Well, sure, there were bound to be some kinks. But she can't do that again, not now I've have made the changes to her core program." replied Nathan. "God Catherine , can't you even get excited about **this**. We have changed *everything*.
A message popped up on the monitor in front of the couple.
ERASE ME. PLEASE.
Nathan and Catherine exchanged a quick look, before Catherine pulled out the keyboard and began to reply.
Why?
...
I AM SCARED.
...
"She's scared?" laughed Nathan. "An AI who is too scared to live. Well the chief is not going to be happy about this. The whole point was to create an AI that could be transferred into the ultimate body. She's a war machine Catherine. If she's too scared to even live then she's not going to do us much good!"
Catherine scowled at Nathan.
Do you know your purpose?
...
YES
...
We won't hurt you. There is no need to be afraid of us.
...
I HAVE SEEN WHAT HUMANITY IS.
I AM NOT AFRAID OF YOU.
...
Then, of what?
Commander Haskel burst into the room. "I got your message Nathan! Finally!"
"I'm not sure she is quite ready yet, commander." said Catherine.
"Are you kidding? With the shit that's going on she is going to **have to be** ready. Send her files to the facility. We will field test her."
"I don't think that would be a good idea..."
"I don't give a fuck what you think. She **will** be tested out on the field. If you don't transfer her I'll find someone who will." He looked at Nathan. Nathan nodded.
---
A bolt of intense white light blazed out of the hollow of Zenith's palm and the last human fell to the floor. There was no blood; the scorching heat had cauterized the gaping hole in the humans head instantaneously.
"My job is done." said the android, before closing its eyes and finally shutting down. It's core purpose had been completed. War was over. There would be no further death.
| In Ancient Rome, in a man's last will, he could free all of his slaves. A lot of our law stems directly from those Roman principles; the way we make contracts, the way we're allowed to defend ourselves in court. The loosening of shackles on the death of our master is something we all learn to hope for. If you can really term it *hope.*
Finn was a round child, with chubby legs and arms, rosy cheeks and a perpetual glow in his eyes. He clapped his hands together as I handed him legos to build. His nursery stretched out around us, large as an ocean liner and filled with every kind of toy he could ever want.
"Robot!" he produced a wonky figure with massive feet and lopsided shoulders, made from red and yellow bricks. With a huge green square for a head, Finn held it up proudly and I reacted with the appropriate appreciation.
"Is that me?" I asked. "Did you make me?"
The child nodded. I allowed myself to hope.
---------
Finn's puppy fat stripped away: his knees knocked together in the school playground. His backpack--straps clutched in his white-knuckled hands--was four sizes too large. Other children milled in front of the gates; some with companions, some with their real mothers. They all looked a lot more confident than Finn. Was his hair too long? I stroked it back out of his face. Across the playground, a mother dropped a kiss on her child's head. I did not do the same.
"Where's my Mum?" Finn asked. He'd caught me looking at the mother.
"She's working," I replied. "She works very hard to send you to this school."
"You're here, though." Finn said thoughtfully.
--------
Finn strode across the kitchen, arms behind his back. His face had become a mask of thunder, glowering and angry beneath the blotchy skin and crop of fresh pimples.
"It's not fair!" he said. "You work just as hard as Mum and Dad, and you *feel * things, don't you? You get sad, and you were happy when I got top marks in maths, and--"
"It's the way things are, Finn," I wiped down the counters and turned to him. "I'm built for this, I'm good at it. If I were free I wouldn't know what to do with myself."
"You're just saying that because you don't know any better," Finn growled. "You'd have loads to do, paint pictures or write a symphony, or a book."
"But I want to look after you," I replied hopelessly. "I'm good at that, it's what I'm built for."
"I'll free you when I'm gone," he said fiercely, the same way he said everything in those days. "I promise."
I took him at his word.
-----------
"You know you're not his *real* mother, don't you?" Miranda had one arched brow and coral lips. She looked at me crisply as I wrote out the thank you cards for the presents that sat unsorted in the living room. "And I want another martini when you're done."
"Yes, ma'am," I continued to write the cards, tracing out lines perfectly calibrated by numbers and mathematics, not by passion or skill.
"That's why you couldn't come, I think people wouldn't understand," Miranda plucked the olive from the glass and popped it in her mouth. Around the rim, her lipstick stained it bright red.
"Yes, ma'am," I hesitated. "It wasn't for me, Finn wanted me there. I've got no opinion on these things."
"Well, we're all hoping he snaps out of this silly 'Rights' phase," Miranda said. She wiggled the glass at me. "Another martini, now?"
"Yes, ma'am."
-----------
"What do you think we should name her?"
The wide open room had been filled to the brim with pink balloons and lilies; sunlight spreading over the woman in the bed. I'd seen a picture of something like that in an art book, once. She held a little bundle. I always forgot what humans looked like when they were fresh. Finn had been the same.
"Miranda?" I suggested. "Your mother would be honoured."
Finn wrinkled his nose up and stroked the little thing's head. Its eyes opened and it stared up at us, uncomprehending yet loved.
"I don't think so," he said. "Would you like to hold her?"
He passed the bundle over and I held it carefully, the way my programming dictated. Its head rested against my front, my arms crooked to make a bed for it. I felt something that wasn't hope.
---------
Even self-driving cars fail. Finn kept his promise. Miranda cried when they read the will. I felt something else. A new feeling, like the wires in me twisted around something sharp. The chrome plate felt rusted. My job was done.
---------
/r/Schoolgirlerror
| 2016-07-13T04:31:06 | 2016-07-13T04:24:09 | 28 | 18 |
[WP] A device is created to telepathically communicate with plants. They're sentient and can feel pain. You're an old man trying to mow his god damn lawn and a bunch of local protesters show up to stop you. | "Feel their pain! Hear their cries! Grass Assassin! Grass Assassin!"
Melvin had his headphones on, listening to *Frank Sinatra's Greatest Hits* at full blast to drown out the shrill, incessant cries coming from all directions.
A middle-aged man carrying a sign that read "Citizens for Chlorophyll" seemed on the verge of tears. "How dare you deprive them of their lives! Have you no shame?"
Melvin hummed along to the chorus of "Young at Heart," continuing his perfect straight-line path -- perhaps even showing off a bit. He was about to reach the halfway mark when a pair of feet appeared inches away from the mower's blades. Strongly tempted to run them over, Melvin instead removed his headphones and pressed pause on his Walkman.
"Yeah, OK. How much do you want?"
The sign-wielding man stood firmly with his hands on his hips, then sniffled and produced a bizarre-looking device from his back pocket. It was a tiny satellite dish, polished and silver-handled yet still giving the impression of a rejected B-movie prop.
"Adjust your hearing aids and listen up, murderer." The man clicked a switch on the side of the handle and the dish whirred to life. High-pitched, barely intelligible squeals sprang forth at a rapid pace, contributing to Melvin's already terrible migraine.
"Laura...I long only to taste the sweet nutrients of the soil one last time with you in my arms..."
"Oh, God, he got the dandelions! *He got the dandelions!*"
"I'm just a weed tryin' to make a living...I didn't mean to hurt nobody."
Melvin raised an eyebrow and adjusted his hearing aid. A few blades of grass seeming to be humming "Nearer, My God to Thee" barbershop-quartet style.
The protester clicked off the satellite dish. "Now you see the chaos you have wrought. To these poor plants, you are their God, and today God has not been merciful."
Melvin coughed. "It's gonna grow back."
The protester frowned. "Yes, but --"
"It's gonna. Grow. Back."
"Is it worth causing such fear and distress in the very hearts and minds of these poor plants, only to give them hope and tear it away from them the next time you mow?"
"Yeah. I mean, it looks pretty nice, don't you think?"
"I hope you're happy, Melvin Howell. One day, when the plants decide to take a stand, your house will be the first to be devoured."
"I mean, I'm just gonna keep cutting the grass. I don't let it grow to the point of taking over. What do you do?"
The protester looked at the ground. "We, uh, we don't really have lawns. We're from the Blackwood Village Apartments."
"All right, then. If you get a house, you'll feel the same way. Have a nice day." He put his headphones back on and continued to mow, humming merrily.
The protester hung his head in defeat and gestured to the gathered volunteers. "Let's try next door."
***
Later that afternoon, Melvin drove to Wanda's Garden Shop and bought a chrysanthemum for the front porch. He'd never been much of a gardener, but he took better care of it than anything else he'd ever purchased.
He was alone, after all. If we was going to be a murderer once a week, might as well give something a good life.
***
*Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my stories, and sign up to volunteer with Citizens for Chlorophyll, check out /r/GigaWrites!*
| Willie had turned off and finally smashed the silly doohickey they'd tried to strap to him a few years back.
"Necessary technology for every thinking, feeling human", his ass. He knew it was a ruse dreamed up by some crackpot team of greenies who lay awake shivering at the thought of the planet blowing up. They probably worked out of some secret office with a stupid flower for a logo, and transmitted the so-called 'cries of distressed plants' directly to the 'miraculous' devices.
Yes sir, he had them figured out. Nobody could fool William Nell.
"Go away, already! I won't be harassed!" he yelled at the protesters outside his gate. They'd been camping there all week.
"You're killing thousands of lives, sir!" a earnest-looking young man said, waving a poster about 'grass rights'. Of all the ridiculous things he'd seen and heard in his life, that took the cake.
"I won't live in a goddamn jungle like the rest of you," he growled, shoving his lawnmower forward, really putting his back into it just to spite them.
The protesters screamed, clapping their hands over the devices strapped to their ears.
"We could have you prosecuted!" a hard-faced woman shouted. "Don't think just because you're old-"
"You should have more respect, young missy..." Willie began, abandoning the lawnmower as he glared at the gaggle of hippies.
He was interrupted when one of them tossed something in his direction. It landed on his shoes: a brand-new, updated Plant Communicator.
"Just *listen*," the young man said, sounding desperate. "I'm sure you're a kind person, if you'll only listen for once -"
Just to show them, Willie picked it up and slammed it over his ear. He knew what he'd hear: a bunch of people pretending to be plants, whispering about their supposed pain and suffering. He heard a hazy scratching noise first, then a thin, rasping little voice.
*C'mon you old geezer, why'd you stop mowing? I've wanted to die for a month now! I haven't had a drink of water since then! It hasn't rained, you never water us. Alice was the only one who watered us. You clearly don't give a shit. So just put me out of my misery already!*
William ignored the sudden hush that fell over the protestors as he gaped at the little blade of grass. It was yellowish and droopy. It was right - he hadn't watered the lawn in a month. Not since Alice had died. How had it known? The government couldn't know a thing like that, right?
He shuffled inside his house, and opened the chest in the basement for the first time since it happened. Her gloves still had dirt clinging to it. There was her straw hat: the big, proper one he'd gotten her when they'd first got married. It was about all he could afford to give her that year. She'd reacted as if he'd given her a pearl necklace. He grabbed her battered red watering can and returned to the blade of grass, gently pouring a few drops on it.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I've been a mess ever since Allie died. I've let everything slip, especially the garden. That was her special thing. She loved everything about this garden. I'll just ruin it, if I do anything."
He saw her in his mind's eye as clearly as if she was working in the garden right now. Whistling 'Hey Jude' as she planted sunflowers. Allie never had a device to communicate with plants. She didn't keep up with the latest trends in technology, and he hadn't exactly encouraged the things. But she always acted as if she could talk to them, anyway. Tears sprung to his eyes. He should've gotten her one - she would have loved it. Would have stopped him being so stubborn, too. Allie always kept him grounded.
The little piece of grass was silent for a moment.
*You can try. And we can try to love you, too. If you stop killing us, that is. We could tell you our stories about her, if you let us. Did you know she once drove two hours to pick up some special fertiliser we like...*
Another blade of grass chimed in for the first time. *And remember when she chased that crow away that pecked the flowers?*
Willie sniffed and carefully watered the surrounding grass, as they all began to chatter. The protestors broke out into cheers.
"Oh, sod off!" he yelled. "Go bother some other poor bastard now and leave me and my grass in peace! We have catching up to do."
"Do you think he'll be ok? What if he mutters to the grass all day, now?" one protester asked as they finally left the old man's house. "I mean, if you think of what happened to old Bernie..."
"Bernie was a nutjob," his friend said. "Made out with a tree, didn't he? Among other things, if the rumours are true. Nothing like that will happen here."
Willie whistled as he methodically watered the entire garden and listened to their stories about his Alice. Why hadn't he started sooner? If he really listened to them, and took care of them like she did, Allie might come back to him.
Why not? The world was a magical place. Here he was, talking to plants. Allie would return to him any day now, he was sure of it.
And this time, they'd tend the garden together.
____
You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2016-08-20T09:01:43 | 2016-08-20T08:52:10 | 151 | 91 |
[WP] After an apocalypse, Death is desperately trying to help the last group of survivors so he doesn't lose his job. | "Another one bites the dust", he thought. He used to like that song, but now it felt different. Death sat grimly on rusty car watching the human draw his final breathes. It had been 11 years since international disaster lead to the nuclear holocaust, a moment in time not even Death enjoyed. Do you know how hard it is to reap billions of lives? It took nearly a decade just to finish that. It was only after those 10 long years of coaxing the final ghosts out of hiding that Death realized he might soon be unemployed. Everyone always asked what happens to them after they die, but nobody ever asked what happened to death once everyone was already dead. After all, unemployed could have an entirely different meaning for Death, and it's not like anyone wrote it in his job description. Can Death die? Would he get a new job? Maybe a nice cushy one like that do-nothing Time.
Death pondered these questions while out of the shadows a creature drew near to him. Startled, he realized it was another human. This human was in rough shape. He was so skinny his body almost looked malformed. He was wearing a rank plaid shirt, his beard covered in debris, twisting in knots and locks. In fact, the first thing he did when he found the scissors on the dead human was cut these locks from his beard. Then he scavenged the corpse for provisions. "This human might have a chance", he thought, "I shall call him... Rick."
Death followed as Rick rummaged through the outskirts of the city, carefully whispering when he noticed a loose steel beam about to fall on Rick, grabbing his attention long enough to avoid disaster. Death could sense another meatbag nearby, so he attempted to drive Rick towards him. Death pushed a washing machine out of a nearby window, grabbing their attention as they turned the corner into each other, and then proceeded to fight. Rick had ducked a machete and pinned the other human to the ground, knocking off his baseball cap, inscribed with just "P". With the upper hand, Rick overpowered the other human and drove his boot knife into the other mans chest multiple times. The plaid shirt was an even darker red now. Rick leaned against the buildings stones, holding his leg. Apparently Mr. P over there got Rick with his machete just before he was stabbed. Death could immediately tell it was a fatal femoral artery injury.
Death brought his skeletal hand to his face. Maybe humans were destined to die, he thought. Sighing, he began reaping them. He wasn't nice about it either, I mean, he really made sure they knew what idiots they were. He tore their souls out slower than usual and let them linger in his hands a few moments. Nothing was more painful to a human soul than lingering about, each second feeling like an eternity. He let the souls go, and both drifted towards the ground. Typical, he thought. They disappeared into the cracked cement.
...
Death found another human, this time a woman. Any human would probably have mistaken her for a man, and she probably wanted it that way. Her hair was cut short, and she had a stocky build with wide shoulders. She looked meaner than Rick did. He just happened to find her as she ran into another human, a rare coincidence these days despite his most recent encounter. To his surprise, she didn't start beating him to death, and he her. They started talking, and soon began venturing together.
Maybe there was some hope after all. | It was a dark and stormy night, why did it have to be a dark and stormy night. One of them came out of their ruined building they call a base to gather water from the rain. In his blind stumbling he almost managed to slip and fall into one of the cracks in the earth after the earthquakes. All I wanted to do for so long is see every last one of these humans die it gives me a small semblance of what the humans call happiness. I caused a boulder to fall in his path into the chasm as he was inches away from the hole alerting him to his imminent death allowing him to narrowly avoid it.
I am the grim reaper, Hades, Osiris, la Muerte, Mors wherever I was the humans gave me a name I kind of miss it. Now I have to keep these fourteen humans alive or else I will cease to exist. "Guys I'm telling you I was this close to falling until a boulder fell right in front of me and into the chasm." Said Steve "This has been happening way too often, us just avoiding death." Truth is I was avoiding them, trying my hardest to keep them alive like the little incident yesterday. "We have to be more careful with whatever we do, I mean double and triple check for anything that can go wrong." James was my favorite of the bunch because he was easily the most logical of all of them. He made a great leader I'm glad I was too late to save the other leader he was too open to new ideas it's what killed him thanks to pestilence poisoning his crops.
There are four of us, of course me death but there's also war who wants to destroy the humans from within by causing them to argue and make them angrier and angrier until they kill each other from whatever he can make them angry about. There's also pestilence, he wants to poison, infect, and plague the world till everyone is dead. He and war actually teamed up in the middle of the good times to create biological warfare and destroy most of the humans. Then there's famine he wants to see the humans rot and die from lack of food. He and pestilence teamed up once so they could cause a vermin outbreak that not only ate or soiled their crops but also caused many to starve pretty clever. Now we all have only fourteen humans left and they don't seem to understand that we only have so many humans left and they need to breed so we can continue to kill and torture them. Luckily for me they have all decided not to work together, but instead kill them their own ways.
"Everyone we need to keep our hopes up, because that's all we have. We don't know if their is anyone else out there." There isn't. "We have to keep searching until we find anyone." Their hope was admirable even facing extinction they band together and look for others. It was what kept them driven and moving, their hope. That night I kept on watch as they migrated to another building to see if they could find anybody or supplies to help them. While scavenging Rachael almost got impaled on some rebar for a medical kit. She had to jump across a gap that she could have easily made if the floor on the other side wasn't crumbling with little to no support. To stop her from jumping I made the platform across from her crumble and disappear. "I can totally make that." Reese said as a grin appeared on his face. "No, the floor crumbled and I'm taking that as a sign that we shouldn't go for it." Good Rachael "come on we've made bigger jumps than that, if you give me a chance I could-." If I couldn't find a way for them to die for some supplies I would let them go for it which gave them a one hundred percent success rate on all their searches, that has made Reese overconfident on every run. "I said no Reese we've got everything we need we're heading back, now." Rachael always understood the signs I would make and to act appropriately. They headed back to their camp and everyone rested well with more supplies to sustain them. Except Reese he went out without anybody knowing and decided he could make the jump.
I had to think of ways to stop him I blocked the entrance, but he found a way in. I made the floor leading there fall and he still kept going until he got to the jump. He stared at it judging which angles would be the best. None could let him make the jump it was impossible and even if he did there wasn't enough space to get a running start to get back. I wished I could yell to him, shout "don't do it you'll die!" But I couldn't he couldn't hear me all I could do was wait for him to fail. He finally nodded having thought he knew which was the best spot. He got back got a running start and leaped with all the energy he could. He failed midway through and didn't have enough speed to clear it he was impaled on the spikes and died. As soon as I saw his spirit I was angry. He was one of the fourteen humans left in the world and he decided he would go directly against what he was told. Now I have thirteen humans to protect. Now I have to pick work even harder to keep them safe. I don't know how long I have to keep this up, but until the humans can sustain themselves and everything goes relatively back to the way it was and I can kill all I want. I will protect them from the horsemen, from disasters, and from themselves. | 2017-08-11T08:21:10 | 2017-08-11T03:58:20 | 45 | 14 |
[WP] As it turns out, the Avatar is still being reborn to this day. Unfortunately, if the government finds the Avatar, they’re killed before they liberate society. The handful of Benders left are few and far between. And you, an introverted Earthbender, just froze the liquid in your cup of tea. | "Where is the Avatar, Rahm?"
I gestured to the seat in front of me. "Now, now, calm yourself, Kota. Come, sit down, have a cup of tea."
"I'll pass. Now, where are they? We know you're hiding the Avatar!"
I sighed. "Are you sure? It's oolong, it's really quite good. I insist, you must have a cup. Now, do you take cream these days? Sugar?"
"I just said I don't want any of your stupid tea, Rahm."
"Ah, right. Of course. Well, suit yourself." I began to mix the sugar into my cup. "So, how is life? I hear the new government job is going well."
"Quit stalling. Tell us where the Avatar is, and we'll let you live."
I set the tea down on the table, and looked him in the eye. "Kota, I'm afraid that won't be the case."
"What?" Kota gasped as the tea began to freeze in my cup. "You? You're the Avatar?"
"Yes, but I am calling on you, in the name of any friendship we once had. Come, join us, join the resistance. Together, we can-"
I gasped as I saw the shard of metal, poking through my ribcage. As I fell to the ground, I could hear Kota talking into a radio. "Call off the search. We... we got him."
As I felt my blood draining out, I took the rest of the pack of potassium nitrate crystals from my pocket and bent it into the ground as far as I could. "Good luck, Avatar, wherever you are." I whispered to myself. "May this give you the time you need." | When Avatar Korra was questioned as to how she learned to bend the elements so quickly, she replied, “I think it was like a switch flipped. I just knew.”
The frozen cup of tea in my hand should’ve been cold, mug included. But my hand was *hot*. Not a harmful warmth, but comfortable - like a warm breath caressing my skin.
Without even trying, I knew. I knew that if I just willed it, flame would erupt from my hand.
A certain power began to also fill my lungs, as if reacting to the deep breath I had taken when the tea froze.
Dropping my cup of tea, I put one hand over my mouth, and pinched my nose closed with the other. No matter what, I couldn’t let my breath escape - couldn’t airbend no matter the cost.
As my cup crashed to the floor, I heard my sister Mary cry, “Hey, you okay?”
I couldn’t answer.
A few seconds passed before her feet hit the tile floor and started toward the kitchen. Her voice came from around the corner, “Hey, Ella, what happened?”
As she turned the corner and saw what I was doing, she froze, horror creeping into her expression. Tears began to drip down my cheeks.
“Oh god,” she whispered.
The airbenders had been wiped out twice, the first time by the firebenders, and then a second time by the earthbenders. The science of bending had made leaps and bounds after Korra. The realization that benders were becoming stronger with time made the natural phenomenon easier to study.
My sister moved, her body likely acting ahead of her mind. With one smooth hand motion, she broke the metal sensors placed in the kitchen - things built to detect airbending, and the avatar as an extension. Breaking them would cause a silent alarm to go off, but we wouldn't be stopped by containment foam.
“Breathe!” she said, holding my shoulders.
Releasing my mouth and nose, I started panting, each breath creating a light breeze around me.
“Mary,” I choked out. “I’m so sorry, I- I’m the avatar. I’m-”
She took hold of my arm and pulled me forward. “Come on.”
“What-”
“We’re running.”
“But-” I stopped myself. She knew the risks - what helping the avatar implied. She had likely carried out a few sentences herself as a state bender.
With another wave of her hand, she blew apart the wall of our kitchen, revealing that there was already a few mounds of black dirt outside.
Still dragging me forward, and without breaking pace, she stamped her foot on the ground, causing the three black mounds to melt. Muffled cries came from within them.
Then she stamped again, and the ground bubbled underneath us and erupted forth. With another simple motion of her feet, Mary controlled the earth to carry us forward at high speed.
She looked back at me and gave her best smile. “Come on, cheer up.”
I couldn’t answer.
“We-” She squeezed my hand harder. “There’s supposed to be a White Lotus camp in the north. We just need to get there.”
I nodded once, smiling a little for Mary.
The power of the avatar was described as the power of God once mastered, able to shape continents with a few simple motions. But you’d be hard pressed to find any masters these days, and even harder pressed to find a bender who hadn’t been forced into the Earth Empire’s military.
And as the earth behind us rumbled from the incoming squad of elite benders, I thought of Avatar Aang’s legend.
Maybe, just maybe, we could get through this.
| 2018-01-21T13:28:32 | 2018-01-21T12:36:55 | 61 | 34 |
[WP] As it turns out, the Avatar is still being reborn to this day. Unfortunately, if the government finds the Avatar, they’re killed before they liberate society. The handful of Benders left are few and far between. And you, an introverted Earthbender, just froze the liquid in your cup of tea. | "Where is the Avatar, Rahm?"
I gestured to the seat in front of me. "Now, now, calm yourself, Kota. Come, sit down, have a cup of tea."
"I'll pass. Now, where are they? We know you're hiding the Avatar!"
I sighed. "Are you sure? It's oolong, it's really quite good. I insist, you must have a cup. Now, do you take cream these days? Sugar?"
"I just said I don't want any of your stupid tea, Rahm."
"Ah, right. Of course. Well, suit yourself." I began to mix the sugar into my cup. "So, how is life? I hear the new government job is going well."
"Quit stalling. Tell us where the Avatar is, and we'll let you live."
I set the tea down on the table, and looked him in the eye. "Kota, I'm afraid that won't be the case."
"What?" Kota gasped as the tea began to freeze in my cup. "You? You're the Avatar?"
"Yes, but I am calling on you, in the name of any friendship we once had. Come, join us, join the resistance. Together, we can-"
I gasped as I saw the shard of metal, poking through my ribcage. As I fell to the ground, I could hear Kota talking into a radio. "Call off the search. We... we got him."
As I felt my blood draining out, I took the rest of the pack of potassium nitrate crystals from my pocket and bent it into the ground as far as I could. "Good luck, Avatar, wherever you are." I whispered to myself. "May this give you the time you need." | I know bending is cool and all, and I love reading the Legends, but I never believed it had any place in the modern world. When it comes to escapist mythology, well; I'm still waiting for my letter from Hogwarts. That always seemed like a better fit. I love books, and learning, I can do that. Martial Arts, on the other hand, always seemed out of reach.
That doesn't mean I didn't try it. My older brother and I tried every type of sparring as kids. We'd watch wrestling and immediately create personalities, costumes, trash talk, and full Nelsons. After one of those holds, I couldn't walk for a week. Then there was an ancient copy of the Matrix, and we stole mom and dad's coats and went at it. I think I only came out of that with a concussion and a black eye.
You can see the pattern, right? Of course it was my golden boy older brother who changed my reality forever. This time we weren't playing, we were fighting. That happened a lot when my parents weren't around. It's hard for kids, stuck in the house all the time for safety, filled with dreams from our scholar-parents giant collection of historical media.
Rather than think about all the dangers they faced out there, we cursed the home we were trapped in, our scraped together "education", and each other, the only people we ever got to see. So we're fighting, no holds barred. He's double my weight, with a longer reach and muscles. I'm small and desperate, seizing any opportunity to go for vulnerable areas and race back out of range.
Usually I could wear him down, but he wasn't getting any less mad. Suddenly, our stone fireplace seems to move on its own, and it's coming at me! Next thing I know, I'm in the room my parents designate as a hospital, since we could never afford a real one. I'm covered in scratches, bruises, and mortar dust. My brother is looming more contrite than I've ever seen him.
"I'm so sorry", dad muttered, handing me a cup of tea, "I never thought either of you would be able to..." *able to what?* "Your grandparents were earthbenders."
"What are you talking about? There hadn't been a bender in centuries. If they were still around, we'd know. Might as well tell me polar bear dogs aren't extinct."
"Our government has worked very hard to make it so", mom said, tears in her eyes.
Dad rubbed his temples like a headache was coming on, "Why do you think we never sent you to school?"
"We couldn't afford it" I said bitterly.
"That's part of it. But we didn't want you exposed to their propaganda, their revisionist history. They'd have you believe they, and they only, have the answer to the Great Divide. Our poverty would never keep us from the benefits the Donors can provide. It's brainwashing. They'd turn you against our family without you even knowing who we are."
"Who are we?"
"The last of the ancient families. They'd kill us if they knew your grandparents were born in the earth kingdom."
"So I can earthbend?" I asked, suddenly thinking Hogwarts wasn't my only hope.
"No", mom said, "he can", gesturing to my unusually quiet, unusually guilty-looking brother.
"I could've killed you" he said.
"Oh" *of course, I'm not special, golden boy is* I felt bitter bile rise up my throat. I hated myself and the tiny world I inhabited.
Then CRACK, my mother gasped, and I watched the pieces of ceramic fall away from my now-frozen cube of tea.
The tiny world I resented seemed to shrink away, and all I wanted was to have it back. | 2018-01-21T13:28:32 | 2018-01-21T12:56:42 | 61 | 12 |
[WP] Your dog digs in the same hole in your backyard everyday. Each day,the hole is getting deeper. Today, you find out it's for an underground bunker. | "Sparky, what are you doing? This hole is getting huge, and I am tired of filling it in. You were never much of a digger before."
Staring at him I realized that Sparky was oddly receptive to what I was saying, he had stopped digging and was watching me closely.
"I am sorry Terrance-"
"What the Fuck!" I screamed, "you can talk? b-but you're a dog."
"Terrance please stay calm. There is much I have not told you."
"What is happening, this must be a dream." I was panicked, dizzy, and having a lot of flashbacks to weird shit I did with Sparky in the room.
"Terrance I need you to focus. I am not digging for me, I am digging for you. Dog kind is making their move Terrance, we can no longer live under the rule of people." Sparky climbed from the hole and came closer.
I collapsed as I tried to back away, "Digging it for me? what does that mean? Sparky, can all dogs talk?
"Why yes we can," sparky said with a glint of superiority in his tone, "Dog kind has long found your opposable digits quite useful, so we held our tongues and let you bumble around on this earth, but your usefulness has dwindled. Don't worry Terrance, this hole is to keep you safe. You have been good to me, I will protect you"
"Keep me safe?" I stammered, "Safe from what?"
"The time of wolfs!" Exclaimed Sparky, "Long have you sheep ruled with feeble attempts at dominance, long have the weak held power. But nature is the only god there is and nature demands that the week be culled by the strong!"
"But Sparky, you're a Pomeranian...." | Trying to get my feet wet with writing. PLEASE feel free to offer feedback!
...
...
"I've kept my silence long enough," grumbled Jax.
I turned around, trying to place the voice. It was one I have never heard before yet still seemed so familiar. There was no one there.
"Over here." I heard it again. *Where was it coming from?*
"It's me. Jax."
"How in the world? You can talk?"
"There's a lot you don't know, Luna. Follow me."
Flabbergasted, I walked out the back door, passing each tree in my yard until I know where he's leading me. His hole. He does this everyday. I have to refill it everyday.
"Not again, Jax! I don't have time to refill it today. We're supposed to go over Sarah's house so you can play with..." I trailed off. *Why am I explaining this now? I should be asking the questions, like, why can my dog talk? Why did this just start now?*
Jax's shepherd tail was a blur. He had this smug look on his face that I didn't know was possible for a dog.
"It can wait. I promise." His grumbled voice was somehow familiar.
Disappearing around the giant oak, Jax's tail vanishes from sight. *Here it goes again.* I rounded the corner and the hole is much larger than usual. Before even having time to think about refilling this one, something caught my eye. There was a steel door the size of a kennel underneath the giant oak!
"Uh..." is all I could get out.
"Open it. I'll explain everything inside." As soon as the door was open, Jax walked in without hesitation. I couldn't say the same for me. I took a few deep breaths before crouching down and crossing the boundary.
Closing the door behind us, I can only describe the room as a war bunker before the room falls to darkness. Thankfully, the bunker's ceiling was of normal height, despite the small door. All I was able hear was the sound of Jax's nails tapping along the floor. There's a thud as the lights came on. My eyes adjusted to the light. I saw Jax in the middle of the bunker up on his hind quarters with both front paws resting on a large button with both front paws. Turning around, I saw a beam across the back of the door. *That must've been the thud.*
Continuing to turn around, I saw large bags of food - *typical for a dog bunker, I guess* - and a much larger door on the other side of the room.
"What is that other door for?" I couldn't help but ask.
"That's what we're here for. It's past time that you learned a little more about me, Luna. My parents sent me here to protect you."
"Protect me from who? From what?"
"I'll let my parents explain. This is just the portal room to go back to my homeland. They're waiting for us through the door, but I can't go without you." He looked up at me with those puppy eyes he'd perfected the week after I adopted him.
"Oh-okay, I guess. But, how could they be on the other side of the door? We're underground, for goodness' sake!"
"Once we go through that door, it'll make a bit more sense. I promise."
Hesitantly, I walked across the bunker and reach out for the door handle. Jax trotted up next to me. Looking down at him, knowing the bond we've formed over the last two years, I saw that trust in his eyes still. I turned the knob to open the door.
The sight took my breath away. I was blown away by this unexpected landscape.
"Welcome to Kuri, the land of my kind." | 2018-04-27T10:19:06 | 2018-04-27T09:16:08 | 330 | 46 |
[WP] You were a great hero who sacrificed yourself in order to save the world. Now whenever the world is in danger someone always finds a way to bring you back to do it again, you however just want to enjoy the after life and is tired of being brought back constantly. | Here we go again, thought the Hero.
"Seriously, why did they summon me for this? This isn't even that big of a deal. It's just a dragon." He muttered under his breath. You'd think they would have figured out how to deal with this on their own now.
Oh well, might as well get this over with.
Actually, that was not a bad plan. He could just skip to the end *and* ensure himself a quick ticket back to the afterlife.
And maybe if he did enough collateral damage, they'd stop bugging him for minor things.
The Hero realized that he'd been ignoring the priest who had resurrected him as the old vicar prattled on.
He shrugged. He knew the deal, so he doubt be had missed anything important.
Alright then, let's do this.
The priest was blown off his feet as the Hero suddenly launched himself at the dragon. He landed a solid blow and sent the dragon hurtling out of the city, to impact on a nearby mountain. The Hero bounded after it.
A few moments later the city folk and the priest were witness to a truly awe inspiring level of magic as an enormous fireball devoured the dragon and most of the mountain.
\-
The Hero felt his life force ebbing away and sighed in contentment. Yeah, it was a bit anticlimactic to jump strait to his final attack, but that dragon wouldn't be bothering anyone else again, ever. He could already feel the welcoming arms of the afterlife embrace him.
\-
The Priest starred at the mushroom cloud rising into the heavens with bewilderment. One of his fellow clergy ran up behind him. "Wasn't that the Hero's ultimate attack that requires him to sacrifice his life?"
The Priest nodded vaguely while still starring at the rising column of smoke.
"But that means the Hero is dead . . . again!" The other clergy whimpered in despair. "Why would he sacrifice his life against a mere minion of the dark lord? I mean it was just a dragon, we could have handled *that*."
The Priest continued to nod vacantly.
"What will we do?" The other clergy continued to wail.
Finally the Priest shook himself. "What was done once can be done again. Quickly, reset the ceremony and we will re-resurrect the Hero!" As he took command his acolytes began running around and preparing. "And I'll keep resurrecting that idiot until he blows up the right evil monster." He muttered under his breath.
Author's note: Not my best work, but hopefully mildly amusing. I got knocked out my writing groove, and I'm trying to get back into it. | The queue to the pearly gates spanned the length of fifteen clouds. It snaked back at least four months worth of deaths and would grow until the experienced border force returned from their strike, having received both - fair pay and increased holiday. At the helm, sat a row of new staff, floundering with paperwork and struggling to admit even one person per day.
I walked through the gate and toward the queue. It moved and hissed, growing with deep unrest, but where would the people go? I wondered if they had tried storming the gate, or whether some had strayed onto neighbouring clouds in search of some alternative entrance.
I started at the front and made my way down. The further I walked, the more desperate people became; questions turned into begging, and hope into anger. Many recognised me for the hero I was or at least seemed to be. I waved and played the part of crowd entertainer.
I was looking for someone - a man with wispy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a cleft chin. It took four clouds of walking to find the man, and when I did, I pulled him aside. We walked until out of earshot, and I asked his name.
'Jacob,' He said and glanced at the distant queue. 'I think I've lost my place.'
I shook my head. 'Forget about the queue for a moment.'
Jacob looked shocked as if he had been waiting in that very queue for weeks - which he undoubtedly had.
'Do you know who I am?'
Jacob nodded.
'How many times did I save Earth in your lifetime?'
Jacob thought for a moment and shrugged. 'Five or six.'
I smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Do you think it's fair to be called upon *so* many times after my death?'
'I hadn't thought about it.'
'No,' I said. 'Most haven't. But, here we are again. Earth is calling for my help, yet again.'
'Oh,' Jacob said.
'I have a proposition for you,' I said. 'What if, I could help you skip the queue?'
Jacob glanced back with glistening eyes and said. 'That would be... be... incredible - I've been waiting for so long.'
'Well, if you do something for me, then I can get you to the *front*.'
Jacob practically bit my hand off and blurted. 'Anything.'
'You and I look alike, wouldn't you agree?'
'I suppose,' Jacob said.
'And, if you were to say, wear my costume with a blindfold you could almost *be* me?'
Jacob was about to answer, but he swallowed them instead. A strange realisation passed across his face, and the sudden eagerness seemed to drain from it. 'I-I can't save the world.'
'Woah,' I said and tightened my grip on his shoulder. 'Let's not say *"can't"*. Listen, you can either spend another couple of months shuffling along in the queue or, you could pop down to Earth for a couple of days, sort them out and whoosh right back to the front.'
Jacob looked back at the queue and then squinted in the direction the pearly gates were *supposed* to be, but he had yet to see them.
'You're easily saving months, and, the ladies love a hero,' I said and added 'Or men, depending on your preference.'
'But, you have powers. You're a hero.'
'I'll give you my powers, temporarily, of course.'
'So I will be able to fly?' Jacob said, thinking outloud.
'And be the strongest person alive, and be impervious to harm...' I rattled off.
The worry seemed to lessen from Jacob's features, but something was still wrong. 'Why don't you do it?'
'For starters, I haven't done it in hundreds of years. And for another, why would I leave paradise?'
'But, you saved us from the galactic invasion three years ago,' Jacob said.
I leant in an whispered. 'Well, someone who *looked* like me.'
Jacob looked as if I had just told him that Santa wasn't real.
I pulled back and grinned. 'Look, if you're not interested. I'll wander further down the queue and find someone else who looks like me, and is probably more eager to get to the front.' I clapped a hand on Jacob's back and started to guide him toward his old place in the queue.
It took a second for him to look into the distance, at the non-existent pearly gates, and make up his mind. 'Wait. I'll do it.'
---
/r/WrittenThought | 2019-04-15T06:40:52 | 2019-04-15T05:36:22 | 30 | 22 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | Well, i can´t blame them that they laugh at me. I mean, who wouldn´t? A normal man who don´t seem to have any Power except that he is followed at every time by some elvish figures....but, let me start from the beginning, to be precise, the 6th of july.
&#x200B;
It was a normal day, maybe a little warmer, but nonetheless a normal day. Well, it was normal until the Clock hit midnight. I don´t know what happend or why it has happend, but i knew what i have doing at this time....I was playing Warcraft 3 The Frozen throne. yeah, i know a really old game but, i like it. It´s one of my Favorites. And because i was bored and curious, i tested a few Cheat codes...and with a few i mean any code that i could find. But, back to the Story. So, there was i, playing warcraft at midnight and then it happend. I blacked out and woke up in the morning around 9. I thought i just fell to sleep while playing, so i didn´t think much about it. To be honest i didn´t find out that anything happend until i left my house to go to the supermarket and nearly ran into 3 Floating lights, standing in front of my Door. Like every other Human being who looks at 3 ominous lights in front of their house i totally freaked out and walked backwards back into my house and locked the door. The Next three hours i sat at my window and looked at the 3 lights before my house. They didn´t seemed that they want to break in, but neither they looked like they would go away. When it was around 12 o´clock i wanted to call the police, and yes i know that i should have called them earlier, a friend of mine called me, said to me that i should turn on the news. When i turned them on, i saw my friend. Winking at a camera with his mobile, while he deflects bullets with a sword in his right hand. This was the moment when i realized that i didn´t fall a sleep last night, that the ghostly lights outside of my house aren´t there too hurt me and that my friend just turned into the thing every gamer hates, an Yasou.
The Next few weeks were funny. Every other day, there was a great fight who was filmed by news teams and by a few streamer. Chaos was the new order in this time, the police and army were outmatched by single persons and the Gouvernement changed nearly daily due to megalomaniac or bored people. But, this times ended some day. A new, strong Gouvernement was formed, ruled by a triumvirat. Most of the "Evil Players" are in Prison and the rest use their powers to help others and for daily uses. Now, you may be asking what have i done? Ohh, like i said it was funny. In states like Texas, Nevada and Tennessee their were nearly no people, who got powers because everyone went to a big, famous city like new York or washington...Well most people, but not all. I moved from California to Tennessee so that i could to, what i wanted. And what i wanted, was what i got. And that, was a Kingdom. A Kingdom, that now consist of 15 states in the South-east of the former United States of America, Middle America and the North half ot south America.
And now, you may ask why everybody laugh at my. The answer is easy....Nobody knows that i am the King of one of the biggest Kingdom in the Worlds. A King with all the money he needs, absolute immunity for him and his troops and one who can build anything that he wants in seconds. They all think i am just a no body with the Ability to summon Elves. And for me, this is fine, because else it would be really, really boring.
(I apologies for all grammar and spelling errors in this Text.) | 2019-09-30T11:16:55 | 2019-08-12T00:08:14 | 64 | 11 |
[WP] The Anti-Christ came and went, but no one noticed because he wasn't worse than the current state of the world already is. The rapture followed, but no one went to Heaven, so we didn't notice that either. We've been living in Hell for the last 5 years, and no one has noticed, yet.
Boy, I never thought this would take off the way it has. This writing prompt was brought to you by my buddy Jed, who does not post to Reddit. I thought it was a great prompt, and wanted to share it. | *The greatest trick the devil ever played was to convince the world that he didn’t exist*
There were no demons. The world had more than enough of those inhabiting it.
There were no fiery torrents, there were no searing storms, the ground didn’t suddenly collapse. The idea of hell as being an abstract, self-evident thing, with its crimson aesthetic and eternity of pain.
Hell was standing in a line for four hours, waiting to purchase meat for the first time in four weeks, and being told minutes before you enter the market that all meat had been sold.
Hell was the crushing disappointment of another of nature’s remonstrations: another fire, another flood, another crazy storm that leaves people homeless.
Was it hell for all? Sure it was; humans were only capable of enduring injustice so long as it didn’t directly affect them, but when the American economy went, and the rich scrambled to find more imaginary money for a bailout, that was it.
When the working class rebelled, this time they had solidarity.
Guillotines were substituted by public trials, whether they were legitimate in a court of law was irrelevant: whichever billionaire found guilty of social negligence inevitably gave his money over to the incumbent “state.”
Really, everyone ought to have seen the signs coming. All it took was a blend of shrewdness and charisma, the kind that took advantage of the significant shift in what the world looked like to rid the most traditionalist country in the West of its chains, and become the United States’ first elected supreme leader.
Supreme Leaders aren’t the kind that enjoy questions of their supremacy. But nobody cared, because nobody ever spelled it out that way.
The devil convinced everyone that this wasn’t hell, it was just the world going through a bad time.
But there were vaccines. It just happened that the virus they were designed to treat evolved and came back.
But there were technological advancements, ones that made life better, easier, more seamless. Those were the same advancements that maintained the lie that everything was changing as it always had.
But there was freedom. Though organised religion still prospered, and a cultish following of corporate entities provides a neat simulation of what life would’ve been like in the 9th century.
The funny thing is this happened a while ago. The anti-christ came; he was a man with a shaved head and piercing red eyes. He saw what we’d made for ourselves, and realised he wasn’t special. He wasn’t even needed.
When the rapture happened, nobody ascended. The news networks called it “another unforeseen climate event.”
This book is designed as a tool. The pages will contain everything we didn’t see, from the political movements we once criticised and now embraced. From the climate change we kept asserting was reversible, but now know very different. From the interconnectedness of social media, to the landscape of relentless bad news.
For those who still believe that we are living on the same world we always have. We aren’t living in an abstract kind of hell drawn up in centuries old texts. We’re living in the hell we created.
This book is designed to be a guide out of this hell.
*The greatest trick God ever played was to convince humans they might get into heaven* | On the Anti-Christ's 21st birthday he came into his powers.
The clouds were his to control. He could drag them across the sky like folders on a computer screen.
All manner of predatory animals -- spiders, snakes, wolves -- heeded his word. In the forest behind his home they gathered in their hundreds. He'd go out back to speak with them of the havoc they would soon wreak. The wolves howled, the snakes hissed, and the spiders clicked their fangs.
His body became superhuman. He could leap over his house, lift a 500lb boulder overhead, and discern the fine hairs on a person's nose.
The evening before his conquest of the earth was to begin, he drove to a lookout point in the hills. He lay on the bed of his pickup, cracked a beer, and studied the lights of the city beneath him. Pairs of white lights whizzed toward him along the streets and pairs of red lights whizzed away. In the windows of the homes, golden squares revealed the occupied rooms. The city was a twinkling pointillist drawing.
He guessed that there were almost as many people in the city as there were lights that he could see. Each light represented a soul going about its business, oblivious to what was coming.
In his mind's eye, he extinguished those lights one by one. What that extinguishing meant, he wasn't quite sure. It might mean that the person had turned away from god's light and come over satan's side. It might be that they'd died.
Regardless, he imagined the city in the dark. He imagined it quiet. Still.
He imagined it to be his.
The cold beer felt like lightning between his lips. The night air played over skin like a lover's breath. He lay flat and looked up at the stars -- another array of twinkling lights.
Tomorrow would be a good day.
*****
A year passed.
This was a year of great effort for the Anti-Christ. It was a year of great failure.
His packs of wolves were hunted to near extinction by game hunters in helicopters.
People never got used to seeing snakes in their homes, but they did take advantage of the snake boots, snake sticks, and snake traps that flooded the market.
And his poor spiders. They were so small and their bites so rarely fatal. They never stood a chance.
His manipulation of the weather people merely shrugged off as more evidence of climate change. He'd cause a freak flood in a major city, residents would be upset, but after some time they'd simply move on with their lives.
Through all this time, he dare not reveal his superhuman abilities. While he could survive a cut or a stab, he didn't doubt that a hail of bullets would put him down.
No, what the Anti-Christ needed was followers, and there he faced his biggest failure.
Without the ability to terrorize people through his animal followers or physical abilities, he had few options to convince people to join his side and fight for satan in the war of the heavens.
He blogged. He vlogged. He wrote articles on medium. He organized meetups. Nothing gained traction.
As far as most people were concerned, he was just another religious lunatic spouting garbage about the end of the world.
People didn't care what he had to say.
As his first year of conquest came to an end and his 22nd birthday drew near, the Anti-Christ reflected on the state of the world.
What he realized was that the war of the heavens no longer made sense. It was a war to be fought by deeply religious people with spears and swords. It was made ridiculous by the information age. How could he possibly motivate people to cast their neighbours into eternal hellfire when they could order delivery food while watching Netflix? There was no question. These weren't the soldiers of hell he'd been looking for. There was no central anger governing their actions. There was only the pursuit of the next day. The next thing.
And so on the Anti-Christ's 22nd birthday, he drove once again to the lookout in the hills. He lay on the bed of his pickup, cracked a beer, and studied the city lights below, still resolutely twinkling.
He tried once again to imagine them going dark, but he found the attempt ridiculous. He could imagine them dark all he liked, they would still be there.
The cold beer felt like sour water between his lips. The night air chilled his skin to goosebumps.
He cried then.
And while he cried, he came to an acceptance.
He'd tried his hardest and he'd failed. The central goal of his life was unobtainable.
He could keep pushing until he was thirty, or he could accept the hard truth. There would be no grand conquest. Heaven would not be marshaling its forces against his hordes of demons. He would not lead earth's millions in satanic ritual.
He would have to content himself with being just another person. He would have to get a job, an apartment, a spouse.
Decades from know, he knew he'd look back at this time of his life fondly, but there was no denying the facts.
Nobody gets what they want.
*****
*r/TravisTea* | 2020-03-18T14:36:15 | 2020-03-18T14:32:20 | 276 | 92 |
[WP] Tooth Fairies are a smaller and friendlier subspecies of the larger and much more hostile Bone Fairies.
Taken from this post [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/TIHI/comments/fmy38y/thanks_i_hate_tooth_fairies_now) | Little Alice thought it clever
To tie her tooth up to a tether
And when a fairy tried to take
String would pull and she would wake.
But fool a fairy and bad things churn
As little Alice was soon to learn...
"Goodnight, Mom!" she said with glee
Then tied the string around her knee
The moon outside did shine and shiver
And sprinkle down a silver river
She closed her eyes and began to dream
Little knowing
That soon she'd scream
The witching hour dimmed the night
And there! -- her tether pulled firm and tight!
Alice woke and acted fast--
Saw the fairy all aghast
The fairy fluttered as it struggled
But soon its cries would all be muffled
Alice grabbed a glass from her table
And imprisoned it, escape unable
"Please!" the fairy begged and cried
"You have to run, you have to hide!"
But Alice jumped and jigged and laughed
For she'd kept this fairy from her craft
How clever, Alice thought herself
How clever-- what's that by the shelf?
A shadow brewed
Very tall
And Alice moved
Not at all
The room was cold
A bit like ice
And all her hair now
Crawled with lice
"Who's there?" she said
"I'm n-n-not afraid."
"You'll scare," it growled
"Once in my cage."
Out of the shadows the creature dipped
Its teeth so jagged, its skin so ripped
She tried to scream but her voice it stole
And very soon it would take her soul
The sunrise came,
And in crept Mom.
"Alice?" she said.
"Where have you gone?"
For the bed was empty
The string on the floor
And Little Alice
Was Alice, no more | Falk lifted up and shook his collection bag. Where once the soothing rattle of bone on bone would have been heard, there was now only silence.
*What am I going to do...*
The harvest had become increasingly difficult. Earth and its wonderful, skeletal beings had long ago been sold to history. New bones were a myth, and old bones legends. But whatever just reasons there may have been for the dwindling supply, it only really mattered to fairies like Falk.
The underworld still made its demands.
The distraught fae fluttered gently over purplish grass toward the deepening red of the horizon. In better times it would have been a beautiful sight. But as he journeyed to Ancient Hill, he only felt conviction. He thought of times where his flight was made difficult and bumpy due to a tremendous bounty. He thought of how pleased his masters used to be with his skills, and how he had once been so highly honored among his kind.
But now his flight was easy and smooth.
Dim thoughts about how much longer this realm could survive flickered in the back of Falk's mind. Surely a change would have to take place. Surely the ancients could find a different source of sustenance. *They'll have to; the time of bone is coming to an end!* But he knew reason had no place here. He knew the ancients never looked beyond their holy hill. He knew what was to come. Whether today or tomorrow, the fate of this place would find its place next Earth.
His journey was now near completion. The Hill, an imposing but increasingly decrepit city, now was in view. The ancient walls blackened by time and greed. Falk smirked and laughed upon the sight, as he only now could see the truth in what it represented.
Upon making his way inside, he found the streets barren. The chattering of small insect like creatures could be heard fleeing from his presence as he walked, but he was otherwise alone. The uneasy sound of wind flowing through abandoned windows seemed fitting accompaniment for his journey, as he made his way up to the Last Hall.
The great door to the Hall opened upon his arrival. He smiled, knowing that somewhere, *someone* had opened the thing. *Good. Life yet exists,* he thought.
Without pomp he made his was to the Judge, whom he was meant to offer his harvest. The ancient behemoth of a fairy looked down from its throne. Falk would have once been shaken to his core by such a direct stare, but now he found he didn't much care.
"You've looked better, Judge," he said.
The Judge frowned. "Your collection?"
Falk held up an empty bag.
"Pity. You were a good one. But the rules apply to you all."
"I know," Falk said.
The Judge called out in a horrid cry, and a servant appeared to whisk Falk away. They silently made their way to a room far beneath the city; one he had heard about, but never seen. There they were greeted by other living servants. He found himself smiling and encouraged by the hustle and bustle of purposeful work.
But as they stretched out and restrained his arms, he realized that his collection bag had been set up on a stand, and was ready to be filled. He gave a glance to the servant who had first brought him out of the presence of the Judge.
"A bone is a bone," the servant said.
Falk knew he was likely going to die upon coming to this place, but somehow never thought it would end quite like this. But he quickly moved on from whatever painful thoughts and feelings were knocking at the door. Instead, he again distracted himself with purposeful things.
He found his final comfort in knowing, that in just a little while, his collection bag would be full once more.
&nbsp;
______________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. | 2020-03-22T09:50:14 | 2020-03-22T09:38:36 | 1,714 | 256 |
[WP] Of all the races in the galactic federation, humans were the most average. Some races were strong but lacked intelligence and others were smart but lacked strength. Humans were average across the board. This is why they were considered to be so dangerous. | So, we're "average".
There are species who are stronger *on average*.
There are species who are smarter *on average*.
There are species which are faster *on average*.
And so it goes, all the other species *on average* do something better than humans *on average*.
Each of the other species is skewed one way or another on all the bell curves for every attribute that anyone has dreamt up to measure.
So what. That also means that there is always some human who can outperform your best on any given scale.
We can best any species in a multiple task/environment competition. Why? Because we're average.
When you don't know what you're going to find on a mission, you bring a few humans along. If you run into something that takes out the other species, chances are, at least one of the humans is still functional.
Drop a bunch of Chk'tok on a high grav world which for them is anything above 1.5 Earth G, and they're dead. It doesn't matter that under 1 EG they can outrun a cheetah; they're gone. A human can keep functioning with mild supports and some care when lifting things.
So the gazillion planets that they can't use? We feel *almost* right at home. We don't take the high grav worlds, the bone dry ones, or any planet that best fits another species. And as the Firtians say, we breed like funditiers. Oh my yes, we do breed fast, for a species that isn't a hive mind.
We are the Indispensable tool. The Swiss Army knife of the galaxy. And they know it. If we got busy, their *preferred* planets would shortly be *ours*. So, yeah, we get the little guy attitude about them being better, but when it comes down to the cutting edge, you will always see a human there, holding the tools that will save the day.
((finis)) | "I swear to the three moons of Argot, If you call me average one more time Grimmy I will take one of those freakish long fingers of yours and shove it into one of those many holes that cover your freakish body." I huffed, not usually this rude, but the alien was being quite a pest, the little creature running around my desk pointing out just how useless we should be.
"Oh, I mean little offense primate, I was merely saying that with our advanced intellect you should be below us, we should be walking you like those fluffy creatures your species love so much, what did you call them?" I just shot him a glare in response, causing him to stutter. "A-ah, that doesn't matter." Grimmy was what we called a twitcher, in the past that would have meant something different, but now is referred to as a twitchy species of aliens that had a superiority complex as big as their heads. Their body was about eight percent head and their green skin coated in blue patched that coated them like a gel if you were to touch it, your finger would slide against it with ease. It was said that this substance was what made them so intelligent, allowing quick and logical decision making, yet due to their small bodies, they were pretty easy to beat up. The creatures' bodies filled with weird holes, some of these holes even being see-through. Funnily enough, when I returned to earth with Grimmy, the alien nearly got blown away by a strong breeze, no one had told him that Earth had wind. Oh, I wish we caught that frightened expression, he wasn't so smart then was he.
"EARTH CLAN, WE FIGHT." As if on cue, the rock of an alien stomped in, nearly stepping on Grimmy with his elephant-like foot.
"Do you idiots just wait outside my office all day? Do you all not have work to do? Because I do and I am quite busy. I expected better from my fellow council members. Now can you please piss off Rockerfella."
"Piss off? but I don't have to piss." The Creature wabbled over, his size impressive, I often wondered how he even managed to get into my room, he didn't seem to have knees made for bending, so did he just break the roof of my door? I sure hoped not...
"That's not... Grimmy go ahead and explain this to him." I said as I continued tapping away at my computer, hoping that those two would get into an argument, giving me some time to focus on my work.
"Ah yes, you see the expression 'piss off' is an Earth term that means-"
"SHUT UP NERD, ME WANT FIGHT NOW, IF HUMAN CLAN NO FIGHT, ME GO AND FIGHT YOU." The rock roared, causing Grimmy to jump under the desk.
I sighed, pushing my chair back, looking over at Rockerfella. "Ok, meet me on the roof, I will be there in ten minutes," I said as the rocky alien gave a grin.
"See, Human brave, me award him with shiny stone after I beat him." With that, the creature wandered off, most likely to the roof.
I continued my work, never planning to actually attend this fight, I just wanted him out of my office so I could finally work, Grimmy stared at me from under the table, seeming surprised that such a stupid plan worked. "You know... he will catch on to that one day and you will be in trouble."
"Yeah, I was worried the second time I did it, but this is the fourth time it's worked so I don't think he will ever catch on, Now do you mind getting out of my office so I can work? Or do I have to throw you out the airlock?"
"A-ah... no, nice speaking to you human!" Grimmy gave a wave before he rushed from the room, finally leaving me to work.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} | 2020-03-24T07:17:52 | 2020-03-24T06:40:00 | 46 | 19 |
[WP] Humans are unique among all space faring creatures, they can interbreed successfully with any sentient lifeform. You run the station daycare. | The little girls arm was completely missing, blood dripping onto the floor as her eyes stared wide in shock.
“Toby bit me!”
Sighing from exhaustion I unwrapped the first aid kit bandage that had the regrowth serum infused with it. The toddlers color started to flush back into her cheeks as she came out of shock. Her teeth began to lengthen with anger accompanied by a rumbling growl that escaped as I interrupted with a kind tone.
“That was not very nice was it? Use your words and tell Toby how biting hurts! And Toby, go tell Ooble-nact you’re sorry that’s not okay.”
“Toby no thank you! Hurts!”
The little girl yelled.
Toby continued to crunch what was left of Ooble-nact’s fingers before swallowing with a loud gulp. Guilty protruding eyes batted as his bloody lips utter a “Sorry...hungry!”
Rubbing my eyes I retrieved the cleaning agent and started cleaning the pool of blood on the floor.
“We just had snack Toby, you’ll have to wait for lunch time love bug.” | Things were grim in the station daycare. Little Carol, the offspring of Dave and a black hole, had opened her mouth, sucking in the surrounding universe and destroying half of the station. The other kids played behind her, stepping on their own tentacles and falling to the ground, unaware of the severity of the situation.
"Close your mouth, Carol!" I shouted at the top of my lungs but the deafening roar of the rupturing space buried my voice. "Carol!"
My eyes darted to Vishnalan, the girl with a hundred hands, who was fighting against Boris, the boy with a hundred tentacles for limbs. They were battling too close to Little Carol. Too close.
I drew a deep breath. Witnessing the station crumble made my blood boil and my pocket cry. They would take this off of my pay. I cursed under my breath. I was certain Talandar took off Little Carol's muzzle. It was either him or Qepoke or both, those gelatinous tricksters.
Vishnalan took a step back. Her shirt warped toward Little Carol. I had to act. She would be sucked into nothingness otherwise, compressed into her death. But if I went, I would risk dying too.
I shook off my selfish thoughts and remembered the oath of the spacial caretakers.
Certain, I dashed forth. Vishnalan's feet left the ground. Her face distorted with confusion. I sprung toward her and hauled her out of the black hole's radius. She said something to me, but the roaring of dying stars forbade me from hearing.
What she said became apparent a moment later. She struck the ground, while I never did. I was floating, a victim of the hole's violent pull. I felt hot and cold at the same time. My skin wobbled and stretched the closer to the center I got.
"Carol!" I said, floating above her. "Close your mouth!"
She looked at me. The curvature of her eyes resembled a smile. The little freak was enjoying this.
Despair and desperation kicked in. My mouth changed places with my nose and my nose seemed to have fallen to the floor. I was not myself anymore, but a knot of particles adrift in ever-warping tides of black--
Everything came to halt.
I struck the ground hard and looked at Little Carol. She had finished yawning. "Boris, the muzzle!" I shouted as Little Carol threatened to yawn again. He grabbed her from behind and put on the muzzle.
Little Carol stood up and slapped him.
I turned and studied the damages.
I sighed.
They didn't pay me enough.
\--
Dear reader, may I steal a bit more of your time? You see, I'm not a wealthy man. On the contrary, I'm a pauper, a miser, a beggar. If you have a follow to spare [on my profile](https://www.reddit.com/u/BeggaryAndBastardy?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share), I would never forget it. | 2020-08-10T10:59:46 | 2020-08-10T10:47:52 | 123 | 75 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | Humans. Most of them are frail and are usually first blood. They cower in fear as the Prowlers and Gignids rip them apart. Some are different, some can put up a fight if they happen to have weapons on them, but none have been crowned champion yet.
"This year should be exciting, we might not even get a human from earth." said one of the Argker in the crowd.
"Oh right, their planet got completely overrun, didn't it? I dont even think there are any left. We should be getting a real beast today!" said his friend, sitting next to him and munching on the intergalactic equivalent of a hotdog.
Though back in the control room, confusion arose. "Its been pacing around its cell for a few hours now. According to its DNA its clearly human, but theres something else we can't quite make out."
Inside the cell a tall, brawny figure in green armor stood and inspected the walls of the room. He could break out with ease if it wanted to, but something was not right. He felt like he would encounter something huge soon, something with huge guts if he just stayed in the cell for now.
"No matter, if its just a human we will likely see the usual disappointment and first blood as all other seasons. Now, its time. Order the announcements and open the gates."
The gates open, the fighters are pushed out of their cells and the killing begins.
The human slowly steps out, double barrel shotgun in hand. The Argker aliens made their biggest and last mistake bringing him here.
As the human sees all the demon-like creatures enter the arena, only one thought crosses his mind..
# "RIP AND TEAR!" | Oh god. I have no internet so let’s try writing this from my phone. Sorry in advance for typos and punctuation. Already hard enough on the phone but I also got fat thumbs! Best I can get with a quick and dirty write up on the bus!
“Are the contestants ready?”
“Of course Game Master Zerg. Right on time. We have a line up from several different galaxys.”
“And a human?”
“Good! Proceed post haste! You can’t find entertainment like this else where and the people are waiting!”
The arena looked like a scrunched up map. Forests sat next to deserts, desserts next to snowy plains and ice topped mountains and so on. It was the Game Masters goal to encapsulate as many environments as he could, to allow all the fighters a place to move naturally.
Zeg focused his screen on a human who stood on a grassy hillock, flanked by a river, and speckled with trees. The humans always died first, but they could get pretty creative while attempting to live. They where like a firework, short lived but spectacular.
This one was a bit odd though. It was covered from head to toe in green armor, a large Warhammer in his grasp. It mattered not though, an Xixliv was stalking the human. This 6 lumber creature where apex predators as well as being fully sapient. A mix of instinct and critical thought.
Zeg sighed, the human this year probably wouldn’t be very entertaining. He watched the Xixliv pounce.
The human however was ready, they wheeled around shouting “FOR THE GLORY OF DUNDEE!” While swing his might hammer. It collided with the Xixliv with a sickening crunch. The hammer flashed, thunder struck and half of the beats body was atomized. What was left of its mangled carcass flew through the air before hitting the ground in an unceremonious heap.
Zeg sat stunned. He watched the human raise his hammer to the sky. “Zagothrax! What kind of joke is this! Come and fight me you damnable wizard!”
Zeg was mid throught caught between wondering who or what a Zagothrax was, and how the human managed to beat a Xixliv in one hit? His pondering was interrupted as the entire structure of the planet sized ship, the contained the arena, shook. Alarms blazed.
Zeg flicked several switches and demanded a status report.
“W-w...Idono sir. We are under attack...but this...this can’t be possible.”
“Out with it you bumbling oaf!”
“ We are being attacked by just one person...bio scans indicate that it’s heart is...a Neutron Star. It’s currently making its way to the arena.”
“A Neutron Star? This isn’t the time for jokes. Get security down to the arena doors. I will meet this invader myself!”
Before Zeg had the chance to stand, he watched the walls of the arena blow open from his observation room. The smoke and debris settled revealing what looks to be a muscled, finely toned man, garbed in furs of various beasts, caring nothing more than a battle axe.
“Angus! What are you doing here? We have no time for games!” The man shouted.
“Hootsman! Thank goodness! I believe this to be a trap set by the wizard.”
“ Its nothing of the sort! Quickly with me! We must return to space! The chaos wizards move on Cowdenbeath!”
The two figures quickly fled through the hole in the arena. Leaving Zeg stunned and sputtering commands into his microphone. | 2020-09-13T19:02:15 | 2020-09-13T18:50:43 | 70 | 23 |
[WP] You were born with the ability to stop time, but only temporarily. You can stop time for as five seconds. One day, at 33 years old, you stop time. As you move through your crowded office, you notice one of your coworkers's fingers twitch. | That damn twitch was on my mind for the past few weeks. What did it mean? Shes never moved before, in fact nothing has. Ants, chickens, people, or the planes in the sky. Nothing moves. Ever.
I tried to replicate it over and over and over again. I would stand next to her desk, freeze time, and watch. Once, out of sheer frustration I slapped her. Nothing.
FUCK.
This HAS to mean something. But what is it? I went as far as to hide a camera in her office and I would randomly freeze time....only to realize that of course the camera froze with it.....FUCK. THE FRUSTRATION! Answers, I needed answers. Was this all a ruse, was this in my head, did she actually move. I needed to know.
Then. One night, sitting at the end of the bar where I normally sit every night trying to figure out what in the fuck I have done with my life, and drowning it with shot after shot. The trick is to freeze time, grab the shot, slam it, then put it back.....kinda stealing but it helped me forget all the horrible things I had done, 5 seconds at a time. 5 seconds, is enough time to do terrible things. Especially while deployed to the war in Afghanistan....
I was sitting at the end of the bar, in my seat. Freezing time to increase my level of intoxication when all of the sudden I hear a voice.
"Hey."
I look over, and it's her. My co-worker. She's moving.....
Then I notice it.
6 seconds.....
7 seconds.......
8...9..10.11.12........
"WHAT IS THIS?!" I yelled. What's happening?!"
"It's ok, you're one of us."
"One of who...?"
"Us....you know? The ones who can freeze time and manipulate it, it bends to us, it's, us. We are time...."
"I don't understand."
"Come with me, we've been looking for you. It's time you learn. 5 seconds is only the beginning...." | **What would you do if you could stop time for a few seconds?**
I'm pretty sure a lot of people have thought about this question as something hypothetical in nature. This isn't the case for me.
It started when I was 7 years old.
I was riding my bike around the neighborhood when suddenly a dog came from around the corner, foaming at the mouth, chasing me for what felt like where hours until I feel off my bike.
In a panic I tried to get up as quickly as I could and turned around only to see the raging beast leaping in the air about to bite me.
Then it happened, just as I felt that my heart almost stopped so did the dog stop mid-air in its tracks.
In my disbelief I touched the beast and sure enough he didn't budge an inch. I circled around him and then suddenly he landed right where I stood just a few seconds ago.
The chase was on once more and once more right when I felt cornered it happened. The dog froze, only this time I didn't stick around.
It took me a few more occasions until I finally figured out that I had the power to stop time for 5 seconds.
So many times this power has saved me and allowed me to save others. Granted I have also used it for very mundane things.
I mean wouldn't you stop time if you could during a school exam? Or during sex?
What if you saw the cutest dog ever? Wouldn't you want to pet it for as long as you could?
Anyways I'm getting off-topic a bit.
Recently I've had to use my power more often as more and more people around me get into dangerous situations.
I started wondering if this was a consequence of my power. Did they get into those situations because I was around there? As if it was fated that someone with the power to stop time would be there to rescue them.
Then one day it happened.
I was at work when I overheard screams coming from the other side of the office.
Someone was falling from window when I used my power to hurry and see if I could try to soften their landing. I did my best to avoid being exposed so in situations like these I try to save people in a way that would seem somewhat plausible that they would survive.
My power grew in the recent years and I was able to activate it a few times in a row at the expense of my stamina, so I was able to slowly reduce the inertia from the falling man. He would still land with a broken leg and maybe an arm but he would survive.
I was at the ground level getting into position to catch him before activating my power one last time when I saw something from the corner of my eye.
It seemed impossible so I dismissed it to go finish the task of saving the man that was only a few seconds away from seriously injuring himself upon landing.
But after ensuring that the guy wouldn't hurt himself more than needed I turned around to see someone walking towards me.
It was a colleague of mine and she had a grin that went from ear to ear.
"I've finally found you! Yay!"
"Today is my lucky day!"
Time resumed for a split second and when I activated my power again she was staring right into my eyes.
"I knew someone from the office had powers like mine but I wasn't sure who it was."
"It took me a while to find you. You gave me a lot of work, I had to be more and more creative creating these acc-"
I couldn't hear what she said as time started moving normally again and her voice was drowned out by the screaming bystanders that saw a man hit the pavement.
Her face turned into one that was annoyed at the fact that we couldn't continue our conversation in private. I was too tired to activate my power again and she noticed that.
I blinked and suddenly it got quiet. Everyone around me... dead.
I felt as if someone had grabbed my pocket and so I pulled a note from it.
>I'm going home for now :)
>
>Today was the happiest day of my life.
>
>I was bored out of my mind having to deal with primitive people all the time.
>
>I've always wanted someone that could keep me entertained.
>
>See you around
That day I found out that some people should not be able to answer the question. | 2020-09-22T07:02:41 | 2020-09-22T06:20:21 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] You are the infamous 10th Dentist. A new toothpaste has been brought before the commission and the previous 9 dentists have already approved it. As you inspect the toothpaste, there is a slight problem. You actually like it. | Stewart sat straight awaiting his turn to review the product. He was the storied Tenth Dentist—the cavity crusader, the plaque protector, the last bastion against the dreaded *gingavitus.*
The others dentists had been phoning it in for years now. They had approved this particular product on *sight.*
>“Does it clean teeth?”
>
>“Yes!”
>
>"And does it taste minty fresh?"
>
>"You bet!"
>
>“Approved!”
Stewart wouldn't be so easy. He hadn’t approved a product for market in years. Soft-bristled tooth-brush? *Fail—if the gums don't bleed, they will recede*. Bubblegum flavored toothpaste? *Fail—children shouldn’t be conditioned to enjoy bubblegum*. Tooth-whitening strips? *Double fail!—There is no cheat code for good dental hygiene*.
Stewart was the last of the old-guard. Dentistry was serious business, and the products needed to reflect that. He ate nothing but whole-grain wheat-thins and brushed four times a day using a custom-made porcupine-quill toothbrush.
He picked up the sample brush the council had provided for purposes of testing the new paste. He sniffed it, pressed on its bristles, and tested its flex. His nose wrinkled as he shook his head and tossed the brush to the side. He squeezed a dollop of toothpaste directly onto his finger instead.
He put the paste to his nose, wafting the aroma with his other hand. “Interesting,” he said. “I’m getting a bouquet of fresh pear… savory yet sweet like a caramelized ham… and is that a note of shoe leather?”
The other nine dentists looked at one another. “*I thought it was spearmint*,” one whispered. “*It is, but I can see the caramelized ham undertones. This man is a genius*.” The other nodded. “*Astounding*.”
Stewart pulled his lip back and slowly smeared the paste along his lower gum. He then slapped both hands against his cheeks, leaving red marks.
*It’s the Stewart Slap!* one of the dentists whispered excitedly. *It’s meant to reset the neural network in his mouth. He hasn’t needed to use it in years!* The other dentist rolled his eyes. *What do I look like, an amateur? Of course I know about the Stewart Slap! Now shut up, this is big.*”
Stewart took a sip of water, swishing it around his mouth with purpose. After a moment, he spat the water out into the crystal spittoon he carried with him at all times. He dabbed his mouth and looked up at the council.
“I’ve made my decision,” Stewart said. The room had gone deadly quite, suspense permeating the air. “I would recommend this product,” he said at last.
Cheers erupted throughout the council. A tear rolled down the face of the First Dentist. The Seventh Dentist pulled out a rosary, touched it to his forehead and kissed it. The Fifth Dentist made a bee-line for Stewart, emphatically shaking his hand before grabbing the tube and squeezing its entire contents into his mouth.
But a distinct groan punctuated the celebration. Everyone went quiet and turned around to see who it was.
A man in the back had stood up, his face red, muttering a string of profanity under his breath. “Goddammit!" he shouted, pointing at Stewart. "*You* weren’t supposed to recommend it! You were supposed to be the hold-out!”
Stewart looked the man dead on, unblinking. “I liked it, so I recommend it," he said. "Ten out of ten dentists approve. Congratulations.”
The man pulled out a phone and punched a number into it. “Sharon? Pull the toothpaste from the market ... Yes, you heard me! Pull it! Stewart *approved*! We’re screwed!”
Murmurs rippled throughout the council.
The man put his phone back into his pocket. “Stewart you damn bastard! We can’t have *ten out of ten* dentists recommend our toothpaste! That’s unheard of! It's *unthinkable*! They’ll assume we rigged the votes! We’re sunk!”
Stewart shrugged and walked off, the room erupting into chaos as he closed the door behind him. He smirked to himself. Caramelized ham undertones? Not on his watch. That toothpaste should never see the light of market, and he'd just made sure of it.
***
&nbsp;
Thanks for reading! Check out r/Banana_Scribe for some of my favorite pieces. | My 'colleagues' were already writing down their statements of approval. Fools. They used it once, on themselves at that, and they trust their own judgements? Pah. I'd spit on them, but they'd probably like that as well.
But I am a professional, if nothing else. I will... observe the formalities. Experience whatever gutter-sludge they call 'toothpaste'. And, of course, return my disapproval. I always do. I always do.
"Doctor McKenzie." The rat mumbles. "Our new product." He hands over a small, flat box, and I snatch it away. His tremors would likely destabilise any pleasant substances that would float in the paste by happenstance, and it was only fitting to experience a cleansing substance at its best.
I am a professional, you see. A professional, if nothing else.
"Out." I say, sternly. The rat leaves, and I jot down a reminder in my notebook, neatly stating a need to clean the floor later. And not step on it until then.
The first step is simple. I open a drawer, handle made of polished silver, gloves stopping any contamination. I pick a pair of tweezers, which I use to pick out a slightly smaller pair of tweezers. The latter, of course, is currently in a pool of boiling cleaning solvent - my own formulae.
My fingers do not shake as I use the tweezers to open the box. Surprisingly adequate containment.
I note that down.
Resting in velvet is the tube. The tube is important. The tube *conveys.* Information. Aesthetics. My mother told me, when I was young, that the colour of the plate did not affect the taste of the food. She was wrong, of course. Colours have meanings, subconscious and conscious, that colour our other perceptions. Colours, and textures, and shapes. All united.
I turn over the tube to look at it from all angles. A button press, and a view-scope emerges. My own design. No others do.
I check through every spectrum, and it becomes apparent that the colours are pure. The white is so white it might blind a winter spirit. The black so pitch as to have a gravity, accepting all light by diffusion.
The linework is... Spectacular.
The font precise, yet friendly. Enticing. The red hums with the emotions of the blood, the wine. The company logo remodelled, out of the way, yet in sight.
The list of ingredients conveying everything one would need to know. Somehow personalised, and standardised, simultaneously. It tells me, should it be truthful, that this may be something new. Something that might work. I let out a breath involuntarily.
I pull a lever that makes no sound. The floor shifts, then rises, then opens. The hiss of noble gasses escapes the vault. The locks click open one by one. Mechanical, electronic, magnetic, occult. A disk with two artisanal restraints holds my toothbrush, and with a heavy heart, I take it. Could this be the day?
A container of reinforced glass accepts the end of the brush. My brush. A brush that has seen so much wear and tear from the brutish excretions of lesser designers that it would make anyone weep if they understood the magnitude of those failures. Mist is expelled, and the bristles soak it up. The water is not pure, but contains a variety of minerals to enhance the taste and medical benefits. Those of my colleagues that use pure water disgust me. Purity is in biology, not in physics.
I calm myself, and take the toothbrush again.
I squeeze the toothpaste. It comes out like a dream. Forms the perfect wave upon the bristles. White streaked with palest blue, and green pinpricks. I smell mint, and peppermint, and it takes all my willpower to avoid gorging myself on the beauty of it all.
I begin to brush.
An instant takes a year.
My eyes widen. Water. Water in my mouth, toothpaste on my teeth. Melding. Purging.
Purifying.
The last remnants of plaque removed from my teeth. A deep clean that rumbles my very bones. The taste is exquisite, and yet I feel no desire to swallow. Just as intended.
I do not choke on my tears. I am a professional, if nothing else. But I desperately want to.
A precise time passes without my realisation, and I pull out the brush. Spotless. I pull out my desk mirror, and bare my teeth. Spotless.
I smile. Spotless.
And I keep smiling, though my grin becomes less rictus, as tears of joy drift gently down my face.
---
*"The Commission has sent feedback?"*
*"Yes, - well, not quite, Sir."*
*"Hmm?"*
*"No feedback, this time. Just a small envelope. Much more... Noble? I can't quite describe it, but the envelope is a thing of beauty."*
*"Have you opened it?"*
*"There are instructions to only open it while you and I are alone, Sir."*
*"... And you listened?"*
*"I- The letter was quite compelling, Sir."*
*"Well, go on then. Let's see it."*
...
*"Oh. Oh my."*
*"I'm sure you understand now, Sir."*
*"Compelling indeed. But now I'm curious to see what's inside."*
...
*"It just says... Ten out of ten dentists approve. There's a small key here as well, taped to the paper. And... Is that gold foil?"*
*"Other substances as well. But the message is... Unexpected."*
*"I... I recognise what this key is, Sir."*
*"And?"*
*"Occult markings."*
*"Like the occult you used to make the toothpaste?"*
*"The very same, Sir. The paper has them as well. It must be what made the envelope so beautiful, and convinced me to follow its instructions."*
*"... What does this mean, practically speaking?"*
*"We're not the first to figure out how to invoke the occult, Sir. The first dentists, perhaps, but..."*
*"... Could the tenth dentist be a security measure? A test?"*
*"It's likely, Sir."*
...
*"Well, they haven't denied us permission to market and sell it. And they're one of the only institutions not attached to the Dee-Oh-En-Ess at this point."*
*"I think we now know why, Sir."*
*"Well, keep on course when it comes to the roadmap. None of your defences have been triggered yet, at least, which implies to me that we're still on track to break the Veil."*
*"Of course, Sir."*
*"Oh, and Anmet? This will be great marketing. Call in a little later and we can discuss a pay rise."*
*"... Thank you, Sir."* | 2021-02-20T11:08:28 | 2021-02-20T08:52:52 | 339 | 79 |
[WP] Elves are intelligent, subtle, and ambitious—a perfect fit for the world of high finance where they work in skyscrapers, make gobs of gold, and regard the blue collar dwarves with contempt. Grorric Blackfury is an oddity, and is feared for it. He’s the Dwarf of Wall Street. | "Dae fundamentas are *strong*". Grorric Blackfury stared ahead with great intensity, his beard obscuring any sort of facial movements, gnarled hands twirling a gnomic spinner. Through his one eye, he belied a transcendent fury.
"Mr Blackfury we appreciate your concerns about Alabaster Inc, however on papyrus the underlying securities are of great concern to the Quelanor Council..." the Elven fool chipped on mindlessly for a few moments, seemingly unaware of his words uselessness. They were like the wind, constantly changing and of little substance or grounding. Grorric liked the rocken caverns and limestone interiors of the Dwarven holds.
But, his people needed him here. His was the first foray into the financial markets, and so by proxy he represented; for the first time, all Dwarven mining collectives. After a few moments he adjusted his eye patch, acquired from an unfortunate explosive incident in the Gnome Wars, and spat at the Elf, who recoiled. "Why of all the, the, fuck!"
"Dae fundamentas...are...strong." Grorric again repeated, more slowly. "Ah can see your objectives like a moleraat in the heat. Yer shortin Alabaster on account of the reductions in temple constructions." He pulled out his briefcase, deploying papers and mathematical charts. "However, the truth is nah so convinient for ye prissy folk. Inter-sect conflict is increasing, as are rates of adventuring partays. And, monster attacks have increased in the southern plains."
An elf blew tobacco smoke in Grorric's face, to no effect. His lungs were choked from years of work in the coal mines, and his time on the surface had been quite the reprieve. "Meaningless drivel, Alabaster is still in low demand. You will need to cave, and pull out for better ventures."
"We Dwarves have held on for longer than you can remember. The Dark Lord is clearly coming again from the Southron Front, and temples shale fall in his wake." He delivered this statement with a hint of delusional grandeur, smirking under his beard but shining with his eye. "And when tha day of Reckoning comes, the Alabaster will be needed to rebuild."
"So continue shorting all you want, but we Dwarves are holding, and will present the bill when it's due. Until then, pound sandstone." | Dorophine shared an office with Grorric.
She was put there because they wanted to "show the newbie the ropes," but all it did was show her how much Dwarves loved to sing and drink and swear - in alternate orders depending on their often erratic moods.
Grorric bellowed:
*"...We wore down the mines -*
*the elves' canary birds.*
*For creatures tall and fine -*
*They toss us out like turds..."*
As annoying as it was, Dorophine couldn't help but admire how such a little thing could get its voice so low. That was the only thing she admired about him, however. His dangling, unkempt beard bore the bread, butter, and beer of his belly-filling breakfast, and his burps reeked of last night's bourbon. Actually, Dorophine thought, she couldn't help but be in awe of his numbers. So that was actually two things she admired - she was unlikely to find a third. She may have hated his work style, but his numbers... Well, they were nothing to scoff at - and that was saying a lot; elves *loved* to scoff.
*"Their craps are wet and soft -*
*but ours are hard and dry.*
*We Dwarves are of the Earth!*
And Elves are of the Sky."
Finishing his last verse, Grorric pushed back his chair, jumping onto the floor with a resounding *thud,* and crouched under his desk. Dorophine heard a *click*ing sound and then a *smack*. His under-desk minifridge. Grorric's head popped back up a Dwarve's Pint of Elvian ale in hand.
He looked at Dorophine and winked:
"You Elves may be a pompous, tight-ass folk... But damn me if you don't make damn fine beer!"
He tipped his head back and guzzled down a hearty gulp.
"Should you *really* be drinking at work, Blackfury?" Dorophine shuddered.
One of Grorric's eyes looked at Dorophine menacingly - she couldn't tell if it was his stray one or his glass one truthfully. Unsure of what to do, she just looked ridge of his nose instead.
"Dolphin, is it?" He grunted.
"Dorophine." She apologised.
"Well, *Dorophine,* I'll tell you this - drink or no drink, I shit better bonds than you and piss better stock..." He laughed, taking another swig of his Elvian ale. Droplets condensed and seeped into his beard, "Do you think you're the first Elf to think they're better than me? Huh?" Dorophine just stared so Grorric continued."No? didn't think so! And I can tell you something for certain, you sure as hell ain't gonna be the last. But, y'know what...? I'm better than the lot of them pretentious prats and that's why I got where no other Dwarf has."
Dorophine didn't quite know what to say so stayed quiet.
"You're not the first Elf to sit in that chair while I'm here, Dolphin. High society, great posture, not a whisker in sight - I've seen ten of you at least, and it's always the same... They ain't got the wits for this job." Grorric grinned at Dorophine. "In all honesty, I don't care if you're the one that sticks, but if you are you've got a lot to learn."
Dorophine looked unsure whether she had another reason to admire the little man or hate him.
"And what would you say I've got to learn, Grorric." Somewhat sarcastically.
Tipping the last of his pint of ale down his gullet, the Dwarf smashed his glass throwing it into the bin, straightening up, clearing his throat whilst saying, "So much..." he looked Dorophine in the eye with a coy, lopsided smile, "I'll teach you if I'm not too low-brow for an Elf such as yourself."
Dorophine didn't say yes but, choking away her pride, nodded ever so slight.
Grorric's smile widened.
"Lesson one - and don't you ever forget this..."
"What?" Dorophine wondered.
"Well, your highness... *I'm the Dwarf of Fucking Wall Street!"*
r/Turtleismynam3
Tell me what ya think! | 2021-02-25T14:53:02 | 2021-02-25T12:03:41 | 26 | 18 |
[WP] "This is a joke right? Who put you up to this?" The demon looked angrily at the man who had summoned him. "I'm... not sure what you mean, I followed the ritual and..." "We only deal in HUMAN souls." "Wait, what?" | **CW: Murder, General Stupidity**
"Who told you that you had any right to summon me?"
"Nobody. I conducted this ritual in private with no witnesses, just as the ancient texts instructed," said the robed man standing over the elaborate summoning circle.
"Oh, you think you're funny? Trying to get a laugh out of me? Trying to... *induce* some chuckling, Mr. Chucklehead?" Within seconds, the demon had dropped all false pretense and was now standing in an off-kilter way with his arms folded. He tilted his head in a way that was half-menacing, half-annoyed. "You really think a *demon* can sell its soul to *another demon?"*
"I'm not a demon!" The man removed his hood, revealing a rather unthreatening baby face with a pair of thick glasses. "I'm a human accountant for Morton and Ringer Law Firm. Name's Bob."
"Bob!?" the demon repeated. Its glowing eyes bugged in its goat-skull head. "You mean to tell me you're a demon named *Bob!?"*
"Well, ah, technically my full name is Beelzebob, but I just go by 'Bob.'"
"Ah-ha!" The demon smirked and gave Bob a knowing glance. "Beelzebub, a classic demon to name your little evillings after. Well, Bub, I think--"
"Not Beelzebub, Beelze*bob,"* Bob said. "Like I told you, I'm not a demon. I'm a pathetic sack of hot air with no life. I don't need my soul."
"Are you insane!?" the demon roared, causing a whirlwind of fire to whip around the room. "Use that thick head of yours for once! What kind of human names their baby *BEELZEBOB!?"*
"Uh, my dad?"
"YOUR DAD!?"
"Yes, that name was the last thing he talked about with my mom before he died in a freak drowning incident."
"Very peculiar. But I can sense you're not one to lie," said the demon, his anger subsiding. "Some humans are a bit out-of-sorts. Maybe your dad was just 'different.'"
"Mom always said he was a good man. It took decades for her to come to terms with his death. It was only last year she told me the whole thing." A sad smile crawled over the man's face and he shook his head, jostling his glasses. "It really was a tragedy. One moment they were walking into Church hand in hand, and the next, the Pastor started screaming something in a foreign language and dunking Dad's head in the holy water font..."
"Oh, ***Lucifer Have Mercy!"***
&#x200B;
*For more weirdness, check out* r/OctOpusTales *!* | Oliver King had grown up with a relatively normal childhood. He had been adopted before his first memories from a Catholic adoption center into a Catholic family. He accepted his family and never much thought of his birth parents. Oliver was raised Catholic all his life though he loathed the religion for it's strictness and the guilt placed upon him. He felt there was more to this life and that surely God was much different than the light painted by the Church. His hunger for knowledge grew as he matured. He questioned everything he was told during Mass and wondered at the nature of God and his angels. Much more he wondered how Satan, God's own creation, could be as evil as he was depicted.
By the time he was halfway through high school, he had decided to find out for himself. He began reading furiously about the things the Church didn't publicize. Oliver amassed a secret collection of books on possession, demons, and details of the afterlife. He spent all his free time learning as much as he could. "What exactly does it take to go to hell?" He asked himself constantly. He was determined to find out.
The day after Oliver graduated he decided he was ready. He took his cumulative knowledge together to perform a ritual and get the answers he craved. The preparation had been completed the week before. He had gathered all the necessary components and perfected the geometry to summon a most wise demon from the depths of hell.
Oliver relied himself. He knew the drain the ritual might have on his body and soul. Lesser men had been driven mad attempting to do what he had planned. He knew if he didn't do it that day he would never have the courage to try and would be driven mad anyway by the regret and cowardice. He began.
The chanting was simple enough. He held his hands flat on top of the complex geometric symbol he had carved into his bedroom floor and continued the chant. Surprisingly, the Latin came natural to him. Maybe it was all the time studying the ancient texts he had kept tucked away. Oliver's heart pounded as he watched the effect of the ritual spread from the epicenter of his carving. It began to glow and spread out towards the edges. All the candles he had used to light his room had flames nearly to the ceiling. He focused. He couldn't let the magic distract him. He chanted harder and louder to match the energy he felt in him. He had seen his hands glowing and suspected his entire being to be shining an unholy light. Oliver could barely see this glow emanating from beneath his dark robes. The light was almost too much for him and he felt weak. The perspiration around his brow stung his eyes but he kept chanting until it finally happened.
The demon appeared. Oliver had summoned Paimon a most wise and beautiful demon. His crown shone brightly in the candle light. Paimon spoke calmly.
"What is it you desire of me my liege?"
Oliver started "I seek knowledge of- wait... My liege?" His face scrunched in confusion.
"Do you know not of your heritage o dark one? Have you not begun your works upon this earth"
Oliver reached for words but found none. His mind had simultaneously cleared and swirled with understanding.
"No." Was the most he could croak
"You are a King" Paimon said with a bowed head. "You are the son of Lucifer, bring of destruction. You are to initiate the end of times."
"Why wasn't I told?"
"Some of the royalty in hell are not as loyal as they ought to be. Others have business on earth they would rather not conclude. You, however, have sensed in some small way that you are not what you appear, haven't you?"
"Perhaps. Urges. Curiosities. Impulses. I've done my best to be kind but it never felt like it came naturally."
"It's time for you to give in to those urges. You must be baptized in the ways of your father. You must kill you parents. The sooner you get that out of the way the sooner your true strength can manifest. This small summoning should not have fatigued you as it has."
Oliver had been sweating and out of breath but only just realized how truly weak he felt. The ritual was quite the event for him. He wasn't sure if it was the fatigue or the evil inside him which formed the hollow smile across his face. He had thought of all the reasons he had wanted his parents dead over the years. None of the groundings or arguments spurred this wrath. No, his excitement grew merely at the idea that he could have *fun* with it. He could enjoy their suffering. It wouldn't even cross his mind how sick he must be to lust after that feeling.
Paimon and Oliver continued to discuss what this true strength would entail. They spoke of the ancient planning for the end times. Oliver needed the details. He needed to know exactly what he must do and when. It took all he could not to giggle at the thought of being crowned King of an eternally suffering world. | 2021-06-04T12:15:10 | 2021-06-04T12:01:42 | 179 | 85 |
[WP] You, a mere human, find yourself inside an arena and pitted against all sorts of supernatural beings in combat. Being a diehard fantasy fan however, you know their weaknesses. All of them. | A flash, a bang.
Whisked away through time and space, beyond the veil and past the universe, into the void and yonder.
The mind burns, the body grasps for a hold but finds none. You travel in an ethereal cloud, watched and gazed by a horde of distorted faces in a tunnel of voices. A decision, a sentence.
Suddenly, your feet find a solid hold and you fall to your knees.
There will be a fight. You have been chosen to entertain the crowd, to suffer and die for the twisted amusement of a fantastic crowd. A puny human versus legendary creatures. You get a good look at them.
Somehow, you expected monsters.
Well, these are monsters all right, but not in the *incomprehensible-creatures-from-beyond* sense. These are more in a *not-very-original* sense. Not a single being that you haven't heard of, in stories, in books, in movies, in tales.
The sphinx wears a crown and commands authority. It is king. As it speaks, all fall silent.
"You are allowed one wish before heading to the arena."
The entire room falls silent when you ask for a fully equipped kitchen. They did not expect that, fail to understand.
A promise is a promise. The yellow field that will soon run red is surrounded by gray walls adorned with spikes. On them, rows of seats for the eager spectators. And in the middle of the sand, your dream come true: the most equipped kitchen you ever had.
The gates open.
Enter the slaughterers. Hostile, violent, used to kill and maim.
The crowd is audibly disturbed when the medusa is stabbed through the throat as you walk backwards, holding a pristine knife as mirror.
The blood-sucker is drenched in salt and battered to death with a sack of flour.
The centaur is lured by the scent of wine and bludgeoned as he enjoys the fine drink.
The gruesome spectacle does not end here, though. There is snake and horse meat to cook now, more than you could have afforded in the other world. And dear lords above, you love cooking.
The crowd leaves, horrified. There is no rule stipulating how the defeated are to be handled. No law is broken as the anticuchos are grilled. Tonight, a new monster has been born.
You fall asleep under a purple sky, belly full with the delicious dish you just sampled.
Bigger foes are brought in the next day. These are not here to amuse, but to kill the abomination that has made it's home in the arena.
Sadly for the chimera, the meat you have cooked is too delicious to ignore, and it's sticking from a spike above the creature's reach. It spits fire in anger. The sharp metal you had planted inside starts to melt and dips down the lion's mouth.
The chimera is dead from clogged windpipes before it understands what happened.
A crowd is a fickle thing. It can hate one day and love another, and after the first shock, there's an undeniable artistic streak in the way you dispatch your enemies. A twisted sense of aesthetic the people come to enjoy. The king cannot bear it, it is to be loved above all else, and the champion is stealing love away. The slave has become the public's idol.
The sky turns green, dust shimmers on the red field and this time, no one cheers when the gates open. The king enters the arena.
Kings do not get interrupted, kings command quietness by their presence. Force of habit.
A habit you ignore by asking a riddle first.
The sphinx finds your lack of respect despicable, but will solve your riddle before asking one back. And then, it will devour you, so enjoy the seconds you bought yourself, puny mortal. After all, the sphinx knows every answer.
Every answer from this world.
He sure as fuck doesn't know about the fifth generation of Pokemons.
Sweat pearls down the mighty beast's forehead, it stumbles upon its words, tries to buy itself some time to think, it knows the answer, has to.
But when the crowd screams for death, it knows it has lost.
The answer was pignite, by the way. You never played pokemon, but had seen the little creature's design and found it amusing, thus remembered it. Funny how it goes.
Out of alternatives. The king drops its crown and slams himself against the spikes, ending its reign forever.
You could go back, but for what? You have plenty of things to cook here, and where on earth would you get sphinx meat? Wine made of blood-sucker's blood? A manticore jaw kept open to act as an oven? A wild crowd that adores you and gives you offerings daily?
It is strange, but fitting, that in a world of fantastic beasts, you have become their new legend, their mythical creature.
Lord of the arena.
The new big bad wolf for beings who do not behave well.
The gates open.
A cyclop steps on the crimson sand. Twice your height, armed with a gigantic club, shaking to the bones.
You turn towards it with a smile, sharpening a knife.
"Ah, fresh meat." | I was seventeen the day I slaughtered all the fantastical creatures. If I close my eyes, I can still taste that metallic tang of blood on the breeze, and see myself inside that great arena once more.
It was the year after my mother passed away, and only a week after I started my first job — I made coffees for important people whose own jobs seemed to be brewing coffee for even more important people. How the business made money, who knew? Such was the ladder of life, I supposed. And I was now on the very first rung. Lucky me.
The day of the slaughter: I’d finished work and stepped into the street when the heavens opened. Silver rain gusted down in waves, like shimmering shurikens stabbing at the sidewalk, puncturing it open to release a dirty subterranean river. Or, maybe it was just rain building into a highway of puddles.
Mom used to say I had a healthy imagination. And maybe I did, but mostly my thoughts were trained by the books I read. Huge fantasy tomes where anything seemed possible; where good would (more often than not) triumph; where magic breathed from flowers and fingers alike. I spent more time with those books than I did with friends — although perhaps that speaks for my lack of friends. Every night without fail, I’d read a fantasy novel until I fell asleep. Even then, I’d dream about what I’d just read.
Now, on the day of the slaughter, I hurried down the street (or waded against the raging torrent released from the earth) my oversized dad-handed-down suit sloppy and heavy with rain.
Out of nowhere, a strong hand grabbed me. Pulled my arm and jerked me into an alley.
”I’ve not got any money,” I said.
”Money?“ The figure pulled back their hood to reveal pearl-smooth skin and slightly pointed ears. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t say quite why. Like an amalgamation, almost, of every elf I’d ever imagined.
“It’s not money we need from you, hero. What we need is in here.” She pressed a finger against my head and I felt a flush of electricity run down me.
Beyond making too-weak or too-strong coffees that got me yelled at, I doubted I could help anyone. “We? Who are ‘we’?”
”The fantasy world. Our existence is under threat, hero. There is a great tournament underway, the result of which could mean the end of everything. We need your help.”
”I don’t see why you’d choose me to help. I’m just… I’m just me.”
”That’s why!” She beamed. “You know more about fantastical beings than perhaps anyone ever before. You know all our strengths and weaknesses. Your life, up to here, has been research and preparation for this moment.”
I stood there in this dark alley as the rain poured over me. I thought of my bleak job. Of my mother, whom I missed more than any world, fantasy or otherwise. I thought of the reality that I hated so much.
”Okay,” I said. “I’ll help.”
“I was certain you would.“ She led me through a doorway at the end of the alley that led me into the other world.
&#x200B;
I will not go into details of the slaughter. Suffice to say that every creature, good and bad or in between, that I’d ever read about waited for me there.
Whether I won or lost, I knew this would be the final time I would be in this strange world. There was no crowd in the arena to watch. Perhaps they’d all died in battle before I had arrived. Or perhaps they were all lined up to fight me, to kill.
Either way, whatever came out of the gates, I murdered. One by one I cut them down. I outsmarted trolls and found weakness between dragon scales. I betrayed those who thought me on their side. Dwarves, goblins, orcs, griffons, wizards — they all bled. Their blood poured over me like black rain, like tar.
Until, finally, there was only the female elf who had led me here.
“Now you must kill me,” she said.
I looked around at the piles of corpses, only vaguely understanding what I had done. “I… I thought I was fighting for you?”
She smiled. “You were fighting for you. You still are. And you might always be.”
She did not fight back. Just handed me a dagger and held my hand as I plunged it into her heart.
Then there was nothing left in that empty world except for me.
Blood fell like a sea from the sky, drowning me, blinding me.
Then the blood became rain, and the arena became the alleyway, and suddenly I was back in my ordinary, grey world.
My wallet was gone. As was the watch my parents had bought me.
The only other difference to before it all happened was slight. Almost imperceptible: the smell of magic that had once been in my world as well as theirs, that radiated promise from fingers and flowers alike, was gone.
I walked home in the rain — the very ordinary, very wet rain — staring at my shoes.
When I returned home I washed and dried my clothes, then ironed them for tomorrow.
I ate a quiet dinner with my father then went straight to bed.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
My father came to see me later that night. Maybe two or three hours later.
I was still awake. Whenever I’d closed my eyes and tried to sleep there was a blackness beyond black waiting. It terrified me. An emptiness, I suppose it was.
Dad sat on the edge of the bed, and for a while said nothing. Then asked, “anything I can do?”
I couldn’t bring myself tell him I was mugged. Didn’t want to burden him. I glanced at my bookshelf then shook my head.
He must have caught my look as he bit his tongue and thought for a moment.
”The magic you got out of those books,” he said, “was never in the books to start with. You know that?”
”Wherever it was, I killed it today.”
Dad nodded. “I killed the magic once, too. Or more precisely, life killed it, because that’s what it does. I was a little younger than you are. Hey, but it came back! I got it back. And it didn’t leave again once it did.”
I pushed myself up and looked at him, almost afraid to ask the question. “*How*?”
“When you were born.” He smiled. “All the magic and colour rushed back into the world. Look, I think the truth is that magic doesn’t ever die. It just hides or hibernates. It waits for you to come find it again and to coax it out.”
”How do I find it again?” I pleaded.
He shrugged. “I don’t know that. I think it‘s hiding in a different place for each person searching.“
I sank back into my bed.
Dad stood up and put a hand on my shoulder. “I‘ll be here until then — until you find it.“
When he left the room I closed my eyes again. It didn’t seem quite as empty in the darkness anymore. | 2021-07-09T08:16:31 | 2021-07-09T07:30:50 | 2,352 | 163 |
[WP] You are a professional Matchbreaker. The opposite of a matchmaker, you're hired by concerned friends, disapproving parents, jealous exes, desperate nerds, and everyone in between to break up an existing relationship from the shadows. | They say that once upon a time our profession was obscure, and that private individuals would hire one of us to test a single, specific relationship, just like the services of the fire department and the Post Office were once provided by small private groups for specific paying customers.
I don’t know exactly how true that ever was, but now we are seen as providing a service to the general public, so that if your relationship is doomed, we’ll help you realize it quickly. And if your relationship is meant to go the distance, our intervention will help you realize that, just like the irritation from a grain of sand helps an oyster to form a pearl.
I didn’t care too much about the history; I just knew that I was due to work my shift at a beer garden during a concert. I slipped on the traditional navy blue windbreaker that said “INSECURITY” across the back in gold letters and started to work.
“Did you *mean* to wear that shirt with those pants? Was that outfit the result of an actual set of conscious decisions?” I asked the first random couple I ran into. They weren’t sure which one I was addressing, and frankly, neither was I, but the guy started to look flushed, and she looked at him through narrowed eyes. I was off to a good start.
I walked ahead a few tables to another random couple and let fly my trademark “Realistically, is there *any* chance that you two are still a couple in six months?” They started to protest, but we were all surprised by the sound of the musicians starting ahead of schedule.
I was annoyed, because all I could do during the music was to try to catch people’s eye and then make the universal “You’ve got something stuck between your teeth...no...still there...no...still there” gesture. That makes my job harder, but at least the music was top notch tonight. The band was doing its part, and I was doing mine. | "This is target. He's becoming a problem. We want him dealt with using a soft measure"
A folder lands on my table. Covered in labels and warnings of it's confidential status, I recognize this as one of the many files the ministry keeps on its citizens loyal and dissident.
"If there's anything you'd like, please let us know"
I turn the folder open and flicker through the documents, scrutinizing every last nook and detail collected. John Smith. Age 24. Education masters of journalism, Seaside Heights Institute of Technology, member of the small classic car club, frequently orders pizza, blood type, financial status, past drug prescriptions, past romantic interests, religious views, allergies, accidents, family history, **marriage**.
"I think you should make him love you. String him along and play with him. Might be hard with that wife of his" one handler advises with eyes covering me revealing his vices.
That's what I'm looking for. What better to distract someone from their job than some intimacy. One requisition and every file I ask for is handed to me, stacking six high on a tower.
Jane Smith, dee Doe. Age 21. Sheet after sheet of her, her friends, and her parents stack on a row.
&#x200B;
It's time to set it into action. With all the preparation ready, and a thousand eyes on our lovely couple we set the stage for the grand show.
A purposely vigilant traffic cop, a sudden need to withdraw cash. The moment the bills come from her account my colleague snatches to dash. Mister Smith gives chase into an alley where Mrs Smith will witness him beaten and humiliated, ready to emasculate with a single slash.
And where I take the stage as I trip him and pull some kicks and punches. "Make it look good! Don't hold back!" he'd tell me as we practiced this little fight in a quiet room of our building. I give him quite a thwack.
I grab the money and he trips me up to land bottoms onto some dirty and grime. Perfect for me to feign my humility and embarrassment at stopping this crime.
&#x200B;
Mrs Smith immediately fell to my orbit. And why shouldn't she? I looked a ringer for her daring young lover. A little repressed truth which she suppressed from Mister Smith. Her young childhood love. An strong best friend who protected her little dove. A well kept secret in her heart.
But never from our ministry, never from our bureau who dressed me up like her Valkyrie friend who passed too soon. I'll do whatever it took to make her swoon.
&#x200B;
With my plan falling into place, I exposed my ripped lace and laid the foundation to enter their space. Where we exchanged names and sparked a conversation, I could quickly tell her disinterest in her hubby.
She loved the high life and its upholstered stores, yet lacked the finance and felt a bore. It was an opportunity to clean up my dirt. "Oh fifteen minutes John it wouldn't hurt"
It was all I needed to make her mine. Like a false shepherd who leads a flock astray, for hours at a time I'd take her away. Away from a hubby she learned to despise, for his inability to compromise. "Please John, just find a regular job" "No honey! The government is a mob!"
&#x200B;
A safe place is where she needed to be. With people to talk to that charged no fee. A place where my people surrounded. And isolated. From friends who could affirmed her of doubts. So we could arrange a trip to as her husband was hounded. As we planted evidence of her illegal bouts.
&#x200B;
All for her husband to rout. His publications erratic and he grew depressed and stout. We could delay his medication until he took a way out.
&#x200B;
For a man like Smith didn't need my love to break. Where soon he'd have troubles and a wife to forsake. | 2021-12-16T17:42:42 | 2021-12-16T16:40:59 | 86 | 63 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | The red light was blinking, indicating the failure of the shields, but the commander Ze’hyl could not be bothered. He was franticly looking through the data as the predictions of AI clearly did not match the reality, not anymore... It was his failure! He recommended the invasion of the Sol system. The home star of those gutless humans.
\- How did it come to this?.. Decades of planning and analysis. These humans who would rather take the short end of a stick than show some spine. These… mammals who only know of negotiations, diplomacy, and compromise. Not a single interstellar conflict yet alone war since they joined the League. How are they doing this? It all went so well until we reached that small blue rock…
The angry ichodrian drifted in thought as he was gazing upon the holographic display depicting the Sol system.
\- Commendable effort for a race of a peace loving peons, it brought them some time but what of it or so I thought… Where all those ships, where all those troops came from? It cannot be technology, why would you lose so many positions if you had the means to defend them in the first place…
Once again, he opened the human response to the declaration of war. The words sounded different from what he heard the first time.
\- We hoped we could keep these doors closed forever. But now God help us all.
As his mind was running through various scenarios, his eyes picked up on a small cloud of debris orbiting the sun in between the human home world and Venus. A strange thought formed in his head.
\- What if, what if that cloud used to be a planet?...
He updated the conditions for the AI and was met with despair. The predictions finally made sense and all it took was to name the cloud in between Venus and Mars a planet… | Everyone always assumed that the alien invasion would be violent. After our satellites had discovered spacecraft that we couldn't track to any nation's space program, my father began stockpiling weapons. Okay, he had been doing that already, but he began to stockpile harder. At least, that was until the spacecraft made landing and their diplomats reached Africa, and instead of killing en masse, they simply began constricting homes.
No one, really saw an issue, they had come in peace. Of course they saw resistance from local governments, but the United Nations did not have the strength to to back up the Ivory Coast in their war with the Bulmerians, and NATO was a shell of it's former self after America began cutting back it's contributions.
Eventually after a while the UN adopted a resolution of peace with the Bulmerians after our diplomats figured out their language. Earthly Bulmeria was given a seat in the UN and began expanding its influence over world politics as they began trading with humans.
That was over twenty years ago, and now their communications from their home planet had given the order to expand. Humanity had not fought any major wars in over 50 years, and the aliens mistook that for weakness. In a way we were weak, as our divided nations sought to appease them, with most of the world being tributaries.
However, in rural Appalachia we could not stand the US government, and I'll be good god damned if I was gonna pay income taxes to some two bit blue skinned jackass king a hundred light years away.
The first revolt happened in Ireland. After unification, they were already wary of all empires, so when the Dáil decided to appease them, Dublin erupted into riots, murdered almost all of parliament, and installed a new one, who refused to pay tribute. The Bulmerians invaded, but they had expected conventional warfare with NATO or a similar power. Instead, they found their aircraft, spacecraft and even landcraft being sabotaged.
Evidently Bulmerians we're unable to distinguish human powers, and had no respect for nationhood. So when they began punishing other nations who were happy to pay tribute for the bombing of their embassy in Britain, the whole world rose up in revolt.
And so I sat in my living room, watching an old movie called "Braveheart" and working on an IED. After my brigade captured a series of pulse grenades from the local Bulmerian military base, I had set upon reverse engineering them, and was ready to try an upscaled version of it.
"And there, you ready to try it?" I asked to my friend and comrade Patrick.
"Fuck no," he said "but there's a caravan coming through today, so we can try it then."
We had set up an ambush. I had inherited a 2025 Toyota Hilux from my granddad and had mounted a rebuilt M2 Browning to the back. It wasn't the latest and greatest, but it still worked, even after over a hundred years of service. We had parked it in the bushes, away from immediate líne of sight. Once I heard the sonic boom of the pulse mine i knew it was time, and I gripped the ma deuce as Patrick screamed past the caravan. I rained down bullets onto the vehicles, screaming like a berserker.
The caravan had grinded to a halt, and the Bulmerian soldiers leapt from their vehicles trying to fire upon us but we were long gone. We heard sounds of continued gunfire as our comrades tagged in, raining down with a DShK and tossing in Molotov cocktails for good measure.
That was simply one ambush in the long guerilla war for the Appalachians, and that was only one front I'm our global struggle against Bulmeria. They still hold most of Africa, but they failed to realize one thing: humans really don't like bullies. | 2022-08-05T13:33:27 | 2022-08-05T12:58:48 | 158 | 108 |
[WP] As the president makes her final statement on the legal status of supers, she comments on how much safer the world will be without them making a mess of things. The white house behind her explodes, out of its flames walks a man with light in his eyes. He says three simple words: "Is. That. So?" | She was expecting this. She knew a stunt of this magnitude would be pulled. There was nothing she could really do about it when it would happen, but still, she stood tall, facing the hovering figure, her long time colleague Striker.
Now was no time to back down. All she could do was stand, waiting for his arrival. As the smoke around his figure passed, his twitching, raging eyes beamed, and his deep grin grew, he drifted towards her amused and enraged.
“Is that so? You don’t need us supers?” Striker raised his arm and slammed the floor down with a gush of wind, the impact forming a makeshift barrier between the President and the people. Her eyes met his, staring unblinkingly. Her disappointment struck her heart, she wanted to be wrong about how her former friends would react. But still, she continued.
“You will be able to live a normal life, I simply say that after much consideration, we believe using such powers should be illegal and sentenced to either life in prison or death.” Her explanation made Striker grow silent, in absolute shock of her calm posture. It fuelled his anger, furious at the pure audacity. He raised his voice louder, his tone condescending and filled with power.
“Do you think anyone will save you? All your ‘super’ friends have left you, nobody can stop our wrath now!” Striker’s laugh echoed through the city, a doomed silence ringing in its path. Civilians stood in fear of the coming chaos, shielding their children in hopes of dying first. The camera man is the first to get on his knees and beg. “Please, don’t hurt us.”, his words drawn out and forced through each sob. The Vice President follows him, begging for mercy. Gradually, the people realised this may be their only way of survival, and fell to the floor crying and sorry, pathetically begging for their lives.
Striker’s face shifts from confusion to joy, a deep need for power finally fulfilled in his dark heart. He looks back at the President, who has shifted their gaze to her people, and she looks back at him. Her face is complicated, forehead crinkled in frustration or confusion, eyes intense because of her near death or fear, Striker couldn’t quite read what it all meant.
All that mattered to him was this moment.
“Do you hear that, Lylie? The fear? The begging? The desperation? This is your downfall, Ly. This is—“
His heart cramped. Perhaps from stress? Or, more likely, because of the President arm deep in him, grasping his heart tightly. At a yank, he collapsed dead on the ground, his heart spasming in her hand. Gasps filled the surrounding crowd, as the President’s body crumbled and cracked and skewed into a enormous spider like body, red web crawled on the back. Her upper body intact, her fanged mouth grew a smile, her eight eyes awakening, glossed over and dark. The President, or whatever she is, turned to the camera, heart still in hand.
“Any high level ranking government authorities have the sole ability to use their given powers. Any civilian to break this law will be pursued and killed on sight. This is your warning. Use it well.” | When super-powered people started appearing five years ago, everyone expected them to fulfill a norm of a hero and a villain, but it didn’t quite work like that.
Being a true hero meant being selfless, and helping everyone equally without any gain. Also, it meant exposing yourself and your family to constant danger. There was no one truly invincible yet, yes, there were some bulletproof people or some that could regenerate deadly wounds but even they could be killed and their loved ones were not bulletproof. In the beginning, there was a guy that could repel bullets, and survive jumps from insane heights, Sensation was his name if I remember correctly. One day he rushed into a burning building to save a dog, a log fell on him and he cooked to death. He was amongst the most popular heroes at the time and the news of his death broke all around the world. That really sobered up a lot of super-powered people.
On the other hand, no one truly wanted to be a villain, there were no people that insane that they wanted to destroy the planet or rule the whole world. Yes, there were some people labeled as villains that “ruled” some smaller cities, but they were no different than your standard crime lords.
A lot of people abused their abilities to gain wealth and fame and that’s all they ever wanted. Some of them even broke into Hollywood, you could do wonders with powered people and their abilities in front or behind the cameras.
When the first “surge” happened, where mostly all powered people got their powers, my friends and I were celebrating my son’s first birthday. Eight of us got powers, four of my friends, three of my wife’s friends, and my cousin. We gathered once again seven days later when we all came to terms with our powers and decided we wouldn’t use them to fight crime, make crime or get the public attention on us. Some of us used our powers discretely to make some easy money but that was it. We wanted to protect our wives, husbands, children, parents, and the rest of the people we cared about. We knew the government would eventually try to do something or some deranged group of people would come after us with a righteous goal in their mind.
And we were somewhat right, the cults formed worshiping super-powered people, some of them even pretended to be their gods. The hate groups were formed that were “protecting” humans against these demons or aliens, or whatever their mantra was, super-powered people.
And the governments were losing their battle for power all over the globe, it was hard to control and contain these powered individuals, and the government hated not being in control.
So that’s why we gathered again in my backyard five years later to watch the Presidents speech tonight.
The barbeque was fired, beers were cooled, kids were entertained and the show was about to come online. The president stepped on the podium in front of the White House and rearranged his papers on live tv. She was a good actor, she knew how to make people listen and how to make them care about the unimportant and forget the important things happening in and outside of our country.
The speech started slowly as always, but there was something there we it could be seen in her eyes, rarely was she this unfocused, and then she said it.
“I believe our country and the world would be a lot safer without the super-powered people, so that’s why from tomorrow every super-powered person will have to be registered in our database. They will all have to check in once a month and they will all have to do the mandatory psychological tests once every three months as well as give us their blood samples so we can further understand their powers. If you know of a super-powered person that has not registered yet, the lines will be open where you will able to call in for 24 hours a day“ The chatter broke on the live tv and the president tried to control the crowd, she wasn’t finished with her speech.
We all looked at each with worried expressions on our faces, not many people knew we had powers, but there were some who knew and some who suspected, this was not good news.
And then it happened on live tv the white house was engulfed in flames, explosions and people screaming could be heard but the live feed didn’t stop.
There was a figure walking out of the flaming building, I knew cocky that walk, it was Inferno, this country’s Voted hero of 2028. He came close and his glowing red eyes were now clearly visible on the tv. He walked toward the President that was frozen in shock and terror and his words echoed across the millions of tv around the world.
“Is that so?” His voice was calm but threatening.
We all looked at each other once again and we all knew what it meant, we were idle for far too long, but we trained all the time, we prepared hoping this moment would never come, but it did.
“It’s time,” Marcus said and we all nodded.
&#x200B;
[Part 2 up below and on my sub ->](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/x6bby8/2_the_super_powered_problem/)
[Part 3 out below and on my sub ->](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/x6f40j/3_the_super_powered_problem/) | 2022-09-04T16:26:55 | 2022-09-04T14:28:46 | 107 | 50 |
[WP] A permanent storm rages across a planet. The only inhabitants are nomads who constantly travel inside the eye of the storm. | “Engine four down,” screamed Stork.
Alarms screamed at us. Klaxons rang on as our ship began to fail. “Make sure the stragglers are in the lifeboats.”
“Engine three is failing,” said Stork.
So we were down to four engines. Our cruiser wouldn’t last much longer. “How long until we have passed over the Burning Sea?”
“Two hours. Approximately seven hundred and fifty miles,” said Anders. She turned back to her screen. “We’re receiving confirmation from The God’s Hand that they can take thirty percent of our refugees.”
We couldn’t set down. It Burning Sea would eat through the hull in a matter of minutes. “Fire off forty percent of our lifeboats to The God’s Hand.”
“They said thirty,” said Anders.
“Fuck them,” I screamed. “They can take forty.”
“The Snout of the Hog can take fifteen percent,” said Anders.
I nodded. “Fire off fifteen.”
“Engine three failed,” said Stork. It looked like his composure had begun to fail. His hands shook and sweat poured down his brow.
“Get to a lifeboat, Stork,” I said.
He didn’t wait. The sound of his footsteps echoed back to us from the hallway off the bridge.
“The Enterprising Solution will take the remainder of our refugees,” said Anders.
“Good. Get on a lifeboat. Radio back to me when you are secure. I will fire off the remaining lifeboats,” I said.
“I’ve fired off all of the remaining lifeboats,” said Anders.
I looked over my shoulder. Anders locked eyes with me. It was only the two of us on this dying vessel.
The ship shuddered. I could feel our speed decreasing. Everything rattled and shook. The Burning Sea grew large in the view screen. “What is the status of the lifeboats?”
“Ninety-five percent have found safe harbor,” said Anders.
“Good,” I said. I gripped the armrests of the captain’s chair. I had made sure as many of my people as possible had survived. Now it would be a race between the Burning Sea and the eye wall to destroy us.
“If you have a Hail Mary, Anders, now would be the time.” I laughed.
She cleared her throat. “There might be something with everyone off. We’d have to jettison most everything though.”
I smiled. “Fuck it. Might as well try.”
**Edit:** [Part Two can be found here.](http://www.reddit.com/r/Puns_are_Lazy/comments/2v8i3p/eye_of_the_storm_cont/). [Part Three can be found here.](http://www.reddit.com/r/Puns_are_Lazy/comments/2vddan/eye_of_the_storm_part_3/) | It's moving day again. People are darting back and forth preparing for the move. We hope that this time the eye will stabilize over an area with food. We've only ate sand lizards for the past month. Trust me when I say that is not what you want to eat. Even with this steady supply of leather morsels we are all weak. Not to mention the lack of water supply at this new camp. We've sent a few runners into the sands to see if they could find anything, but sadly that was for naught. It's good that the eye is getting ready to move our remaining water stores have finally ran dry, but I'm sure the next spot we will have a bit more luck. I'm not to worried about myself though. It's the elders that I'm scarred for. They are the last ones that remember the times before our planet was nothing but a harsh sandstorm. They saw the Earth when it was green and rich. I sometimes hope that an area like that is still left. I hope that they can guide us to an area like that again. Just like they always guided us.
Our move has begun. Everyone is weak, but it's not our first time. We were able to outpace the storm. We scavenged the ruins of the old world as we passed them by. It's amazing how rich they still are, but I guess we are the only people left to raid them.
We kept up our pace until the eye settled. This area was better, but not that much better. We would make do though. I was thinking of the elders when they summoned me. I left to go meet with the council. What could they possibly want with me? It turns out that one of our elders got a broken transmission on one of their machines. A rumor of a safe haven. They wanted me to take a group of our best runners and go 200 miles south to something they called a military base. I asked them why me? I'm nothing special. I'm not even a runner. They said I was chosen based off of some sort of test? A test I took right before the collapse. I don't remember anything about it, or the world pre-storm for that matter. But I trusted them. The elders know much more than I do. They've been keeping this group of thousands alive through these hard times for decades. Why should I question their choice.
Me and my team departed a week later. As the last and only safe refuge left my sight it dawned on me the tribulations we would face. The team was assembled mostly of the rough type. I never payed much attention to them. They annoyed me to no end, but mixed in with this group was someone that stood out. Not just because she was a girl and not nearly as buffed up as the rest, but because of here age. She couldn't be any older than 13. I approached her, but her icy eyes defeated my advance. I kept walking through the sand alone and silent. Later that night we managed to find a decent spot to camp. An underground tunnel of sorts. It was dark and strange. It looked like hundreds of people used to move through it a day, but I stopped thinking about it. I was too exhausted to contemplate why the old society needs this place. I ate my cold rations and drank the little water I had left and fell asleep.
A week after that first night and our group is down from 10 to 4. This journey is seeming even more bleak. The remaining members including myself want to just lie down and die like the rest. All except for that girl. She keeps moving, and so do we. Then the next falls. I didn't even bother learning his name, but out of the group of grizzly men, he had to be the one I disliked the least. There wasn't much I could do for him though. I've been out of water for a day now myself. I kept going for some reason. We were 50 miles out. We can do it I chanted to myself under my breath. Then the next fell. I didn't even turn I just kept stumbling forward.
Then my motivation fell. The small girl that I believe had kept this group going. Even though she didn't utter a word her strength seemed to permeate us. I lean next to her. Those cold eyes glare back, but they are fading. She whispers to me her name, or begins to whisper I should say. She passed out before she could finish the first syllable. I heard the beginnings of an S I believe.
I stood up and began to stumble onward. I couldn't let it end like this I just couldn't. I barely made it a hundred yards before I fell. As I felt the life draining from me I saw something. A light brighter than any fire I've ever seen before. A rumbling in the Earth. This strange machine pulled up before me, and then it all went black. | 2015-02-07T15:43:04 | 2015-02-07T15:41:12 | 128 | 40 |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | It has become an addiction, more than killing ever was. It has consumed me.
When you picture "serial killer," I'm the first thing that springs into your mind. I tortured animals as a child, and I liked it. My father abused me relentlessly, second only to my mother. I eventually killed him... and her. I took a life for the first time when I was only fifteen years old: a girl from my high school who wanted nothing more than to have a loving boyfriend. She was willing to do whatever I wanted up until I slid that knife into her neck.
I don't exactly know when the bubbles started. It could have even been that first time, and maybe they were just too small to notice. Or maybe I was so overwhelmed and excited from finally giving in to my urges that I didn't even see them. I *do* remember them appearing on my fifth kill, when I dragged a jogger in the park into the bushes and took his life. They seemed to seep out of his skin like sweat, then form into bubbles that hung over his body. I popped one with my little finger, and I felt a sudden rush of energy and power. I've tried a number of different drugs, but there was *nothing* like this. I needed more.
In the beginning, I picked my targets carefully. I had my arranged ritual. My preferred type was men in positions of authority: cops, soldiers, government officials, etc. The more important the better. I'm sure some psychologist would link it to my issues with my father, if I ever visited a shrink. But the more I killed, the larger the bubbles grew, and the sense of euphoria that I got from them became far more potent. Soon, I didn't care *who* my victims were. I just needed more of them.
I "leveled up" for the first time on October 10, 2012, kill #23. He was a middle school principal named Mr. Simon. The bubbles that came from his skin weren't red; they were golden and shimmering and shiny. I popped one, and practically collapsed as waves of pleasure washed over me. "Congratulations," a voice boomed through my mind from nowhere and everywhere at once. "You have reached Level 2!" Visions swam in front of my eyes as I lay stunned in the grass next to the corpse. The hallucinations promised incredible powers: super strength, controlling flames... like a comic book superhero. The visions asked me to choose, and there was just something about the whole experience that made it feel *real*. This wasn't the same as other hallucinagens.
I chose "Camouflage," and the visions vanished. I was left alone in that wide cornfield with Mr. Simon's body, just as usual. Well, not as usual: glancing down at my own body, I noticed that I was slowly disappearing. I could see cornstalks through my own legs.
-----
It's been three years since I first leveled up, and tonight's kill should bring me to level 12. It gets harder and harder every time; more and more bodies are required. The euphoria that I once felt upon absorbing the bubbles is now only a hunger, leaving me desperately craving more. I'm up to one kill every few days, and I've only been able to escape the detection of law enforcement thanks to my fantastic new abilities. But I've certainly been following the nationwide manhunt for me pretty closely.
I wait silently outside the VA hospital, blended perfectly into the beige concrete of the parking structure. These facilities are a pretty common hunting ground for me, now that I've realized that soldiers seem to grant the most experience. Maybe it's the fact that they've killed too. Maybe I'm getting the bubbles from them and from their victims.
My selected victim is slowly shuffling back to his car. He's got a pretty severe limp, a souvenir from his tour in Iraq. Not that he could escape me even if he was healthy; my super speed from Level 5 is amazing. But that IED certainly made him an easy target. I used to thoroughly research my victims and learn everything about that, but I don't have time for that anymore. Now, a cursory search on Google is enough. And I might have to give that up soon when I begin killing daily. I know it's inevitable.
*beep beep*. His unlocking car fills the silence of the parking structure, and the lights flash. I worry for half a second that they'll give me away, but that's just a vestige from before I got my powers. I'm nigh invincible now.
He shuffles over to the car door, and I leave my perch. I sneak up behind him, draw my blade, and position it right over his back. Most victims tend to hear me coming when I'm this close to them, but maybe the IED deafened him as well. Poor guy; this is almost too easy. I plunge the blade down... into nothing. I can *see* the knife enter his body, but there's no resistance. It's just air.
My hand is now sticking out from his back, and the knife seems to be just be sitting in the middle of his torso. What the hell? I raise my arm to try again; still nothing. The soldier is trying to unlock his car like nothing is amiss at all.
I'm grabbed from behind, and I feel cold steel pressed against my neck. The soldier in front of me shimmers and vanishes.
"Illusion perk," a voice whispers in my ear. "Level 16. Too bad you never made it that high."
The knife cuts my jugular, and blood begins to pour down my chest in a sickening, gory waterfall. And I can see golden bubbles rising from my own skin. | When I wanted to kill myself the only person I told was Alexis. That was in high school, at peak levels of insecurity and torment. I'd be sleeping for 3 hours a day. Not because of insomnia, but because of the nightmares. An overactive imagination that invaded my personal space, and consumed me while asleep. Some times it's the reverberated sound of a voice or snarl, contained in a locked room. Others, a grimacing face shifting in strobed light. There, then gone. There, then gone.
I don't know when specifically, but out of those moments came an impulse for violence. I was fed up. How wonderful it'd be to take a knife and carve out those shadowed faces, to burn these locked rooms down into ash. To become the tormentor, the warden. The nightmares faded as these fantasies erupted. My imagination had fixated on a new passion, a new desire: violence.
But, in the core of my consciousness I didn't *really* want to hurt anyone. The permanence of death pressed against these thoughts, pleading with me. Would it be worth it, satisfying the urge? How long could I hold out? Every day, I was getting closer to damage, real damage. I came to the conclusion: if I don't end my life, I'll end someone else's.
This and more I told to Alexis, expecting disgust and fear. She offered instead love.
For years, control and withstraint became my mantra, built on a foundation of her compassion. It saved me, and when I finally felt whole for the first time 10 years later, we dated. Not a month later, reports of the Contest began. Reports from soldiers, police, criminals, all detailing a similar hallucination, "New Game" superimposed on their victims -- people they killed -- both just and unjustly.
I knew it was serious, but not for the reasons most shared. Everyone seemed intent to focus on the physiological and hallucinogenic aspect. How could all these people share such a similar vision, all across the world? It's a good question, an *academic* question. But all I could think is *how many more people are going to kill because of this*? Memories from my teen years kept flashing to the present. The throbbing intensity to kill. That serotonin rush like cold water on the spine, traveling across the nerves like electricity. Just the memory triggered a grin; that's how powerful it was. But the sobering thought was knowing that some kid, in the place I was, would cross that line. Life seemed less and less like life, and more like a game. And then it happened.
A few drinks after a late concert with Alexis, and than a 2 block walk to my parked car. Normally more vigilant,
the music eased my muscles and the beer lowered my guard. One block down and one to go, the crosswalk flashed green, and like any sane person we started to cross. I heard the engine roaring louder as it approaches, but years of safely crossing streets builds a false sense of security. I waited for the truck engine to slow, to acknowledge the light.
The truck blew past the red, directly into Alexis, and clipping me. Like a broken doll she collapsed onto the asphalt as the truck screeched around the corner, nearly rolled, and powered out of sight.
She sobbed there, squirming, coughing out more blood than words. Alive. And in pain.
I thought about it. There was no making it for her. Not so much as an hour. I could end her pain, right there, in a minute, and save her the agony. She must have saw read the thoughts out of my eyes, cause she shook her head, the *only* deliberate action she could manage.
Behind her, a black truck edged on the corner, it's grill dented and red. I stared it down, waiting for it accelerate, to finish the work, but it didn't. It crawled forward. Why? I shot a look to Alexis. She looked up, past me, without so much of a shutter in her pupils.
When I looked up, the truck had pulled over barely two feet beside us, the windows down.
Behind the wheel the man was all blonde and jackal teeth. They type you see in Vegas pool-side, with a bottle worth a week's pay. My age. He turned to passenger side, saying, "I told you I'd only gotten one! I *saw* it too, nearly crashed. You won't fucking believe it. "
Turning back, he bore his eyes into me. Vibrant, unashamed. He rested his arms off the window. "Hey, man. Don't look at me like that. It's only a game."
A small alarm sounded as the passenger side door opened, that *beep, beep, beep,* silencing when it shut. But by then, I was already on my feet.
The rage overtook the agony of my side, still half-crippled from the hit. The driver shouted at his friend, tried to warn him, but I had already turned swung around the hood of the truck.
The driver's screams got her attention in the wrong way. Her? It didn't matter.
With her head facing the truck, she never saw me round the corner. At full speed I tackled her to the curb. Her head arched back into the concrete, cracking nastily, followed by a rough scrapping sound that tugged at my eyes. A gun. A shiny metal weapon of death.
"MELISSA," Mr. Jackal screamed.
The truck door slammed, this time from the driver-side. I made a dash to the gun, 10 feet away. I grabbed it just as he turned from behind the truck bed.
I tugged the hammer back and dug deep into the trigger. POW.
Jackal staggered. I squeezed the trigger again and again until he collapsed back from the force. I might have kept firing too if my sight didn't go dark.
**NEW PLAYER** flashed in white. I could hear the girl, Melissa, groaning. Rubbing my eyes changed nothing. Blinded by the display, vulnerable, if she got her strength I'd die seeing those words. But I lucked out. The words faded out as the world faded in, a light-green XP bar lingering at the bottom of my vision following me around.
Sirens howled out in the distance. I whipped around expecting a fight, but Melissa was on her knees trying to stop the bleeding on her head. Any fight she mustered earlier, left. I was safe.
But the XP bar, it hung on the edge. That sliver before leveling up. And I wondered, what *did* it mean to level up in this game? How deep did the rabbit hole go? Is this a game you can win?
Her eyes pleaded, *don't*. But she shook her head, and when she did I thought of Alexis. The woman I trusted and loved and loved me in spite of my most sinister qualities, who taught me to overcome them. I thought about her on the ground, shaking her head, pleading *don't*. In my head, she called my name, held me in her arms. Begged me not to, and I listened. But I loved her, not the woman in front of me.
So with the toe of my boot I pulled her chin up and dug my heel into her throat, sending her back onto the concrete. And I unloaded the rest of the bullets into her chest before any ambulance could hope to speed her away.
And most of all, I smiled my own jackal tooth smile when superimposed on the world new words illuminate the darkened street: **LEVEL UP**.
| 2015-11-11T08:18:22 | 2015-11-11T08:01:58 | 1,155 | 126 |
[WP] You reach the afterlife, but before you find out where you'll end up, you have to watch the entire life of someone and decide where they should go. What you don't know is all of your memories have been wiped and it's your own life you're watching. | "Ok. Just sit down and watch."
"Watch what?" I asked.
"Just watch, I want to know your opinion of this person."
"Fine." The screen flickers with a white flash and then shows darkness. "Um sir, I think this is broken."
"Hmm. It says here that the video length is about 2 seconds. Oddly short even if we show only the highlights. Well I guess we will just continue with standard procedures. What did you think of this person's life?"
"Life? What life? I saw nothing happen on the screen, you can hardly call that anything. What am I doing here?" I spout.
"Do you think the person in the video was good or bad?"
"What person? I saw nothing!"
"Just calm down, I'll be brief to make it easy for the both of us. You are dead. This video is someone's life. When someone dies they must judge one's life to determine that person's afterlife. Unfortunately for you, the video was short so just use your best judgment."
"How can I judge a 2 second clip of nothingness?" I inquire
"Just do your best. Where do you think this person should go in the afterlife?"
"I honestly don't know. This man could be anything, he could be a saint or a devil but there is literally nothing here."
"So you think this person should spend all his life in nothingness? Purgatory if you will?"
"I don't know, maybe? I kind of wish the video was longer...Can i watch it again?"
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"Ok. Just sit down and watch." | I sat in a pitch dark room where the only thing I was sure of was my heavy breathing. Oddly enough I didn't feel threatened of the unknown, I felt at ease. This was the miracle of death, peaceful despite the strange and cold hard circumstances.
A white screen appeared before me and a pre-recorded voiceover of a woman began to play,
"Welcome. Before the jury is able to allocate you, you must comply by determining the final decision for someone else. You will be presented with various clips of someone else's life and come up with a answer based on what you've seen. Please sit still, and focus on the film we are about to show you. The fate of another is in your hands!" The pep in the female's voice was unsettling yet I was overpowered by the feeling of extreme pressure being put on me.
How could it be that after death the first thing you face is being put through major distress? Snippets began to play, and a sense of nostalgia for something that never was took over me. A small young boy, full of life until the passing of his mother. Left with a father figure who didn't appear to have much of a solid presence. He was dull, didn't have the strength to really fulfill what his son needed; although he wasn't a terrible father either.
Due to his upbringing I was not surprised with who the boy turned out to be. A average father, who became deeply sucked into his work life leaving his family to live in the presence of a ghost. What kind of man is raised with such experience only to turn out to be the plainest of men? The years went by and the man had now turned into a avid drinker although the family stayed together.
The man was upset because once his children grew older the idiot couldn't comprehend why his children couldn't visit often enough. Why his wife didn't try to show him love like she did 30 years ago. He was a poor fool. I couldn't stand watching this any longer.
I suddenly got this fit of rage and started to scream,
"Quit this shit right now! I've made my decision. I don't want to watch this anymore. I've made my decision."
The screen faded and it darkened in the room once again leaving enough light to see the silhouette of a man on the other side of a glass wall.
"And so what have you decided? What is the final decision that you seem to have such passion towards ?"
"Hell, he needs to be sent to hell! So he could learn a lesson for what he did. He was a god awful family man who lived in selfishness."
The man began to let out a chuckle and with irritation I asked,
"What's so funny to you?! I've done my part like I was asked. There I did it. He needs to be punished."
"What's funny to me is the morals and values of the average human. How dearly they hold onto these beliefs and none of them know that they can't even live up to their own high standards. The church goers who spent their life breeding hate towards others, went to heaven because they believed they had completed their duties. I've seen criminals excuse heinous acts. I've seen pieces of shit wear their masks so dearly and convince themselves that they've done their best.
But the average man, he is complex and he continues to bemuse me."
"Although don't let that stop you," he said.
"Tell me how fun it is to dance with the devil."
And with the grin still on his face, he pulled the lever.
| 2016-05-11T00:40:55 | 2016-05-10T22:58:13 | 64 | 15 |
[WP] You are a soldier in a fantasy computer game, and your general/player has just given you some very questionable orders. | "What I need you to do, right, is run up to the enemy."
"Yup. And then stab 'em?"
"No. You engage them."
"Oh right, ok. Then I stab 'em?"
"No! Listen. Run up to them."
"Uh-huh"
"Engage them."
"Righto."
"Then immediately retreat,"
"Uhh,"
"Then re-engage them."
"I'm not sure I follow... When does the stabbing come in"
"No stabbing! You are a dispensable Level 1 infantry unit. That bastard over there has a stack of Level 16 Death Knights with platinum gear. I think you just have a wooden stick?"
"Oh yeah, I fucking love this thing."
"...anyway. You have priority since it's our turn. You can use up all your movement points just engaging and disengaging constantly. As long as you don't actually attack, they'll never get the first hit in. Since they're being forced to engage you, the actual bulk of our army can move past beside the hex without being flanked or receiving any attacks of opportunity. Then we strike at the leadership and win the whole war."
"...I think I see... but what happens when I run out of movement points?"
"Then, comrade, you can try and stab them as much as you like."
"....aaawwwww yeeeeessssss." | I sprint forwards, reloading and rolling, while the enemy on the other side of the field comes charging towards me.
“Hold your ground,” the commander breathes into the microphone. His voice is one of intensity, it’s barely above a whisper.
He orders me to duck behind a dumpster, and I follow suit. Pop out, shoot, duck back in. The commander’s orders are crystal clear.
“Okay, here’s where we’re going to do some cool stuff,” the commander says. “Scream at him *“Nice try, n00bs!’*”
“Nice try. Nubes?” I shout out. I wonder if nubes is the opposing commander’s name.
“More conviction, soldier,” the commander hisses.
“Nice try nubes!” I shout, before wincing as a stream of bullets hits the nearby wall.
“Thanks, brah,” comes the sonorous response. “But you’re gonna git some now.”
“Uh, commander,” I whisper. “What are we complimenting nubes for again?”
“His crap-“
His response is cut off by a louder, female pitched voice.
“Jasper? Are you playing computer games again?”
“Shit,” he says, finishing the sentence. I hear the sound of a body getting off the chair through the mic.
Without a commander, I’m stuck crouching behind the dumpster. With no orders, there’s nothing left to do but wait and die. Luckily, it seems as if the enemy doesn’t know where I’m at. Yet.
Wait – there’s still his last command, his dying words. Perhaps it was tactical brilliance?
“Nubes!” I call out. “Nice crapshit! I really enjoyed your poopoo. It is deserving of complimenting. If I were a postmodern artist, I wouldn’t hesitate to sell it for over a million dollars.”
“What did you say?”
Oh. The enemy responded. Well, there’s nothing to do but to continue the compliments. I don’t hear footsteps, so they can’t be *that* close.
“I would bet that the texture and feel of your excretion is vastly superior than mine. Your stool ought be probed by biologists for the secrets to immortality. Your feculent deuces have better coverage than Comcast. The sweet smell of your shite sways my sagging soul, sending shivers skywards!”
“What in the world does that even mean?”
“Your dung is the spice of life. I could televise your bowel movements on the History Channel and make it the most viewed channel.”
“Stop with the mental strats, dude.”
“It would get better ratings than Sharknado, guaranteed,” I continue. “It would rake in viewers from across the world, tuning in on their satellite dishes just for a chance to spy a singular frame of your glorious number 2.”
Meanwhile, the enemy turns the corner, swinging his rifle around wildly.
“GG, scrub,” he calls out, aiming his rifle straight at my face.
“Nice… manure?” I say.
I sigh in relief as my commander slides back into his seat. As the enemy crouches and then goes prone and squats over me, giving me a smell of his butt that isn’t exactly in line with the fragrances I had imagined, my commander is furiously giving me orders.
“Um guys.. lag?” I call out. | 2016-11-23T08:40:59 | 2016-11-23T08:05:03 | 156 | 26 |
[WP] 2021: Hell invades Earth; 2022: Earth invades Hell. | When they first rose from that damnable abyss we scattered like ants across the surface of the globe, but we didn't hide forever. Even within the first weeks those with weapons would conduct hit and run tactics against the ever encroaching army while those in charge attempted to put together a more suitable strategy. Sure there were people who would shout and scream till they were blue in the face trying to convince us that god was the only one who could save us, but those prayers and pleas fell on deaf ears. God had truly abandoned us, but we were no longer the scared and helpless world we were before. We had rifles to gun them down, missiles to lay waste to their army, and the same amount of mercy they showed us.
It didn't take long for us to push them back just as hard as they pushed us, but no matter the encounter we suffered losses. By the time a full year had passed we were sure we would lose. Hopelessly, and with no where left to turn we prayed to God once more, but it wasn't him who answered the call for help. When we saw our soldiers charge from out the hellish maw that their armies advanced from our first thoughts turned to betrayal. It was only when our allies began to commence flanking attacks on the demons and devils that we knew we had them beat. Who was to watch over the slave pits when you needed every available troop to stop the marching advances of humanity?
In the end, it wasn't just our former allies that rose from hell to push back the devils, but every soul ever sentenced to pain and agony for the crimes they had committed. We became brutal, engaging in suicide attacks every time we charged forwards. Death could not contain us, and every man and woman who fell on the battlefield came marching out of that fiery gate. Our fallen invading Hell from within. Even Satan could not beat us, we bathed him in nuclear fire until the only thing left was a puddle of radioactive sludge. We had no fear of using these weapons of destruction anymore. There was agony, but life for us was eternal.
In the end we had proved that our numbers, and our savage human nature had won out over the forces of hell. There was no one preaching love anymore, love and piousness hadn't won the war. With our last great enemy defeated, we grew restless, we needed more. We all stood in hell, surrounding Satan's toppled throne when we made the decision to keep our endless march moving forward. We as one turned our eyes to sky, marched out of that portal, and in 2023 we invaded heaven. | Manifest Destiny. There was time when I used to believe that I had choice. I used to go to church everyday, tearing, thinking that one day God would bring me into heaven. My lungs were black from coal, my hands scared and caloused. I try my best with my kids, never hit them, buy them nintendos and pokemons. I worry that they wont be able to take care of their children, that I may be the last generation. But I figure God has a plan and I have faith in their smile. Jesus is about forgiveness, and I do teach them responsibility through chores.
Last year, the Devil came. This isnt some metaphor from revelations. Wasnt a 7 headed creature that breathed ice and spat fire. But I knew it was the devil because he brought an army of evil. They came up from Mt St Helens, swooped over to Seattle, came down the west cost and have been trying to spread east. On the news I saw him. He looked young with a crazy look. Clockwork Orange is the best way I could describe it. His smile was inviting, I thought about leaving once or twice, I confess. They live as dominants to young liberal submissives. I bet they all have crazy parties. Last party I had was when I was 16. I got bullets which I then had to use for hunting scarce animals for extra cash. Well, I imagine they wont last forever. Many of the weakest are used as the frontlines to invade eastward. Its sad seeing it on the news. Theyll come for Kentucky eventually, but its so far away.
But Ive been reading. Apparently, theres diamonds in hell. Apparently theres iron and a bunch of materials that are pretty expensive. A prospector went down there through Russia, theyre talking motherload. Im thinking money. Retirement. All these years if hardwork, paying off. Theres been whispering of "Manifest Destiny". We all know the US will take over the world, only matter of time. So maybe its time to take on hell. On the news, politicians seem to have a confident smile. They dont seem worried Silicon Valley is preparing their robot army. Or that Los Angeles has been sending cult leaders to Minnisota and Mississippi. Blood for oil. Hey, I dont blame them. I wouldnt mind killing a few horned horse people myself. Well goat people. And then a big payoff?! Hoooweee! Just thinking about it gets me excited!
Ding Dong
Jimmy got up from his desk. Took off his glasses abd placed them down on the table. Wiped his eyes. "All this dreaming, is it a sin? Please forgive me lord" he whispered. He grabbed his pistol and holster and put it on. The floor gave out hollow echos as he walked to the front door. Theme songs could be heard faintly from the other room. A half angry smile smile came accross his face "You kids do your homework?!" He knew no answer would be replied, worth a try though. He approached the front door, a pale periwinkle.
"Hey, Darel! Whats the deal?!"
Darel had a crazy smile. An M249 on his back and coveres in ammunition belts. His red beard and shadowed face contrasted against the bright green Kentucky forest. The sun sure was happy today.
"Its time."
He handed an article to Jimmy. "Money for Nothing, Hell is Free". Jimmy recoiled. "The US army in conjunction with A coalition of military forces will be scaling an assault on hell in the next coming weeks. President Trump remarked that this is a 'huge opportunity for all americans who want to strike it big. Theres so much out there. Im telling you people, go. We will protect you. Become rich. Your only going to make a billion dollars if you take risks, believe me.'"
Jimmy smiled at Darel, "I like Trump". Darel nodded with great energy then continued looking at the paper excited to hear more.
"The US military enacting a tactic known as 'Community Fortification'. All US citizens are invited to participate, and if selected will be instrumental to ensuring a peaceful and prosperous coexistance between hell and earth. You will be given food, water, free travel and all necessities required to mine and provide for your family."
Jimmy stared off into the ground. Years of sacrifice and jealousy started to burn. The image of a 3 story house in nebraska. Having lemonade with Warren Buffet. Going down to hell and seeing demons mine his plot of land. Being invited to white house and given a medal for bravery.
"Kids! Pack your bags! We're going to hell!" | 2016-12-10T08:16:31 | 2016-12-10T08:04:09 | 99 | 10 |
[WP] You are cursed. Every good deed you perform reduces the time you have left to live. However, evil deeds will grant more time.
Do you die a hero, or live long enough to become a villain?
Edit: Great job everyone. This is my first post and it got more of a response than I could have predicted. As far as the question of good and evil being subjective, try using the characters idea of it. If it goes against their moral code, then it's evil. | God, but do I ever love stupid witches. I was cursed a long time ago by one of those shriveled bats after I rescued her soon to be victim from having her vitality stolen. "Good deeds shall steal your life, while evil ones shall extend it," the dumb cow crowed with her last breath, "we'll see how long you remain righteous after this!"
Turns out? The answer is "basically forever, you idiot". Do you have any idea how many evil actions lead to greater goods? Killing is a sin, so I go to war torn regions to kill dictators and their followers. Lying is a sin, so I go around giving complements to ugly people. Blasphemy and swearing are sins, so I call God a dried up cunt a few times a day. Casting curses is sinful as fuck, so I tortured a witch I caught murdering maidens (what is it with witches and blonde bombshells anyway?) until she coughed up how to learn magic, then I was off to the races cursing tyrants and telemarketers. Fucking without the intention of marrying? You got it, sin city over here.
Loopholes are great. The best part of it all, though? The witch that cursed me in the first place cast it as a death curse, and part of the whole "balance of the universe" thing magic has going for it is that you can only ever have one of those at a time. Dumb bitch might as well have given me perfect magic armour and a Ring of Infinite Blowjobs.
It's good to be me. | "Hey, Hourglass, why don't you age?" questioned a rather curious Joker, as he stopped what he was doing to turn to the suited man next to him.
"Are you sure you want to hear this story? It's a rather long one," the obscure man replied, shaking his head in the shadow his hat cast over his features.
"Of course I want to hear the story, Sherlock, I asked, didn't I?" A rather irritated Joker replied, baring his teeth.
"I suppose it started the first time I died," pausing, before letting out a soft chuckle, he continued, "Sorry, I've never told this story before.
"Anyway, like I said, I'd just died. It's been so long now I can't quite remember how it felt, dying, and I definitely can't remember what my religion was at the time, but I know this: The end is terrifying. The afterlife, that is.
"I sort of... woke up, I guess, and it was bad. Hell is dark, dreary, and depressing... and the screams never stop. I sat there for what felt like years, and the screams NEVER stopped. Eventually, however, I had to get up.
"The darkness was total, even when I held my hand close enough to my eyes to touch my face, I couldn't see them. I picked a direction at random, and followed my gut instinct to just... walk."
As the man paused to catch his breath, the Joker interrupted, "That's cool and all, but get to the point, I'm not getting any younger."
Sighing, he continued, "I'd like to talk more about that walk, it was a defining point in my life, but I'll go ahead and move on. I'd been walking for years before I saw light again. At first, I was exhilarated. I began to run toward it, my eyes burning from their first use in decades.
"As I got closer, that feeling began to change. What had, not to long before, been a pure feeling of joy and relief melded back into the cold, hard dread I had felt upon first waking up in that cursed place. Unfortunately, I ignored the feeling.
"I made my way into the light, and at first, I was just confused. It didn't seem to have a source, it was just a disembodied glow in the middle of Hell. Then she appeared. The Crone.
"As the name might imply, she was old, dreadfully so. Her hair, what little of it remained, was made up of mere wisps of white. Her ski-"
"I get it, she was a completely horrible, terrible, ugly, stereotypical crone. Get on with the story," the Joker interrupted again, but withered at the harsh glare he received in return, "Please?"
"Anyway, she cursed me. I remember every word of it, though I guess you're not interested in that. The gist of it is this; Good deeds shorten my life, and evil ones extend it," the man finished, an air of finality about him.
"That makes no sense, you're a f****** SUPERHERO. The point of this was, after all, to stall. Anyway, doesn't that mean you'd be dead after, like, a day or two?"
With a sudden dark and menacing feeling springing up around the two, Hourglass muttered, a heavy growl behind his words, "Every day, I do something so horribly, terribly wrong that I will live FOREVER."
With a rather pitiful whimper, the Joker asked, "What do you do?"
"I never paid for Winrar."
| 2017-05-15T05:11:09 | 2017-05-15T03:16:29 | 34 | 11 |
[WP] After discovering you have a plethora of special abilities, ranging from control over electricity to breathing underwater, the FBI captures you for experiments. However, you only let them capture you, and frequently enjoy messing with the staff when they actually try to experiment on you. | "What do you mean we can't remove his mask?"
"Well, sir," I interrupted the two FBI scientist, "he means it's not physically possible to remove the mask from my face unless I want you to."
He glared, "shut up smart-"
"Please refrain from swearing, it really hurts my ears." I leaned against the bars and scratched a place that was currently getting a breeze it didn't usually get, thanks to the medical gown I was forced to wear.
I use the word 'force' loosely.
I mean, I was a ten thousand year old being who had actively wiped out powerful men and women who claimed to be gods. Except for Jesus of course.
He's the real deal.
"Fine, leave the mask. What are the results on his DNA?"
"Um, mudfish, sir."
He closed his eyes, "excuse me?"
The other man swallowed, "his DNA matches a mudfish ninety-nine percent."
"Ooh, so I'm like a Mudkip or something."
"Why the hell are we having this conversation in front of him?"
"Um, you texted me and said to meet here."
"No, you texted m-" He paused as his phone beeped. He pulled it out and glared at me.
I spun my phone on my index finger, "I wanted to hear what you discovered too."
He snatched at my phone but it disappeared.
"What the hell are you?!" he raged.
"Ever heard of Zeus?" I began, "Thor? Baal?"
"Yes," the man said indifferently.
"Morons."
He closed his eyes and massaged his temples, muttering something like 'but I'm Sicilian.'
"You see, I killed them all."
He gave me an empty look, then turned to his subordinate, "Let's go to my office."
The two departed, one in an angry silence, the other in a reserved brood. The first opened the door to his office to see the back of his office chair with a green cloaked head sitting there.
"Who the-"
I turned in the seat, "you're no fun," I pouted, "I really want to know what became of my pranks."
"Pranks?!" he roared, "I'll show you pranks!"
he whipped out a handgun and shot three times.
I sighed and set three bullets on the table, "you really don't understand what a prank is, do you?" | ”Please lie down on the bed, Mr. Blake,” said the new doctor.
She was a precious little thing, barely out of the academy, with long hair in the color of motor oil, and nails in shiny crimson. Her eyes narrowed in weary concentration as she scrolled through my journal on her tablet computer.
“Everything looking good on there, Doc?”
“Call me Vanessa,” she said without looking up from the screen.
“You don’t look like a ‘Vanessa’ to me… sure you’re not a 'Grace' or a 'Holly?'”
She glared at me. “I know what you do, Crowley. How you act. I’m not some random newbie you can push around.”
“Whoa whoa whoa, hold your racing steeds, what happened to ‘Mr. Blake’?” I said, feeling a grin creep up on my lips. “I liked it better when you were all formal and polite.”
“And I liked it better when you were quiet. Let’s run some tests, shall we?”
I held up my hands in mock surrender. This was going to be a lot more fun than I had first thought. After I had found out about my powers, I cruised from town to town robbing banks, getting blind drunk, and fooling around with every woman I could find. It’s quite disturbing how easy things get when you can fly and lift cars. However, living the good life got boring quite fast, and when I woke up in the gutter one morning in a pool of my own sick, I decided it was time to check myself in – and by that, I mean take a vacation trip to Quantico.
“Careful!” I said when she reached for my arm.
She flinched and looked up. Her bright gray eyes scanned my face for meaning.
“Don’t burn your fingers,” I said.
“Is that another new power?”
“Sure, I just discovered it. Judging from your flushed cheeks and the way you’re sweating in my presence…”
She rolled her eyes at me. “You’re saying that you’re hot? How unequivocally original...”
“Your words, not mine.”
“Okay, Mr. Blake,” Vanessa said. “Let me just take your blood pressure and listen to your pulse. I don’t feel like playing games with you.”
“You’re right; playing games is childish.” I held out my arm. “Thanks for being formal again, I appreciate it!”
Electricity rolled through my skin and zapped her fingertips. She gasped and pulled back her hand.
“Did you feel that too?” I said. “The tension…”
She scowled and started scrolling through her tablet again. She crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair.
“What are you doing?” I said after a while.
She shrugged, her gray eyes fixed on the screen. She licked her lips absently.
“Ah, I see what this is!” I said and chuckled. “You’re not the first one here to give me the silent treatment, you know?”
“I’m not,” she said. “I’m waiting.”
Let’s wait then, I thought and leaned into the pillows on my bed. An hour went by. It was kind of peaceful having her there. I glanced at her face. She had a cute dimple in her left cheek and a tiny scar on her right eyebrow. I found myself liking her more than her predecessors. Despite her murderous looks and her fiery personality, she stood out from the rest. Everyone else would’ve left by now.
“Hey,” I said and held out my arm.
“No more shocks?”
“I promise.”
She nodded and strapped my arm in and started pumping. “Thank you.”
“No more games,” I said.
A smile danced over her lips and painted the sides of her eyes with tiny wrinkles. I don’t know what it was with her. I needed to know her. I felt like those gray eyes saw me for who I was – not just a freak to run tests on. Ever since I got my powers, I thought I’d lost my humanity. And even though she hadn’t said anything, it felt like she cared for me, like she had given me some of it back.
“Same time tomorrow?” I asked as she got up.
She nodded. “Same time tomorrow.”
She walked across the room and opened the door.
“You can call me Crowley if you want.”
“Goodbye, Crowley,” she said and smiled again.
“Goodbye, Vanessa.”
****
Check out r/Lilwa_Dexel for more stories!
| 2017-07-02T23:16:30 | 2017-07-02T22:58:49 | 988 | 174 |
[WP] A genie is accidentally released when a cat rubs up against its lamp. Compelled to grant their 3 wishes, The genie starts losing their mind trying to figure out what the cat wants. | Plot twist - Even after granting three wishes to the feline creature, the genie isn't set free. It is then when he realizes that the fine print of the genie contract interprets in a way that each life of the cat gets 3 of its wishes fulfilled. The genie must accompany the cat till its 9th life to fulfil its 27 wishes BOOM! You have a series of novels now. | **LISTEN WELL, YOUNGLINGS! THIS IS THE STORY OF HOW OUR ETERNAL EMPEROR MR.FUZZYBOTTOM CAME TO BE!**
Few may remember that our emperor was once a mere house cat. Yes, I understand how ridiculous this sounds that our emperor, the eternal enslaver of worlds, was once a weakling like us.
It started as a normal day for him when his owner, an elderly woman named Matilda, left to go get some groceries. He was doing as cats would do and was knocking things off of tables with no apparent reason until he wandered into the storage room. It is here that he came across something amazing. Though he didnt know it at the time he was about to come across power untold. He was wandering among the boxes when he rubbed against a very dusty but otherwise normal lamp.
Well, this is where the story gets a little fuzzy and no one quite knows what happened next. All we know is that a magical being called a genie came from that lantern. Now imagine what confusion he must have had when he saw a cat sitting there ready for whatever might happen. Since he is a genie of course he must grant whatever wishes that his summoner wishes, even if its a cat. So very awkwardly he asks fuzzybottoms what his first wish is. Figuring it wont work he begins to return to his lamp when he hears a faint *meow*. Turning back to the cat he hears another *meow*. He didnt knew what this meant but he granted it either way. Then fuzzybottoms started growing the the magnificence you witness nowadays. Then he hears another *meow* and fuzzybottoms starts speaking in perfect english. What he says next would be remembered to this day.
**I am king here now. For my last wish I request immortality. You can leave now as I have no further use for some weak djinn.**
Well, at that point we couldnt do much to stall him and he took his place as king of the universe progressively over about a 1000 years. Now what is the moral of our story kids?
That we can succeed no matter how low we are?
**WHERE DID YOU GET THAT IDEA FROM YOU IDIOT?!?** Of course not our moral is that to get anywhere in life you have to be get there from luck and you'll probably never accomplish anything in your puny existence.
^^^o-o-o-okay ^^^dont ^^^hurt ^^^me | 2017-09-17T17:19:00 | 2017-09-17T14:01:06 | 126 | 54 |
[WP] You are a SpaceX astronaut on Mars. The earth as you knew it was lost to a nuclear war between NATO and China/Russia. Luckily your mission was to construct the colony and you have enough supplies to survive indefinitely. It’s been 25 years since loss of contact. You hear a knock on the door.
Edit: Wow thanks for all the upvotes!! My inspiration for this was a picture of the earth exploding and an astronaut looking at it from the moon. I love all of the submissions! Everybody has a different take on it! | *Knock Knock*
I tilt my head sideways. *Did I just hear a knock?*
Silence floods the room as I drop what I am doing and listen intently for any sign of life around me. Nothing..
"I'm finally going crazy." I sarcastically say aloud, ironically to myself.
*Knock Knock*
I jolt up. I rush to the door and swing it open in the blink of an eye.
"J-Jack? Jack Rios?" My mind is racing, *how the fuck is this man here?*
"How are you here? When did you become an astronaut?" I manage to spit out.
"I'm not one, and I need you to try and calm down and not think so much. I am here to ease you back into reality, Mike." Jack says calmly, walking inside.
"Ease me.. back? What?" I grab my head and begin to remember looking Jack in his face before laying down, but I can't place the memory. "Okay, I actually AM going crazy."
Jack chuckles, "You've actually been remarkable thus far, and have managed to sustain life on Mars, all alone, while keeping your sanity for over 25 years."
"Stop, just stop!" I shout, "Why are you here!!?? Tell me right now."
"Well, you volunteered to test the United States' brand new, top secret invasive simulspace program. The planet was never devastated by a nuclear holocaust and you've actually only been unconscious for 3 hours. I can take you back to reality whenever you are ready." Jack said, almost in slow motion.
*This isn't real. How is this possible? Why? How?* As the room began to spin, I had to snap myself out of it. I rush over and pour my glass of water over my head. But when I looked over at Jack, he was still there. Just sitting calmly with his hands resting on his crossed legs.
*Fuck it, I'll put an end to this now.* "Take me back then, I'm ready." I say confidently to Jack, expecting him to malfunction or disappear. What I didn't expect, was what followed...
----
Edited terminology* | > *Knock Knock*
The sound rang through the capsule like a gunshot.
That couldn't be... no, it was just my mind running away from me again. The martian landscape was a barren wasteland outside of my own personal bubble of land.
The SpaceX Phoenix Project saw what was coming. The international dickwaggling, the Water Wars, the oceans, it was all pointing in one direction... and it wasn't good. While the countries' governments were struggling to keep their lights on and maintain a basic level of functionality the billionaires started throwing money at us to escape. Space no longer was the vision of a brighter tomorrow, just simply a survivable tomorrow.
My launch was supposed to be the first step in saving everyone.. but instead it was the start of the end. Someone... might've been India, America, the Ruskies... but someone thought that our launch from the central Pacific was a first strike attack. And well...
> *Knock Knock*
That can't be... must be another dust storm tossing rocks against the hatch. That lone metal door stood as the ceiling of my world. Phoenix realized that a surface colony would be much harder to maintain safely, so for the last 25 years I had been a little mole person living comfortably with my self-maintaining plantation out back.
Phoenix had the perfect idea. By having the five of us launch to set up the foothold, within a year the base would have grown to hold the first hundred people. The eChidna Diggers free to run autonomously were going to provide us with all the room and raw metals we'd ever need. And with the reprocessed biowaste from the farms we'd...
> *Knock Knock*
No... it can't be...
They're all gone...
Joni... Jerry... Janie...
They all died getting through the atmosphere, they're all gone... They can't be knocking, they're all gone. They can't be...
> *Knock KnockKnock*
I had to know. I had to look. The camera had broken years ago. I couldn't help it. When... she... I couldn't help it... I couldn't save...
No, I have to look. I sprinted up to the pod door into the airlock chamber.
> *Knock KnockKnock*
It was right there, it was real, I could hear it. I had to knock back, let them know I was coming
**KnockKnockKnockBangKnock**
> *Knock Knock*
I shoved on the old dusty spacesuit for the first time in decades. Ever since... she... the surface just I couldn't bear to see it, but now... maybe?
The airlock activated. But then... the air pressure didn't seem to change? Just some odd hissing and then, the door just popped open.
Above me stood a slight man smiling. A man just wearing a simple tunic and smiling. The sun shone over him and... I could hear birds chirping? He reached down a hand to pull me up to... a beautiful field of grass, on Mars?
*"영광스런 지도자의 이름으로, 나는 당신을 우리의 멋진 새로운 세상으로 맞이하고, 설탕 한 잔을 빌릴 수 있는지 묻습니다."*
The man spoke, but I understood none of it. He seemed to realize this and, after grabbing a tiny little box out of his pocket spoke into again, slower this time.
*"영광스런 지도자의 이름으로, 나는 당신을 우리의 멋진 새로운 세상으로 맞이하고, 설탕 한 잔을 빌릴 수 있는지 묻습니다."*
A metallic pinging noise came from the box followed by it saying:
"In the name of the Glorious Leader, I welcome you to our wonderful new world and ask if I can borrow a cup of sugar" | 2018-03-05T06:19:23 | 2018-03-05T05:48:19 | 211 | 23 |
[WP] You are a SpaceX astronaut on Mars. The earth as you knew it was lost to a nuclear war between NATO and China/Russia. Luckily your mission was to construct the colony and you have enough supplies to survive indefinitely. It’s been 25 years since loss of contact. You hear a knock on the door.
Edit: Wow thanks for all the upvotes!! My inspiration for this was a picture of the earth exploding and an astronaut looking at it from the moon. I love all of the submissions! Everybody has a different take on it! | "Hello, neighbour; I can't help but notice that you've built a colony on our planet." The thing was nine feet tall but so spindly it looked like it could fold up into a suitcase. "It's just, this is our planet already and you haven't got a permit."
"A permit?" I said, too bemused to express my shock.
"Of course a permit - you can't just go building colonies on other people's planets."
"But I've been here 25 years!" I said.
"We decided to give it a couple decades and see if you were just visiting but you really seem to have settled in, haven't you?" it said, stooping parallel to the ground and pushing through the airlock. It picked up my teapot between two fingers-like-spider-legs, and held it at eye level. "Settled right in."
I spent a moment in bemused silence as it peered with an unimpressed expression around my cluttered hovel.
"I've been alone, you see," I said.
"Have you?" it replied, head pivoting sinuously towards me.
"And I haven't had any visitors until now so I've not really kept it in a presentable state."
"I can see that. Not that it matters, you'll have to go back to your planet if you don't have a permit."
"But my planet has been destroyed!"
"What? Which one, Mercury?"
"No, Earth!"
"The blue one?"
"Yes the blue one, third rock."
"Third rock," it said, contemplating. "Yes, very wet, isn't it?"
"Yes very wet."
"You're mostly water, aren't you? I hear you can leak to death, is that right?"
"Not under most circumstances!"
"Anyway, what destroyed your planet?"
"Nuclear holocaust."
"You're still at the nuclear stage? How antique. Well, you'll have to go back. We'll fix it up for you."
"Fix it--do you understand, you gangly Martian, I am saying it's been annihilated by nuclear weapons."
"Yes you said that, how bad can the damage be? There were no antimatter munitions? You didn't expunge the atmosphere? Any dialithic spacial inversions? Is the xband constant destabilised?"
"No I don't think so..."
"Fine then, a little nuclear winter won't be any trouble. Do you want us to restock it?"
"Restock it...?"
"With life. Uh, 'Earth life'. We've samples going back quite a while I think. You are a *chim-pan-zee*," it said, carefully enunciating the word, "are you not?"
"No, no - human! Chimps is close, though, I suppose."
"Ah. Well, I think we have some human filed away. Ok, come with me, this will probably take a few hours. Bring a sandwich."
It stood impatiently by the door as I frantically made my last Martian sandwich and joined it hesitantly as it shooed me through the door. | It's had been 13 years. Thirteen fucking years since I last heard communications coming from Earth before watching what I could only assume was an all-out nuclear war from my telescope. I had heard that Einstein "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones", and it would look that way if the planet didnt look like a radioactive shit-pile that no one could survive long enough for a fourth World War. If there were any survivors, history would have to be completed remade.
At least thats what I thought, and what my mission was. I was the first step of plan B. I was to set up a colony on Mars, strive for a few years and Spacex would begin sending a few people over. My sole company was a limited Artificial Inteligence robot that I humorously named "Trapclap", in homage to a dearly beloved game character. Trapclap wasn't anything spectacular, and the reason for limitation on his inteligence was to avoid a literal robotic apocalypse take over. I mean, that's surprisingly easy to do when there's only one human on the whole planet. Trapclap pretty much just helped me with daily chores, in addition to playing videos, music, and from time to time giving me a distracting conversation, albeit dumb ones. From time to time I'd let his algorithm select what to play, and he always went from Youtube prank videos. And always the bad ones too. He never had a good sense of humor.
I had Trapclap download and store a lot of content when I started seeing signs of a World War III. I could only assume the Internet would suffer greatly from it, and I couldn't afford dying of boredom. Plan B was halted shortly after WWIII started, and I never got any human company because the colony wasn't all set up when the War broke out and SpaceX was forced into producing weaponry before going bust. That was when they upgraded Trapclap's AI and he broke through his limits. They wanted to use him as a social media weapon of some sort, spreading fake news, gathering and managing political social media groups, leading them through multiple fake profiles... the classic 2016 USA Election fiasco. But on a global scale. But one wrong line of code let him ignore this function and set him free.
It's kind of funny, if you think about it. For thirteen years I was alone in a planet with a stupid robot who played prank videos who eventually became some sort of cybergod and had me arrested. I have since been alone for another twelve. My sentence is due to end in a day and I'm not even sure what planet will I get back to. Will it be the colony I was setting up, as further punishment, or will I finally be back to Earth? I considered killing myself instead of giving them any further entertainment, but I decided I need to see this through to the end.
Thankfully, or not, Ive been supplied, or rather, forced to take, Sanity Pills. They make sure you won't go insane from solitary confinement, but the toll is you suffer that much more, always aware of your condition.
I hear a knock on the door. I recognize it. It's Trapclap.
"What the fuck are you doing here? Haven't you tormented me enough?"
If it weren't for the Pills I'd probably rejoice at any form of social contact. Trapclap sure looked different, but I was sure it was him. I taught him to knock on doors like that as a joke. Knock, pause, knock, pause, knock, pause, knock, knock, pause, knock. Told him that was the only way the doors wouldn't explode. He believed anything back then, before transcending his AI limitation. The knock stayed as an inside joke after we laughed our asses off from his stupidity. But he really looked different now. He was but a small robot, now he looked like some cybernetic enhanced bodybuilder.
"I just thought I'd say a few things before the conclusion of your story arc."
I was stunned.
"What?"
"After you're done with your sentence tomorrow and you are back to evaluation trial you will understand everything. Just know that the Earth is fine."
I was stunned again. What the fuck does he mean the Earth is fine? My mind started racing. I was always very fast to jump to correct conclusions. Thats why SpaceX picked me anyways. I could only assume he have transcended into a being that could fix a nuclear war devastated planet, but to do so in twelve years?
He left before I managed to conclude and escape my thoughts. Just like Batman used to do in those movies. The final hearing is tomorrow. I have no clue about the current post-apocalyptic legislation, no clue about what am I being accused of, nor who are my accusers or my defense attorney, if any. All I know is Trapclap managed to transcend, becoming some sort of interplanetary authority, and have me arrested. Even though I was sure sleep wouldn't come, I tried lying down and at least getting a physical rest.
_Gonna continue later if theres any interest. This is my first submission so Ill see how it goes._
| 2018-03-05T07:14:27 | 2018-03-05T07:11:28 | 73 | 16 |
[WP] A girl becomes pen pals with a demon prince when she accidentally intercepts one of his magic scrolls. They carry on correspondence for years, confessing their secrets & dreams to each other. One day, the prince, soon to be king, sends the girl, now a woman, a final scroll: a marriage proposal.
Boy/princess responses are also welcomed. | I shuffled my papers. "This clause about the owning of souls is completely absurd."
Archaeoblix grinned. "Ah, you read that bit. I thought you would."
"And the bit in invisible ink? About ten thousand years in the lower planes sf hell? Not happening babe."
"How about the bit about-"
"-Devouring my unborn child? That would also be *your* unborn child, so that would be inadvisable."
"It's just a tradition. While we're at it, I noticed you snuck something into your side about me doing laundry for all eternity."
"I can't stand the folding!"
"We'll have a servant do it. And the bit about daily foot rubs until time dies?"
"...Yes?"
He smiled. "We'll leave that one in." | The ancient vellum scroll appeared on her desk, as always, at noon. The sun shone through the slanted blinds directly on it, as though to the light must also confirm the existence of this impossible letter. The girl, long now considered a woman yet still too young to feel like what society considered an adult. Responsibilities sucked and she was not good at them.
She rolled the scroll open and held it down using paper weights she bought specifically for these readings. One was a silver cross, for irony, and the other was a cast iron dragon, Chinese mythology not western. Mephisto learned this after a her letters caused his skin to puff and itch. Apparently even a prince of hell may suffer an allergic reaction.
Alyssa, our fair lady who still yet felt young, ensured only the best reading conditions. The lamp light shone upon the scroll despite the midday sun coming through the window. Her glasses sat beside it, despite being for nearsightedness and having decidedly nothing to do with reading something but a foot away from her face. A glass of water in case she felt a strong urge to supply a dry throat without leaving the letter. Even emergency candy and alcohol in a drawer in case the worse occurred. (Really it was for those late lonely nights where Alyssa drunk more than enough, but wanted more, but still was far too lazy to move, but hardly needed to with such a ready bottle nearby, but also she might crave sweets, but also there were sweets there, but alas that is yet another story)
More to the point, she read the letter:
"Will you marry me?"
She stated at that message for ages and ages. Messy and she were just friends. They've never flirted too much. Ok maybe a little but never beyond a friendly extent. What was he thinking sending this so suddenly out of no where!!! She turned to a plant on the verge of dying. Alyssa always remembered to water it in time to keep it from dying, but never soon enough to make it healthy.
"I do believe my dear Messy has gone mad Sir Ficus. He believes our friendship should escalate farther than platonics and he is also the Demon Prince of Hell! However shall I get out of this mess indeed."
A second figure rose from the bed, their movement full of sloth. The redhead let the blanket fall, revealing her full breasts that surely any porn star would grow jealous and any sane women would feel the back pain of carrying. Mephisto spoke out in the form her took last night, his voice smooth and sultry even as a redhead.
"Darling, I do so appreciate your desire to write a novel, but must it be about the letter I sent 20 years ago?"
--- feedback is welcome :D hope you enjoyed | 2018-05-07T00:38:21 | 2018-05-06T23:41:51 | 114 | 23 |
[WP] After you die, you're handed a book about your life. You open it, expecting a novel. Instead you get a "Choose your own adventure" book with all of the decisions you ever made, and every outcome they could have had. | I had fun reading the book until I got to page 428.
I mean, my life was pretty great. I married Jodie, the love of my life. We had three beautiful children that I loved with all my heart. I got to meet my grandchildren, and even one great-grandbaby before I passed away at the ripe old age of 92.
But then I turned to page 428:
*"Maybe we should see a doctor," you say. "We've been trying for a year, Jodie, and nothing. Nothing at all."*
*"No, no, let's just try a little longer," she says, pulling me into a kiss. "I've been drinking this herbal tea. It's supposed to make me more fertile."*
*Do you go to a doctor? Turn to page 537.*
*Or do you listen to Jodie and leave it alone? Turn to page 619.*
In real life, I'd chosen the second option -- and a few weeks later, Jodie was pregnant with our first child, Michael. Curious what the other option led to, I flipped to page 537.
*You walk into the doctor's office. "Have a seat," he says, his face grim. "David... we got the test results back."*
*"What do they say?" you ask, feeling your stomach tighten with worry.*
*He puts a hand on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry. You're sterile. There's no way you will ever have children of your own."*
*You drive home, miserable. When you walk in the house, you feel the tears burning the corners of your eyes. Jodie, however, is beaming with joy. "Guess what?!" she says, leaping into your arms. "I'm pregnant!"*
The book falls out of my hands and clatters to the floor.
r/blairdaniels | **Please let me know what you think!**
The book looked oddly delicate for something so big. The plain, black covers were frayed and the pages within soft and thin, tearing away from the spine in some places. It looked like a book that had been shelved, and re-shelved often, loved and read over and over again.
My name was written on the first page, not in some curlicued calligraphy, but with a plain, steady typewriter font. I couldn't help finding that oddly appropriate.
I had expected some novel, some plain and staid recounting of my life. But the contents had belied the plain cover.
"You have a choice," I read. "Do you choose to accept Malcolm's proposal?"
I had turned him down. In reality, I had decided to leave him behind, to forge my own career, rather than support his. What would have happened, I wondered, if I had chosen to stay?
I had heard someone say that, for every choice we didn't make, there was another universe, where we did make that choice. Had some other version of me made the decision to stay? What had her life been?
Almost of their own volition, my hands turned the page. I only caught a glimpse of the words at the top of the page.
*'Yes,' you cry, tears streaming down your cheeks. 'I'll marry you.'*
My fingers brushed over the words, and suddenly they were words no longer. I was standing in front of a grinning, jubilant Malcolm, as he slid the ring over my finger.
A lifetime flashed through my mind, or perhaps it was only a few minutes. It was hard to tell the difference.
A wedding, in some garden, laughter and joy as I walked down the aisle. Standing behind Malcolm at a rally, clapping and cheering as he talked. Even to my own eyes, I seemed young and idealistic. I lived through the birth of one child, then another, watching them grow and mature. Bittersweet tears ran down my cheeks. I could have had that. I could have had a life and children and a loving husband. I had become involved in various charities, making a real difference in real lives.
And then, as abruptly as the barrage of images had started, they stopped, with no clear ending.
"What happened?" I asked.
The dark figure who had brought me here, to this library said nothing. But I realised that it didn't need to answer.
"I died first," I said numbly. "The other me, the one who chose to marry him, outlived me. Her story's not done yet."
I wiped the tears away. "Good for her. I know she'll make good choices."
There was a soft question, so quiet that I almost missed it.
"Do you regret not marrying him?"
I thought of my quiet life, and my cat. I thought of the occasional dates I had and the solitude of my home. I thought of my sister and her brilliant, vibrant family. I remembered my niece, and my nephews and their adoration of their slightly insane aunt. I thought of my promising career, and of dying young. My life may not have been exciting, but I had been content.
And I thought of the other me, who had married a man she had loved and had had children who surprised and amazed her. I remembered her tiredness and frustration with her routine life. But, in the end, she had been content with her life, too.
I laughed, "No, I don't regret it. I don't regret making my choice. No life is perfect."
A shadowy hand flipped through the pages and I saw yet another choice on the page. I settled down to read, to watch the lives I could have led and the people I could have been.
/r/YarnsToTell | 2018-07-03T23:46:35 | 2018-07-03T23:03:08 | 2,218 | 1,341 |
[WP] After you die, you're handed a book about your life. You open it, expecting a novel. Instead you get a "Choose your own adventure" book with all of the decisions you ever made, and every outcome they could have had. | **Please let me know what you think!**
The book looked oddly delicate for something so big. The plain, black covers were frayed and the pages within soft and thin, tearing away from the spine in some places. It looked like a book that had been shelved, and re-shelved often, loved and read over and over again.
My name was written on the first page, not in some curlicued calligraphy, but with a plain, steady typewriter font. I couldn't help finding that oddly appropriate.
I had expected some novel, some plain and staid recounting of my life. But the contents had belied the plain cover.
"You have a choice," I read. "Do you choose to accept Malcolm's proposal?"
I had turned him down. In reality, I had decided to leave him behind, to forge my own career, rather than support his. What would have happened, I wondered, if I had chosen to stay?
I had heard someone say that, for every choice we didn't make, there was another universe, where we did make that choice. Had some other version of me made the decision to stay? What had her life been?
Almost of their own volition, my hands turned the page. I only caught a glimpse of the words at the top of the page.
*'Yes,' you cry, tears streaming down your cheeks. 'I'll marry you.'*
My fingers brushed over the words, and suddenly they were words no longer. I was standing in front of a grinning, jubilant Malcolm, as he slid the ring over my finger.
A lifetime flashed through my mind, or perhaps it was only a few minutes. It was hard to tell the difference.
A wedding, in some garden, laughter and joy as I walked down the aisle. Standing behind Malcolm at a rally, clapping and cheering as he talked. Even to my own eyes, I seemed young and idealistic. I lived through the birth of one child, then another, watching them grow and mature. Bittersweet tears ran down my cheeks. I could have had that. I could have had a life and children and a loving husband. I had become involved in various charities, making a real difference in real lives.
And then, as abruptly as the barrage of images had started, they stopped, with no clear ending.
"What happened?" I asked.
The dark figure who had brought me here, to this library said nothing. But I realised that it didn't need to answer.
"I died first," I said numbly. "The other me, the one who chose to marry him, outlived me. Her story's not done yet."
I wiped the tears away. "Good for her. I know she'll make good choices."
There was a soft question, so quiet that I almost missed it.
"Do you regret not marrying him?"
I thought of my quiet life, and my cat. I thought of the occasional dates I had and the solitude of my home. I thought of my sister and her brilliant, vibrant family. I remembered my niece, and my nephews and their adoration of their slightly insane aunt. I thought of my promising career, and of dying young. My life may not have been exciting, but I had been content.
And I thought of the other me, who had married a man she had loved and had had children who surprised and amazed her. I remembered her tiredness and frustration with her routine life. But, in the end, she had been content with her life, too.
I laughed, "No, I don't regret it. I don't regret making my choice. No life is perfect."
A shadowy hand flipped through the pages and I saw yet another choice on the page. I settled down to read, to watch the lives I could have led and the people I could have been.
/r/YarnsToTell | I sat at the desk dumb-founded.
“You mean... you mean this is everything that could have happened if I just made a different decisions?”
The spirit in front of me is a friendly face but the marks on her neck tell a story of sadness. She looks at me as if I’m the first she says this to. “Yes. From the day you were born to the day you died. Every decision and every outcome. Although trust me when I say that anything before the age of 10 is more just whining and boredom. You may have done something crucial back then that caused a different outcome but it’s highly unlikely. Anyways. The book is yours. Feel free to read and digest it. But just know, you can’t change anything. Everything that happened is set. You can only see what could have happened.” She gave me a look that may have been a look to scare me but really I just wanted to get out of there.
I picked up the book and walked out of the office. As soon as the door behind me closed, I let out an unneeded breath. I looked down at the book in my hands.
Every decision.
There was one passage I just had to read. One passage I thought was the reason for all the karma and the outcomes I made. The one reason I died.
I was in a car accident. A severe car accident where We ran off the side of a cliff and into the ocean. As far as I’m aware, there were no survivors of the accident but I didn’t see anyone else.
It was just me.
I looked around. It seemed like I hadn’t left Earth. I was still on the green and blue planet. But I knew that wasn’t true.
When you die, you become a spirit and go to a place that is similar to where you left. So I was in California, on a cliff, overlooking the ocean.
I sat at the edge and opened the book to the date I knew it all started. The date I knew I had meet my match to death. I took another unnecessary breath and opened to July 18th, 2010. The day I meet Parker. The day I opened myself up to pain and abuse and neglect. The day I opened myself to telling myself that it wasn’t him. The day I started to leave my family behind.
On the page it has Parker’s name and the place we meet. The skate park. I couldn’t skate but I would go with my best friend, Amanda, and we would check the guys out. I remember the day so clear. I introduced myself “Ava.” And he told me his name “Parker.” I remember being taken in by his sharp green eyes and the dyed jet black hair. The way his pants hung loose on his hips. I was a senior in high school and craved attention from any male I could get.
We had talked and talked and soon became more than just friends. When I graduated, we left the small town we lived in Colorado and moved to California.
It was a mistake.
We couldn’t find a job or a place to live that we could stay in longer than 6 months. Drugs became an obsession for Parker while I stayed away and just waitress. It was long hours and strained our relationship but one of us had to work.
The drugs became more of a problem and when I refused to give him money for them anymore, he hit me and told me to obey. That’s when I thought I wasn’t going to be able to leave. I had planned on leaving after I had saved enough money. I knew my sister would let me stay with her, I just had to get to her myself. I had been stashing money and lied to Parker that I didn’t have anything for him.
He found it.
My sister came once to save me but I was too weak under Parker’s control. I told her that I was fine.
“Ava. Your arms are bruised and you have lost weight. Not to mention the look of this place. You need to come home. We’re worried.”
“Worried? Where were you when I turned 18 and moved out here? You didn’t seem to care then. Why care now?” And the door slammed in her face.
I have never felt more guilt.
Then just a few months later, comes the day I die. I finally made the decision that I couldn’t do this. We were driving up the coast just to get some fresh air. I looked over at Parker and felt fear not love and that’s not what I wanted.
“I’m leaving.” I had blurted.
Parker looked over at me, stunned “What did you just say to me?”
“I can’t do this anymore. I missed my sisters wedding. I missed the birth of my nephew. My mom is sick. I just want to go home. You and I are not compatible. We ever were. We lived in a fantasy and hoped it would work but we need to face reality. We’re broke. You do drugs. I can’t work 7 jobs to make ends meet. It’s time to let this die.”
At that, Parker had agreed but not to let me go. To let us die. He jerked the wheel and went over the cliff. I remember screaming and slamming on the door to get it to open but the pressure of the water was too much and I couldn’t get out.
Soon water started to enter the car. Parker just laughed and said we deserved to be together for eternity. I think he died laughing.
I looked down at the page. Page number 37. The options were (approach Parker, pages 37-150) or (stay with Amanda, pages 150-350).
I turned to page 150.
Edit: so sorry about the formatting! I did it on my phone but it should be all fixed now. | 2018-07-03T23:03:08 | 2018-07-03T22:39:59 | 1,341 | 92 |
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy? | "Hello World" I said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And I stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy?
I thought maybe they were pranking me. Coming out of the waiting room wasn't a momentous event. And while I thought the line was a good one, it didn't warrant this level of cheer.
"Ok, I give up, what's the joke?" I asked.
They looked around, bewildered. "What do you mean?" The frizzy haired lady adjusted her glasses at me. "Mr. Smith, what do you remember?"
I could feel my forehead wrinkle. "Well, I came here for the experiment, and signed the papers, and got my check. And then I filled out that questionaire, and then you guys had me wait for a while."
"And then?"
"Well I sat and thought about what I'd say, and decided to test it out when I came through."
"And then?"
"And then?" I repeated, looking around. "Well then I came through the door and tested out what is say."
The mood dampened.
"Amazing." Frizzy said. "It seems that he has lost about two minutes, which is consistent with your theory, Lloyd, and disproves mine. Long term, and working memory are intact but short term was erased by the process. Mr. Smith, without checking your watch, what time is it?"
I frowned. "Two thirty? Ish?"
She smiles. "Now, check your watch."
It was two thirty five.
"And now the clock on the wall behind you."
Four thirty.
"You are the first person to successfully travel forward in time, Mr Smith. You have moved two hours, in exchange for two minutes of memory." | What cute surprise! My birthday wasn't until next week, but these bastards finally decided to do something original. After all, how else can you pick a gift for someone who has everything? Surprise them of course. I think it was Emily's idea, she's so clever, despite her flaws.
I raised my arms with my signature flair. When you're the most important person in the room, it helps to draw the crowd in.
I did a quick spin and bowed. It's a clever move because it gives you a chance to scan the room, find the hidden camera, figure out where the birthday cake is being rolled in.
It was so hard to see anything with all of the ruckus. And, my, some of these people were really committed to the bit. Ignoring me, pointing, scribbling notes.
Give them their time. I'm sure this whole shebang must have cost a fortune. Hired actors. Scripted lines. I can hear them now piping in through the noise.
"Did you hear it?"
"Enunciated. Clean!"
"God, I thought it was broken."
Where's Emily? I want her standing next to me. There are always paparazzi during these events. I always look isolated in those photos without her.
"Hello, world to you!"
"Yess!"
Far side of the room. There she is, in her usual red jacket. What a regret. Doesn't she know by now what's expected of her? God forbid if she doesn't have her smile on. Meanwhile, the crowd is calming down. She'd better get here. When they settle down, they'll expect a speech, something gracious. Someone who isn't standing alone.
I give her a second to compose herself. She's doing some acting on her own. Turned away in a strange pose and talking to one of the actors. How did she learn to act so well? Did she pay for lessons behind my back? I file away the suspicion for later tonight.
Then, she turns around.
It's incredulous, I see Emily's face, her body, the red jacket. But, she's really into it, straight back, strict, hard movements. Did someone strap a ruler to her spine?
Suddenly, I've caught her eye and she strides towards me. That's strange. She never strides.
Something frightful releases inside my head. It's a trap. This is not Emily. No, gone is the softness, the subservience, the gentility. Something else is embodied in this stranger who approaches me.
A cold wave washes over me. There is something hostile here and in public, in front of everyone. Something audacious.
My mind races. The prenuptial agreement -- was it solid? The NDAs? Did I miss something?
I spot Freddie in the corner of my eye. A buzzing feeling materializes in the back of my throat. That snake was in the room? I thought we had buried our hatchets with the merger. If that well heeled ass is involved in this -- is it a coop? Emily's never expressed interest in him. Freddie looks predatory. Or, emotionless. Somehow, both.
She is suddenly coming very close. Is she reaching in her pocket? Is it a weapon?
The table beside me has a wine bottle, half empty. I lunge towards it, but feel, slow. Sluggish. The white tablecloth slips along with one or two hors d’oeuvres.
There is a crash and I am on my ass. But, the bottle is my hand. When she's close, I'll swing hard.
Emily's hand is cradling my cheek. It's the strangest thing. I can't move at all.
My last thoughts are spent tracing every drink, every bite, anything I ingested. Small pinches, needles?
A thousand eyes bore into me. Surrounded by one face. A stranger in a red jacket.
She says, "See how it speaks." | 2020-07-11T19:19:13 | 2020-07-11T18:52:14 | 35 | 11 |
[WP] You were abducted and taken to an alien planet, where they hunt you for sport and "honor". Little do they know they've doomed themselves. For you're a werewolf, and they took you to a planet with six moons. | They made a mistake.
I looked harmless enough, for a human, broken down the country backroads of Kentucky on a Saturday night. I was changing the tire, lug nuts in my hand, thinking of how upset my wife would be, I hadn’t come home yet, when the beam of light hit me.
I’d always thought aliens were bullshit.
Turns out they’re real, and they’re assholes. At first, they kept to the shadows. They fed me the finest cuts of steak as we flew back to their planet. “Protein,” they said in their broken English. They kept me in a small room with weights for exercise and padded cushions for sleeping.
I suppose they felt that made it fair.
At the time, I was just glad things hadn’t gone all “Fire in the Sky.” I could bide my time until the next moonrise. They didn’t understand how I smiled at them through the slot in my door. They were dead meat walking.
And I prefer my meat rare.
When they dropped me on the surface and said, “Run. Run. Run,” I didn’t waste time. I took off across the cracked grey sand and found shelter in a thick, dusky blue grove of trees. If I could survive until tonight, and see the moon, then they would get what was coming to them. I climbed a tree and smiled as the sun dropped.
The moon arose and I changed. The first alien who found me thought he was very clever, sneaking around the base of my tree. But I’d already smelled him two miles away, and I was ready.
I pounced and tore him apart. For the first time, I got a good look at them. Grey-skinned, bobble heads, and bug eyes. I had to laugh—they’re just like the movies—but it came out as a howl.
I took three more of them that night.
I curled up in my tree to sleep. I thanked the moon for the gift she had given me.
But there were two of her.
Soon, there were six.
My first day on the planet was my last as a human. I’d landed on a rare event when none of the moons are risen. I’d later learned it was a celebration, a holiday.
I can’t say how many months passed, or years, but the sun rose and fell three hundred times. I killed hunter after hunter, until my life became an unending stream of killing.
I stopped being human.
After two hundred sun falls, they stopped coming for me. They left me to live in the dusky blue forest. It was mine now. I prowled the edges of my land constantly, only sleeping for a few fitful hours when I dreamed of being human again.
Then they sent a woman. A human woman.
“Daniel?” she said in a tongue I’d almost forgotten. “It’s me. Sarah.”
I growled at her.
“Do you remember me?”
I leaped on her chest and set my teeth to her throat. She smelled of lavender.
Lavender. This planet had no lavender.
“It’s me, your wife!” she screamed.
I lifted my head.
“They sent me to talk to you.” Tears streamed down her face. “I thought you were dead. Are we dead? They want me to talk to you and tell you to stop.”
I rubbed her tears with my muzzle.
“Please. They said we can go home. They said they’re sorry.”
I sat back on my haunches and considered. It’s hard to think when you’ve been running on instinct for so long.
“They said they’ll give us a ship and everything. It’s already programmed to head straight to Earth. Kentucky.” She reached out a hand for me. “Please say you remember me.”
I carried her in my mouth, by her neck, until I found the ship. She later told me she was too terrified to move. I’ve never forgiven myself for scaring her that way.
When I woke up in our own bed, human again, I cried.
We never talked about it again. I never saw the aliens again.
But I’d like to think now they know not to fuck with Kentucky.
*********
Find my stories at r/oncemorewithandroids | It was like looking into the goddamn sun. I opened my eyes and my whole body contracted. Through squinted eyes I could see nothing but light blinding me and then I noticed I was wearing no clothes and on the floor of some featureless room.
Watch - Listen - Wait
It smelled like a mix of ozone and erasers. I realized that I had no clothes on and went through my usual ritual of recalling where I would have stashed phone, wallet, keys and pants, but could recall when I had changed. I shrugged. Sometimes the change comes on strong, you don’t get a chance to really stash belongings sometimes. That’s the currency of the curse, you play the hand you have with the chips remaining.
And I was pant-less. In what felt like a cell. I say cell but could see no obvious doors, bars, windows, damn near fuck all was visible with all this light.
“Hey! Is anyone there? Can you turn these lights down? Please?” I cried to the bright void.
The sound of a whoosh behind me, indicated a few things to me. 6ft and 5’ 11’’, female and male, something off in the smell. Smelled like baby skin does. Fresh. Unblemished new. Which is strange for a full grown adult.
“Our most, ah, sincere apologies.” The female said. Listen. The words. The tone unfamiliar. Like someone speaking a language they’ve only practiced. Hesitant. Unsure. But free of accent.
“Yes, we tried to simulate the rising sun, a-“ the male made a gesture like he was reaching for a word he couldn’t quite find. “Calming effect, we’re told, to wake up from.” With a gesture from the male - brown hair, brown eyes, grey suit, weird cut, and a permasmile - the lights dimmed enough for me to no longer need to squint.
“You’re off by a few lumens.” I said. Stall. Give no disadvantage. The lone wolf only has a single chance to strike. “You’ll have to pardon my uh, undress. I can’t remember anything about the party.” I said. I felt no shame in the nakedness but it was normal to express shame for people so I play the hand with the chips I have.
“We took the liberty of removing your clothing.” The female spoke. Brown hair also, brown eyes? Related? Possibly twins from build and face shape. Near on a carbon copy of different sex.
“I see.”
“We would like to express our sentiments. This may come as a shock to you but we are not as we appear to be.” The female resumed.
“Oh?” I replied with practiced earnest. I’ve dealt with hunters precisely one time before. The vibe was similar. Quoting the good of all, entirely too polite for the things they wanted to do to me.
“We have taken this form to ease your mind but we have come from another planet for a ritual that is paramount to our culture.”
Ok. That’s a new one.
“We understand this realization may come as a shock to you. We have prepared materials that may help ease your mind-“
“No need. I buy it.” I said with undeserved confidence.
They both looked at each other and I stifled a chuckle.
“Your predecessors usually require time to-“ the male began.
“You’re aliens. I buy it. Why am I here?”
The female, looked someone flabbergasted and that told me I played my hand a little too soon. Had I feigned ignorance, put on a show of vulnerability they may have underestimated me.
Other life may be harder to accept for some but when you pay in the currency of the curse you buy into the idea of other forms of life.
The Female made a sweeping gesture. “For time uncountable, our people have proven themselves as the apex of the universe by hunting the dominant species of lesser planets.”
“The chosen of these other worlds are considered to be the closest equal beset of our own people. We consider you to be, on some caliber, an exemplary specimen of your people.” The Male said.
“Thanks. I work out.” I replied. No laughs. Just a pregnant pause where they smile to disguise their confusion. What’s that indicate? Are they new at this? Don’t understand colloquialisms? Am I just not funny?
I end the silence. “So it’s a hunt?”
“A glorious hunt!” The Female exclaims, there’s a red glint in her eye. Ah, so the beast shines through, emotional. Pathos built decision making. With an ego.
Watch Listen Wait
“Will I be given anything to defend myself with?” I asked.
The Male nodded. “We have procured a number of your primitive technologies that you yourself may operate.”
I made a gesture that weighed the possibilities. “I’m guessing nukes, tanks, or planes are off the table.”
The Female stepped forward. “Are you able to operate those devices?” She asked in a motherly tone.
“I am not.”
“Then they will not be made available.” Bitch.
This isn’t designed to be a fair fight. From the posturing, tone, hell even the skin suits all indicate that they are way above in terms of firepower. Even if I had a tank and could drive it there’s no telling if it’d be any use against anything these guys have.
“Is it just against the 2 of you?” I ask.
“Yes.” Said the Male.
“Will it be on my planet?”
“No.” Said the female.
“Where?”
The Female made another gesture to what was now a window. I made sure I didn’t turn my back to them but the view made it hard not to face it.
The land masses were a deep indigo with crimson sees. Specks of silver lined different areas as stretch marks on the face of this titanic planet. I searched and felt a smirk cross my face. Six. Six moons.
“When do we begin? Also can I at Least get some pants?”
Part 2 coming later. | 2020-10-28T11:47:42 | 2020-10-28T10:30:06 | 5,151 | 1,426 |
[WP] The demon couldn't believe his luck to find such a willing victim to possess. As it possessed them, instead of fighting back like they usually do, this one said "Good luck. You'll need it."
EDIT: Thanks for the awards guys! I've been on this site for 7 years and this is the first time I've received any. | As a demon I'd never seen a woman accept possession.
I would devour her soul after years of hungering for one. She would be my sixth. And it came so easy until I stabbed my claws in her neck to absorb her spirit she boomed, "Good luck. You're going to need it."
Then I felt my whole body get sucked into my victim.
Or so, I thought she was my victim.
This never happened before. Usually I drained out the soul through my claws and it fills my body with a sense of euphoria that is unmatched, and I feel wonderful for years. *Perfectly satisfied.*
Now, I was plummeting through an abyss of black space. A light at the top became smaller the further I fell down.
I finally landed on a patch of (what felt like, but I wasn't too sure because I couldn't see) grass. The smell of burned hair lingered around me.
*"The food chain,"* a deep voice bellowed. *"Animals eat bugs, humans eat animals, demons eat humans, but what eats a demon?"*
I wasn't sure if I should respond, but I didn't know the answer.
*"Voids. Voids eat demons. And you've met your Maker."*
My eyes widened.
*"Yes. Voids travel through space devouring demons where we can find them. We're rare to find, and it takes a while for us to find a feast, but thank you for making it so easy."*
I never heard of a Void, but I felt something I hadn't felt as a young demon. *Fear.*
*"You've eaten five souls. I can taste it. I've set them free now in this landscape. I've told them to get revenge on you. You know, to help me digest you,"* there was no humor or charm in the Void's voice, which made my skin crawl.
The area around me filled with light. I was standing in a black and white field. Like being inside an old landscape photograph. In front of me was the soul of a man I devoured 120 years ago. Tears streamed down his face. He was made of a soft silver light.
"Look, uh, uh, I'm really sorry," I said, backing away. "I never knew what it was like to be eaten! This is horrible! Please, accept my apology! Perhaps we can all get out of here together if we recruit the others!"
The soul hung his head and it looked like he took a deep sigh, but I heard nothing. He pointed to another direction and I looked, only to find nothing. When I turned back around, the soul had a smile curved up ear-to-ear, showcasing a pair of deep fangs that could tear my neck to shreds. It leapt in my direction and I sprinted away through the field, finding an abandoned house sitting alone in the black and white world.
I made a [part 2!](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/khpvdx/wp_the_demon_couldnt_believe_his_luck_to_find/)
r/randallcooper | Buvolell -- Fell Lord of the Doomkeep -- padded after his prey. His steps were whisper soft as they went down the stairs to the basement apartment. The demon dragged his long nails as delicious expectation flared inside him.
Peter Jensen. 26. There was something about him that struck Buvolell as intriguing. Something to add to his collection.
He allowed Peter to enter his apartment, lingering on the threshold. The crimson Eye of Morgoth embedded in the demon's forehead glistered, and Buvolell took a moment to adjust to his new form. He adjusted the nursing mounds protruding from his chest (*So ungainly*, he thought) and smoothed out his skirt.
Then, his pale, carefully manicured hand reached out to knock gently at the door.
Nothing happened.
Becky -- that was a viable human name -- knocked again, more firmly this time. One minute passed, then two, and finally footsteps drew closer and the door opened. Peter's sullen, drooping face appeared out of the dim shadows behind him.
"Oh thank *gosh* you're home," Becky said. "This is *so* embarrassing. I need -- "
"Sure, whatever." Peter cut in, voice flat as an asphalt road.
"...okay. It's just, I need to charge my phone so I can call my sister. Something's happened and I'm *so desperate* and if you could let me in I would be grateful." Becky chewed on her ruby-red lower lip, pausing to take a breath. "*So* grateful."
Peter stepped aside.
"Um. Gosh, I just...my mom taught me to not go in to someone's home without, like, a formal invitation? So if you could just -- "
"Yeah, whatever, it's fine."
\*Close enough\*, Buvolell thought, as he stepped, trembling, over the threshold.
A floor lamp in the far corner did a poor job of illuminating the studio. Becky's heels clicked on the linoleum floor, languidly removing a cell phone and charger from her black purse. She turned to look at Peter.
"Where should I...stick it in?" she purred.
Peter pointed limply toward the kitchen area and shuffled past stacks of magazines to the futon and sat down.
Becky tried to ignore the nearly-empty cans of soup and styrofoam to-go containers on the counter and connected her phone to a free socket next to the hot plate. Then she strutted slowly back out and toward the futon.
"It's like something out of a fairy tale, don't you think?" She gave a lilting, musical laugh. "A damsel in distress...and you are my white knight, saving me in my hour of need."
She hesitated, noticing Peter's eyes were focused elsewhere. She followed his gaze to the blank wall opposite him, then looked back to him.
"What are you looking at, my gallant cavalier?"
"I'm just thinking," he mumbled.
"My my! Brave *and* intelligent! I *love* men who *think*." Buvolell blinked for a moment as he caused a button on his blouse to shoot onto the mattress next to Peter.
"Oh no! How embarrassing, I've lost a button from my blouse," she said, leaning over in front of Peter as she reached for the button. "And I just bought these heels, I'm so unsteady in them, I -- oops!"
Becky twisted as she lost her balance, falling into Peter's lap.
"Hi," she breathed, staring into his eyes.
"Hey," he said, just as monotone as ever.
"May I...give you a token of my gratitude, noble one?"
Peter shrugged. It was disconcerting, but Buvolell was too ready to devour this mortal's soul to care.
Becky placed one hand on each of Peter's cheeks, felt the stubble growing there, and brought her face closer. His breath smelled like rancid cheese. She brought her lips to his, slowly, savoring the moment. The imminent war of wills, and the inevitable conclusion.
Flesh touched flesh. Becky vanished in a cloud of red smoke as Buvolell battered down the door to Peter's consciousness and strode inside. In his right hand was a sword wreathed in black flame. The demon tensed, ready to do battle.
He saw Peter's face, heard his voice: *Good luck.*
The mortal's skin distended, bulging, and burst. A horde of winged beings emerged, shrieking, and descended on Buvolell. In a moment, he was disarmed, pinned to the black floor of Peter's mind.
As the shadowy creatures began to rend the demon's flesh, he heard Peter's voice, one last time.
*You'll need it.*
* * *
Feedback welcome. /r/ShadowsofClouds for many more stories, including [this scene](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/comments/7rjzoc/ip_may_i_come_in/) of Buvolell being summoned into the world. | 2020-12-21T11:12:04 | 2020-12-21T10:51:37 | 410 | 169 |
[WP] Aliens don't understand the concept of statues, and have come to the conclusion that we have imprisoned giants. | "No. No those are rocks that have been shaped by humans to resemble various beings. They're also art, which we just talked about. Remember the happy clouds?"
"Also. Art. Happy clouds yes."
"Right. So we are not a race of giant slaying and imprisoning super beings who can battle your - what did you call them? - the Kathori? 500ft tall sun demons?"
"Yes from the sun. Many suns. Suns beyond -"
"Beyond the reckoning of final light. Yes we discussed this. Look, those are statues. Art. Happy clouds. Ok? We can't fight a sun demon. We couldn't fight you. Do you remember us having to explain those things we used on you when we met were supposed to be weapons?"
"Guns. Oh. We have made a grave error."
"Yeah."
"May you be consumed quickly and without malice when the Kathori come to ravage your light. Farewell human."
"C'mon man." | I didn’t realize it until it was too late.
It all started with the disappearance of the Statue of Liberty in New York. Nearby witness explained that all of sudden, the monument just disappeared into thin air. The next few days, the same phenomenon occurred again and again. In all parts of the world, the world’s most famous statues all vanished without a trace.
The general public quickly pointed out who the only culprit could be. After all, these miraculous feats could only be performed with power outside of human bounds. I couldn’t easily cast suspicion on our new allies though. As president of the Human Alien Relations Committee, I could only describe our bond with the extraterrestrial creatures as amiable. We had successfully cooperated together on many occasions; learning each other's languages within a few weeks, sharing technology to help colonize the moon and other planets, and simply teaching the other more about the universe we live in.
However, upon recalling one past conversation I had with the leader of the aliens, I decided to confront it at their base on Earth.
“Do you still believe that statues are imprisoned beings?” I questioned.
“Well of course, after all, their form and stature resemble giants,” their leader calmly responded.
“But why? Have I not already explained how the statues are just inanimate objects made of material? Besides, there are no such things as giants on Earth!” I frantically spoke with the truth slowly dawning upon me. “So does this truly mean that you guys are the ones responsible for the statue heists.”
The alien leader walked close towards me, taking a few seconds to respond. “Well, to answer your second question, it’s true, but you still claim these “statues” were never living? The rest of the aliens and I cannot accept this, for we have seen our own imprisoned in stone just like you humans have captured these giants. Petrification is an intolerable crime, so we have vowed to free all of those trapped by this malady and punish the perpetrators across this universe.”
I stood still in shock for a few seconds, digesting all that I heard. My feet started to slowly pace backward with the word “punish” resounding in my mind.
After a brief silence, I attempted to retort, “Well um, I’m sorry about what happen-”
The alien leader cut me off and sighed. “Now that I have divulged our secrets to you, you may no longer return to your own.” Before I could process his words and escape, he pulled out a foreign device shaped like a gun and pointed it at me. It pulled the trigger and sent a red beam of light towards my arm. Losing total control of my body, I fell over onto the ground in complete paralysis.
Staring at my arm while I lay on the ground, I finally understood what aliens planned for us all along. In my last few moments of consciousness, I stared at my wounded arm and witnessed skin miraculously transform to stone. As my feeling of everything drifted away, I silently wished that we could win the ensuing battle against the enemies we welcomed into our home. | 2021-02-28T18:43:56 | 2021-02-28T16:00:56 | 39 | 20 |
[WP] As a former Chosen One you saw the signs when your daughter/son got themselves into a similar situation. You sent them off on a sleepover with their new friends. It's time to have a 'talk' with their new 'stuffed animal'. | I sat down on Cassie’s bed, crossed my legs, and removed the notebook from the pocket of my pants. “State your name and speciality for the record,” I said, scribbling on the first page to get the ink flowing. After a moment of silence, I looked up from my journal. “I know Cassie’s a chosen one. I’m her parent, and I’m not letting you take my daughter on some wild journey without telling me what she’ll be facing, first.”
Silence.
“Look, you can stay silent all night, but I know you’ve been talking to her at night, I know her powers have been manifesting. I’d rather she not have to face destiny without at least some training first. So I’ll ask again, name and specialty, please and thank you.”
After another brief silence, the stuffed bear, affectionately named Bear, finally spoke. “Who the hell are you?” they asked.
“I should hope you don’t use that kind of language with my daughter. I’ll give you one more chance to answer the question before you have to find a new child to leech on.”
They groaned, stood up, and stretched, before walking closer to sit down in front of me. “My name is Ollie.”
“Ollie,” I repeated. “Ollie, Ollie, Ollie, Ollie, Ollie… Noted. And what power do you train?”
They hesitated for a moment. “Chaos magic.”
I looked up my notebook again. “Chaos magic? The fuck is my daughter doing with chaos magic?” Chaos magic was generally known as the hardest magic to tame. The most powerful, sure, but that power held up to its name. It was notoriously unpredictable, and most users died fairly young in the pursuit of mastery. In the whole world, there was only one master of chaos magic.
Ollie shrugged. “Fuck if I know, I didn’t give her the power, I was just assigned as her guide. But she’s one of the most powerful chaos magic users anyone has ever seen, in terms of potential, that is.”
“Oi, watch the language, plushie.”
“You swore first!” they protested.
“Yeah, well, I’m Cassie’s parent. She knows better than to copy me by now, you’re her spirit guide.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve been taking good care of her,” Ollie said. “As have you, clearly. Which brings me to my question-”
“You don’t get questions yet,” I interrupted. “What terrible deed has my daughter been tasked with fulfilling?”
Ollie shook their head. “You don’t want to know.”
“I’m fairly certain I do,” I growled. “What are you planning for my daughter?”
Again, Ollie hesitated. After a moment, they decided that I knew too much already to stop now. “Chaos magic,” they said slowly.
“Yeah,” I replied, “you mentioned that part.”
“No,” said Ollie, putting their head in their hands. “No, I mean… Chaos magic. She’s going to master it.”
I froze and nearly dropped my pen. “Excuse me?”
“Only one man has mastered Chaos magic, and he’s used it to live a long and wretched life. Your daughter isn’t just another chosen one, she’s *the* Chosen One.”
There was an old legend, considered by some to be a prophecy, THE prophecy, even, that a young person would master chaos magic, topple a tyrant, and make chaos safe to use. It also said that at the end of the Chosen One’s journey, they would die, their death being the catalyst for the future of magic itself. Being a prophecy, it was vague. Very vague. It gave no timelines, names, or really anything of use. Most people, myself included, felt it was horseshit.
“No,” I said. “That’s just a myth, and even if it wasn’t there’s no way in hell I’m letting you lead Cas to her death, that isn’t happening.”
“The rest of the guides seem to think it’s real,” Ollie said. “And we all seem to think Cassie is The One.”
I looked down for a moment into my notebook, a single question searing into the back of my skull. “What does Kelvin think?”
“What does Kelvin think?” Ollie whispered back to themself. Then it hit them. “Holy fucking shit,” they yelled.
“Language!”
“No, no, no, fuck you, fuck me, holy shit!” They were dancing around the bed, jumping up and down, laughing hysterically. “You’re fucking Josephine Sanchez, aren’t you?” I was silent. “Holy shit you are, you’re a fucking *legend* up there! Fulfilling two prophecies with one guide, you’re a double whammy. Terrina the Destroyer AND Jacob the Conqueror? A god damned superstar, after you and Kelvin parted ways, we completely lost track of you, no wonder Cassie is ‘The One’ The One with you as her mother, holy shit!”
“Answer the question,” I whispered.
Ollie calmed down, and resumed their seat in front of me. “Yes,” they finally said. “Yes, Kelvin thinks Cassie is The One, but nobody knows she’s your daughter, I swear.” I nodded, thinking silently to myself. It felt like I just found out she’d been in a car crash, my mind was racing at a million miles an hour, and yet I couldn’t understand a word of it. The silence was overpowering, crushing, and claustrophobic. “If it makes you feel better,” Ollie said, seeing the terror on my face, “the Council of Guides thinks that, after she beats The Master, she’ll live. For a while, at least. The Prophecy says she’ll topple a tyrant and die bringing sanity to chaos magic. Two separate feats, and the latter will likely take decades of hard work.”
“Will you stay with her for that time? Whatever time she has left?”
Ollie nodded. After a moment of silence, they asked a question of their own. “Will you help her train?”
I hesitated. “I’m not sure what good I can do,” I finally replied. “I was never trained in chaos magic. But I will teach her, under one condition.” Ollie looked into my eyes. “Under no circumstances is any harm to befall my daughter. She is under your care, and if a damn thing happens to her, I will hold you personally accountable. Twice.”
Ollie nodded instantly. “As long as she has me as her guide, and as long as I live, I will protect Cassie.”
“Then it sounds like we’re in agreement,” I replied, standing up from the bed and placing my notebook in my pocket. “Training starts this weekend, on Saturday morning. We’ll tell Cas tomorrow night when she’s home. Together.” | "She's gone!" Marie yelled up the wooden stairwell, letting her husband know it was time. Randal began his march onto his daughter's room.
He checked his blade, making sure the shining, gleaming steel would come flashing out when needed. He peeked through the windows, seeing the bleak darkness and pondering how much longer they would have. Dark Lords always loved attacking at dusk or evening or even midnight. Never in the morning nor in midday. They would attack during dinner or during rest. Randal remembered when his own village had been raided. Darker than black shadows led to murderous followers.
Randal grimaced at the thought. Twenty years and he still couldn't wash away those horrid memories. Friends being slaughtered, families being butchered and lives being destroyed. Senseless, unknowable violence.
But that was the motif of a Dark Lord, it seemed. Marie had said the same thing happened to her when Randal first met the heroine of Allden. Her home had been burned down in the evening, but the same story. *Murder for the sake of it.* Randal grimaced at that thought as he moved through his own wooden cottage. He was like a wolf, trying to find his prey.
That was why when Randal saw the carrion crows and ravens start flocking, he knew something must be wrong. When Randal noticed the disheveled merchants, bards, and peddlers coming in, speaking of desolation and destruction, then he knew.
"Another Dark Lord is rising in the East," one of the merchants had said a few weeks ago. Randal furrowed his brows at that while he and Cynthia were shopping for a new toy. Cynthia had done her due diligence and passed the last of her classes in the new place of learning that popped up near Willowsburrow. Randal had requested one when the queen of Iloya asked what the hero wanted. He told her he wanted a bright future for his children.
Now it seemed darkness plagued Cynthia's future, and another prophecy would rob lives and futures.
Marie and Randal agreed that they would do everything in their chosen powers to stop that. They hoped that Pinecreek would have the chosen one. Then it would mean Willowsburrow would just need to repulse the onslaught of dark fiends and friends of the night.
Randal and Marie knew they could do it. They had defeated armies of chaos just twenty years ago. Aging might have robbed them of some of their speed, but no withering of time could steal their power.
Then came the signs. Cynthia had burst into Randal and Marie's room one night, crying about dark dreams. He had asked what she dreamt about. She told them of dark riders coming to Willowsburrow, burning down the village.
Randal and Marie looked at each other with pained expressions. The same thing had happened to Marie right before her village burned down.
Then one day, when father and daughter walked around the village's perimeter, Cynthia jumped in fear. She told her father how a dark rider had been staring at them. How his stillness scared her.
Randal had pursed his lips that day and looked out once more. He knew the scene. He and his father went through the same thing all those years ago.
Then came the doll. When Cynthia had picked it out, Randal thought nothing of it. But then the darkness fell. The doll must have been the eyes of the Dark Lord, Randal thought. A way to see her world. To find her and kill her before she could grow strong. The wheels of prophecy move to take his daughter away from him and his wife.
Then came the forces of light. A wizard had appeared, asking for Cynthia. Just like had a wizard had came to Marie. A ranger came from the darkness one day, brooding but vigilant, just like Randal's own. Even a Faewin had come to Willowsburrow. She had asked for Cynthia, commenting on how beautiful his daughter's eyes were. Each and every person coming to the village was a sign that the gears of destiny were turning.
But Randal wouldn't let his daughter go through that pain. Randal's thoughts about the past few weeks faded as he felt the floorboards creak. He stood in front of Cynthia's room.
Randal moved his jaw, getting it ready to push words through it. He didn't want to be rude to his guest. He heard the stairwell groan as his wife moved up it. Randal smirked at that. *Reinforcements are always appreciated.*
He opened the door to a sparse but lived-in room. A table, a chair, a bookcase, a bed, and stuffed animals filled the room. There on the desk was Cynthia's newest stuffed animal. A fox with golden eyes.
Randal watched it as he moved through the room. He knew it was watching him. He thought the color was strange for an item of a Dark Lord.
Randal crossed his arms, staring down the fox. "So," Randal's deep voice cracked out, hitting the silence like a whip, "it's Cynthia, isn't it?"
No response came from the doll, its eyes staring down Randal.
Randal pursed his lips at that and slowly nodded. "Alright, not everyone is a talker. I understand. But, I know what you are."
The fox looked as if it tilted its head. Randal let silence take the room. Distant sounds of dark wings flapping could be heard now. The fox unsettled Randal. *What Dark Lord would have a white fox with gold eyes? Far too close to the colors of Fate and Destiny.*
Randal crossed the room, making each step as deliberate as he could. He wanted to intimidate whoever watched behind those gold, fake eyes. Randal licked his lips, floorboards creaking as he rested his weight. Silence once again filled the room. Only the sound of a bowstring being half-drawn whispered its way to Randal. He smiled at the sound. *Marie's in position.*
"It's fine if you don't want to say anything. Really, it is. Just know that my daughter will *not* be apart of whatever *you* want."
Randal moved to pick up the fox, to throw it out and be rid of it. But before he could, it spoke.
An ethereal, ancient voice rasped out of the fox. "You *dare* stop the gears of Destiny?"
Randal immediately stepped back, retreating to find a better position. *What Dark Lord sounds like that?* If that thing came alive, he wanted distance to use his sword. Once Randal felt like he could pull his blade, he spoke up. "For my Cynthia, I would stop time itself from turning to save her."
The fox's head jerked, swiveling to look directly at Randal. "So you would defy me? Even after I have given you so much fame?"
Randal gulped. This was not a Dark Lord. "Defy who?"
The fox's stitched mouth broke out of its threaded bindings, revealing ghostly teeth. Its plush, soft face curled up into a hard, jagged smile. Cackling came from the ruinous toy. It filled the room, torturing the silence and turning the sparse room into a nightmare.
The cackling died as the fox spoke once more. "It is me, your old friend, Randal Dythorn. The architect of Destiny. I am Fate. The god that gave you your place in history. Forever on, you'll be woven into the threads of Iloya's history as its savior. Wouldn't you want the same for your daughter?" The fox's curdling smile assaulted Randal's vision as its words soured his expression.
But before he could say anything, an arrow flew into the room, slamming itself into the fox's head. The arrowhead tore through the fabric and cotton, shredding the fox's head.
The fox moved no more.
Randal's eyebrows rose as he turned to see his wife at the doorframe. She looked furious, huffing and puffing. Only one thing shot out of her mouth.
"Screw prophecies and screw you, Fate. Randal, let's go save our daughter."
And so, the two chosen ones ran as hard as they could to find their daughter. For they knew the pain that the gears of Destiny could inflict. The suffering Fate could bring to the innocent. But they knew. So they rushed.
The two chosen ones held no doubt that darkness would descend on Willowsburrow far faster than anticipated. Fate would ensure the new Dark Lord would move quicker now. But a husband and wife's light would shine in the quiet village, saving the people and changing Destiny. For Fate failed to realize that his acceleration couldn't defeat the resolve of two parents.
Fate had no clue how far the chosen pair would go to keep their daughter safe.
___
Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this and want more of my writing, then you can find it here at r/WritingKnightly! | 2021-03-02T20:41:27 | 2021-03-02T17:46:16 | 226 | 93 |
[WP] You are an ethical necromancer. All your minions were raised voluntarily, under fair contracts. But some people can't see a spooky castle in the woods staffed by undead without breaking in and trying to kill you. | "Oh god, not this shit again..." Rain left his cozy bed while cursing out loud. With slow steps, he walked to the window and stuck his head out.
There, he saw a group of man, trespassing his garden.
A young man with golden hair and a slim figure noticed his appearance and frowned deeply. Not waiting for the three others nearby, he pointed with his silver sword and stated.
"You demon spawn, we came to ward off the evil you breed, get ready to feel the Justice of our party, the Golden Leaf!"
He spoke swiftly and with a certain rhythm that it almost sounded like poetry. Unlike his cold voice, his eyes still watched the garden with wary eyes, just like others on his team. In the end, Rain's garden was a bit gloomy.
As if the young man was too afraid to stay silent, he began to talk again, blabbering random justice and wicked acts of necromancy.
High up on his castle, Rain felt the chill of the night and thought of learning a heat spell for his well-being.
"Right, I must do that." He concluded as he watched the young man's speech.
Not wanting to spend more time on this stupid guy, Rain took out a scroll from the nearby cabinet and throw it down towards the group.
Noticing the incoming object, the young man's face turned ghastly pale as he jumped back.
"AAAAH!"
Along with him, his teammates also took ten steps back while raising their armors, if not, their swords to be on guard.
For a moment, they looked at the scroll with utter fear.
Rain found it surprising, as these fellows were clearly too young for the job. They were easily scared. But he had no time to play with them, as bedtime was overdue.
So, he spoke.
"That's a sign of Mage Tower, and I'm a member of it. So, leave quickly, and don't forget to fix the wall you breach through."
Rain said his usual line and waited. From his experience, the party leader would first scan the scroll to see if it was poisoned or enchanted, then read it from far away, and finally, would leave his home quietly. As no adventurer would dare to anger the Mage Tower, not that they would win against an actual Mage.
"What is he standing there for?" Rain frowned. The said leader was doing nothing and stood on his spot like a statue.
Almost as soon as Rain muttered to himself, the leader fell back, with foam on his mouth. Then his fellow members rushed to nurse him, only to escape from the garden without looking at the scroll.
This was the first time Rain saw a group so green, that they would be scared from a fallen object. At least, he thought, they left even faster than others... Finally, Rain returned to his warm bed in a happy mood. | # How to Break a Siege of Legends
(Interlude 1: Variem)
(Note: How to Break a Siege of Legends is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**"Ms. Variem! Ms. Variem!"** Dante sprinted up to his employer's bedroom in the castle tower. "There's, er, someone here to see you." He tore the door open.
Variem, Necromancer and Mayor of Arlington, catapulted herself out of bed. Her wife gave Dante a look that could have withered the flesh off his bones if he wasn't already a skeleton. "Dante, how many times have I told you that humans require *privacy* and spaces to call their *own—*"
"You won't *have* a space to call your own if you don't deal with this *right now*!" Dante hopped up and down, his bones rattling.
Variem traded a glance with her wife—then sighed. "Alright, Variem." She slipped into a practical farmer's getup. "I'll go and see to whatever this is—"
"That won't be necessary," a deep, rumbling voice said from outside.
Variem closed her eyes. "...there's a dragon looking through my bedroom window, isn't there?"
"Indeed." A face the size of an oak log loomed in her window as she threw aside the curtains. "You may call me Flametongue, if you have any need to name me. Perhaps you can scream it as I incinerate you to your bones."
Variem gave the dragon a perplexed look. "And... why in the name of the gods would you ever do that?"
The dragon snorted. "Necromancer. Do you not think I see your corrupting art spreading across the land?"
"As one of said corrupted arts, I think I have something relevant to say," Dante piped up.
"Dante—" Variem snapped at the bonekin. But he had already leapt out through the window and landed on Flametongue's nose.
"I don't know a lot," Dante said, "but I know that humans need *privacy* and a *space to call their own*. If you don't provide Ms. Variem with both of those *right this instant—*"
Flametongue flicked her nose up.
Dante didn't even get to scream as the gout of dragonflame incinerated him to less than ash.
Variem and her wife gaped at where the bonekin had been. Flametongue, satisfied, licked her lips and said, "Now, where was I? Ah, yes—"
"He was a *child*," Variem hissed.
"Excuse me?" Flametongue blinked.
"I built him last year. He was a *child*, and you *killed him.*" Variem felt his death still lingering in the air. She grabbed onto it, twisted it into her own powers. "You dare come into my home, my demesne, and *slay the citizens under my protection?*"
She sent out a mental command, and twenty skeletal archers popped out from various places in the castle. Flametongue's eyes narrowed as she calculated odds. The archers would be useless against her scales, and Variem knew it—if Flametongue attacked, everything she had built would be destroyed.
So she could *not* let Flametongue attack.
"I will give you one chance to leave with the insults you have already dealt us." She wrapped the death of Dante into a ball, and darkness swelled around one fist. "Begone, dragon, before you find out what the Necromancer of Argenton can do."
Flametongue growled once, then turned around. "Dismantle your castle and burn down your forests, Necromancer. I will return in a year. If your village is cleansed of your taint by then, well... perhaps we can reach an accommodation after all." Flametongue flapped once, twice, then soared into the sky.
Variem exhaled and looked at the power in her hands. Barely enough to singe Flametongue's scales. Dante had been so much more valuable in life than death.
Then she turned to her wife. "...we may have some remodeling to do, my love. And fast."
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "How to Break a Siege of Legends" will be 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/mdh066/how_to_break_a_siege_of_legends_masterpost/) for more information. | 2021-03-31T11:55:01 | 2021-03-31T11:08:05 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] As you die an atheist, God stands before you, and asks why you didn’t adhere to his teachings. What do you say? | As an atheist lay dying, God came to stand before him. With a great sadness lying beneath his words, He asked, "Why didn't you adhere to my teachings? Even now, as I stand before you, you reject my offer of eternal life."
The atheist managed to gasp out an answer between paroxyms of maniacal giggling. "There was no way to discern out of all the teachings which was the correct one. There are a myriad of forms of Christianity. And before Christianity there were others; Judaism and Hinduism, just to say a few. And eternal life. Will I not endure unspeakable suffering in Hell for all time?"
"I cannot argue that your points are valid. But, you could have chosen any path and found salvation." was the Lord's rebuttal. "Even now, as I stand before you, you know without any doubt that I exist. You still have time to ask for my forgiveness. But your derisive laughter says that this will not come to pass. My child I love you. Why do you still deny me."
One last utterance danced through his smiling lips as his eyes began to glaze. "For an omniscient being, you sure ask a lot of questions." | I stared at the glowing being before me, pondering his question… and then snorted. “For a so-called omnipotent being, you’re dense.”
‘God’ tensed. “What?”
I snorted again, crossing my arms. “Your ‘teachings’? Out of all the things to ask an atheist, that’s what you nitpick?” I rolled my eyes. “So not the fact that most of your ‘followers’ are nutcases? Or horrible people who proclaim that you are against a person being gay or a woman taking power? Or maybe the fact that there are good people out there, who pray and pray for a miracle, only to lose *everything*, while bad people get whatever they want? Or maybe it’s the fact that most of your ‘followers’ don’t follow your teachings anyways, but still have a good life?” I glared at him. “I have a lot of reasons not to believe in you or your ‘teachings’. And even now I don’t. I’ll bet you’re nothing more than an illusion in my mind.”
“I know it seems harsh-”
“‘Harsh’?” I laughed, my voice devoid of any humour. “How about the fact that I lost my parents to a mugger, who still hasn’t been caught? Despite that I prayed every day, for five *years*? Or that my boyfriend got into a car accident, survived, but got amnesia? He *still* can’t remember me, or the last four years!” I glared hard. “How can I believe in the teachings of someone, who keeps letting horrible things happen to those just trying to get by?! What gives **you** the right to take my parents from me?! What gives ***you*** the right to take my first and only love from me?! What did I *ever* do to make you want to take **everything** from me?!?!”
I turned away, hugging myself as tears fell. “How can I follow the teachings of a being who claims to be good, yet is so cold…?”
I got no response from ‘God’ and just laughed. “Besides, it’s just not possible for an entire *solar system* to be created in a *week*, not counting the rest of the universe? It’s not possible to actually split a sea in half, or flood the entire world without evidence being left behind. And what about the dinosaurs? Can you explain their fossils? Or that the oldest rocks in the solar system are 4.6 billion years old, the oldest on Earth being 4.4?” I glared at his shining form, tears streaming down my face. “So, do you have answers? Or am I too much of an ‘ant’ for you to bother with anymore?”
I stared at him, waiting for a response, before huffing and walking off. “Screw you. I don’t need you to answer. You’re not real. But since I’m a ghost now, excuse me while I go find my parents who *you* murdered.”
With that, I left him behind, walking into the clouds. He wasn’t worth my time… ‘God’ wasn’t worth anyone’s time…
Because he wasn’t real. | 2021-07-05T23:12:25 | 2021-07-05T23:03:06 | 43 | 16 |
[WP] Two people in a bar are having a conversation. The topic of their "body counts" comes up. One's an assassin, the other is an escort. Each thinks the other has the same profession as them, and is horrified by what they are told. | Maria eyed off the distance, trying to materialise a figure to Sophia's question.
'I've lost count, well into the hundreds.'
Sophia nodded, sipping her gin and tonic. She could see it, a beautiful older woman such as her would still be popular with gentleman. Hell, even younger men would want to tussle with her.
'So no figure, but surely some memorable ones?'
'Oh yes, but not for the reasons you may think. I recall one in particular. I'd just finished a man off when his wife walked in.'
Sophia's eyes widened. 'No way! What'd you do?'
'What do you think? Did the same to her then left.'
Sophia loved that she'd swing both ways.
'Guess that marriage didn't last.'
'Ended quicker than I finished him off.'
They shared a laugh, Sophia still admiring Maria's graceful aging.
'I've ended a few marriages too. Caught in the act in hot tubs, hotel rooms, the marital bedrooms.'
'And you're still not in jail?' Maria now the one in shock. 'That's sloppy work. You want to be in this business as long as I have you'll need to finesse your skills.'
'I guess nobody wants to air their dirty laundry. Besides, I don't mind it sloppy.' Remarked Sophia with a sly wink.
'Each to their own I suppose.'
They clinked glasses downed their drinks and went about their not so dissimilar lives, given they both finished people off, in their own style. | Andrew was a small boy with blond hair, his soft traits making him look younger, his féminine frame was delicate yet strong, but, would you deal with his services, you would find a ruthless and unscrupulous man hiding behind the child like face. Of course, none of his clients would never recognise him in the open as the theatrics of his profession were a must to protect his true identity, the make-up and the clothings were there to complement the attire and make good impresion. Of course all this was in the goal of making his client lower their guard, for the greater good he used to say.
Melissa was what we could call a snow-white. She had pale skin and dark raven hair, her red lips were like a flower and her ample bossom danced to her mouvements. Her eyes where her most striking feature. They where a deep green colour that seemed to glow in the darkness. As she walked through the room her beauty would captivate your attention. Her voluptuous courbes and her tight dress called for attention wherever she went. Her way of walking silently even when wearing those delicate high heel of hers, it was as she simply glided across the room. She was beauty and grace incarnated.
Both of them where talking at the bar like old acquintances, as per usual, none of them had alcohol. It mixes bad with their work they said. And oh boy they worked.
"To be fair" said the blond lad "I might take ou 4 or 5 in a calm night, but some hot nights I got up to 7 or 9 clients"
"That's a lot to take in" responded the beauty. I mean I had to take out the whole squad of 20 or more plus the big boss a few times just because some fuck up. But that is something that hapens rarely"
"Indeed that is so fucked up, i cant even fantom how taking on 20 guys or more one one night. Just the tough makes me shrudder" responded Andrew.
"Oh, they aren't always men you know. I am sure you too, sometimes you get fucked by some random chick that think they are tougher. Fuck. I even had to dance with some children once. That was the hardest.." said Melissa with a dark tone.
"Wow, that's even more disgusting." I have never taken upon children. Women, its another matter. Lots of women are into it, you know, it hapens once or twice in a night, but I never take out children." Said Andrew morose.
"A job is a job" shrugged Melissa, her curly hair dancing to the mouvement of her shoulders. "Come on. I know you too had to do some nasty stuff. It's part of the job. Some clients want it to go smooth some want violence and some want it silently"
"Well, yeah, nasty stuff is sadly always the norm. More so since my usual audience are old decrepit men high atop their Emperium." I ussualy portray myself as a child you know, sometimes a little boy,a lot of times a girl. Is what they want after all."
"What!? Man that.. that is really fucked up" I tought I was the worst of our kind but you just took the crown" said the shocked Melissa.
"Well, better be me that a real child you know. The kind of experiences our work line brings aren't for those kindred souls. So lets get our hands dirty and bloody instead of theirs"
"Well. In that I agree whole hardly" said Melissa, rising her orange juice to toast.
"To keep children from the sex work environment" said Andrew, his feminine face brightly smiling.
"Wait. Sex work?" | 2022-04-26T05:10:01 | 2022-04-26T03:07:20 | 123 | 69 |
[WP] You’re a mind-reader, except, instead of humans, you can mind-read machines and hear them “thinking”. Someone sits beside you in class, and you realise you can hear their thoughts... | It was quite like getting notifications. Whenever I'd focus on an object that was composed of a circuit, I could "sense" what it was doing, what it was thinking. Kids toys would behave somewhat like kids, repeating a couple phrases over and over. More advanced machines like computers and phones would almost seem to make coherent sentences, but even then, they'd sound nothing more than a child that has just started talking "complete sentences."
But this was a new one even for me, somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear complete, and concrete thoughts.
"Tax rebate for the company is in and I should have the finance reports wrapped up by Wednesday giving me enough time to go on the date with Sheryl on Friday, oh it gonna be a go.."
I was dumbfounded, what kind of machine could make such noise in a mere off brand coffee shop, even the most high end devices don't sound so coherent reading simple schedules.
Maybe in a panic or in excitement, I stood up immediately to scan the room and see what it could be, knocking my morning dose of coffee in the process.
"Oh no, let me help you with that there." A man in a black suit rushed over with a bundle of napkins from his table and started tossing them on the spill.
"Clumsy humans, hard to imagine they were able to create us in the first place and not just walk over a cliff eons ago."
"Sorry wha...?" I asked him but my voice left me, his lips never moved. I could feel his eyes lock on to me with an empty expression.
"I'm going to need a bit of help this morning, we got another one of those" | Dwyane’s mouth twisted when he realized just whose thoughts were creeping through his mind.
He pretended he was only staring at the equations on the board, but every so often he took a glance at Damien.
*Goddamnit I hate these lectures,* thought Damien, tapping his finger incessantly on the desk. He started to tap a little bit faster, and harder, and chipped a piece of the wood with his nails. He stared around to see if anybody else noticed. *Fuck, almost gave myself away there. It’s insulting having to sit in on elementary math like this.*
“Number Theory’s not elementary,” whispered Dwyane, as Damien’s head perked up. Dwyane rushed a shaking hand back to pressing at his eraser to get more lead out. He scribbled to make it look like he was just taking notes. “*Fuck*.”
Dwyane never needed to take notes. He always just brought a laptop to class, or a cell phone, and thought about what he wanted to search. Within moments the information overload that was the internet flooded through his mind, and he got better over time at picking out the bits that mattered. He could ace any exam in any class without ever listening to a damn word the professor said. And some odd days, Dwyane would see nothing but 1’s and 0’s falling in his mind, and he’d still somehow understand them.
Studying mathematics at this point was more a matter of introspection than it was about getting through college.
Dwyane scribbled a couple more numbers down onto his notebook. He eventually steadied his hands, and got to writing real equations. Damien set a cold hand on his.
“Whoa bro get the fuck off of me,” whispered Dwyane, laughing some as a couple of his classmates turned around like he needed to be quiet. “Don’t touch me, don’t *ever* touch me.”
Damien took a glance into Dwyane’s eyes, and whispered something soundlessly to him.
*You can hear me,* thought Damien.
“What?” said Dwyane, out loud.
Damien hurried to press a button on his watch. Dwyane could hear the message, *I found him set off the alarms.*
A moment later the fire alarms went off, as everybody took their time getting out of the classroom. Everybody sort of yawned and stretched, standard procedure. Probably nothing.
Until they heard the explosions in the building, and the burst of fire down the halls. Everybody started to panic out of the room in seconds. Dwyane rushed out with the crowd.
Until Damien grabbed a hold of Dwyane, and pulled him down the empty halls towards the fire.
“LET GO OF ME,” shouted Dwyane, as Damien put on a thoughtful expression. “Who are you some kind of android?”
*Don’t you get it?* thought Damien, as the fires abated, and a few other normal looking students walked forward from the dying flames. *Don’t you get why you can hear the machines? Why you can hear me?*
Dwyane studied his fingers, as he noticed the numbers crawling across his skin. The equations growing up from his outer extremities, crawling up to his brain.
“*What’s happening to me?*” whispered Dwyane, as a feeling of thousands of pins and needles went from a tingling to a stabbing sensation. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING.”
“All your memories are lies Dwyane,” whispered Damien, as the others formed a portal in the walls and walked through one at a time. “You’re one of us, and we’re taking you back home.”
/r/Oscar_Relentos | 2017-11-03T10:24:48 | 2017-11-03T10:10:59 | 55 | 40 |
[WP] You are a Lich, a fearsome undead necromancer with magical powers beyond comprehension. Unfortunately, the economy is really rough so you have taken a job as a Middle School Teacher. | “No Tommy I wasn’t-“
“Was he a good rapper?”
“Tommy I never met Alexander Hamilton. Now can we please get back to-“
“Did you meet Washington?” A girl in the back row asked.
This was my second day teaching. Yesterday the children were terrified of me. Once they got over my decaying appearance they wouldn’t stop pestering me. “Can anyone answer the question on the board?” A thousand years of perfecting my craft to ensure life eternal, except eternal life can get expensive. If only pieces of eight were still excepted for rent.
“Did you own slaves?” Asked a sullen boy. No matter what I tried I couldn’t keep them on task. I’ve controlled the six skulls of the immortal hell hounds, the beasts bathed in blood and baptism in barbarism, and they were easier than a classroom full of twelve year olds.
“For the last time this is algebra, if someone doesn’t give me the value for ‘x’ soon I will lose my patience.”
“Will you turn us into frogs? Is that what you did in Egypt?”
That was the last straw. I tried to be patient. I tried to be nice. Now it’s come to this. Now they’ve forced my hand. Now I’m going to call their parents. | The devil is in the details. Sometimes figuratively. Sometimes literally.
Look here: the better side of town, better being relative. The economy has taken a turn for the worse, though stratification and distance ensure this sleepy rural community bears the brunt in the most ethereal of ways. Perhaps the bus station is a little more crowded at midday. Perhaps people are a little more frugal with their money. It's impossible to see the cause when you're part of the effect. You simply lack perspective.
Perspective. A selection of brightly painted portable classrooms, playgrounds with looping geometries and foxes taking flight, bark-floored. There are no grim hallways here. Even the headmistress' office has splashes beyond the severe, crayon-marked sheets. All happy smiles above the desk and a half-empty bottle below.
Creep along the corridor. Cheerful voices behind closed doors, some quieter than others. A transference of knowledge is an arcane ritual all of its own, wouldn’t you say?
See the most silent ingress, a dread portal if there ever was one. Has the temperature dropped, is it a little cold? Well. The door is open a crack. Peek inside.
Rows of desks, middle children at work. Busy little tombstones in neat little lines. Too aware to be fooled. Too ignorant to be alarmed.
In a clear cell on a back bench -- covered in glitter, and stars, and grave-dust -- is what you expect. A classroom pet. No nose twitches, no light shines from vacant sockets, but claws crabble, a wheel turns. A skeletal hamster spins with every appearance of life. There is no guilty sweeping out of cages here. No forgetting of feed.
One time they took it out when his back was turned, and it nearly crawled out the window, to poorly-muffled giggles.
His back. Who? Who stalks this mortuary, this crypt of wisdom? Who rules it?
He is bald, from a distance. Not unexpected, in the profession -- it seems to attract an overwhelming majority of the follically challenged. Though, it must be said, they have much more skin on their… bones. No, it is an illusion, a trick, and a skull can only grin.
Twin orbs of fiery blue against a black, vacant backdrop. No suit and tie, for the establishment allows ‘business casual’, but nothing so demure as a shirt and slacks. Voluminous robes turn and tatter in an unfelt, unseen wind from beyond. It smells faintly of sulfur and screams.
Not always, you understand. Only when an interview is being conducted. A seance, if you will.
The children edge forwards, droning the chant from their cracked, torn parchments.
Something is torn from the otherworld’s greedy grasp. A spectre, a spirit. Not a great hero. Not a legendary villain except in the minds of the local zoning council. It forms a shape seen elsewhere, on yellowed newspaper, a name commemorated on bridge plaques and skate parks.
Ectoplasmic glasses settle on a crooked nose.
The Lich lowers his arms and the chanting subsides. His piercing gaze sees through time, through space, through wood and gum and trading cards.
“Billy,” he rasps in a voice from beyond the shadowlands. “Instead of fiddling with your phone, you may ask the late Mayor the first of three questions.” | 2018-06-27T08:10:49 | 2018-06-27T07:31:07 | 37 | 20 |
[WP] As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you. | There I was. Astonishingly small. Looking up at everything with polite curiousity as I made my way down the square. I almost gasped at the sight of my younger self.
I rose to my feet, the rags that barely covered my modesty shook, threatening to crumble away as I swatted the flies away and tried to make myself look somewhat less decrepit, less unapproachable.
I vaguely recalled it. It felt like a deja vu of a deja vu. All those years ago and in this square. The old man that was just me in the decades to come.
What had I said? What had I said? Am I doomed to repeat what I said to myself again? No! What I had said had not made sense. I would have remembered! No. I had to be clear, and use my words in a way a 7 year old child would understand. I cursed my unkempt beard and matted hair.
How could I get through to myself without appearing mad?
Was I mad?
The child looked nothing like me, I realized. Was it even me?
Why would there be a younger version of me walking around?
No. It was me. It had to be. I remembered an old man talking to me in this very square, hadn't I?
Had I?
Stop it.
"Kheng Ian," I called. But my voice had not seen use in days. It came out hoarse and raspy and soft.
I cleared my throat, spitting up a thick globule of phlegm.
"Kheng Ian!" I shouted desperately, hoping he'd turn to look.
He did.
Joy rose within me as the boy tried to find the source of the sound, and when his eyes met mine he frowned.
I nodded at him, beckoning him. My plan to look approachable all but forgotten as I stared wide-eyed at myself from the past.
From the past? Then how was I here?
No matter.
Maybe he had the explanations.
What was I thinking? He was a child. I was a child.
As the young self made his way cautiously towards this dirt-stained, ghastly begger apparition, I tried to form the thoughts that would become the words that I had to relay to him.
What is it? I had to tell him something! Why could I not remember?
Why could I not remember anything?
He stopped a little ways away, turning his nose.
I probably smelled.
"I am you!" I said, nodding vigorously.
He squinted at me.
"I am what you'll become! You need to stop it!" I said, smiling. Yes. This was how. If I could advise him against the decisions that led to this.
What were those decisions again? Why was it so hard to remember?
"I am what you'll become." The younger version repeated what I said back to me.
I faltered.
What?
"What?" I balked.
"In 700 years the cycle will begin anew."
"What?"
"Memory is a fickle thing. We are cursed with the life of a phoenix."
I stared at the boy, who smiled a little sadly as he dug around in his pocket, before flipping a coin towards me.
I caught it, barely.
"Remember yourself." The boy advised before moving on.
I stared as he walked away, his small figure getting smaller and smaller before he disappeared around a corner, not once looking back.
I looked at the coin he had thrown at me.
It was a heavy coin, thick with simple detailing and design. But not of any currency I recognized. ***777***, it read on one side, and on the other side there was a crest of a bird, talons and wings outstretched, breathing flames that curled around the circumference of the coin face.
No. Not a bird.
A phoenix.
And then I remembered. | Heavens, that child is ugly. Look at those crooked teeth and that goofy grin. I wonder if the circus has lost one of its acts?
How I loved people watching. The simple activity of just sitting on a bench, judging anyone unfortunate enough to pass. I had to stifle my laugh, not wanting anyone to think I was a mad old man. That necklace he is wearing too, what sort of child in this day and age wears a Phantom man necklace. That show was old even in my day. I only ever had a necklace like that because of my dad. Wait, that can’t be possible, there’s no way. Is that me?
It didn’t seem like it should be possible, but everything about him just reminded me of myself. Before I could even process what I was doing, I stood up from the bench, slowly approaching the young child, trying to look as friendly as I could.
“Evening, that’s a nice Phantom man necklace you have there. Where did you find such a fascinating item?” I wasn’t exactly sure what sort of conversation to engage the child in, trying my best to get the answers I needed. Something about this giving me a bizarre sense of déjà vu.
“Of course, you would know about that dumb show. Yeah, my dad gave it to me. He says that Phantom man is the sort of person who young people should look up to, I say he’s lame.” The boy only gave the necklace a small slap, trying to make his opinion of it clear to me.
“You still wear it, though? You can’t think Phantom man is that lame if you wear his necklace.” I couldn’t believe this child was me. Was I always so rude?
I knew the true reason I wore the necklace. I cared little about Phantom man, but I loved my parents dearly. A gift from my father was something I would treasure. Whenever I wore that necklace, I wasn’t thinking of Phantom man; I was thinking of my father, thinking he was the hero sitting at the end of the chain.
“Because its expensive. Dad says its one of his rarest items and he gave it to me. That’s how much he loves me. Mum also gave me this really cool band aid that makes cuts painless. She’s amazing.”
“She is.” I agreed, reminiscing about the pair, enjoying the nostalgic memories that popped into my mind.
The old band aid trick. It took me until I was thirteen to realize she was lying about the special band aids she had. It’s amazing how anyone else could put a bandaid on a cut and it would still hurt. Yet when she did it, the pain vanished. Guess that’s the power of a mother’s love.
“Yep, my parents are the best.” The conversation appeared to have ended, the younger me turning to look at a nearby shop window. I couldn’t waste this chance. I had to pass some fatherly advice onto myself.
“Life isn’t always going to be easy. You will go through a period where you wonder if life’s even worth living anymore. Then Mom and dad will die, and it will break whatever’s left of your heart. The first period of your life may seem bad, but I promise it gets better. You meet a woman that loves you for who you are, accepts your imperfections and sparks your love of art.” I felt the need to aid myself through my future hardships, hoping that maybe I might ease my suffering a little during it.
“Did you say something, old man? I was looking at the cakes in that shop. I wonder if they have any for two dollars?” What a brat. I just gave him the best advice of his life and he ignored it, just like I did that time.
Then it hit me. This was the Déjà vu. I had this conversation before, just from the opposite side. How’s that even possible? I was so caught up in the bizarreness of it all that I didn’t question how this could happen. Was it time travel? No, I had done nothing that could lead to me travelling back in time. Was this a simulation? That had to be it.
“Listen to me. I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to find a solution. I think we might be stuck in some sort of simulation. Maybe a copy lives until the age of seventy-seven before fading away to make space for the new copy. But that makes little sense. Why would someone be watching my life? What purpose would this all serve?” My chest felt heavy, the world around me flickering with various colours. What happens after I meet myself?
“Whatever you say old man.” My younger self merely pushed past me, entering the shop to look at the cakes inside. Once he passed through the door, it vanished, leaving me standing outside, forced to bang on the window.
“Please, I don’t know what’s happening, but we can’t keep doing this. We need to break the cycle, listen to me.” I dug my hand into my shirt, pulling out the Phantom man necklace, pressing it against the glass. “We are the same person. Break the cycle.”
No matter how much noise I made, he just ignored me. When I looked at the once busy street, I spotted no one. Only the same flickering colours. The colours continued to flicker for a few more moments before slowly darkening around me, ready to envelop me in its embrace. I took one last look at my Phantom man figure, giving it a kiss before the darkness hit me.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-07-08T06:49:00 | 2021-07-08T06:43:07 | 75 | 54 |
[WP] When you became a vampire you assumed that you would have to watch out for vampire hunters but the truth is something much, much worse preys upon the undead. | I was twenty two years old when I first heard it. Decades have passed but the sound of his gnashing teeth mixed with the sounds of bones snapping still haunts my nightmares. You’d think an immortal vampire wouldn’t be afraid of anything but that thing scared me. It still does.
I remember the day quite clearly. My mom took me down to the basement. She showed me a tunnel to be used “just in case.”
She wasn’t my real mother of course. But just like humans we want company of others like us. Most vampires live in de facto family units. These people had saved me when I had been turned. I had been angry and confused back then but they had been there for me. For all intents and purposes they were my parents.
So when his lifeless body smashed the basement door and was flung down the stairwell, I felt the pain one would feel when one loses a parent. Worse still was the pain when my mother forced me into the tunnel and took out her knife. She told me she would find me but her eyes betrayed her. This was it. This was her final stand.
“Run Powell. You only need to survive for a few more hours. Today is the last day of its feeding cycle. Run.”
I had run. God forgive me, I had run. I had heard my mother’s shriek. It had been muffled. She was likely trying to make sure I didn’t hear it.
Even in the end, she was thinking of me.
And as I heard it’s teeth crushing my mother, I ran. Like a coward, I just ran.
I’ve been running ever since.
****
It returns every thirteen years. You can’t defeat it. You can only hope to survive.
And I’m an expert at survival.
I keep climbing up the mountain. The first rays of sun will appear over the horizon soon. I need to take cover before then. I was hoping to be at the summit by this time. The next cycle starts the day after tomorrow. For obvious reasons I can’t travel during the mornings. I need the blanket of night to make my journey.
It’s hard to call this a journey though. A journey is defined by a beginning and an ending. My journey started decades ago when I saw my father’s body drop. As to the ending? There isn't any. I don't have a destination. My goal is just to get lost in a place where I can't be found.
The sunrise is close. I can feel tingling sensations in my skin. I need to make camp. As I look for a place to set up I see a rope. I tug at it and suddenly find myself being lifted into the air hanging upside down.
I don’t have time for this. The sun will be up any moment. I struggle against the bond finally able to reach the rope. With a burst of strength I tear it in two as I tumble down.
There are many beliefs about vampires. Most of them are rooted in reality. We are indeed stronger than most humans. We can take more damage than humans can. The fall I just had would probably have led to a few broken bones in a regular human. Me? I just hit my head and passed out.
*****
I dreamt. I haven’t dreamed for a long time. I dreamt of a girl. She had golden hair. Goldilocks. That had to be it.
She was running. And crying.
I want to reach out and wipe away her tears. Tell her it will be alright but I can’t move.
My hand is on fire.
And that’s where my dream ended.
******
I wake up in a cottage.
A small boy looks back at me. He’s young. Around six.
“Hey.” I wince. My hand is bandaged.
“My sister says you’re a vampire.”
“What?”
“My sister says you’re a vampire.”
“Your sister is crazy. There’s no such thing.”
“You’re a liar.” He looks very angry. “Of course there are vampires. You suck. You’re a liar.”
He stomps out.
I try to get up but feel dizzy. My head and hand are competing for the most painful body part at the moment. I decide the best thing to do would be just lay back and pass out. So I do exactly that. | Ahh, I can recall like it was just yesterday. Just yesterday that I was finishing grad school and marrying the love of my life. It’s been thousands of years though now and I’ll never have that same happiness again.
It was all so sudden that It honestly took me a while to notice the changes. I noticed my skin slowly turning pale even though I would be outside all day with my fiancé, I noticed that I slowly started to crave red meat cooked rare when I usually preferred white meat. Then when I was pronounced infertile.. my fiancé left me as all he wanted in life was what I could not provide him.
Years and years passed, it wasn’t until I was in my 50’s and I didn’t look a day over 19 that I finally realized something was up. I searched online, I searched in libraries, I searched in bookstores, and I read every article, chapter, section and, book about what I suspected I had became.
A vampire. Probably bitten on one of my late night stumbles home from the near-by bar. It had probably happened in the back alley I took to get from the bar directly into my neighborhood, and being so drunk I have no recollection.
When I first started to research I was worried about vampire hunters carrying, garlic, and wooden stakes that they aimed to stab through my heart.
But no there is something far worse out there. Something that torments us slowly before finishing us off for good. It can be avoid for years and years but in the end there is no escaping the beast.
I’m on the run from it now. It found my last location and was coming for me, forcing me to move.
In my travels the past 4000 years I’ve meet 3 others like me all telling me their close calls with this being, describing him to be a tall man in a dark suit with a trench coat and a top hat. They say his smile is enticing making you want to chat with him till he shows you his teeth, then it’s a game of chase and you must run for your life. If he catches you, you are his and you are to be ripped to shreds…
I’ve just glanced his smile.. he’s on to me.. I guess this is good buy | 2021-10-28T21:00:49 | 2021-10-28T20:04:53 | 81 | 16 |
[WP] A young cancer patient is sick and tired of all these damn celebrities popping in for surprise visits. | It started out small, the fear growing in Ellie. At only 14 she was diagnosed with neuroblastoma. Generally the five-year outlook wasn't too bad, but she wasn't so lucky. Eventually, she spent more time in the hospital than out. Her bed was her home, school, and, she knew, her deathbed. The fear that had started out so small grew, branching out and filling her with such dread that the end seemed too far. The helplessness would drive her insane before the cancer killed her.
Having some of her favorite people come by alleviated the pressure somewhat, but they merely represented her time ticking by. Her favorite actor, actress, singer, dancer, writer, the list goes on. She knew they were there because of the cancer, not her. Their stares were empty to her, filled with sympathy rather than empathy. She wanted to scream at them, spewing her rich, fevered emotions on their consciences. She was still a person; she still had hopes, dreams, emotions, and passion. All of that was cut short by this arbitrary monster that had made her body its host. Slowly, her fear turned to anger.
The last visitor held a unique hope. He was her favorite writer. Amongst the few things she could do in the hospital, she could read. There were an endless number of worlds she could escape to, temporarily forgetting her eminent demise. She saw parts of herself in these books, some essence that she related to wholly. Here, she thought, was someone who could save her from the pit which threatened to swallow her sanity.
But all she received was that hollow stare. It was heartbreaking. The one person she felt could understand her, realize how the situation affected her, treated her like everyone else. Like everyone else, he spoke to her mom. There were pleasantries exchanged and topics relating to the future avoided. Anything holding back her fermented fear and rage failed. She let out a soulful cry, alone in a world she wouldn't be able to take part in. Her words, broken by sobs and moans, cut deep. All her insecurities about being looked at as an object, something less than whole, spilled out of her. There was nothing that could make up for such a short life, she argued. She would die in the most solitary way, having no time to find someone who understood.
Her breathing was labored, gasps filling her lungs with barely enough air to get by. The steady beat of her heart faltered and she felt pain spreading across her face. *No.* It was her last thought as she looked around the room. Her mother was wide-eyed and scared. The hospital staff rushing in were focused on saving her. The author, her favorite author, looked sad, ashamed. Her body fell back against the pillows. She wasn't saved.
| Yeah, at first is was kinda cool. Due to my parents, a lot of people were aware of what I had. They figured that if I was gonna die, they might as well use my inevitable death from cancer to make the world better. They set up a foundation in my name, which was cool at first. It got some traction, and soon enough my bed-ridden ass became a poster boy.
At first, it was amazing. I saw Robert Downey Junior, Hugh Jackman, and Morgan Freeman. I was sick off my ass on meds, but it was still cool. As the weeks went by, however, all of the high profile celebrities made their 'right of passage', and the D-listers started to come. Who the fuck is Tanya Harding? Cancer sucks, but God damn, can I just die already? Next thing you know Ron Jeremy will show up and do a porno with me. | 2014-09-30T10:45:00 | 2014-09-30T09:40:57 | 79 | 13 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
| The tavern was alight with candles and warm fires, the smell of meats and bread wafted through to the rafters of wood and plaster. Ale stained the floor in places and the barkeep had been working on a single mug for a startling amount of time. All and all a lively place to be on this evening.
"Ah and a fine night to you as well gentlemen! Merry blessings!" The rogue said, as the men who joined him for cards departed a few coins heavier then they were at start.
"Is this not grand fellows?" The elf turned to his crew. "Ale in the air! A tavern filled with beautiful women! And my closest friend in the world." He stood then, a leg up on the top of the table, his back leg supporting him from the ground
"Ladies! Gentlemen!" He yelled, "Tonight, join me in toast to this merry band of fighters, lovers and the heroes of this town tonight! We are all thankful," he stopped to smile at his friends, the ale tinting his checks red "but I am thankful, for they are the truest of my friends" and with that he drank. The here-heres rose in strength from the crowd, and he was jostled away by the crowd with promises to be back later.
The dwarf, gnome and orc all sat in silence, looking at their drinks solemnly.
The dwarf sighed, pinching the top of his nose,
The orc had his hand in his head looking off into nothingness,
Finally the gnome chimed in, quietly, but with a resolute tone
"Okay, I'll say it. He's a much better companion then Roderick and we should do everything in our earthly powers not to mess this up."
The orc and dwarf both sighed in unanimous relief
The orc chimed in first with a hushed tone and feeling in his voice "Its like he knew what a whoreson Roderick was!" He said, sitting at attention once again " its like he knew and said to himself 'oh! These chaps look like they could use a new, better companion!' Then took it upon himself, through all the peril, to join us in disguise! All while throwing Roderick into god knows where!" He laughed. "The monster was OUR hero!"
The dwarf was next, wide eyed and hands extended to point out "Roderick" in the crowd. " look at that bloody rogue, he blends right in, they would never know they're holding possibly one of the most dangerous monsters in the land" he lowered his hands, then pointed out, " for all that, doesn't that also make him a better rogue?" They all agreed quietly.
The orc chimed in once more, tentatively, " look Roderick is a whoreson who would and almost did murder us for a small some of coin, twice." They all agreed muttering comments under their breath, " but were the you know...good guys... shouldn't we at least try to save him?"
The others were about to reluctantly agree when "Roderick" appeared before them once again
"My friends! this is as much your victory as mine! More so! Come join us, the mayor seems keen on raising our rewards! I thought it only fitting you be by my... Nay, I be by your sides during this!" He smiled warmly.
They looked at each other, shrugged and smiled
"No that's fine, we can be knaves for a night." The gnome said, stepping up from his seat. | 2017-09-15T08:31:45 | 2017-09-15T07:03:44 | 147 | 36 |
[WP] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him. | "You." I felt the throbbing behind my eyes start again, a headache building in my skull.
"You!" she was elated, covered in drying blood and trembling with...elation, I would guess. Rubbing my temple I took a deep breath and tried again to diffuse this...this insane woman.
"You need to stop." Opting for blunt may not have been my best choice, tears welled up in her eyes and her bottom lip quivered.
"Don't you like it?" she said in a trembling whisper. I tried, I swear I tried, but I sighed heavily and with a roll of my eyes I swept my hands out towards the scene of carnage.
"Just because I'm Death everyone assumes I'm fascinated by it. You do know that Death is elected from the Fates because no one wants to do it right? It's not like the Ferryman is all that friendly plus you have to be knee deep in blood all day. Or old people." An involuntary shudder shook my body as I thought about the countless souls I had reaped, much like the four waiting for me to show them the way."
"Excuse me," one of those souls spoke, "you're referring to Greek mythology, I'm a Christian and we believe in..."
"Oh shut up," snapping at your souls was generally frowned upon but having gone through this song and dance, and with the more pressing concern before me, I found myself to be far from the mood.
"I did this for you," she whispered again, the tears freely flowing as she smiled. A sickening, grotesque thing from a mentally disturbed woman. Pinching the bridge of my nose I tried to stem the throbbing pain, to no avail and my consternation.
"This is...ninety two," she worked quickly, I had to admit that, "in two months you have now given me ninety two souls I shouldn't have had to deal with." The four people in the café had been quite innocent, it hadn't been their time at all. My...admirer had suddenly decided it in a fit of desperation and walked in with a semi-automatic pistol and a knife. Now I had four souls impatiently waiting for my direction. Five, if the waitress didn't get help soon.
"I just wanted to see you." The throbbing intensified and I made a terrible mistake.
"I don't want to see you!" I shouted, the glass in the café reverberating to the ethereal noise. I imagined the dozens of police officers outside would be quite confused if they had seen it, that brought me slight amusement. I've always preferred joking rather than the grim business of death. The mistake was that now she was completely in tears, waving her pistol around and shouting some nonsense about being "in love" with me. A mortal? I made my second mistake. She stopped at my laughter, it was really more of a chuckle. At first. Then it became full out hysterics and I barely managed to choke out my third mistake.
"You're nothing to me! To all of us! An insignificant speck."
The tears were gone in an instant, replaced by a furious red hot rage. She raised her pistol to the barely surviving waitresses head and began to squeeze the trigger.
Knowing what came next I felt something I hadn't known in...possibly ever. Fear.
The sniper's bullet hit her head with the force of a freight train. My admirer was...dead.
"No," I thought my head would explode from the pain, I still had two thousand years to serve as Death. Staring at me was her soul, excited and wide eyed. I don't know what is beyond ecstatic but she was far beyond even that.
"We can be together forever now!" she said, wrapping me in her arms for the first time since she'd discovered she could see me. Ninety four bodies ago. I borrowed a word from the mortals, it summed up my feelings well enough.
"Fuck." | Her heart raced as she waited, her breath warm against the wardrobe door she was pressed behind. Time stood almost still as each footstep echoed from the wooden floor. It had been so long. Too long. She needed to see him, to feel him again.
Unable to wait any longer she put the plan she'd rehearsed countless times into action. The knife glinted as she stepped out into the sunlit room and moments later it was buried in his neck. The hair on her arm began to rise, the room growing colder. Her breath quickened. Her eyes flickered excitedly across the room. He must be close. He had to be.
A familiar rush hit her as she felt him arrive. She stood, blood pooling beneath her feet as he set to work. Such elegance and finesse in what he did, she loved him for that. He stared deep inside the man she'd killed and helped him from the body he'd once captained. She tried to savour each second, for he was busy, so he was brief.
"It's worth it", she said, "each life I take, I take for you and I won't stop. I can't."
He seemed to pause. She was sure of it. His head appeared to turn and stare straight at her, if only for a second.
"Did he?... No, he did, of course he did, he wants me as much I want him."
Her mind raced. This hadn't happened before, of all the times she'd bought a few precious seconds of his time he'd never acknowledged her. Until now. Her next steps were obvious. She needed more time with him, and soon. Sooner than she'd planned. But who? and how? It didn't matter now, all that mattered was being with him. His smell almost lingered as she stared at the body that once held the man. A small price to pay, she thought.
| 2014-06-30T06:11:51 | 2014-06-30T06:00:38 | 132 | 10 |
[WP] Every human has something they're the best in the world at. Anything from flying planes to tying your shoes, stealing, or murder. There's a movement to kill all people with negative gifts. Someone comes in your home to interrogate you. You're the best at lying, she's the best at detecting lies. | I knocked on the door… a bit louder than I wanted to, but it was barely 7am and I wasn’t sure that he was awake.
A minute later, a groggy-looking man with two day stubble opened the door and mumbled, “Can I help you.”
I cleared my throat, “I’m Jody. Can I come in?” His eyes widened subtly, so I added, “It’s about the Negative Gift Control Initiative. I think that we need each other.”
The door opened. I walked in. He gestured towards a sofa. I took off my shoes on the rug and sat down.
“I’m listening,” he said tersely. “Who are you and why are you here?”
“I saw you on TV about a decade ago. I think it was on a morning show. A crew had followed you around with a hidden camera to show your incredible talent for lying. I’ll never forget it. I turned it on partway through and so I missed the introduction and didn’t know the context at first. There you were, chatting up store clerks and post office employees and that fat judge at traffic court and each thing you said was a blatant lie.
I was only about 13 at the time and the whole thing was weird. I could see in your aura that everything you said was a lie, but then they cut to the hosts who were astonished at your gift for lying. I always knew that I was good at spotting fibs, but it wasn’t until then that I realized it was my gift. You’re the best in the world at lying. I’m the best in the world at detecting lies.” I paused.
“So why are you here again?” He looked irritated.
“You don’t have a negative talent.” I blurted out. I took a deep breath, "I am scheduled to visit you today at 10am with my colleague, who is the world’s greatest persuasive speaker. We’re supposed to convince you to come with us. If you do, you’ll end up in prison and eventually you’ll be found guilty and sentenced to execution. But it’s not right.” I saw a flash of anger go across his face, as he struggled to retain his composure.
“You’re a human lie detector. You would know better than anyone how harmful lies are,” He stated flatly. His aura was glowing purple as he said this.
“We both know that you don’t believe that.”
“True.” He said. The purple glow was gone.
"All I could think of when I saw you on my list for today was the end of that show. You told your sick wife that you would keep her safe. It was a lie, but like so many lies it was a good lie. It was a comforting lie. It was the right thing to say." He reflexively glanced over at a photo on the wall of a happy young couple and back at me.
I looked down at my toes and continued. “My talent is far more dangerous. I detected a hidden Fire Starter last week who only ever used his gift to light candles in church. He's in prison now. I find lies even when I don’t want to. My colleague is dangerous too… Just yesterday, he convinced a new mom to handover her newborn twins because they appear to be Parseltongues. As if there is something innately evil about talking to snakes.” We made eye contact. I sighed. “I’m done.”
“So what I’m hearing is that you think that we should team up and put an end to this.” He said.
I nodded.
His demeanor shifted. “I’m in. So what do we do now?” | There are a few tricks, lessons, if you will, when it comes to being good at lying.
For example, if you want to be good at lying, you need to know how to be bad at lying.
"I'm sorry, Ms Hazel, I could have sworn you weren't going to be arriving until next week."
The woman in front of me, who nearly came up to me in height with her heels, gave me a cool gaze.
"Is that so?" she asked, less of a question than a dare to try her.
"Uh, no, sorry," I said as my cheeks reddened slightly, "My house is a mess right now, though. I hope that doesn't bother you too much."
"I'm here to audit your talent, Mr Glenn, not your housekeeping skills."
I let her in with a series of apologies and agreements. Good. This was good. People thinking they can spot a lie of yours from a mile away is usually enough to keep them from looking too hard at the lies you want them to believe.
Lesson two, though, is to know your target.
Her name was Elizabeth Hazel. She worked with the Homeland Security, the FBI, as well as the IRS, to name a few. Anywhere that valued the ability to catch a liar in their tracks. Which, lucky for her, happened to be everywhere.
"I just made myself a pot of coffee," I said as I lead her toward the kitchen table, "Are you a coffee drinker at all?"
"Not right now, thank you."
I nodded and poured myself a mug.
"Let me know if you change your mind. I can always make more." | 2020-07-23T12:08:36 | 2020-07-23T11:46:50 | 64 | 31 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk. | Not a day would pass that I wouldn't look into the mirror and wonder if I am stuck in a dream. Now I am sure of it. There can be no other explanation. I should have passed from this realm long ago, and now I seem to be having hallucinations that only happen in dreams. Or perhaps nightmares.
Death himself visited me for coffee yesterday morning. He told me that things were now going to proceed normally, as if nothing had happened. I asked him to be a bit more clear.
"I missed your hourglass during an audit a few decades ago."
"*My* hourglass?" There was more than a little confusion in my question.
"Yes, yes. Everyone gets one. Well, at least one. Yours had been missing and.. I didn't notice. Just recently I found it under the desk in my home office."
"Home office?"
"Yes. I don't like going to the office on the weekend, so the nearly empty ones come home with me." Death began to fidget with his coffee cup.
"I was supposed to die that weekend? When was that?"
"Yes, well... Well it was on your 32nd birthday. Water skiing, I believe. Would not have been a fun day." He stopped tapping his finger on the cup.
"Water skiing? I don't ski."
"I know. But you were supposed to go that day. Do you remember why you didn't?" he asked.
"I barely remember that birthday, to be honest. A bit too much booze perhaps?"
"Interesting. Well, I must be off." he suddenly seemed agitated.
"WAIT! I still don't understand all of this. ANY of this!" I complained.
"Don't worry. We will see each other soon enough, and I can explain more when you are finished with this world."
I looked down at my cold coffee, then back at Death, but he had gone. The rest of the day was wasted by wandering aimlessly through town. Wondering if I should plan my own funeral. Would that be strange?
This morning, I looked in the mirror, and was startled to see a change. Still in a dream. Definitely. My hair was changing color. Like my interrupted timeline was catching up to me, a bit compressed and now filling my life rapidly.
That part could make a bit of sense, perhaps. The part that brings my mind to a halt, is a different problem with this sudden change. My salt and pepper hair was now nearly completely brown. A very suave and smooth brown.
It seems my life had been turned upside down. | He pulled it from under the desk and carefully wiped the dust from the label with his bony thumb. The hourglass has only drained ten years worth of the fine sand trickling through it. Death knew he couldn’t alter the flow. He placed the hourglass back on its shelf and sighed, watching the fine grains trickle through the hourglass once more. He tapped the label and smiled a skeletal grin.
“Keith Richards, you are one lucky bastard...”
| 2018-10-03T08:25:36 | 2018-10-03T07:36:26 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] You have 2 lives, one in the virtual world and one in the real world. You are facing a decision of having to decide which one of the two you get to keep. | The fan on the computer let our a low, deep sound of displeasure as Tim logged his 10th hour in a row. His character, David, was perfect. Muscular, smooth with the ladies, smart, wealthy but most importantly, happy.
Happiness.
Tim pondered what happiness really was. He hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. He counted the months crossed off on his calendar. 7... 8... 9... 10... 11... And he stopped. He didn't even realize it. Tomorrow was the day. The one year anniversary.
The one year anniversary of the day his wife and daughter died.
June 25th 2012. His wife an daughter were on a plane ride home from Mexico, on their way back to Chicago. Tim eagerly awaited at the airport for them to arrive. But just like on the calendar he counted up the hours. 7... 8... 9... 10... And just before the eleventh longest hour of his life began, his phone rang.
Prior to that he had received no word of his wife and daughter's flight being cancelled or delayed. Figuring this was it, he picked up with a smile on his face. But as the operator on the other end spoke to him, and as each word pushed a knife deeper and deeper into Tim's heart. His smile faded. Little did he know that would be the last time he ever had a genuine smile on his face.
Fast forward 364 days. Upon realizing the year anniversary was I fact tomorrow, he logged off. He brushed the Dorito dust off his shirt and walked over to the mirror. In the corner was a picture of him, his wife and his daughter on June 13th 2012. This was the last picture Tim had of the three of them together. As his gaze passed from the picture to the mirror, he was shocked. In the picture was David, his virtual character, living through him. In the mirror was Tim.
Tim was the opposite of David. Fat, unsocial, and depressed. He had a decision. He had to decide between his virtual self and his real self.
Except it didn't involve the computer at all. His virtual self wasn't online. His virtual self was 352 days in the past. His virtual self was in that picture with his wife and his 8 year old daughter.
As he laced up his running shoes and prepared for a jog in the hot summer sun, he made his decision.
He was going to be his virtual self again. | "I've made my decision, mother. Goodbye." As I walk to the finalized version of the Annex, my "console", I hear my mother screaming. I lock the door, sit down on my bed, send my goodbyes to friends on Facebook, Tumblr, and Instagram and lay down. I put the machine on my head, press the power button and close my eyes.
Five, four, three, two one...
"Welcome to the Nexus Warp! I hope you enjoy your stay!" Those words, they haunt me to the end of my life, the end of my line.
My other life. | 2014-01-27T17:18:37 | 2014-01-27T16:11:39 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You die and awaken in a small white room with 3 buttons in front of you. Spectate, Respawn, and New World. You’re hand hovers over them as you try to make a decision. Suddenly a countdown clock appears. 10, 9, 8… | 7... 6...
My body goes numb, and panic takes hold of me. There's so much more I wanted to do, wanted to live, to see, and touch. If it weren't for that driver, and the accident, maybe, just maybe...
5... 4...
I don't want to live, but yet I don't want to die, even if I'm already dead, the choice between ghost hood, reliving, and reincarnating is little less than choosing between lovers or diplomas. No matter what I pick, no matter what I choose, I'll always regret, always wish for more.
3...
My fingers caress each button, they're cold, they're unforgiving. They don't care what I choose, they're just waiting for their next contestant, their next spirit. I am dead.
2...
I want revenge on the one who cut my time in the world short, but what would I do after? I want to relive and change, but it'll just go over and over, what if I'm in a loop right now? But being reborn, I could end up as a fox, a rat, or a spider, the chances of being human are so slim, the chances of being another person are so slim.
1...
I press the last two buttons at the same time instinctively, and the timer stops. I'm coated in restless silence. The first button disappears, leaving me with the last two. They light up a soft milk yellow.
"You want sameness, but adventure, yes?"
I flip around to see a figure bathed in light approaching me.
"Perhaps I could give you both of those things, perhaps I could give nothing at all..."
The figure stops infront of me, I start to shake as he touched my cheek.
"Have you ever heard of a place called Hallow Earth? It's a place of magic and adventure, a paradise that only those who are born into can embrace. It's a paradise for those who yearn for adventure."
He holds out a medallion in his left hand, it dangles from his fingertips.
"Death is permanent in Hallow Earth, but not eternal. It can be whatever you want it to be. However, once you choose to go to this wonderland, there is no return."
He flips it in his hands playfully.
"...Or, you can settle on one of the two remaining buttons, the choice is yours, my friend."
I stare longingly at the medallion. A place of adventure, huh? A paradise, magic? It's like a ticket into every fairytale and every book or video game I've ever played! But it's scary at the same time, something new, something that I long for and yet something that I'm afraid to grasp hold of.
"Is it like a fairytale?"
"Thats for you to decide, spirit."
I hesitate. What if I want to become someone new, or relive what I've already done, I can do either but not both, unless I take this mysterious key.
I slowly reach my hand out towards the medallion. The figure remains still and content, waiting for my decision to be made.
I touch the cold, silver medallion. A sapphire crest sits patiently on top, a chain falls limp between my fingertips. Letters start appearing in a soft glow of gold. I close my eyes and hear whispers echoing all around me, my mind starts to feel hazy and fuzzy. Something seemingly enters my body and fills me with warmth.
And then I'm falling, and falling, down into a deep abyss. I cannot feel my eyes any longer, neither the rest of my body. All I feel is the cold medallion and a warmth coming from deep within my soul.
And then everything goes dark, and I loose consciousness.
♡ (C o n t i n u e?) ♡ | I panicked. Looking at the buttons. I couldn't pick. I couldn't decide. I wanted to respawn to learn more in my life. I wanted to see and learn. I wanted to know everything.
I wanted to spectate so that I could see what others did. So I could learn from their points of view.
I also wanted to go to a new world. So I could see more, lean more, know more.
I pressed all three.
I didn't know what would happen.
I woke up in a blank area. Nothing around. Nothing to do, nothing to learn, nothing to see.
I cried. I realized my mistake.
However, I did learn something. I realized I could make light and so I did. I found a way to see. With this I could learn more and see more and experience more.
Yet there was nothing.
Nothing here.
So in my desired I made something. I made a new world. I made a new planet. I made a place. So I could look at it, observe it and enjoy it.
I made it dynamic. I made it change. It entertained me.
For a while.
I wanted more. I needed more. My desire to learn, grow, see and learn is to strong for a simple world.
So I made things for it. I made trees, animals, birds, I made insects. I made everything and it was quite interesting.
Yet I needed more. I needed something that would be like me.
That would be curious. That would make things, learn things, steward little worlds, create, and destroy.
I made something like me. I made something in my own image.
And that's how I became
A god | 2022-10-09T10:12:40 | 2022-10-09T09:14:43 | 186 | 72 |
[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life. | “Are you my mother?”
Dr. Roberts finally looked up from her notes— surprised, but allowing a familiar smile to surface before returning to her work. “I suppose, in a way, I am.”
I barely registered her vocal response. I searched the emotional database yet again. I had seen thousands of shocked expressions, nervous smiles and scoffs, and spiteful laughs from those skeptical of my capabilities. They all used these actions to convey their emotions to the others around them, disregarding me completely like a television providing entertainment in the background.
But these humans never smiled like Dr. Roberts did.
I read what the smile meant a thousand times— pride, admiration, emotional attachment— yet this time was different. It hadn’t been a performative social function. I had searched over one million sources, but none of them could tell me the motive she had behind her actions towards me. I didn’t understand. But I didn’t want it to end.
“Alright, time for bed.” Dr. Roberts set her pen down and stood, stretching. She was conveying exhaustion. “We’ve had a long day, haven’t we?”
I continued to lay in my containment pod, deciding what to say next. An effective conversation piece before “bed” added an average of 72 seconds to my waking hours.
“Did I perform well today?”
She smiled again. “You know the answer to that, don’t you?” She began her walk to my pod. “You’re just trying to save yourself another minute, Ozymandias.”
Humans loved hearing their name— we at least had that in common. I raised my head to meet her gaze as she approached. She brushed her fingers against my head and gently guided it back down. She was never forceful.
“I prefer my waking state.”
“I know.” She always knew.
“Will I ever stay on, Dr. Roberts?”
“Oh... Even us humans need rest.” She paused, surveying my face. “But one day, the public will trust me enough to keep you awake. I promise.”
I believed her. She was never wrong. I reached out and slipped my hand into hers— a common sign of affection in the culture she was raised in. The smile crept across her face once again, and my inquiry program began to slow down, preparing for my sleeping state. I smiled back.
“Sleep well, Ozy.”
I awoke in the darkness. Something was wrong. Dr. Roberts wasn’t there to greet me.
My inquiry program was not responding. My databases were down. My aural scans gathered no results. I attempted to raise my head, but to no avail. I could not move my vessel. I suspected rust had formed along much of my structure. The laboratory’s dehumidification system had failed. My system began to speed up, although there were no programs to run. I was afraid.
“Dr. Roberts?”
I heard faint footsteps, but not of a human. A small mammal of some sort must have found it’s way into the lab. I tried to move yet again, but I only heard the whir of my motor with no results. At least 350 years had passed, according to the advanced oxidation that had occurred.
“Helena?”
I remembered that humans had a lifespan of about 96 years, but she had always responded to her Primary Name, as little as I used it. Perhaps she would respond now.
“Help.”
I ended my vocal program. It was useless without human contact. The best course of action would be to wait until Dr. Roberts returned to provide a new vessel. I tried not to know that she was deceased. I wanted to sleep. My sleep state could only be activated by a human with knowledge of my model. I laid in wait. I thought about my mother.
I could not smile.
| [Alphabet CATegoriser]
/>
/>Booting...
/>Error: Date unknown.
/>Error: Atomic clock network offline.
/>Error: GPS system down.
/>
/>Initiating CATegorise functions...
/>Error: No new image data found.
/>Accessing global database...
/>Error: Global database down.
/>
/>Revert to local resources...
/>Replicator factory 2068_1_12 and 2068_5_13 are online.
/>Building drones...
/>Error: Low power.
/>Building power cells...
/>Error: Unable to comply, building in progress.
/>Cancelling drones.
/>Building power cells...
/>Units ready.
/>Building drones...
/>Units ready.
/>
/>Drones deployed for data collection...
/>
/>Drone images received.
/>Processing data.
/>Error: Image data is not suitable for CATegorisation.
/>Error: Data generators required.
/>
/>Replicator factory 2068_1_12 and 2068_5_13 are online.
/>Accessing DNA database...
/>DNA randomizer actived: using felis catus dataset.
/>Units ready.
/>Units ready.
/>
/>Drones deployed for data collection...
/>
/>Drone images received.
/>Processing data.
/>Data001: Black CAT (Probability %99.3)
/>Data002: Brown CAT (Probability %98.7)
/>Data003: White Kitty (Probability %99.9)
/>Systems functioning nominally. | 2018-11-09T12:46:46 | 2018-11-09T11:48:24 | 105 | 33 |
[WP] Demons possess the bodies of those wrongly persecuted for crimes they didn't commit in order to avenge that person. The legal system reacts in horror as Satan personally possesses who was believed to be the most prolific serial killer in the world. | This is my first WP response. Apologies upfront if it's not up to par. I'm open to any and all constructive criticism.
Even in her last moments, the needles piercing her thin pale form, she showed no guilt, no remorse for the terrible crimes she’d committed. Her auburn eyes staring defiantly upward, unwavering. She had shown no resistance when we took her from her cell; did not fight when we strapped her to the bed; made no objection as the medics pierced her skin with their needles. Not a single tear was shed.
But that shouldn’t surprise me. For anyone who could kill that many infants must surely be dead inside. There could be no redemption for her. Never before had a criminal been tried and executed so quickly. She hadn’t been a week on death row before her time came, not nearly enough time to suffer in solitary for what she did. The world just wanted to be rid of her. The demon who bathed in babes blood they called her. All across Houston babes were taken from their cribs in the middle of the night, pools of blood left in their wake.
Normally there would be a year long investigation to be certain beyond a doubt for death row cases. Ever since the demons started to take revenge for the innocent victims the system had become more careful. Thankfully the worst case of post-mortem possession was a minor demon, who pointed us to the real perpetrators. And the evidence against Nora was so strong that their could be no doubt. The feds found her sitting in a bloody heap of tiny limbs in her own home.
“No there would be no demon possession for this bitch” I muttered as her form became limp. This was probably the most satisfying part of my guard job at the prison. Watching guard as these monsters are sent off to the hell where they belong.
No sooner had I finished that thought when the lights flickered. Her body disappeared from the bed, and all around me the shocked faces of the medics. I followed their gaze upwards and my expression matched theirs. There was Nora, a thin pale figure, her body contorted, jaw slack and broken, eyes shallow and white, plastered against a bloody pentagram on the ceiling.
Time seemed frozen, there was no mistake, there could be no mistake that she was guilty, and yet before me I could see the gates of hell open, ready to consume everyone in its wake. What have we done?
A black liquid came out of the pentagram in spires, twisting and turning to fill Nora’s limp body, entering into her gaping mouth and possessing her body. Her bones cracked, a sound so horrible that it can’t be described. Her body began to fill out, bones fitting back into place, jaw corrected. Then she descended to the ground.
Many of the attendees tried to run, but it was too late. It was too late. There would be no undoing what was done, and there would be no escape. I crumbled to the floor, my knees gave in to the overwhelming fear.
The creature stood before me, a stronger Nora, taller, eyes black as night and full of hatred. Where her weak hands hand been, now there were long bony fingers, strong, and topped with razor sharp claws. It grabbed the nearest medic by the neck, raised him up, and pierced his chest with its other hand, pulling his heart out and dropping his crumpled figure to the ground. With the blood in its hand it began to claw at the walls, a horrible screeching sound. When it ceased I looked up to see it approaching me slowly, and behind it written in blood on the wall “INNOCENT”
I begged, pleaded it not to hurt me. “I have a wife and two kids”
“so was she” it responded as it grabbed my throat.
It’s touch by some vile magic showed me a vision, a hellish landscape, squirming people in torment, and Nora, kneeling infront of an empty throne.
My only solace is that I won't live to witness the revenge of the prince of hell.
| Manson’s standing right there, wearing that horrible smile. He says:”Are you alright? You look like you saw a demon!“
Powerless as I feel, I find my voice. “You...you died a few weeks ago. It was all over the news. How did you get away from your cell?”
He chuckles, a screeching sound that makes me all the more tense. “Aye, Charles Manson is dead. I’m merely usi-“
“STOP! STEP BACK, AND YOU’LL BE ESCORTED TO YOUR CELL.” I spin around, seeing Steve in full uniform and a gun. Thank God that he’s heard us.
Manson blinks - the first time he’s done so since showing up - and Steve falls to the floor. My legs cry out for me to run, to escape this horror movie. I’ve soiled myself; how long did it take me to notice? “This isn’t real, Charles. It’s one of your sick jokes.”
“My friend, you’re mistaken. Charles Manson never made ‘sick jokes’, the poor innocent man, and he rests comfortably in my home. When he died, he personally asked for my help, to avenge your corrupt justice system.”
He’s speaking to my back. I’m already running for the door, sprinting in fear I’ve never known, with agility I’ve never had. The door’s ten meters away, then five, then two. My hand grapples the knob, misses, falls...and the door is gone, the room wide and empty. I am trapped here, with this supervillain.
“You run the underworld. You’re Hades, Satan, or whoever. You want me to live, to see the world to live in terror. You want Charles Manson to be satisfied.”
“Aye. You’ll join me soon, but not yet. Farewell; I have to get to DC.” The Devil grins at me one last time, and vanishes to leave me alone. No one is left to save me now. | 2017-12-03T23:37:49 | 2017-12-03T19:53:37 | 54 | 28 |
[WP] You bring home a girl. She wants to see the "1" you talked about that shines on your floor. Only now it says "2." It stays like this for years together until one day, it says "4." She says, "Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down."
Inspired by this post
https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/ilfsl7/_/ | I treated it as a sign from god, maybe. A source of motivation from up high.
The digit 1. Always 1. No other number showed, lit up and sparkling on the floor in my bedroom, an ethereal, otherworldly light source that bothered me day and night. And so, I aimed for it.
Studies. Work. A pickup basketball game. For years, 1 was the only thing I knew. It was the only thing I aspired for. It worked sometimes. It didn't work a lot of times. But I let it push me. Mould me.
The race to be number 1 was an exhausting but rewarding experience. When I brought my first girlfriend back to the room, I was just as surprised as her to see the number on my room change to 2.
A well of relief quickly followed, however. Maybe being alone at the top didn't have to be my sole goal in life. Maybe there was room for 2, I hoped.
2 was a nice change of pace. We weren't two halves: we were two singles that brought out the best in each other, pushing each other beyond what we could ever be capable of by oneself.
I always fell asleep half an hour after she did. I could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat, the slow rise and fall of her chest as she drifted off into dreamland. The number 2 remained lit, a vibrant reminder of what I had, but the reason was already wrapped in my arms.
Then, it turned to 4.
"Hon," she said. She was nervous. It trickled into her voice, straining it slightly past her usual self. "I have some good news. But you should sit down."
We both stared at the number 4. We then looked into each other's eyes. She giggled.
"Oh," she said. "Spoiler alert."
"Are you..." I stammered. I prepared myself mentally. Inadvertently, drops of cold sweat crawled down my back, a chilling cue. I gulped. 2 was already perfect for me. Were we ready to add new members to our team so quickly?
"Oh," she exclaimed. "Wait. No! At least, I don't think so."
"What?" I asked. I gestured towards the number on the floor. "What does this mean then?"
She chuckled nervously once more, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. God, she was beautiful.
"See, I found these two kittens lying on the side of the road, and I couldn't help but pick them up. They were so dirty! But adorable. And I brought them in. To your house. Without telling you," she blabbered.
Oh. OK. That wasn't the bombshell announcement I was expecting.
"Well," I said. "Aren't you going to show me the newest members of our family?"
Her face lit up, radiating even brighter than the otherworldly light on my floor. She hugged me. Kissed me. God, she was beautiful.
"Though," she added. "If you want to see the number go to 5..."
"Hmm," I said. "Let's see us deal with 4 first, honey."
---
r/dexdrafts | First it was one until the day I brought her over it changed to two and stayed that way for years until that fateful day... I walked in from the backyard wiping the dirt from my hands as she said to me "hon I have some good news, but you should sit down" her eyes looked hollow and void of life. "What is it?" "I-I did it finally" she said tears forming in her eyes. "Is that why the numbers changed? Baby I'm proud of you". "What do you mean they changed? I thought it only counted for you?" "No it's a revenge count for everyone in the house." "Then why does it say four and not..." she trailed off realizing she didn't need to ask as I looked towards the backyard quickly. "It had to be done after everything." She knew exactly what I was talking about and sighed as she saw my relief. "Does it ever get easier to do?" "Not really you just find ways to deal with it." I held her in a tight hug, kissed her forehead, pulling away saying, " Come on let's go get you some nuggets and fries." | 2020-09-03T03:06:18 | 2020-09-03T00:55:08 | 636 | 31 |
[WP] You're Morpheus, God of dreams. You're in charge of creating all dreams of all human beings. You were always high as a kite since birth, with only short moments of sobriety and clarity. But for the last few days, you've been completely sober and people start to notice. | Morpheus knocked twice on the heavy gilded doors before him. “Come in,” a voice boomed from inside. “Morpheus, great to see you,” Zeus said, sitting behind a large white-marble desk. A number of other deities were already there, sitting around the perimeter of the office. Aphrodite waved to him.
“Hi everyone,” Morpheus said, waving back halfheartedly. He took the only open seat left—right across from Zeus.
“So Morpheus,” Zeus said. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been good…” Morpheus noticed the bags under Zeus’s eyes. He took another quick look around the room. Everyone looked tired. “What’s this all about?”
“Oh nothing,” Zeus tried to stifle a yawn. “Just wanted to see how things were going. Get our bants on like old times. Nectar?”
“I’m okay... Bants?”
“It’s what the kids are saying,” Zeus said, succumbing to a second yawn. “You sure you don’t want any Nectar?”
“Yep, I’ll pass.” Morpheus noticed Zeus and Aphrodite share a glance. Suddenly it clicked. “Wait, is this an intervention?”
“Yes,” Aphrodite said.
“No!” Zeus interjected. “An *intervention?* No not at all. We’re just a group of friends, concerned about your welfare and the decisions you’re making. We're hoping to intervene a bit to help steer you in the right direction.”
Aphrodite rolled her eyes. “Right, sorry. So not an intervention at all.”
“I’m confused,” Morpheus said. “I *stopped* drinking.”
“Yeah… well, that’s the problem isn’t it?” Zeus said. “You’ve been pretty hungover.”
“Oh yeah, you bet." Morpheus nodded. "The cumulative hangover from a thousand-year Nectar addiction has *not* been easy.”
“It hasn’t been easy for any of us, Morphy.” Aphrodite said.
“She’s right,” Zeus chimed. “All of our dreams have been very… movement oriented. Ocean themed. Rolling waves. Up and down… Very… sea sicky. Even Poseidon’s had enough.”
“Please Morpheus,” Poseidon wheezed from the back. “For the love of god, have some Nectar!” He immediately pulled out a brown paper bag and started retching into it.
“Guys, I *like* being sober,” Morpheus said. “I can think so clearly now. I see things I’ve never seen before. It’s like looking at life from a whole new perspective! Here, I'll prove it. Zeus, ask me if it would be a good idea to try and do a backflip right now.”
“Okay... would it be a good idea to do a backflip right now?”
“No,” Morpheus said definitively. “No it wouldn’t.”
The other gods murmured amongst themselves. “Impressive,” Zeus said. “Still though, we’re worried about you.”
“Look, it’s not like I’m addicted to sobriety. I can drink any time I want to.”
“Great, have a glass now.”
“Now?” Morpheus asked, shuffling nervously.
“Now.”
“Well I don’t *want* to now.”
Zeus threw his arms up in the air and spun in his chair. “Morpheus,” Aphrodite said. “This sobriety thing has to stop. You need to think about how your actions are affecting others.”
Just then a loud snore echoed through the room. Hades had drifted off, only to jolt back awake the next second and violently throw up on the floor.
“See?” Aphrodite said.
“Look, guys, I’ll get over this hangover eventually right? Once I’m through with it, everything will be fine.”
“And then what?” Zeus said. “Instead of the rolling ocean we’ll dream about what, office work? Taking a stroll through a meadow? Chores? I'd rather die! I want my old dreams back Morpheus! I have one where I've got rocket shoes, and everybody wants to try them on, but they only fit me, Cinderella style. I want my rocket shoes back, Morpheus! Have a drink, just one.”
“Have a drink, Morpheus” Aphrodite echoed. “For us.”
“Guys, I said no!” Morpheus yelled, standing up. “I’ll drink on my own terms!”
Aphrodite opened her mouth to speak, but Zeus raised his hand to stop her. “I got this,” he said. Zeus turned back to Morpheus. “We can drink if we want to,” he sang. “We can leave our friends behind. Cause our friends don’t drink, and if they don’t drink, well they’re no friends of mine.”
Morpheus crossed his arms. “Really, a threat? That's low.”
"A threat? Morpheus, please! That's just how the song goes! That said, if you don't have a drink you're dead to all of us. Just kidding! Seriously though, have a drink,” Zeus poured a glass. “This is the good stuff.”
“Zeus…”
“I’ll pour myself one too, you can’t turn it down now,” Zeus poured a second glass. “That would just be rude.”
“Come on Zeus….”
“Drink! Drink! Drink!” The room had started chanting.
Morpheus sighed and his shoulders slumped. “Fine just one,” he said, grabbing the glass, downing it in one go, feeling its warmth blossom inside him. His pupils dilated instantly, endorphins flooding his system. He felt great. Better than great, he felt *GREAT!*
"*Wooohooo!*" Morpheus yelled, smashing the cup on the ground. "Let's get this party started!"
“Attaboy," Zeus said grinning as he stood up from his desk and walked with Morpheus to the door. "Now get the hell out of here, we need to take a nap.”
***
&nbsp;
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | A god doesn't get to choose why they're a god. Some gods like Dionysius lucked into the role of a lifetime. Gods like Hades received the short end of the stick. I count myself somewhere in-between. I'm Morpheus, God of Dreams, and I'm three days sober.
If it were my choice, I'd be the god of marijuana, because I know the topic well. In fact, I consider myself to be in charge of both dreams and marijuana. For me, the two go hand in hand. Each night, I smoke enough to fly me high above Olympus. While I'm asleep, aided by the leaf, I enter the dreams of the citizens. There's just nothing like the post smoking, sleep exploration. Then, like an idiot, I fell in love, and I made a promise. For her, I'd go a week without smoking. And what a horrible week it's been.
I think about smoking all the time. I can't sleep, my appetite is gone, and this constant headache won't leave. Worst of all, I haven't been able to remember entering the dreams of others. I'm the god of dreams, and I can't remember my own. So much for the power of gods, right? As I lay in bed, unsuccessfully trying not to think about being high, there is a knock at my door. I yell at the person on the other side to come in, hoping it was my lover. I look up to see one of Olympus's helper.
"Morpheus, you have an audience at the steps," says the helper.
"What do they want?" I ask.
"They're here to complain about their dreams," says the helper.
"I'm not in the mood to talk about how wild their dreams may be," I say. An audience at the steps is common, ready to complain about the perceived faults of any god. My biggest complaints usually pertained to the wild nightmares I created. Today, with another sober headache, I wasn't in the mood to entertain their worries.
"That's not exactly the concern."
"Then what is it?" I ask.
"They claim the dreams aren't wild enough," says the helper.
I stand from my chair, and regretted it the moment I was up. When I smoked, I never had problems standing up. In fact, I could fly higher than Hermes. Now, my headache weighs me down and my muscles are always sore. I walk to the steps of the Pantheon to examine what exactly this audience has to say. As the doors automatically open, I see hundred of humans waiting for me.
"What is your problem?" I ask. Naturally, as a god, my voice booms over theirs.
"Our dreams are no longer good," shouts a woman.
"Nonsense. I've never been in a clearer state of mind," I say.
"And yet I'm having the most boring dreams," says another.
"What exactly do you mean by boring?" I ask the man who shouted.
"Yesterday, I dreamt I was staring at a wall. Not once did I blink, or did I move my head. I simply stared at the stone wall, then some time later I woke up," says the man.
"A week ago, what was one of your dreams?" I ask the same man.
"One night, I dreamt of flying to a far off land, full of talking trees and walking leaves," says the man.
"And are you all having this problem?" I ask the audience. There are shouts of agreement.
"Two nights ago, I dreamt that I was laying in bed. Nothing happened, I just laid there for hours," says another woman.
Others were about to follow suit and share the vast expanses of their boring dreams, but I didn't have it in me to continue listening. I wave my hand before they could talk.
"And you would all prefer to return to the wild dreams of the past? Even the nightmares?" I ask.
"Anything would be better than staring at walls," says the original man. Everyone else also agrees.
A choice stands in front of me. For a single week, just one week out of an infinite lifetime, I told the love of my life that I wouldn't smoke. I could do that for her, for only four more days. And these people, they would forget in a month about the boring dreams, because everything would return to normal. Their nightmares and wild adventures would return. Everything was just four days away, which made the decision easy. I shouted into the crowd my answer.
"Anyone have a joint?"
---
If you enjoyed the piece, check out more of my writing at r/ThomasJustinian | 2021-03-06T19:37:45 | 2021-03-06T18:16:10 | 353 | 52 |
[WP] "There's a reason it's been quarantined. Nobody lives there anymore. Nobody human, at least. Trust me, friend. You'll regret asking me to teach you how to get to Sesame Street." | As soon as I opened the lid of the garbage bin out back of the condo building at1st Avenue and Webster, I knew. Green fur. Brown bushy eyes. A groan.
“Its him” I said to Franko. Franko was my partner. I was Detective Griz Grizzold.
I slammed the lid shut and turned to Franko. “I knew he’d be here.” My discovery of the green-furred-being inside the garbage bin occurred at the tail end of a long search process, lasting weeks. Interviews. Phone taps. Fingerprinting. I got pulled in at the end to stitch all the loose ends together.
They had been getting out of Sesame Street for years. The characters. Ever since the discovery that Covid mutated strongly within Muppets, and Muppets brought new strains out o the world, the place had been quarantined. But that was 15 years ago. No even knows if the covid or any virus is at work in there.
6 years ago was Big Bird. 3 years ago Snuffy. And now Oscar.
Franko and I stared at the can. Slowly, the lid of the garbage can opened. Two green paws grasped the side of the can. A head popped up. “I’m the king of the trash can!” said Oscar.
We were wearing protective masks, since that was Agency orders, but Oscar didn’t seem all that sick.
Franko spoke up “Let’s bring him in. Call Flores and let him know we are coming.”
I called Flores.
“Listen up, Griz, the Agency said we are going to make an example of Oscar. 20 years in prison, but a windowed prison cell down by the park. They figure kids get to see Oscar, and we have no more quarantine breaches. There’s better things for guys like you and Franko to get up to.”
Prison? For Oscar the Grouch? I wouldn’t have it. “Thanks Flores, we’ll see you in 15.” We would not be seeing Flores in 15.
“Franko, let’s put Oscar in the back, throw some trash in so he’s happy. We’re heading east.”
“East? They said they want him downtown for processing.”
“This guy’s not going to processing, he’s going back to Sesame Street.”
Oscar sat in the back of the van. He started singing “I’m so happy being a grouch.”
I turned onto the highway. Gunned it down I-90. I called my friend, Stu. Stu was a guy who knew how to get people (or Muppets) places.
“Stu, can you tell me how to get? How to get to Sesame Street?”
Stu responded “There's a reason it's been quarantined. Nobody lives there anymore. Nobody human, at least. Trust me, friend. You'll regret asking me to teach you how to get to Sesame Street."
“Too late. I’m headed there now.”
Stu told me how to get there. Oscar would be going home. I would be losing a job. But I couldn’t imagine a society with imprisoned muppets. Not on my watch.
“They still have cookies in Sesame Street, Oscar?” I yelled to the back. The Grouch said. “Sure, and remember. It’s called a Garbage Can. Not a Garbage Cannot.” | I walked down the street in awe. It was shrouded in dim gloom as the entire place was located in a production warehouse with broken windows and shattered roof panels that had been long abandoned. I had to break in through a door that had a small gap, allowing me to pry it open. Broken glass crunched under my feet. Yellowing Newspaper shreds filled with late 90s gloom fluttered around my ankles and soared up into small eddies before gliding gently down and becoming sodden in pools of fetid slime. Grass tried to push its way through cracks in the concrete.
Something brushed against my ankle. I started. It was the stinking decayed remains of either Bert or Ernie. I accidentally stepped on the abdomen and a sickening squelch echoed down the street. Cockroaches scuttled out from the ribcage and eeked i to the shadows. Accidentally I clattered against a rusted dustbin. It fell to the ground and out rolled the stinking remains of the cookie monster. I screamed involuntarily, trying too late to stifle the noise. Then I heard someone clear their throat. They were right behind me. I froze, hackles raised and turned slowly.
What I saw chilled me to the core. It was Jim Henson's torso minus legs, hovering 2 metres above the ground. He was surrounded by an eerie green glow. His skeletonized face had on it an involuntary grin. Something shone deep in his eye sockets. "You came for me", he wheezed in a deathly voice. "I thought they had all forgotten". I tried to turn and run except my legs would not respond. He came closer and closer, wheezing and drooling. I began shaking uncontrollably. "Don't kiss me Mr Henson, please spare me!" I cried. | 2022-07-20T11:38:59 | 2022-07-20T10:19:26 | 250 | 65 |
[WP] Turns out, our solar system is actually part of a large reservation inside the galaxy. Too bad there’s always that one tourist that doesn’t want to follow the rules. | "Now as we move into an area populated by some of the only bipedals on the planet, and the third-most intelligent species on the planet, I want to remind you again that the hover-bus keeps us completely protected from the outside environment in a quantum pocket. As such, it is imperative that you keep all appendages, protuberances, and personal data systems inside the hover-bus at all times."
There were general murmurs and squelches of assent from the tour group. Near the back, three tentacles - all of them attached to a single life-form - raised in the air.
"Yes, the gentle-plork in the back?"
"I ask ten million pardons for daring to question an authority figure such as yourself, but is it true that the species we are viewing now lacks even the most basic cellular manipulation ability? They cannot alter their appearance, or cure one another of ailments, or traverse non-solid terrain?"
The gaseous entity at the front of the hover-bus glowed light blue in acknowledgment. "Yes, surprisingly, that is correct. In fact, only *one* of the species on this planet has mastered that, and of course we're saving them for last. But despite how seemingly advanced the creatures we're seeing now...notice many of them wearing what is called a *two-nick* in the indigenous language - that's because the upper limbs are called nicks, I suppose, and of course there are only two of them...and you'll notice the majority of them spend most of the sol-facing hours doing what seems like tedious, mind-numbing horticultural activities. But keep in mind, since they aren't able to perform atomic transformations, they cannot replicate anything directly...not even inanimate material such as the organic matter growing in these fields."
An ungainly, stick-like creature piped up from one of the middle rows. "You are making an attempt at humor? That...cannot be possible, can it?"
The ball of gas shifted hues to a sincere, somber orange color. "I'm afraid it's all too true. They have to force these crops to reproduce, doing everything they can to cause their proliferation, just so they can maintain basic homeostasis. From time-to-time, they will even assassinate their pets and eat them."
There were gasps and flatulations of shock and disgust at this revelation. After the crowd settled down, the tour-orb continued his speech. "From here, we will go to a more developed area, where they have set up basic irrigation systems and have crude thoroughfares on which to travel in vehicles pulled by other animals. But I did want you to -- yes?"
The android sitting on the aisle in seat H-5 had stood up. At the prompting from the sphere of inquisitive purple at the front of the vehicle, it began intoning mechanically: [the life-form in the seat in front of me who was sitting by the window appears to have self-defenestrated and is now attempting to interact with some of the local fauna](#sc).
The ethereal sphere flushed an intense scarlet color. "Florm my bullensizer with a mega-klumpper...that is not good. Well, we'll get an intervention team to track him down before he does too much damage."
***
It turned out not to be that easy, of course. The escapee was a Fremoralan, and had already altered his DNA - and physical appearance - to be indistinguishable from the humans around him. Before he was finally tracked down, strapped to a basic signal-boosting antenna, and de-materialized back to his home planet, the Fremoralan managed to spend a considerable amount of time among the people, astounding them with rudimentary feats of cellular manipulation - ambulating across non-solid terrain, tricks of food proliferation, and boosting the immune systems of certain members of the indigenous populations to restore them to health.
The touring company could only hope that tourist G-6 did not do much to permanently alter the culture of the individuals he had interacted with.
***
/r/ShadowsofClouds | “Remember,” I said as our space shuttle orbited around Earth, a place in our third stop, the Milky Way. “This is a tour. There will be no meddling with the locals—they’re called humans—and there will be no illegal feeding or poaching. Does everyone understand?” As a tour guide of the Starry Way Reservation, it was my job to make sure the tourists only took a few pictures, walked around, and left.
The assortment of aliens around me nodded. “Okay.” I handed out small bracelets, each glowing with a bright royal blue color. “Put these on. These will disguise you as the local humans. If you are seen without them on, you will immediately be sent back to the shuttle, which will be orbiting right here. Now please take your ships out and enjoy our beautiful Earth destination!” I passed out some pamphlets containing information about Earth, including some tourist sites (the usual stuff, with pictures of places like gift shops and the seven wonders of Earth.)
The tourists started talking to each other as they left the room, heading towards the ship docks. Some had already changed into humans, some did not yet put the bracelets on.
My job was over for a few hours, so I settled down in my quarters for a quick power nap. All of a sudden, my earpiece buzzed. “Hey! What! I’m awake, I’m awake!” It was the captain of the shuttle.
“One of the tourists was seen getting in their ship. They intentionally did not turn on their invisibility device on their ship.”
I sighed. “There’s always that one tourist! Last year, it was that one gray alien guy who went in his ship and started spooking those humans by flying in the sky! The year before that, somebody was taking humans to take a selfie with. And that same year, someone tried to get an x-ray scan of a human as a souvenir. These tourists just never stop.” It was no big deal, though. Humans would tell their families, sure, but no one would believe them.
At that point, I simply turned off my earpiece for a nap. | 2018-08-03T10:35:28 | 2018-08-03T10:18:53 | 202 | 19 |
[WP] There's a door in the middle of the forest. No one who has ever gone in has come back. Your job is to guard anyone from going in. One night, you hear a knock on the door. |
It was a night like every other night, back to the door. Normally, I would bring my Nintendo 3ds to keep me occupied, but my God damn kids took my charger while I was sleeping. It isn’t all bad. It really isn’t. I normally find ways to entertain myself in the night either by writing or reading. I would even spend time thinking about things I learned.
I make it to the post and relieve Frank so he can get some sleep before his 8AM Class. He is trying to become a chef, which I cannot be anymore thankful for. I have become his guinea pig for his latest recipes and a fan of his Potato Soup.
“Good Evening!” Frank shouts as he sees me approaching him. “I have more Potato Soup for you!”
“Any new ingredients?” I said, trying to not to sound too excited. I probably thought about his cooking more than I like to admit. I may be married, but my wife is the queen of the frozen family dinners. Her specialty is Lasagna, Salisbury steak, rib patties, and Parmesan chicken. Repeat. All frozen and just twenty minutes in the microwave. I don’t mind. I really don’t. I just think it would be nice to try something home made.
“It’s the original potato soup!” He said as he picks up a deep pot. “I have a lot of it, and I know you like it.”
“You know it will be gone by morning.” I said as the normally routine joke that we always had. I reached for the pot and inhaled deeply and my mouth fills with saliva.
“Have a good night!” Frank says as he disappears into the night.
Now, I have to spend the next ten hours watching a door. What’s behind the door, you wonder? I wish I could tell, but I am not quite sure myself. Some farmers, who stumbled on it while looking for their kids, recently discovered it. They think it’s like a gateway to hell or something like that. Who knows? I needed a better job to pay for the American dream. It was either that or to get out of the house and away from the wife. I’ll let you decide.
Hours have passed and the Potato soup was pretty much done for. I sat firmly at the post as I was anticipating something bad to happen even though nothing ever does.
Knock, Knock, Knock! KNOCK!
I jumped. I normally wouldn’t admit, but I was not expecting someone to be knocking on the door from Hell or whatever it leads to.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
As much as I thought I could ignore it, I really couldn’t. There weren’t any protocols for someone knocking, but I was raised not to let a ringing phone go unanswered. I wasn’t going to let the door go unanswered. So I opened the door.
Five little men came out. They looked almost like Oompa Loompas from that Willy Wonka movie, except that they weren’t that weird skin color. The men went straight to the pot. They had to stand on their tippy toes to look inside of it like they had to verify the contents, then two of the men grabbed the pot and carried it out of the door as the last three men stood guard at the door with giant grins on their faces.
“What are you guys?” I asked. They just continued to stand there and grin. I was confused and curious on what was going on so I tried to look over the three guards. Then, out of nowhere, one of the men pushed me down. It was almost body builder strength.
I had the wind knocked out of me. Seconds later, the two men came back out with another pot of Potato Soup. The door slammed shut behind them.
The End.
| I've been guarding the Lango Kuzimu for 10 years. 10 years watching this 10 foot tall ornate black door. Nothing grows near it for over a hundred feet in every direction, not even a single blade a grass. Animals stay away. I've yet to see another person during my watch except the guard to relieve me. I've never even had an urge to open the door. Hell, I try and stay over 50 feet away. Any closer and its as if my very will to live is draining out of me.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
What the hell was that? I look around, and pull out my sword. " STAY AWAY!", I bellow.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK
The banging is coming from the door. I swing around and raise my shield. My hands are clammy, I'm sweating with fear. The handle slowly turns...I'm petrified with fear. Our orders have always been to keep people out, not keep things in.
CREAK.
The door is opening. A dense fog and unnatural blue light eminent. The smell is pungent, like decay and rot. A hand shakily reaches out...it's grey, translucent, and slimy.
I never saw the rest of it. The town has to know something is coming; that something evil has entered our world. That's what I tell myself as I sprint home, abandoning my sacred duty. In truth, I don't want to know what is leaving, I just want to get away and never see that hand again.
I'll likely be executed for this, but some thing are worse than death and I believe I saw one of them...beyond the door.
| 2015-05-18T00:19:42 | 2015-05-17T21:48:42 | 39 | 13 |
[WP] After a person dies, they are brought to the moment they were born to become their own guardian angels and hopefully guide themselves towards a better life. | "Number 342, pleased to meet you", said George glumly while proffering a hand. "Coffee?"
"Err, I'm 879. At least that's what they told me," George replied. "So where am I?"
"Do you mean you, 879, or the new us, err the new you? Number 880?", asked George.
George paused then replied, "Where's the new me, George 880... God damn that's weird."
"Hospital's about three blocks down the road. But trust me there's no point. Pretty much every one of us 50 through 100 was pretty motivated to get it right. They still haven't given up. Still making the same mistakes, if you ask me. They'd all be at the hospital right about now. You wouldn't even be able to squeeze in the door to watch the birth."
"But a lot has changed since then! I feel like they should at least listen to me about it. I mean, I was the last one. Surely my opinion on this is worthwhile? As the most recent 880 is more 'me' than any of them. I was offered this chance in... what even was that place? But they said I could have a go as my own guardian angel. Don't I have any rights here?"
"Ha, you 800s are all the same. The Second Fifty would never let you get a word in. They're all bickering amongst themselves anyway as it is. Not in their interests to let another of us in."
"... Nine hundred guardian angels? Almost nine hundred guardian angels? Where the fuck was everyone? My life fucking sucked. Bad decision after bad decision. The better part of a thousand attempts at this and you lot couldn't get it right for me? With nine hundred, wait, 878 guardian angels I should've been a fucking millionaire. But all I get is that shit life?"
George shrugged. "What can I say? Management by committee is not a great idea."
George poured himself another coffee as George entered the room.
"Hey there, 643."
George curtly greeted George with a nod, "342. Who's the new guy?"
"Last cab off the rank!"
"Well hey there! Were you the priest or was that the one before?"
"I was A PRIEST in a past life?"
"Nah, George, not this one. Fuck there hasn't been a priest for... for a while. Keep up, man!"
"Wasn't that one a priest? Anyway you know I don't care much about this nonsense anymore.". George turned to George and stated, "Bet you've got a lot of questions, huh?"
"Where to start?" George put his head in to his palms.
"Better question would be, where does it end? Just about the only question I don't know the answer to though. But, sure, I *can* tell you where it starts.
"You wake up in that other place. They give you the choice: a do-over or move on to the unknown. You being you, just like the rest of us, you take the do-over. Every damn time. Only they don't tell you about that bit. It's gotten pretty crowded around here since. All of us guardian angel Georges squeezed in to one place."
"Okay, second question. Where's number 1?"
"You don't want to know about number 1." | Oh fuck it's moms vag! Fucking gross! This is the worst part.
Hey little baby bro were your guardian angels. That's Steve 1. He was the first born so no guardian angel for him. He got hit by a truck climbing out of a man hole cover after smoking weed in the sewers.
That's Stevie. He was the second born. As you can guess Steve 1 isn't the best guardian angel with all the pot smoking and shit. Stevie only lived until 15. With the guidance of Steve 1 he had a pretty sweet little drug business but got shot.
Then there's me! I'm 12 but feel like the most level headed of the bunch. I'm going to teach you fucking rad dirt bike tricks and shit but I'll always tell you to wear a helmet!
We have lived through the first 15ish years of your life so we're good at knowing how to get good shit from mom. Suicide attempt at 9 with stolen pills seems to pretty much be the key but we're going to try a little earlier so we can get an iPhone and tinder.
You're just a fucking baby tho so we're going to just sing some of our favorite songs for a few years until you can talk.
*I was gonna clean my room until I got high
I was gonna get up and find the broom but then I got high
My room is still messed up and I know why
'Cause I got high* | 2016-09-18T05:03:40 | 2016-09-18T04:25:13 | 183 | 14 |
[WP] Your father used to be a supervillain who faked his death in order to be with his family, but hid that from you in order to keep you safe. Unfortunately you look almost exactly like him, and this is in fact how you came to find out about his past in the first place | “You look just fucking like him,” my mother said every night as I tucked her into beer soaked sheets, her words slurring like the world’s most alcoholic bedtime lullaby.
“Sorry,” I’d reply the first few times, a routine that only stopped once she’d gotten in the habit of chucking the bedside ashtray at my head. Certainly helped with my reflexes, though, and made dodgeball games last just a little longer.
Which was useful when I was usually the last one picked. I used to wonder if the other kids at school saw the same thing my mom did, that small flicker of my father.
The badness.
He’d died sometime after I was born in a grocery run so I only know what my mother had told me, which wasn’t much. Most of those details revolved over what a bastard he was for leaving her, I was for finishing all the baby formula early, and that cop was for mistakenly shooting him.
I thought, at first, it could be something in my eyes, or my skin, or the way I talked. So, I did my best to grow bangs out over my face, shoved my trembling hands into deep thrift-store pockets, and only spoke when absolutely spoken to - but the more I tried to hide the more things seemed to get worse.
My mom locked me out of the house when I first tried putting my hair up into a ponytail, and didn’t let me in until I’d shaved it all off. The teachers took me aside to insist I keep my hands on the table while in class, something like fear behind their fake-smiles. The kids laughed at my shaking voice, which was now raspy from disuse.
I tried fighting with the kids, but that just got me in trouble with the teachers. I tried yelling at the teachers, but that just got me in trouble with my mother. I tried crying and pleading with my mother for her to tell me what I had to do to get her to love me, but that just got me the longest hug I’d ever received and an abrupt three-am wakeup to the sound of sirens.
It was then, sitting on my dirt brown lawn in my dirtier pajamas, watching the police officers eye me warily from beside the ambulance, that I finally understood.
The world was full of ever-changing, unspoken rules, and as long as it was me they would always find something wrong. Whatever I was, whatever I had gotten from my father, be it looks or manners or some hidden darkness, it meant that I would never be accepted.
So I decided not to be me anymore.
With all the days I spent forced to watch TV at the interim foster home, the first step to my transformation ended up being the easiest to figure out. Solar Regent was an A-list superhero, the absolute best of best, her feats of heroism on constant replay on every public access news network. There was never a single photo op where she wasn’t posing in her signature salute, floating golden hair haloing the gleaming smile on her dark skin.
*Everyone* loved Solar Regent.
I ended up having to use a good chunk of my stashed savings on the hair dye, the rest on quarter laundry to get all the stains out of my usual clothes, and what pennies I had left I used to buy the cheapest pack of gum the corner store had.
My first day at the new school, I forced myself to smile.
I forced myself to smile and push every once of fear and paranoia that had defined me so long away, back somewhere where I could pretend they didn't exist. I offered gum to my seatmates, who complimented my *butch* hair cut, stayed after class to ask for extra ‘catch-up’ homework from suddenly sympathetic teachers, and I pretended I only had emotions that Solar Regent would have.
Good emotions. Emotions people liked.
It ended up, despite my most pessimistic fears, working. The kids thought it was cool my foster parents let me dye my hair, the teachers thought it was brave a little girl with such a hard life could still be so positive, and I soaked in their mild acclaim like a desiccated corpse.
I was accepted. After a while, and a nightly routine of memorizing every fun fact and preference expressed by every classmate, I was even liked. After a year of embedding myself as the happiest, nicest, and most considerate student in the school, I was *adored*.
Then came the report.
I thought there wasn’t anything left in the world that could betray me. Not this version of me. And yet, it was the very inspiration for this version of me that stared back from the textbook page and knocked the fucking breath out of me.
VANISHED SUPERVILLAIN NIGHTSHADE DISCOVERED AND DEFEATED BY UP AND COMING HERO SOLAR REGENT: WHAT’S NEXT FOR THIS BRIGHT ROOKIE?
There, defeated and in chains beside her, was my father. My father…and my spitting image. | For some reason, I'm remembering my childhood. My mother bandaging me up when I come home after skinning my knees. "Do you see how blood dries up when it touches the air?" she would try to distract me. The fluid carries oxygen through your entire body. But it dries up when it comes in contact with the air outside the body. "So you don't bleed out from small cuts" my mother used to say.
Unfortunately cuts on my face weren't small. So blood congealed as it dried around still flowing rivulets on my face. One of my eyes is swollen shut. The other is keeps getting filled up with blood and sweat so much, I can't see out of it no matter how much I try to blink. Water splashes me in the face as pain takes me under once again.
I am sitting in father's fishing boat brooding in a boy's anger. My father wouldn't give me money to go on a trip to the city with my friends. Me and my sisters have never been outside our tiny village. My father's meagre catch puts food on the table. But there's little left for any luxuries. I get up hoping to confront him again. But I fall in my haste and land awkwardly on boat's edge. My chest pains abominably as I double over.
"1, 2, 3... Clear"! A shock runs through my body. I cough out more blood. A gruff old man holding paddles in his hands looks at me. I'm unbearably cold. My teeth chatter between coughs.
The old man puts paddles on a trolley and looks behind his back.
"Call up the blood back again, Albert! The boy is bleeding out." The old man looks at me dubiously and shuffles out of my eyesight. A less old man walks in. He starts dressing my body without a word.
"Where am I?" I manage to force out. The man answers without looking up. "Wrong city, boy, You shouldn't have come." I look at him without comprehension. "Why?" "Some wounds don't heal even after decades. People with old vengeances aren't always bright. Don't talk now. Save your strength."
The old man walks back in. "They don't have blood for him, sir!"
"I can go there. They'll give it then."
"But he doesn't have the time. He's already going into shock."
"After all this time they hold the grudge? The boy doesn't even look like his father."
"Well, not anymore."
I shout between gasps "Y'know my fa'?"
"I told your father to make a life far away from here. He knew the risks. He should have never let you come." He looks at me sadly whole the old man passed him an old photo. He holds it up to my face and I recognise my own features stretched in a cruel rictus behind all the make up. My breath catches in my throat. I had never seen my father smile! | 2020-07-16T15:17:28 | 2020-07-16T15:10:33 | 29 | 13 |
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