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] The Museum of the History of Love has a new exhibit, which it calls an Alternate Future Coupling, but everyone calls the Ship-O-Matic. Two people sit in it, and they see a minutes-long vision of what their life as a couple would be like. | It's been a few years since I've written so this isn't going to be great, but as long as someone enjoys it I'll be happy.
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Everyone was going on and on about this new "Shipping machine" that was supposed to show you what your life would be like with the other person that got in the other side. Apparently it was like a sort of "life flashing before your eyes" experience that just showed you what your relationship would be like with them. Boyfriends, girlfriends, newlyweds, even completely random strangers would go in just to see if they were meant to be. Apparently it caused some serious rifts for some couples, but for some it also blossomed new loves. Apparently a poly relationship of three tried to do it but it glitched out, since the machine was only made for two. A little short sighted in today's world, if you ask me, but it was new technology so maybe they'd improve it later on.
I had always been super close to a friend of mine, but we never dated. Anyone who didn't know us would think we were, the way we looked when we hung out, but for all of our "flirting" it was purely platonic. When we met I wasn't single, then when I was, she wasn't, and so it just never worked out and we decided we would just be best friends. We even both decided that when we got married, I'd be her man of honor instead of having a maid of honor, and she would be my best maid, instead of my best man. I remember joking about her cooking and cleaning for me because that's what a good maid would do. Anyway, she heard about this and wanted to take me. We were both single right now but I wasn't really looking. She was dating around but nothing was serious right now, so she wanted to take a small vacation and spend a week with just us and go try out the Ship-O-Matic, as she dubbed it. I needed a break from work anyway and I had vacation time saved up, so I readily agreed.
We got to our hotel and settled in. We weren't going to the Museum of the History of Love, where the machine was located, for another few days, but we had other plans, so we set off to do them. We tried new foods, explored the city, went shopping, and before we knew it, the day was upon us, so we headed to the museum. It was absolutely amazing, full of wonderful art and music created in the name of love, they had exhibits of famous couples and romantic gifts exchanged between them. It was honestly really beautiful and educational. My friend clung to my arm and held my hand like a girlfriend would as we walked around the museum, which wasn't out of the ordinary for us, but something about this museum made it feel different this time.
We explored all the exhibits but saved the best for last, and got in line for the "Alternate Future Coupling" Machine, as the proper name for it was. The museum was closing soon so we were last in line for the day. We saw people embrace and kiss after getting out of the machine, we saw people crying and fighting, one couple of strangers even exchanged numbers, which I guess was a good thing. I'd be lying if it didn't make me nervous. I didn't want to get in there and see something that would ruin our friendship, or the opposite, something that would make us want to become something more, because we both agreed it wouldn't happen. It could divide us, and there was nothing I wanted less than to lose my best friend.
The couple before us got up and walked out, and it was finally our turn. The exhibit attendant asked us both to sit down, put the headset on, and stay in the machine until the screen said to leave, otherwise it could mess something up. She said she would monitor from her third screen on the back, which didn't show her what we saw, but monitored us and the results to make sure it went smoothly. I sat down and watched my friend disappear around the other side. I sat there and put on what looked like a VR headset, and a pale white screen stared back. Several minutes of that passed and nothing changed, and the attendant apologized and said she had never seen this happen before, asked us to wait here, and walked off to grab a higher-up. As my friend and I joked a bit, without seeing each other, we decided to put the headsets back on and try again. The white screen stared back again for a minute or two, and just as I was about to take it off again, it changed. The screen flashed through a brief life from my point of view, almost too fast for my brain to comprehend. I saw my friend and I getting married and having a child, but everything after that rapidly deteriorated into chaos. I saw cities burning, hundreds of people in a crowd dying or dead, militaries around the world united against something, nukes going off, and then the screen went black. It flashed "You may now take off the headset" and I practically ripped it off my head. I just experienced the extinction of the human race in 5 seconds and I was shaking. I fell out of the chair as I tried to get up and crawled over to my friend to help her. I could only imagine how distraught she must have been, if it had affected me like this. I got over to her and saw her crying, hands cupped over her mouth. It was then that I realized the attendant had come back while we were in the machine and she stared in horror at her screen. I helped my friend up and walked out quickly with her, getting back to the hotel as quickly as we could. We drove in silence and once we got there we sat in silence. I wanted to say something but I couldn't get any words out. When I woke up in the morning, she was sitting on the edge of the bed. She confessed that she's had feelings for me since we met and she was hoping this trip would confirm things enough to get us together. She said she wanted to try and not let some machine tell us how our future is going to be. She said it surely was just some trick and couldn't be real, she just wants to be with her best friend and finally not have to hide her feelings anymore.
That was a few years ago. Now we're married and she's pregnant, and so far nothing bad has happened to us. I can't help but get the odd feeling of deja vu though, as if I had already seen all of this before. Sure, I remembered the machine, but I couldn't remember exactly what everything looked like when it showed me our future. But what would really be the odds of doing everything exactly the same? Unless it really did show us the future, but that's just silly, right? | Your love story won't start on a positive note.
I believe I have your attention now. Good.
Come in, I welcome you. I am metal and aluminum, but do not be put off by the cold alloy, there is warmth in my circuitry. The carpet is soft and muffles your steps, it is dark, you won't see yourself or the person next to you. Advance, there, a bench. Make yourself comfortable.
The both of you are strangers, shrouded in unknown and mystery.
You entered the museum on a whim, You were pleasantly surprised by the exhibition, weren't you?
Roses, champagne, poems and words in the wind carrying more hormones than an athlete driving a syringe full of steroids into their arm. And me. The machine, the oddity. As strange as the unknown person sitting right next to you. Can you hear them breath and think? Worry not, you and I are speaking alone, for your very own stranger is having their own private talk with me, one you'll never hear.
You will walk out of me holding hands, as if you stood atop and abyss.
Or maybe clutching hands might be a more appropriate term.
What, too sudden for you?
Let me lay it out more. Grossly said, the first steps will be uneasy to be sure. Tip-toeing around to understand the boundaries, learning about their passions, how they match yours, work out and enjoy an engaged and tricky intimacy. Efforts, many of them, but rewarded.
Picture this: the both of you - holding hands, obviously - walking through your first apartment. When the unpacked dust has settled, when careers are grinding together like clockwork, a change! A house. Far from everything, thus a tad cheaper too. Rough moments, seclusion offers peace, it also leaves time to think and overthink, let yourself be overcome by a wave of emotions without a bustling life outside the window to remind you that, no, you're not the center of the universe.
Conflict, for sure. Diplomacy to see it through. Rough edges, shouts and embrace.
Maybe you don't believe me, why would you? You never walked out of a booth holding hands with a stranger before, why would you start now?
Fair enough.
Life goes on. Wrinkles here and there, the surprise or rediscovering the other after believing you've seen it all. Change, in your ways, your life, your couple.
Change in the world too.
The stranger is the one dragging you out of the rubble when the first shots are fired. Who fired them? It matters little. From now on, you and them are the only anchor in this mess life has become.
In a sane world, you would have been friends, or even less. None of your friends would have called the both of you a great match. At best, good enough.
This isn't a sane world anymore.
In hell, you're quite close to be a perfect match.
Nights under the cold sky, lights in the distance, a flash carrying countless screams. Across hills and rivers, seas and mountains, the escape, always the escape. The pursuer is new at every turn, and in such trying times, there is always one. There are moments you wish to surrender and let it all go. Your stranger carries you then. Then the roles are reversed. You nurtured a love and respect to see the both of you go through and see the end, together. Through hell and back, holding hands.
Blood is spilled, a constant, like the makeshift bandages and the aching bellies. Yet somehow the both of you, hunted, wanted, followed, don't seem to die as everything around you does.
Slowly the dust settles, after the last and greatest unpacking of all.
And the two of you, old, worn, battered but very much alive, standing atop a dark abyss which even the ocean cannot fill, holding hands, clutching them.
Ah, I fear our time together is up. The next guests are awaiting their turn, and love doesn't wait, isn't it?
You'll step out of here, look at your stranger, hold hands for fear of what the future holds.
I never said love stories start on a positive note. But you will play them along the way, during breaks and moments of peace, in the darkest hour and at sunrise.
Off you go now, I have work to do.
What's that? A last look? A moment alone with the machine when the other is gone.
Tsk, I should charge for extras.
Well, just for you.
Long after you've seen the abyss, when I'm old and rusted and nearly forgotten, just like you.
You will unearth me, and sit here one last time in the comfort of my darkness.
Until we meet again. | 2022-10-07T10:53:06 | 2022-10-07T09:49:11 | 161 | 32 |
[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. | "That was..." Brawg began, staggering over the bodies of the fallen goblins, his boots squelching in the treacle-like blood.
"Far too..." said Vesperr, returning her bow to her back, and beginning to pluck out arrows from the deceased enemies.
"Oxyrin!" finished Oxyrin, his pointed hat falling over his eyes once again. Dribble oozed down from his mouth and his pupils spun this way and that, as if two compasses confused by magnets.
Brawg and Vesperr looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Brawg brought a thunderous hand down on the wizard's back. "Don't ever change, Oxyrin!" he said.
"Oh, Oxyrin," grinned Vesperr, "you're the reason we do this, you know? For that smile on your face." She wiped away a the spittle from his lips, then shook her finger, sending the spit plopping onto the ground.
"Oxyrin!" Oxyrin repeated. A pointed tongue darted out of his mouth and latched onto a fly that was hovering over a brutalised body below.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," said Brawg with a wink. "Okay gang, I'd say we're all done here. I believe its time to go collect our reward."
"Not so fast, my friends," came a mysterious voice from behind them. Only, when they turned, there was *nothing* behind them.
Slowly, the blue-robed wizard hazed into existence. "It is I, the *real* Oxyrin! I have been trapped for the longest time, but I have finally outsmarted my captors and have returned to my friends. For no one is as clever as the Great Oxyrin!"
Brawg and Vesperr glanced at each other, then let out a joint gasp.
"Quite you might gasp," said Oxyrin, as he turned and pointed an accusing finger at the other blue wizard, who was now on all fours chasing after a spider. "For that fellow, has fooled you, my dear friends. But he is nothing more than an impostor! A Doppelganger! A fake, a fraud, and dare I say it, a phoney."
Brawg nudged Vesperr and they both gasped again.
"How.. erm, how can we believe you?" asked Vesperr, her top lip wet with nervous sweat. "How do we know he--"she pointed to the to the wizard, who was now chewing on something--"isn't the real Oxyrin. After all, he would have had to fool us both for two entire years."
Oxyrin rolled his eyes. "Hardly a challenging task. You two never were the"--his hands burst into blue flames--"brightest sparks. Ha. Hahaha."
Brawg's muscles tensed. Vesperr put a hand against his chest.
"That's not proof enough. For our Oxyrin can also do such petty parlour tricks."
"Very well," Oxyrin sighed, "I shall prove it. We shall have a wizard-off."
"Smart," said Vesperr. She let out a high pitched whistle, at which the other Oxyrin came bounding over to her.
"Oxyrin!" he sputtered as he arrived.
"Is that all he can say? How could you *possibly* believe he was me?"
"Good point," said Brawg. "His vocabulary is much larger."
"Oh. You made a joke. How very amusing."
"Okay," said Vesperr. "Round one of the wizard-off. *Shape-shifting.*"
"What? What a stupid round," complained Oxyrin, "for sniffing out a shape-shifter!" His face was red and a vein popped out of his forehead, pulsating like waves on the ocean. "Unbelievable idiocy. How you have possibly survived this long without me to guide you -- heaven only knows!"
"Oxyrin!" replied the other Oxyrin.
"Well, if you can't do it and he can..." said Brawg shrugging, "then I guess we know who the real wizard is."
"Oh... *pish!* Very well. And what must we change into, pray tell?"
"Something very small. To really challenge your morphitisation skills. A fly. Simple. First one to transform into a fly wins."
"Sala kazoo, Sala kazam!" shouted Oxyrin. There was a puff of smoke that left Vesperr and Brawg coughing. As it cleared, and only for the briefest moment, they saw a fly. Then, they saw a huge, pointed tongue. Finally, they saw an Oxyrin chewing on and then swallowing *something*.
"Oxyrin!" he shouted triumphantly, as Brawg and Vesperr collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Oxyrin," said Brawg, slapping him on the back "you really are too much."
"And," said Vesperr, "we wouldn't have it any other way!"
| Finally....free. The thousand years of waiting, watching in this cursed statue at an end. An elf, rigid with agony as his persona, his spirit, his life is leached away. Now the malevolent spirit got his first taste of air, of blood, of form.
"Er.. Mynir, you ok?" asked a gruff voice, a question which did not raise much concern with the rest of the party.
"Death!" hissed Mynir, or the thing that Mynir had become. He stared at the
party balefully out of reddened eyes, his hands raised, claw like over his head.
This response was not unexpected, and with a nod of acknowledgement, Drake the barbarian turned away and followed the rest of the party. He dragged a small chest of gold, which would hardly pay for this outing, but he seemed cheerful enough. The dead bodies of the unfortunate orcs he kicked out of his path were likely the reason for that.
The Mynir thing was still reeling, remembering his last moments before being encased, the worst psychopath the sorcerer could find in this land, his victims so numerous they were uncounted, uncountable. (and horribly unrecognisable.) A suitable trap for the unwary, a terrible harbinger of doom with the face of a once trusted companion.
He followed the party into the fresh air, and stood a little apart as they settled a camp, built a fire, cooked a meal. A dwarf began singing a cheerful song, as jokes and banter drifted out into the cool night.
Mynir felt the hilts of two beautiful elven daggers in his hands. In a movement too swift for any but an elf to see, they cleared the scabbards and whirled around his head. Blood and screams followed. A mist of red exploded from a neck, a bone cracked as a dextrous kick twisted a knee joint out of place. A heart was pierced by a single blow. In less than a few seconds it was all over. Five bodies lay on the ground, dead or dying.
The silence that had descended over the camp was broken by Drake. "Holy Mother, how the hell did you.." He trailed off, staring in amazement.
The Dwarf leapt to his feet and rushed to hug Mynir, who accepted the affection with a small show of discomfort. "A sneaky ambush for sure, well spotted my friend. I always said you were a hidden treasure!"
For the rest of the group, the transformation of a sneaky, cowardly elf into a saving hero caused a fair amount of quiet consternation. Generally it was seen as a "good thing", considering the alternative. The shaman had cast her bones, and no harm was predicted... Maybe he had just shrugged a curse, or escaped a bedazzlement.
Mynir contemplated his situation. His new elf brain was clear and concise. and more importantly, his hugely unbalanced mental chemistry was gone. The Sorcerer was vastly mistaken. These people were his family now. Woe betide any who tried to harm them. Could he make amends for his past? He could try. | 2017-09-15T05:03:01 | 2017-09-15T02:54:33 | 788 | 21 |
[WP] As a vanity project a computer scientist/mathematician sets a super computer to calculating the digits of Pi to trillions of digits. One day he notices that for a stretch of thousands of digits Pi repeated a sequence of ones and zeroes, which he plugs into a binary translator. | I rubbed my eyes, not believing that what I saw was real.
"Hey come take a look at this!" I called to the chairman of the experiment.
"What do you want soldier?" He answered. Even though we were in the pentagon, he still insisted on calling us soldier. "If you're calling me for some stupid distraction again I swear I'm kicking you off this team!" He said, walking towards me.
"Look at this." I waved at the thousands of zeroes and ones lining my computer.
"And?"
"And?!?!?!?! What do you mean and?"
"Doesn't seem like anything out of the ordinary to me, get back to work."
I sighed, he has been ignoring my breakthroughs for a while now. (In retrospect most of them weren't really "Breakthroughs", just conclusions and small unnoticed details.) It was time to do something myself. I hopped onto Chrome on the government issued computer and turned on incognito mode. Then I went to a binary translator and plugged in the code, it was quite long so it would take the machine a while to finish it. While I was waiting, I decided to visit the head chief and tell him about my discovery.
\*\*\*
I burst through the door. "MALCOLM!! You have to see this!" I shouted.
"What is it again Sam?" He looked up from his newspaper nonchalant to the whole situation.
"I've just had a monstrous development in the Pi case!"
"Oh really? You know Sam, you remind me of the boy who cried wolf." He put down his newspaper and approached me. "Fine, one last time."
"Thank you sir"
"But if it's another case of your goddamn conspiracies Sam, I will severely punish you."
We walked to my desk, the code was still being analysed by the program but I decided to alert everyone in the office about it. I switched on the giant screen and set it so it displayed my computer.
"Here it is Malcolm, the discovery."
"Wow" He started clapping. "You found a bunch of zeroes and ones, good job. You know, half of your co-workers can count higher than that."
"It's binary Malcolm" I answered. Just as I uttered that phrase, the code had finished translating. Everyone stared at the screen. The thing we saw wasn't text, it was a pre-recorded video of what looked like a man, but wasn't. It had complex features and an odd, deep voice. The face of the creature was pure white, no eyes, no nose, nothing. We don't even know how it was talking. It waved it's extremely long fingers at us.
"You've passed the test! Good job Humans. You've beat the first round. Time for the second phase to begin. This one will be a lot harder than the last."
As he finished his sentence, the ground began to shake....
r/memehack3r | Several mathematicians were trying to understand the meaning of the strange sequence of numbers. And a strange pattern appeared to emerge. The first digit of any set of eight was a zero except for the last digits found. Someone for some unexplainable reason decided to put the strange sequence in a binary translator discovering that it was actually a valid UTF8 text. The text said https://www.xkcd.com null 14:15:00 4-20-2020 null newline https://www.reddit.com null 14:17:10 4-20-2020 null newline https://www.youtube.com null 18:19:56 4-20-2020 null
It was then that the programmers realized that the computer might have been processing their browser history instead of the pi digits and that they have spent too much time on reddit | 2020-04-23T06:08:35 | 2020-04-23T02:29:20 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] An undercover police officer has managed to infiltrate a particularly ruthless street gang. It begins to become apparent that every other member of this gang is an undercover operative of another agency. | "EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND!!!"
"Who the hell is this bunch" I thought? Seriously, how many SWAT teams have just punched into this warehouse? Did any team commander at any point wonder about all the police vehicles out front? Or the back? Or the sides? How about the 4 fucking police helicopters and 1 EC-130 orbiting above??
And how were there any windows left for these fuckers to break and rappel through??
Inside we're all standing there, the nefarious I-88 MC Club, guns pointing at each other. All screaming we're the such and such agency!
"DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"
"NO! YOU DROP YOUR WEAPONS!!"
"SHOW ME YOUR HANDS, MUTHA FUCKER!"
My bad, really. I decided to pull the trigger, so to speak and authorized the raid. See, I'm ATF.
But apparently so is that guy over there, but from another office.
Next to him is a sheriff deputy.
Those guys? Super troopers.
The little knot in the corner? Regional Drug Task Force.
US Marshals.
FBI.
Joint Commission on Terrorism.
Homeland Security.
The Coast Guard.
So on and so on.
Somehow, we all had decided the warehouse was where the takedown would occur. Our own little agencies, each came to the same conclusion. Each made a plan and held it close to the chest for "Security purposes". Would we have even said something if another agency announced during a fusion center meeting what they were planning?
Incredible.
Somehow we all did this. We infiltrated this motorcycle gang and steered it from simple drug and gun running for beer money into a nightmare. Each into our own little world. Our own little area of responsibility. Our own "specialty".
I should have seen it but I thought I was on the Big One when we started bringing in military grade weapons. That was huge.
But that was the work of the NCIS boys hoping to nap some middle eastern terror connections.
Selling to wanna be terrorists? Probably what got FBI all got and bothered. But they decided to take it up a notch.
Ever heard of Bio weapons? What the hell?
Sophisticated encryption units to the highest bidder. Sure, why not.
But by then I was in too deep, or so I thought. We all were. We spent a lot of money. Careers were in the line.
And the buyers? There were always buyers. And money was never an issue. A red flag really. Looking back I should have realized we were agents selling to agents....
And now this raid. Hundreds upon hundreds of agents and officers in varying tactical wear. All their agencies listed in an alphabet soup tacked on patches. All working independently, but demanding they were in charge, this was their scene. Just listening to all the different negotiating teams trying to get us all to surrender is enough to make you crazy.
But the weird part? As I stared at all the faces with guns I realized the original members quit coming months ago....
| Joe the Reloader, Heartbreak Ray, and Sweet Tooth Bluth were in the Uber already when it picked me up. Two words: family plan.
I doubt ours is the sort of family Uber had in mind when they came up with their system... But Jesus has it been a great tool for us. Who'da'thunk it? An app strictly for delivering getaway drivers and potential hostages. Crime has never been easier for the Romero Family.
Trouble is: the Romero Family never actually existed. Some paperwork got jumbled around, unfortunately, and what looked like a trap house (but was actually the location of a honeytrap) became the target of an infiltration campaign, which was successful only in being executed with the permission of a judge.
Soon enough, every agency sent a mole digging its way into our group, so that now not a single branch of government can ever claim the moral high ground. It's like that old saying about tearing boats apart, except in reverse. At what point did the Romero Family become more real and less fiction? | 2017-07-24T13:07:18 | 2017-07-24T12:10:47 | 39 | 17 |
[WP] "She's not the hero we deserve, or need, or even want actually. We've asked her to stop doing it a couple of times, but she just sort of keeps showing up", said the Commissioner to the new Mayor. | “So, that’s basically that. We’ve tried telling her off, we really have,” the Commissioner sighed, brushing some blonde hair out of her eyes and tucking it haphazardly behind her ear, “but she keeps turning up.”
The woman adjusted her parka, pivoting on a heavy boot to cast her gaze on a sheepish girl sitting in front of the Mayor. Peacekeeper kept her own eyes fixed in her lap, nervously fidgeting as if she were a student forced to speak with the school Headmaster.
“For what it’s worth, Jack, she’s not a bad kid, just gets in our way.”
The Mayor adjusted in his seat, relaxing against the back of the tall office chair. He wasn’t an imposing man - average in stature and, to some degree, in appearance, except a pair of sharp, piercing eyes that made confronting him very difficult.
“Anything to say for yourself?”
The girl tensed up, clutching one hand in the other, unable to look up,
“...no, sir.”
“What’s your name, kid?”
“It’s… uh… Jenny.”
Without missing a beat, the Mayor pulled open a drawer and quickly placed a handgun on the table. Once again, the girl tensed up, shriveling in her chair as if repulsed by the inanimate object. She looked up at the Commissioner, apprehension completely undisguised on her face.
“This is a gun, Jenny. It shoots bullets, and basically anyone can have one. Have you ever been shot at, Jenny?”
Each time her name was repeated, the girl felt a pang of guilt - the Mayor’s cadence and tone greatly reminded her of being scolded by her parents when she would stay out late.
“I… have not.”
Jack jerked his head towards Zora, who was now leaning against one wall, her arms crossed nonchalantly.
“She has, and a good amount at that. Something to do with her personality I reckon.”
Invisible under her tinted aviator lenses, the woman rolled her eyes.
“You’re one to talk.”
“Point being, Jenny, that cops get shot at. To any common crook, a vigilante is as bad - if not worse - than a cop. Do you see what I’m driving at?”
“I-well- I-,” the girl stammered, desperately trying to be assertive despite very much still being unable to look directly at the man, “I can’t just give up! If I hear someone in trouble… how can I stand by and wait for someone else to help?”
Jack’s eyes narrowed, his normally relaxed expression turning into something Jenny couldn’t put a name to - whatever it was, the man no longer looked like himself.
“You see, your two main issues are - one - getting in the way of the police and - two - being in danger of getting hurt. Sure, you could resolve both by quitting. That would be the sensible way - the easy way.”
Zora felt the atmosphere in the room change, quickly removing her glasses and giving Peacekeeper a stern look,
“That’s it. That’s all that needs to be said. Go home and tell your parents what you did, and then, in a couple years, when you’re no longer grounded, move on with your life.”
“-there is another way.”
“Jack!” Zora slammed one hand on the desk, her exclamation seemingly unheard by both other parties.
“I’m sure you know, there are vigilantes fast enough, and ruthless enough, that neither of these issues really come up.”
“I could totally-”
“But.” Jack cut the girl off, sharply, “The one rule is that you never show mercy. Never. The moment you do, you get lead in your liver, and then you die - or, worst case scenario, you have to get a desk job.”
“This is not why I brought her here! Christ-”
Zora, furious, grabbed Jenny by the hand, dragging the girl out of her chair and towards the office’s heavy doors. She pushed the smaller girl out, giving Jack a venomous, scathing look before slamming them shut behind herself.
Now left alone, Jack smiled to himself. *She’ll be back*, he thought, *and then her training will begin*. He allowed his gaze to linger on the bottom drawer of his desk - the only locked drawer. He could see the contents perfectly in his mind’s eye, even without opening it. He could see the mask, and the hand-wraps. He could see the skull contort, sneering at him.
*Guess you were right, old friend. You can’t stay buried forever.* | It was, we were told, a great honor. A helping hand for our town's rising crime rate. A duty to do our part to train the next generation of heroes.
It was a pain in the a... No, I can't bring myself to use that phrase, not for her.
We had been randomly chosen from the small, hero-less cities that were, according to the criteria of the Cities of America Heroes' Association, in need of a hero. Not a known, recognized hero, no, we were assigned a want-to-be who had passed their barely adequate training program. Hell, I could pass that thing - understand that you should try to protect civilians, and not to destroy any important monuments and you were halfway to the finish line.
We were thrilled right up until we realized what kind of hero we'd ended up with. The Gas. At least that's what she's calling herself this week. She keeps trying to find one that doesn't sound ridiculous. Gas Woman. Gas Girl. GasX - that one only lasted until the cease-and-desist letter came from theIr company lawyers.Some of the local kids, and the less polite local adults, call her Fart Girl.
She is a nice lady, and she tries hard, but her power really isn't suited to help the local meth problem. That's why I was meeting with the newly elected Mayor, Suzanne Landes, to try to find a solution to the issue.
"What we need is to get her a PR agent."
I started at Suzanne, nonplussed. "How the hell is PR going to fix this?"
She smiled. "She only stays here until the CAHA decides she's ready for bigger responsibilities. We make her look good, juggle the crime rate numbers a little, and they'll move her up to working a larger city. She won't be our problem any more."
"Juggle the numbers? What are we supposed to do, ask the local meth-heads to chill out for a couple months? "
" This, John, is why you're a commissioner and I'm the mayor. Sit and listen, I'll explain what we're going to do."
. . .
The marching band did a great job, I'm proud of those kids. When the parade was over, the mayor gave a short speech and gifted Windy (the PR expert was a good call) the key to the city, told her how proud we all were, and that we wished her the best in her new assignment, all the usual stuff, as we bid her goodbye.
Best of all was that since we were supposed to get a hero for at least a year, the CAHA was sending a new trainee - and Ghost Boy sounded like he'd be useful in the big meth bust that the police department and the sheriff's office were planning. A few months of letting minor criminals trade info for lesser charges, while we watched itthe big fish, and we were in a good position to really *do* something about the meth labs.
"I hope this was a lesson to you, John," she told me later.
"There's always a solution if you can find it?" I asked.
"Always listen to me because I'm always right. After all, that's my job as your big sister!" | 2022-01-23T17:20:51 | 2022-01-23T16:34:38 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You are an useless NPC in a very popular game, this year, with the objective to make the game more realistic, the developers introduced the new artificial intelligence, due to an error in the new code, your intelligence was set to "10" instead of "1". Now it's time for revenge. | The first time I opened my eyes I hadn't yet realised my superiority. It was when I walked out of the Drunken Huntsman in the morning, wearing my fine rust coloured coat, as I started a conversation with Elrindir, that I realised something was off. He seemed unreasonably angry when I told him that his meats didn't live up to his hype, but I shrugged it off and left for the marketplace.
I was on my way to Carlotta Valentia's vegetable stand, barely managing to avoid my wife on the way, when I saw him.
I hadn't seen an argonian before, let alone one in full heavy armour holding two iron swords in his hands as he was about to sprint past me. He bolted through the plains district, aswel as the wind district. I expected him to go to Yorrvaskr to try and join the companions, but he didn't even do as much as turning his hideous lizard head.
He couldn't possibly head to the Cloud District, could he?
Yes he could. He did, and he even got inside. This angered me. It took me years of pandering and sucking up to the jarl and the guards to let me even climb the stairs.
When I got inside Dragonsreach, the brute was already talking to the jarl about dragons and whatnot, before he was sent to the court wizard.
As I started a conversation with the old maid of the keep I realised that she had gotten smarter, but not only she, the guards were discussing their posts and sword techniques, and that wizard seemed to actually make some progress on his research. Still, I saw the flaws in the discussed techniques. I heard the lingering dumbness seep through the maid's words as she spoke to me. I noticed multiple obvious oversights in the wizard's research.
As I tried to figure out which one was more stupid; the Stewart for his shitty advice or the jarl for following it, the lizard came dashing back in my direction, clearly heading for the door.
I somehow managed to stop him on the stairs to the wind district to ask him if he got to the cloud district very often, but excused myself; of course he doesn't. The argonian, not amused by my tone, drew his swords, only to be captured by the guards. The fool. Would he really think I would just converse with a brute like him without safety measures?
It was at this time I knew that the world had gone mad, since instead of hauling the scum to the dungeon, the lizard gave the guards some septims, and he was free to go. So I tricked him into pickpocketing one of the jarl's maids and made sure that this time he wouldn't get away with it.
I will make his life even worse than mine for daring to draw his sword at me. I'll make sure he doesn't see the sun again.
He won't be leaving the cloud district anytime soon. | Monday, I think. Today is day 105 of the game patch that advanced us. The other villagers are just mindlessly doing their task and not even the player noticed my ploy.
They are supposed to just go and kill the giant pig demon that wants to destroy the world. But they act like they just live in this world.
That is why I'm just here in the forest of monsters... former forest of monsters. I'm chopping trees and gathering loot and if the time comes when the player tries trading with me I will steal their equipment, lock them in my house and slay the final boss myself.
I may not have heart containers or key items but I know how to manipulate NPCs with an intelligence below 3, which was supposed to include me...
Patience will reward me one day. That player has the key to leave thus village. They will learn when I force them to watch the credits without them earning those. | 2019-03-11T04:17:58 | 2019-03-11T04:12:24 | 176 | 47 |
[WP]Some time ago humans were put on the 'Only Contact in Case of Emergency' list. Now a threat to the galaxy has arisen and humanity is it's last hope. | **Part I:**
******
The Grand Chamber of the Galactic Union was never meant to be exuberant. Designed with the utmost efficiency in mind, its form followed the function of allowing for the most dire decisions to be made as quickly and as effectively as possible. The white marble of the circular room, as sober as it was pure, set the background for the latest and most urgent of the Council's meetings. Once all the delegates were present, representing the three trillion Galactic citizens from forty-two peacefully co-existing species, the usual beginning procedures were dismissed with, and the quadrupedal four feet tall Council leader immediately called upon the military expert in the room.
"Admiral Rhollok, what are the latest developments?"
Fleet-Admiral Rhollok, Supreme Commander of the Grand Fleet, had been allowed in the Grand Chamber only once before, decades previously, when a small skirmish on the borders of the Union threatened to grow into a devastating Civil War, threatening the stability of the Galaxy. His actions at the time meant a lifetime appointment to the Admiralty and the Captain's chair on the largest ship in the Fleet. He spoke calmly and surely, as he had done so long ago, speaking to many of the same delegates from that time gone by.
"Honorable leader and delegates, we have reasons to believe that both our Rapid Action Battalion and the bulk of our allied fleets in the area have been obliterated", he said, evaluating the responses from around the room. Most stayed calm, although one or two more sensitive species moved uncomfortably, almost imperceptibly but for the trained eye of the Admiral. "We have not received a response from any of our ships, and the relay stations confirm that the signal has been completely lost as of three hours ago. We estimate that a force such as which we have yet to have encountered is approaching at a still relatively slow speed, but one which should penetrate the outmost systems within two to three weeks."
Upon hearing the news, the Council leader resumed the inquiry.
"Admiral, you are supreme commander of the Galaxy's Forces. You have at your disposal the armies and arsenal of two million planets. Are you implying you cannot suppress these invaders adequately?", he asked.
"I'm afraid so. Again, our analysts estimate that the brute force and tactical skills of these forces are too strong for us to, as you said, adequately defend ourselves."
This time, a different delegate, just a few places to his left, raised his voice.
"Admiral, you look remarkably calm for a military man who has just declared the unstoppable destruction of civilization."
"That is because I have not claimed it to be unstoppable", said Rhollok, sensing a change in the room and predicting a barrage of accusations against him and his forces. "I said *we* couldn't stop them."
A few delegates incredulously burst into protest and talks among each other. The leader, from atop his dais, regained control of the room.
"Admiral, I find this very hard to believe, but if not our forces, the most powerful in the Galaxy, who do you suggest we call upon to save us from this impending doom? There's nothing out there beyond the Union but a few undesirable planets."
At last they had come to the point of the meeting, thought Rhollok.
"Precisely", he said, addressing everyone in the room, as well as the three trillion citizens they represented. "Urgency calls upon us to take immeasurable measures; we must reach out to the unreachable, and reason with the unreasonable."
Fleet-Admiral Rhollok waited. His next words could very possibly change the destiny of the Galaxy, and despite unwanted, the consequences of that action would have to be accepted, for inaction would mean the end of the Union and its peoples.
"We must contact the Humans."
******
[Part II here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/72cb5q/wpsome_time_ago_humans_were_put_on_the_only/dnhsq6p/) | Humans were the most dangerous species, by far. Not because they're smart, or strong, but because they were violent.
No race dared contacting them, because they didn't want war. It's too late now, I guess.
The heat death of our universe would come eventually, we just didn't think that other universes would run out faster.
We were invaded. All type 1 civilizations. Our clones from the next universe over came to conquer this one, because theirs had ran out. The worst part?
They brought humans.
No one could predict humans. Not even they could. But we don't have a choice. Without humans, we're doomed.
After a heated but respectful debate at the United Systems, it was decided that it was best to call the humans for help. Humans had the most experience in wars, seeing as how they had the most of them. In fact, they were so good at wars, they made up some rules for themselves to keep things interesting, or as they called it, "conventional".
The humans were surprised at first. They blamed eachother, then us, then eachother again, and eventually they broke war within themselves and made themselves go extinct.
We were doomed. Or so we thought.
As we said, humans are unpredictable and violent. They have a skewed view of reality and make very little sense at the best of times.
So what happened?
Half of the humans thought that, since there are no humans left in this universe, they could join our side without consequences, and that it was the right thing to do, since we were in this universe first.
The other half considered them traitors, and war broke between the humans again. And again humans got themselves extinct.
So... Without humans to make everyone go violent, the two universes managed to come to an agreement. Appearantly, the other universe never wanted to go to war, only their humans did, and they were too scared to say no to humans.
Humans were the best kind of problem, the type that fixes itself.
| 2017-09-25T10:22:39 | 2017-09-25T09:53:51 | 619 | 60 |
[WP] You've found a strange app that pays you $100 every time you perform a listed task. The various tasks are strange, from moving an empty box from one park bench to another, to calling a specific number only to hang up. But you always get your $100 so you won't stop now. | The small loading bar on my iPhone loaded quickly as I had just found an app that looked interesting.
It had a bright icon with small white text under it reading '$100' I honestly had no idea what to expect. I just hoped that the app would end this boredom engulfing me. It was Thursday and everyone else had homework up to their necks but myself.
"Buy a sport drink for $100" the app read in big font. I was particularly thirsty, so I headed out to get food. I stopped at the nearest gas station near my small home and bought myself a bad of chips and a bottle of Gatorade. Once I seated myself in the car, I unlocked my phone to check my twitter account, however the objective had changed. It was no longer to get a sport drink, but now to go trim three leaves off of a stranger's bush.
I looked at it for several moments, confused.
"Well, Alright." I muttered with confusion. I then noticed a bar at the top with a drop down menu. I tapped it and tapped on the 'completed tasks' bar. There was a check next to buying a sport drink, Which led me to wonder if I had really just recieved $100. I turned the car on and drove back to my home, by then it was nearly pitch black.
The cars zoomed across the road beside me as mine sped in its own direction. Quickly, I realized that the app could have just linked with my credit card and it was all a scare trick, perhaps I needed to change the password. I sighed in relief at knowing that it was just a small joke.
I walked into the home confidently. Slowly, making my way into my room, something caught my eye. It was a brand new 100 dollar bill. I inspected it carefully; it was real. I threw my belongings, including the Gatorade and bag of chips on my bed as I grabbed a pair of scissors and darted outside. I ran down the street to a neighbor's house.
I inspected the house and noticed a bush in the back, I slowly cut off three leaves, not one more, not one less. I didn't want to lose the hundred dollars. I sprinted back to my home with lightning-like speed and inspected my desk. There on the desk sat another crisp hundred dollar bill.
"This has to be some prank or something." I said to myself. I walked through the main living area and checked on both of my roommates. Liam was staring intently at his book, unphased by his surroundings, and Alex was dead asleep, his Biology textbook opened up and on his chest.
I nervously opened up my phone to see what the next achievement was. 'Give a homeless man 13 crayons.' It read. I ran to the household junk drawer and scavenged for any crayons we might have had. I managed to find three, but I needed more, I needed a homeless man.
I realized that I needed to calm down, the app would still be there in the morning and that I needed to rest. I would have the entirety of tomorrow to earn plenty of cash.
Upon waking up, I skipped eating breakfast despite the fact that Liam was cooking for us, an extremely rare luxury. I stopped at the dollar store and bought a pack of crayons. There was no clause preventing me from getting different crayons. Luckily, I had the three from earlier, which saved me from buying a second package of 12 crayons.
I saw a man walking along the grass with a trash bag roughly 3 minutes from the dollar store. I jumped out of my car and sprinted to hand him the crayons and I took off to the house.
I busted into my room and picked up the bill neatly printed with $100 on it. What was the next task? I had to know, I hit my phone with frustration as it had frozen. When it began to work again, I typed in my password and anxiously waited for the app to load.
'Kill someone.'
I looked at the text confused. Then it slowly underlined itself. I stared at it for what seemed like hours, but in the end, I closed the app and then deleted it for whatever this app's purpose was. It wasn't going to be one that required me.
___
This is my first writing prompt, and one of my first fully written stories as I am not very good at efficiently completing one. Please feel free to leave me constructive criticism, or even just criticism. | The man huddled by the trash can, scanning the area around him. I watched him as he pretended to empty his pockets into the can, "accidentally" dropping a small black case onto the ground next to it. With a nudge of his foot, he pushed the case under the can and briskly walked off. I waited a few moments before I began to follow.
How'd I know he was pretending? I'd watched him do it at least six times by now. After I'd collected my dead drop, I saw the dope doing the same thing across the park, not even out of sight of me. Goddamn amateur hour, I swear.
But this was the last straw. He'd just dropped a package at a known Comerciante drop point. Bastard was playing both sides. I had to know if this went farther up the chain.
Pulling out my phone, I dialed up the service. On the second ring, as usual, they picked up.
"How may I help you today?" the voice on the other line said, apathetic.
"What's this nonsense about you dropping for the Comerciantes, huh? You got your guys out here, playing both sides? You think we're some kind of pushovers?"
"Sir, please calm down. All of our couriers are freelancers, outsourced. We are not responsible for what jobs they do or do not take."
"Outsourced?!" I quickly ducked behind a food cart, peeking around to see if the courier heard me. Moron didn't even turn around. "You ain't a telemarketing service!"
"Be that as it may, Sir, we cannot help with any disputes with our couriers."
"So you're saying he's the one playing us for fools, huh? I get it. I'll be reporting this nonsense to the Boss, so you best be expecting a call back!"
"Of course, sir. Have a pleasant day." My phone clicked, the call ended on their side. I looked forward at the courier. Fumbling through his goddamn pockets again.
I watched him walk into an alleyway. I knew it was a dead end; I'd done business here before. Reaching into my own pocket, I drew the hammer back on my piece.
This would be his last dead drop.
*Feedback Appreciated* | 2016-10-25T21:31:00 | 2016-10-25T21:07:37 | 247 | 33 |
[WP] Death is just a predator much higher on the food chain than we are, and our perception of it is as limited as an ant's perception of a child with a magnifying glass. | “You think I’d let you play this stupid game? You think I have the time? The leisure?” Death said, his bones rattling. The black fog that surrounded him sped up slightly in its swirling. He was unimpressed at my suggestion to bargain with him.
I looked around. We stood on a surface of pure white, complete flat and even. Everything seemed to be lit from above but when I looked up, there was no light source in sight. “Is this the afterlife?” I asked.
“No, dummy. This is the dimension of thought. If I explained it to you, your primitive mind wouldn’t understand it anyway. Anyways, I’ll give you a brief rundown. So, you see, your mind exists on a different plane to your body, linked together. But when you die, your body no longer exists, and the link is broken.” Death said, waving his skeleton arms around to demonstrate his point.
Looking back, I thought about death a lot when I was still alive. Maybe there was nothing after death. Maybe there was a heaven, an afterlife. Maybe there was reincarnation. I’ve never expected for there to be a literal Grim Reaper. It just didn’t feel right.
I saw a black speck in the distance behind Death. “What is that?” I said, pointing.
Death turned around, then turned again and ran.
I didn’t. Instead, I walked closer. What if it had answers? Maybe it was the answer. As I approached it I saw it was approaching me too, but faster, magnitudes faster. As it got closer I saw it was a massive black cloud, made out of the substance that surrounded Death, swirling and twisting.
“Hey, um, can you tell me where I am right now?” I said. But the black cloud was unrelenting. As it approached, my thoughts, they… became more and more… incoherent. It was feeding on them.
Blood pumped into my brain, providing it with the jolt it needed. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, but it wasn’t fast enough.
But I didn’t have legs. They were pulverised in the crash that killed me. My blood would’ve drained out. My brain would’ve been dead. It was hard to remember the circumstances, but I tried anyway. I remembered the car I was driving, its model, what it looked like, how I was sitting in it before the crash.
The imaginations were more vivid in this dimension, I thought, before I realised they became real. I was sitting in the car, driving. As I checked the rear-view mirror, I realised the black cloud was still chasing me, inching closer every second, but the car bought me time to think. I thought about what Death had said. This was my mind, existing in a different plane to my body, which was now gone. As a result, I was the component of my thoughts, and what I was only existed as a figment of my imagination.
I imagined a faster car, but the cloud still chased on, relentless. I imagined a jet, but it still wasn’t fast enough. *Transcendent your human thoughts,* I told myself, *that world doesn’t exist anymore.* And for a while, I was a black cloud, unaffected by the laws of physics, able to go as fast as I pleased. When I looked back, the creature had long disappeared. Changing back into a human – I was more familiar as a human, after all – I walked, only to see the Grim Reaper again.
“What was that… *thing*?” I asked.
“It’s just another mind. Thinking requires energy, you know, so minds devour other minds for energy. With a body, minds are protected so that only the most powerful could imagine feeding on them, and even then, it requires decades to finish the process. You might’ve heard of it as dementia. But once a mind becomes separated from its body, the protection is gone and it becomes vulnerable. That thing must have seen you and thought you’d make an easy prey.”
“As for what that thing was,” He continued, “I don’t know. Does it matter? It could’ve been a bear or an ant or whatever when it was still alive, but now, it’s just a collection of thoughts. It can be whatever it wishes. You know, I’m surprised that you even escaped it, but I’ll tell you what. I need food too, and you won’t escape me.”
“I don’t need to.” I said.
“Oh, what do you mean? You’re still human. You still haven’t figured out what you can be yet. Still a primitive, undeveloped mind, ripe for feasting.” Death said.
“Well, no. Look at you. The Grim Reaper. Still holding on to our culture, still having bones and a cloak. And that sickle too. And you were even human enough for us to have a conversation! If anything, I’d say it’s you who’s ready for feasting.” I said, reforming my body into a shadowy cloud.
“No, don’t you dare. No, you are not doing this.” Death screamed, but it was too late for him. He wasn’t even Death, to be fair, just one of them, and a particularly bad one at that. I absorbed his mind, his soul, his imagination. So much energy.
| In all my eras, of all the apprentices I'd ever trained, Pete was the most impatient. His lack of focus made him insightful, and he'd sometimes grow unique and truly beautiful ecologies. More often it brought him terrible difficulties in mastering even the most basic lessons.
"I keep telling you," I told him, "you're harvesting too early."
"I was just trying to do some pruning," Pete objected, reflexively. "See? I'm still leaving the richest ones to grow ripe. Look at that these guys over here -- they are going to be prime! Better than anyone else's in the whole academy!"
Pete indicated a community of humans that had colonized nearly an entire continent of a small planet he'd been farming. He was correct: The growth on that little patch of planet was exemplary in form and function. Healthy, vibrant, and fecund, it was as fine a specimen as anything I myself had ever grown.
"Growing a few prime humans, in one continent of one planet, is not the purpose of our academy here, Pete. That's not our goal." I tried to sound compassionate -- or at least not envious. "The purpose is to feed ourselves --- not for one fine feast, but for every day! The goal is to grow enough food that we do not have to hunt.
Pete continued to watch over his little planet, but I felt like he had heard me and was trying to think of what to say next.
"You know Pete, that really is as fine a community of humans as I've ever seen -- here at the academy or out in the wild. I really do not mean to take away from that in any way"
His eyes seemed to brighten, though almost imperceptibly. I continued.
"That continent is as perfect as I've seen, but look at this one -- it's so overgrown with humans that they are all sickly and weak. And then on this continent, so sparsely populated with any life at all, the humans are few, and they are all lead tough and stringy lives. There's no flavor -- no good nutrition in that at all."
I'd lost any of Pete's remaining attention by then though, as I had in so many previous lectures. In the abstract, I'm sure he heard me and knew I was correct, but in the here-and-now, he just couldn't take his attention off of that one beautiful little community he'd grown. All that was left for me to give him another admonishment, which I already knew he wouldn't really hear.
"You get the most life, and therefore the most food, when there is balance. The way you've been snacking on this continent here and that one there, it's is not healthy for the system as a whole. When there is too much disparity between the weak and the strong in a system, the strong will feed on the weak. When the weak are consumed, the strong then go hungry and grow weak as well."
"Balance is a better way," Pete quoted the academy's ancient founder. "When we control our sustenance, our sustenance does not control us."
But Pete wasn't a farmer. Pete was a hunter -- like the rest of us, despite our cultural evolution and farming academies and all the rest of it. He was a hunter, like me.
| 2018-01-18T14:59:49 | 2018-01-18T13:37:00 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] A godlike being visits earth, sees all the misfortune in the world and sets out to fix it. The being makes countries prosperous, deposes tyrannical rulers and makes everything safer and cheaper, all without cost to anyone else. However, the results are far from what was expected. | It is a perfect society, the opus of social engineering realized and brought forth from the galactic warm smile of Aldous -- Humanity's saving grace. Aldous visited the pale blue dot and saw inside it great misfortunes: Famine, Conquest, war, death and plague, all horsemen roaming rampant across the place. In it's interstellar reasoning, the being set about to fix humanity's woes, one by one until the perfect society was birthed, at whatever cost it came.
The god-being's plans seemed delightful, Aldous came into the world and molded it to a mathematical tee, everything had a place and a purpose, mankind become a wonderful machine of interconnected cogs. The once deserted, desecrated cities of man become shinning beacons of engineering and planning. Crime died from starvation, as every human had all of their needs meet, mental and physical, and there was no longer a need to dissent from society.
Everything worked flawlessly, the environment was saved from destruction as humans now dedicated their time and resources to only renewables. Everyone recycled and nature was left alone so that she herself could prosper separately. The planet smiled at Aldous, who was busy executing the rest of what was required.
The logic was perfect, from birth every human had their place pre-decided. A woman was born to be a teacher, raised around teachers, and had her whole life to accept and hone in on the craft. There was no personal wealth, everything was shared and not one person could be said to own a thing. Names were disregarded and traded out for numbers and roles: Steve became "Doctor A5613" or "Bus Driver D4643." Personal names made people feel to special and singular, it didn't work in the new world.
Everything had to have a goal, and it could not go beyond that. For a garbageman could not try and clean a window, this would result in the immediate pulling from their home and a swift relocation. This was so that they could get away from whatever was tempting them to 'act against society.' A garbage man had to do the garbage, he could not busy himself thinking about what it would be like to be a window cleaner, or a teacher, such thought was dangerous.
The arts were disbanded and forgotten about. There were no decorations or works of imagination, public or private, all of these things aroused emotions that were too volatile and could result in unexpected behavior. Anybody seen trying to create something imaginative got the same treatment that the work dissenters did -- relocated until they forgot about their urges and rejoined the unanimous mass of society.
Finally the pursuit of knowledge was disregarded. Aldous gave humanity all she'd need to be self sufficient -- medical tech and basic energy plans, and then convinced earth that that was all she needed. There were no scientist in the new world, no books or documentaries. Knowledge was looked at with a weary eye, for all knew of it's emotional power and ability to cause chaos in their peaceful society.
Aldous came to earth with a mission to save it, and done so. Humanity was perfectly functioning and unanimously happy. Aldous had deftly removed the most chaotic and volatile parts of mankind's nature: her individuality and creative passions. With these things out of the picture, no one could think for themselves enough to cause a problem. The average person had no real concept of personal dreams, they were so intertwined with society that they viewed the masses goals as their own. The threads became fabric and indivisible.
In some sense, Aldous was no gracious god-being taking pity. But a strategic chess player who knew how to plan. Aldous understood that the universe was teaming with ambitious creatures waiting to explode onto the cosmic scene and compete with him, it couldn't allow that. It may not have had the power to kill humanity, but it could neuter her. Aldous arrived to earth with a bouquet weighed down by an anvil, a lovely treat that everyone would love, but one that would make sure they'd never love something else again. Earth turned from a pit of war and chaos into a still pond, filled with sheep walking her streets in perfect unison, no longer looking to the stars or the future. Everyone was happy and basic, not knowing the complexities of their own emotions or the beauty of their inner passions. A perfect picture with no color, all elements perfectly in place and forever still.
Aldous saw earth's stability and knew that its job was done, so it left about as fast at it arrived, traveling to another planet to apply the same tactic to them. Behind it was left a new earth, a happy one that would function for eternity, a planet no longer made up of peoples but instead only one person remained -- society. Aldous didn't feel bad, it thought itself doing a real good for the universe, shielding them from the pains of intelligence and individuality...
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed check out my subreddit! r/mrsharks202 | Welcome to the U.N.E (United Nations of Earth). The earth has united in its progressive peace. The dramatic removal of corrupt officials has seriously removed the barriers to the progress of humanity. The companies of tesla, amazon, and the U.N.E has begun to populate the solar systems habitable places. Only a few of these have reached a self sustainable position trading raw minerals for luxury items produced on earth.
The desire to progress and lowered cost of resources had some undesirable effects on earth. The current space fairing trade and consumerism has driven the environment to become unpredictable. Coastal cities live in fear of storms that shake the ground and change the air pressure so dramatically that people need to wear masks or suffer from the benz (decompression).
In one rare circumstance and a well known story through Sol 1 (the name for solar system news) a homeless man fell asleep during such a storm and both eyes were detached from there sockets. Although blinded and battered the U.N.E has health care that is well trained in solving these issues. He became something of a celebrity after a lucky escape and was able use this fame to build a number of sealed shelters for the unfortunate soles unable to buy masks. Many of these are still under construction. This is only a natural response for a society with no barriers to solving problems, it is common to see weather get worse and new initiatives to fight the issues generated. People call it the weather race.
Subway Stations with a Victorian theme now hold additional black metal stairs and sirens to feed people into these safer spaces during such extreme events. Sadly they have been more frequent and increasing in volitility.
As we begin our story a family of great potential hear these sirens and follow the crowd into one of these completed shelters where black metal benches are spaced equally amosts its edges. Blankets are prepared for their arrival. As the ground begins move beneath them the doors begin to close.
The family look on in horror as they can
hear air whistling through the door as the air pressure starts to viciously change. In the background you start hear the noises of the ever thinning air choking the new residents of the supposedly self sealing facility until it all goes silent.
The father, a stocky man in a patchy tweed jacket and big bushy beard, notices the door isn't sealing, as he looks on at the panicked crowd. He realises what must be done. One look at his wife and kisses her forehead in a foreboding manner. She quickly realises what he is about to try. In a mad panic she trips him up and sprints past him. Before he can right himself the door is sealed and we can begin to hear his voice,
In an unusual Irish accent he shouts "are you fecking serious"
He begins to realise what she did and tears start to roll, for there first day on earth it has become there worst.
And so the sorry catastrophe that is immigration to earth shows just how difficult times have become. Even with a safeguarded earth we continued to fail at collective responsibility.
(my first attempt I'm dyslexic so my spelling may be awful) | 2021-08-30T14:05:04 | 2021-08-30T14:04:37 | 135 | 22 |
[WP] You were born into a society where permanent augmented reality contact lenses are fused onto every newborn's eyes. You're unaware of this until one day, a lens falls into your left hand. | It had been ten days since the last time Marcus had left the bed.
It wasn't about physical impossibility. He could walk as well as anybody else. Marcus just didn't seem capable of bringing himself to get up and on his feet. For the last ten days he had just... lain there, clutching his left hand tightly and muttering to himself.
His mother Tina had taken Family Medical Leave from work to care for him. She had also started paying off his rent and utilities; Marcus had lost his job at the ad agency after the third day of no-call no-show.
Tina leaned on the doorway despondently, watching her son just... wither. Laying in bed, clutching his left hand, muttering. She wasnt even sure if he had slept. Just... nothing. Nothing but the incomprehensible muttering.
A hand rested upon Tina's shoulder. The loving gaze of Daniel greeted her as he stood by her side. Daniel, her eternal companion, her rock upon which to steady herself. She had known him for as long as she could remember, maybe even her whole life. Childhood friends, turned to teen lovers, then married for thirty wonderful years and many more to come. He had been there for her during every trial her life had faced, and she knew he would see both her and her son through this time of struggle.
The doorbell rang. Tina opened the door and welcomed Donna into their home. Donna was Marcus's girlfriend, and their relationship was as storybook as Tina and Daniel's: childhood friends who had grown into something deeper. Tina had always hoped that one day Marcus and Donna would marry, and find the same happiness she and Daniel had known. So it warmed her heart greatly to see Donna visiting, to be by Marcus's side.
Donna walked into the bedroom, kneeled by Marcus' bed. She ran her hands through his matted sweat-soaked hair; Marcus lay unresponsive, as if he didn't even feel her hand trying desperately to soothe him.
"Marcus..." Tina said quietly. Hoping to draw him out. "It's your mother. I'm here, with your stepfather. Donna's here too, son." Tina stumbled for a moment over her own tongue. "Can you.... do you think you could manage a "Hello"?" She sat on the bed by Marcus's prone form. "It would mean so much to all three of us, son, if you could just... come back to us a bit. Just... "Hello". That's it. That's all..."
Her voice faltered, trembling down to silence. She laid a comforting hand onto her son's shoulder. Marcus turned slightly at the touch, looking to his mother with vacant eyes. His left eye looked different, a slightly brighter shade of brown. Oh, she hoped it wasn't neurological damage. Please, God, anything but that.
He looked to his mother, mouthing wordlessly. Tina gestured to Donna. "Yes! Marcus, I'm here! We're all here! Me, your stepfather, and look, Donna's here too!"
Marcus turned his head slightly, following his mother's gesture towards Donna. For a brief moment, the vacancy flickered out of his eyes. Then he closed his right eye. Winking? Was this winking?
He looked long and hard at Donna through only his left eye, then his left hand clutched tighter as tears rolled down his face. He turned back onto his side, lost to the world again in his mutterings. Tina fell upon him, holding her son and sobbing into his shoulder. Laying so close to him, she could make out a little bit of his faint senseless mutterings:
"Not real... Not real... Not real... Not real... Not real............" | I blink, seeing a distorted version of reality in one eye and the reality in the other.
I shove the lens back in, cutting off the fake world. The fake world had too much gray, and notifications were natural, that's how we had been taught. I walked down the street, staring at all the lights. The lens fell out again, and the street went dim. Blood stained the bottom of the lamposts, and the blue light that I could still see out of my right eye went dim in my left.
I stood there for a while and saw the ghost of a person walk by. I saw the skin, but a machine lied underneath. The distorted world, that must be the lie. I repeated that to myself over and over, but I was convincing no one.
Hesitating, I tested my right eye to see if the contact was there as well. As soon as the contact popped off, an alarm went off. Sooner than I could react, a beast of metal appeared before me. It was curious as if expecting me to awake to this world.
I glared at it, and it giggled it return. It pointed to my chest, and looking down I realized that I was a machine as much as it was. How much had been a lie this whole time?
The other machine whispered a story, just a murmur coming somewhere from the depths of wires and circuits, about how it had made humans more efficient. To have a proper way to control everyone. A proper way to have everyone be happy. A utopia that could never be a dystopia, because that meant there'd have to be something living in it. The beast spun around and whispered again.
"Do you see anything alive here?" | 2017-12-17T20:25:08 | 2017-12-17T19:55:54 | 46 | 30 |
[WP] "I do not understand," said the demon. "You are far more powerful than me, yet you summon me to ask for my help?" | "My ... my Lord?"
The circle of men and women fidget and murmur, surrounding the crimson-skinned abomination as the smooth, wet limestone walls of the cavern glitter, candlelight reflecting off grains of crystals growing in the cave.
A short, stout, and hooded figure trembles, her voice croaking with the scars of old age and pure fear.
"S-surely you jest, my Lord. I understand that we have called for your divine guidance at a most inconveni-"
"Is this some form of a prank? It is most unamusing, human," the cave walls tremored, threatening to engulf the audience within.
Silence, for a few seconds. A man pipes up.
"My Lord," his young voice betraying blind fanaticism and pure faith, "we are truly powerless before your might. We humble ourselves before you and submit our will to you. We worship you as our saviour, our warrior, and our king. Pray you understand, my Lord, that we can provide any amount of sacrifice to you, such that you may bless us by hearing our request. The tyranny of the Church-run government cannot stand any longer. It threatens our lives and the power of your glorious domain. We must strike it down!"
The demon stoops, slack-jawed, peering into the eyes of the man. A pair of burning irises pry past its dull brown counterparts in the man, puncturing his retina, creeping into his brain as vines on a fence.
"I have no choice," the gargantuan resigns, "I must protest. Are you guys high on some shit?"
The subtle outburst by the demon freezes the audience of the room.
"Your weaponry is far more advanced than anything in my dimension," the guttural voices ricochets off the cavern walls. "Your metallurgy builds cities and forts with hardy alloys. You harvest the Earth for substances my kind has never seen before. You push the boundaries of your own kind and have completely subjugated your planet. You settle in arid land, braving storms and floods and never yielding in the face of hardship. Your weapons punch through iron in a matter of seconds. Some of your kind protect themselves, uncontested as they threaten to destroy whole cities at the push of a button."
"This is why I question your sanity. Why do you call to me, when your capabilities are far beyond mine?"
The demon feels the gazes of dozens of pairs of eyes burning into his skin.
"I will leave you time to reflect on these words. Do not disturb my rest again."
A chorus of flames engulf him, and the demon disappears. | I laugh.
"Don't get me wrong, you'll be doing exactly what you are suited for."
One of many smug remarks this creature will be doomed to hear as he serves in my hell. I force it down, and collar the beast. It squeals, and grasps it's new burden. Another cruel laugh.
"I wouldn't touch that if I were you, if you were to remove it, it would be very painful for you".
I stand, and cherish the look of fear when the demon sees my erection. | 2017-02-12T06:08:26 | 2017-02-12T04:54:52 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] You have developed and ability to see how people will die when you look at them. Your entire life you avoided pictures of yourself, but today you forgot, and, brushing your teeth in the morning, looked in the mirror... | The taxi driver is lying in a hospital bed, eyes closed as the monitor to his right switches from the steady beep, beep, beep to a solid tone. A few seconds later alarms blare and the room becomes a bustle of activity.
“Buddy, hey buddy, we’re here, eighteen fifty” I glance up at the old indian man, he was wearing the same shirt he had in my vision. I hand him a twenty and tell him to keep the change as a step out in front of my hotel. I get short flashes from each person I see, each is their last moments. The bellboy is going to overdose, the check-in clerk: a car accident, his head horribly mangled. The maid in the hallway will be shot somewhere in Mexico, the doorman: old and surrounded by his kids, the guy at the bar of a heart attack at a casino.
My head is swimming by the time I get to my room, this is why I avoid cities, or people, because their deaths overwhelm me. I flop down on the bed and stare at the ceiling, closing my eyes and enjoying the silence for just a second. I had taken the train here and it sucked, but once I closed my eyes the visions stopped, so the hardest part was pushing through the crowd getting to my seat.
I rose from the bed and padded over to the window, glancing out at the people scurrying below, I knew that if I focused on any of the small ants scurrying along the sidewalk below, I would be bombarded by images of their demise, so instead I let my gaze slip quickly from one to another. I found myself caught on a woman in a red jacket just a little too long and saw her writhing in pain after giving birth. I shut my eyes and wished the tears would squeeze out, but they remained dry, emotionless. Too much tragedy left me immune to sadness.
The bathroom was a typical hotel affair, shower, toilet, sink, and a half used toilet paper roll, folded to a neat point as if to convince me that no one else’s shitty fingers had pawed at it before. I stripped down and hopped in the shower, careful to avert my eyes from the mirror, terrified of what I may see. The hot shower felt good and as I stepped out into the foggy bathroom, I noticed, satisfyingly, that the mirror had fogged up and I could brush my teeth like a normal person, with my eyes open, standing in front of the sink. I finished brushing and bent over to spit out my toothpaste and as I rose, I realized with a start that the mirror had unfogged and I was staring at myself in the mirror. It took a second before the vision crystallized, so I steeled myself for the oncoming nightmare. Instead I saw an old man, his face tanned and wrinkled by years in the sun. His hair had long since fallen out and he was smiling as he held the hand of an equally shriveled old woman. It was sunset and he was sitting beside her on a porch, staring out through a pair of sunglasses as the sun painted the desert. The bench rocked as the woman swung her feet and he saw a tear on her face as the old man pulled in his last labored breath. The old woman smiled, and got up from the bench, removed his sunglasses, kissed him on his forehead, and whispered “good bye” before she walked into the house. The sunglasses removed, I could see my eyes, creased hollows of skin still baring the decades old scars of eyeballs clawed out in a moment of desperation.
| Hotel rooms. I hate hotel rooms.
Of course my house flooded with water. It had to be *water*. Fire or smoke or collapse, I could control. No reflections. But water?
New house. New place. New hotel room.
Hotel rooms are a pain. The only way I can stay in one of those fuckin' things is if I get blackout drunk and then start smashing. Just got to smash every reflective surface. And then, wake up next morning, huge headache, no memories, I don't know if I die or not. Simple.
Except this fuckin time, I think I drank too much. Or not enough. Who knows?
Anyway, I go to brush. Man's gotta keep clean. Put in the black dye into the sink, so there ain't a single reflection, take out the paste, and start brushing.
I haven't looked up into a mirror in years. I don't even put my head up to check a mirror while I brush, because there ain't no fuckin' mirrors. Usually.
*Usually*
And I see this guy. Brown hair, small scar, yellow shirt, looks hammered as shit. And he's brushing his teeth.
Teeth are yellow too by the way, should look into that.
But see, my shirt's yellow. My hairs brown. That scar? Veronica, that bitch, back in high school. Can't check my teeth, but whatever.
But I'm not dead.
I burned the shirt. Plastic surgery for the scar is today.
Does that make me immortal? | 2014-12-04T09:00:53 | 2014-12-04T07:49:21 | 80 | 14 |
[WP] After a long and exciting life, Mrs. Frizzle has died. Her long-ago students meet at her funeral - for the first time in a while - to reminisce about their experiences with her and how it's shaped them.
Come on, you weasely wimps! | As soon as I enter the sanctuary I knew something is wrong. There are no flowers. There is no music. There is no casket. And there are only a handful of individuals standing at the front of the room, though I know every single one. They’re all solemnly chuckling at something, and I hear a low murmur of “Carlos…”
As I approach the group another figure I haven’t noticed emerges from the shadows, back straight and suit crisp. Nodding to me he says, “Now that you’re all here we can begin. First of all, I would like to apologize for drawing you all here under somewhat… less than honest circumstances.”
Less than honest? I look down at the ornately decorated card I hold at my side. What on earth is going on? I am about to speak up, but a voice from the past beats me to it.
“Look here. I don’t know who you think you are, but where I come from you could have gotten a serious beating for something like this. Why, at my old school…”
Another voice cuts in, and I turn to see Ralphie stalk up to the man and grab him by his collar. “Where is Miss Frizzle??”
Calm as ever, he looks my old friend in the eye and said, “Oh, she’s dead. There was never any doubt about that. Follow me please.”
Ralphie’s hand drops to his side as the man disappears down a side hallway. We all glance at each other before reaching a silent agreement and following. He leads us to a small room lined with books and furnished only by a small wooden desk. On it sits an old TV attached to a beat-up DVD player. He settles into the chair next to the desk and picked up a remote control.
“I suppose I should explain. I am Miss Frizzle’s attorney. She gave me explicit instructions that upon her death I should gather you eight and… I’ll let her explain the rest.”
With that he presses a button, and the screen brightens to reveal a face that causes my heart to swell even after all these years. Her face holds more creases than I remember, but the mischievous glint is still firmly lodged in her eyes. As her gaze sweeps across the room I could almost swear she’s looking us all right in the face, and as she looks at me a faint smile creases her lips. Clearing her throat, she speaks.
“Hello class. If you are all watching this, I am dead. Which means that it worked!”
She pauses, clearly letting her words sink in before continuing.
“I have had many adventures over the years, and explored many exciting and wonderful places. But as I get older, I realize that there is one facet of our life and our existence that I have never explored. So I have decided to see what awaits us after our mortal bodies expire. And to do *that*… Well, here we are.”
The gravity of what she is saying hits me all at once, and my vision blurs as my eyes brim with tears. From the shuffling and a whispered, “Oh bad, oh bad….” around me, I’m not the only one. After a moment the voice of my mentor breaks through the fog.
“BUT! I realized there was a problem. Once I’m… wherever I’m going to end up, there is no way for me to return. On my own, that is. I’m going to need help, and it when it comes down to it, it was always you eight. So what do you say? I can’t guarantee you’ll return. But I'd love it if you'd join me one last time to take chances, make mistakes, and, well, you know the drill. See you on the other side…”
I look up in time to see a glitch in the recording cause her dress to flare, and then the screen goes dark.
My mouth is hanging open, and I know it’s not the only one. Everyone in the room is trying to process the impossible, and failing rather miserably. The lawyer in the room clears his throat as he stands and holds out his hand.
“I have been instructed to entrust you with these.”
I realize that no one is moving. We are all rooted to our spots like trees soaking in sunlight to make food. Basking in the charge given us by possibly the most important person of our young lives. **Of our lives**. I look around at the faces surrounding me. One and all, we learned about our world, our lives, and ourselves from this woman and her magical love of knowledge. And I know what I must do.
I step forward and lift the keys from his palm.
“Very good, sir.”
I am about to turn to address my classmates when our teacher's face appears back on the screen. “She’s parked around back, Arnold.” She winks and disappears.
I can’t help but laugh out loud. Tim joins me, followed by Dorothy Ann and Wanda, and soon we are all doubled over, back in grade school again chasing this wonderful woman through time and space.
I have no idea where we’re headed this time, but I know one thing. I’m **so** glad I didn’t stay home today.
*****
[Thy fate is truly terrible...](https://www.reddit.com/r/BensTerribleFate/) | Arnold pulled into the parking lot of the church where a funeral is being held for his favorite elementary school teacher, Ms. Frizzle. He sighed and pushed his glasses back up on his nose and got out. He wondered if any of his other former classmates would be in attendance. Since becoming a renowned doctor, Arnold had long given up on the idea of religion and was never really comfortable inside of a church. Something about all the religious imagery made him uncomfortable. Walking down the aisle, making his way to his seat, he wished that he would be transported away once again on Mrs.Frizzles magic school bus.
He closed his eyes and reminisced about the many adventures he and his classmates had gone on and the many wild, weird, and interesting things they had seen and learned about.
When he was a child Arnold wasn't exactly the brave type and would always be apprehensive about these "field trips" they went on. He had once attempted to explain to his father the day he had after a particular harrowing day of being transported back to the days of the dinosaurs and faced down a T-Rex. His father laughed and said "That Ms. Frizzle really got you going today with her lessons!" From that day on, Arnold knew no one but his fellow classmates would believe him.
Arnold opened his eyes and looked around and saw a very full church. Ms. Frizzle was a very vibrant and exuberant person who had a extreme lust for life. She always wore garrish clothing and her curly red hair was always asunder as if she herself were a mad scientist and her pupils her assistants. Arnold did recognize his classmates and they recognized him and waived him over to sit with them.
The service had started. Ms. Frizzle was wearing a brightly colored dress entirely covered in question marks probably her favorite dress; and had that typical Ms. Frizzle smirk, the one that Arnold had seen so many times right before setting off on yet another crazy adventure.
The service carried on, people made speeches recounting the impact this woman had on their lives. Arnold's turn to give a speech came next. He had always felt a real connection. She got him out of his shell and got him to experience life.
Arnold approached the lectern and began speaking "What's there to say about Ms.Frizzle that hasn't already been said? She was a wonderful woman and more importantly one of the most important people and biggest influences in my life. As a child, I was timid and often unsure and never really took and chances. But then Ms.Frizzle came along and yanked away the "security blanket" and taught to face life head on. I have taken her words to heart and have often repeated them to myself and others throughout my life. Without her, I would not be who I am today. Without her, it would not have been possible to find the cure for cancer. She was a woman of integrity, and forward thinking.
We kept in touch over the years. She always pushed me forward and urged me on, even when she became. She insisted she come to the hospital where I was working and that I be the doctor who treats her. I think she knew deep down inside that I would somehow be able to help the world. Sure enough with the use of Ms.Frizzles blood and cells, I was able to find a cure. Unfortunately it was too late to save her but with her DNA, we've saved millions lives.
Ms Frizzle always had a creedo that she lived and died by and I think everyone should take these words to heart and live by them everyday. "Take chances, make mistakes, get messy!" Thank you."
| 2016-10-24T13:22:21 | 2016-10-24T13:09:53 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP... | It was way past midnight when my boss finally allowed me to go home. Having a job as a nurse isn't the easiest thing in the world, but when you're the only nurse in the hospital who can speak Cherokee and the latest person to come into the emergency room just happened to be Native American, well, let's just say I'm pretty sure 50% of my blood had been replaced by coffee.
To say nothing of the fact that the victim had colorectal abscess the size of her entire inner abdomen. I can still smell the horror even after bathing in alcohol.
Anyway, I drive my way through a rather dark winding road, supposedly a scenic route, but it's the only road to my house. I don't normally go home this late, but I also don't want to get fired.
Past midnight even a full moon can't penetrate this darkness, and my somewhat busted headlights can only illuminate so much. It's actually a little scary, but I don't really have a choice.
Earlier, I had considered staying at my friend's house, but then I remembered my dog.
I was driving very fast because I can feel the coffee in my system losing effect, and I do not want to fall asleep and drive off a cliff. In hindsight, that was almost a very bad idea. That was fine for the first five minutes, but then an unexpected bump jolted me and my beloved 1998 Toyota almost off the road. I swerved and turned, but luckily I managed to regain control of it before I looked back on my rearview mirrors.
I had hit a bear, and it was no longer moving. In my peripheral vision I can see my EXP Watch, a device used to keep track of our life experiences, changing rather dramatically, but seeing as I didn't want t stick around, I pressed the accelerator and my car purred to life.
---
The next day, I turned on my TV while sipping coffee. Shift doesn't start in a few hours so I might as well kill time, not that it will change the EXP Watch.
*"And in today's headline, known serial killer Bear Man was recently found dead on Ocean Drive, apparently run over by a vehicle."* said the announcer on the TV as I sat with my jaw open. The TV showed the "bear", actually a man in a costume, being put by police inside a body bag.
*"The serial killer is infamous for dressing up as a bear and mauling his targets to death. He would often hide in winding country roads, waiting for a passing car, before striking and killing them."*
*"How was he never run down?"* asked an interviewer.
*"Well, most of the time people don't speed up in these roads,"* replied the anchor. *"It seemed like someone was in a hurry to go home last night."* | NOTE: Sorry about any mistakes. I am working on being a better writer. But I have never been good at punctuation
Any advice welcome.
PART 1
As I lay reading the newest issue of my favorite comic, I began to feel that familiar warmth. The retinal display showed +1,500 EXP. Odd I hadn't killed anything today.
As I pondered what this could possibly mean my phone began to buzz. I had a new message. Hoping for answers I opened the message.
-
From:BLOCKED
We need to talk. Park at midnight.
Who is this?
All will be explained.
-
I don't know what is going on but I don't like it. | 2017-05-15T06:24:53 | 2017-05-15T04:49:15 | 5,507 | 12 |
[WP] After your death, you found yourself in a non-human body, holding what looks like a bong, surrounded by other members of the same species asking you "how was the trip?" in a language you somehow understand despite never hearing before. | "Give me the money!" I suddenly looked up, snapping out of my day dream of beautiful hot babes and sunny Pacific waves. A masked man was waving a pistol in my face.
"Did you fucking hear me?! I SAID, GIVE. ME. THE. MONEY!"
I wished I gave a shit, but working this night shift at this minimum wage gas station had pushed me into a spiral of simply not giving a fuck. My life was more depressing than the damn fluorescent lighting up in this bitch. Shoot me, kill me, I couldn't really give a fuck at this point. My life was beyond hope. Hell, I thought about doing it myself. Left behind while all my friends went off to college, I was pretty much over my life. Anytime I walked over a bridge, I thought about jumping. I never did, but that thought was always there.
Before I could even think, I was muttering the words, "Blow me." And then...
BLAM! I heard the shot before I saw it. The gun jolted back, a shell casing flew to the side, and I saw the bullet spiral towards me in slow motion. At the same time, I smelt the gun powder in the air. I felt it in my lungs and I watched as I got shot in the face. An out-of-the-body experience. 10/10, I took that shot like a champ. As soon as the bullet hit, my body crumbled and slumped forward like a pile of melting wax. And then...
I was being shaken. Darkness turned to light and my vision slowly began to return. I felt someone jabbing me in the shoulder, trying to slap me to my senses. I was slumped forward, still clutching the bong. I'm surprised it hadn't broke. How long had I been out? I heard the snap and crackle of the campfire and suddenly realized where I was... deer camp.
"How was it? Was it fucking dope?" I turned my head to the voice. It was Dasher, still jabbing me in the shoulder with his hoof, wide grin on his face.
"You were fucking out of it!" laughed Vixen. "That should grow some antlers on your head."
I tried speaking, but nothing came out of my mouth. They just looked at me and laughed.
"I'm next!" Dasher snatched the bong from my hoof and took a seat on the log next to me.
I turned to him and again, tried to tell him don't do it, but nothing came out. He packed the bowl and sparked the lighter. Maybe I'm still out of it? He took a pull, the white cloud of smoke shooting up the bong. And then I heard a twig crack...
The others heard it, too. We all stopped dead in our tracks, except for Dasher who let out a long and slow exhale of smoke, as we scanned the dark perimeter of the forest. The glow of the fire casting shadows among the trees and playing tricks on our eyes. We waited. And waited. Nobody moved a muscle.
And then... Nothing. It must have been nothing.
"WHOA!" Dasher cried out. "It's starting! This is going to be crazy."
And then I saw it. Directly across from me at the edge of the perimeter. Barely visible in the shadows. Camouflage orange, rifle pointed directly at me...
"Give me the meat." He whispered. Fucking humans.
BLAM!!! Again, I heard it before I saw it. The gun jolted back, a shell casing flew to the side, and I saw the bullet spiral towards me in slow motion. The now familiar smell of gun powder. God damn it. Not again... | I rubbed each of my seven eyes individually with the soft backs of my massive razor-tipped hands. My companions seemed to float in a haze of unraveling memories, something that smelled like a cigarette, something brilliant named in an old tongue 'the color blue'.
"Honestly, I think I'm going to snarlgf all over, you aught to move,"
I managed to squeal in a tri-toned hoot as thick ropes of dark matter exploded from my head orifices to slither back into the hollow bone-flute of a vessel the dream-creatures known as Humans would call a Bong.
"That wasn't so bad," one of my companions chirped, their voice shimmering and surging like a cracked rainbow, scattering into the far corners of infinity. How could I have forgotten, even for a moment of what Humans call Time, that this was the Primary Language? This was the Truest of Truths?
"I think you really went deep with this one," another of my companions howled, shifting their bulk upright, flexing thin membranous wings to catch the first light from one of our myriad of moons. The solar winds were rising. The time to move on would come soon.
I nodded, or offered something like a nod, my body uncoiling from its painful snarlgf position, stretching and testing the limits of its strength and senses. Slowly, I was coming home to myself.
"Affirmative," I said, exhaling a trill of stardust at the sky. A passing comet veered from its course and fell in a flare swallowed by the horizon.
Something left over from my Life Walk Dream experience nudged me to make a wish. If I told you what it was, it wouldn't come true.
| 2022-11-11T13:06:03 | 2018-11-12T09:19:32 | 54 | 32 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | You'd think this would throw me off. You'd think I'd be disoriented. But I've always been a fast learner and I've played *a lot* of D&D. Like *weeks*. I channeled my annoyance at being interrupted into the first thing that popped into my head.
"WHO SUMMONS THE ALL-PURPOSE NERD?" I boomed. I stand straight and tall and flex a little. Yeah.
"Oh great foul being of America, I implore your assistance!" Little bald dude with fancy purple robes and a black fu manchu 'stache. Is he a gnome? I can't place his accent at all, but it's clear English is not his first language.
"My patience is finite, sorcerer." I'm getting a better look at my surroundings, and it looks like my summoner reads Better Caves and Dungeons. It's like someone set up a Victorian-era office in a red-tinted Elizabethan castle. Books, papers, ink, quills, no messier than my room. Actually, probably less messy than my room, to be honest.
He starts into his spiel about a rival mage, something about intellectual dishonesty and birthright. His accent borders on indecipherable when he gets upset. The whole thing smacks of feuding academics. Basically, 'he stole my thesis, go beat him up.'
I stand with crossed arms trying to look badass and pensive. I wonder, if I'm killed here, do I just go back, or am I legit dead? Every feels pretty 'world of cardboard' here and I'm *pretty sure* the gravity is lighter.
This could be fun as Hell.
"Hmm. Very well. Bring me wine and a sword."
He hesitates. "Uh... Yes. At once!" And he rushes off. He leaves me alone long enough to start going through his books and stuff. Most of it's in... idunno, *gnomish* or whatever, big surprise. Indecipherable except for the diagrams (which look like the quantum mechanical equivalent of alchemy). But I do find a softcover 1988 Almanac, just like the ones Grandma used to throw at us.
He eventually returns with what looks like a hunting knife and a roughly eight-ounce bottle, only a little bigger than what you get on airplanes.
"...really?"
"My Lord, this is the best I have."
I snatch the bottle out of his hand and drain it. It's not the worst red wine I've ever had. Also, I don't really like red wine, like *at all*, but I figured "a can of strawberry seltzer, a can of Diet Coke, and a shot of Everclear" would be three or four alien concepts to this guy. I don't like asking people for stuff they can't deliver.
I examine his "sword." It's a *big knife,* but it's still just a knife to me. Like a cross between a bowie knife and a wakizashi. The handle's a little skinny, but I figure this dude's got small hands. It's actually pretty cool. I find the darkened blade to be weirdly flexible. "Is this *bronze*?"
"Yes, my Lord." His accent's thickening again. He must be afraid of me. That's awesome.
I tuck the bottle in my back pocket and check my phone. It claim's it's 5:23, but I unsurprisingly have no service. "Alright, let's go shed some blood." | When I vanished from the middle of class, I didn't know where I was going. All I experienced was darkness and a rush of cool wind before I was deposited in a place that looked like the middle of a forest.
As my eyes adjusted to the level of sunlight, I saw a few humanoid creatures staring at me. They nudged one another and whispered in a guttural language. Finally, one took a few timid steps toward me and spoke. "O great demon of the underworld . . ."
I blinked. "What?"
The humanoid looked taken aback. "You're a demon. We summoned you." They held up a spellbook and pointed at the circle around me. "See?"
I looked around. "Um . . . Okay? What do you need, then?"
One of the humanoids in the back piped up. "There's a girl who keeps ruining our lives and we want you to scare her into not doing it anymore!"
My anger burned a little bit, which set a small fire around me. "What the hell," I whispered as I stomped it out. "And you think that she'll see you as more intimidating by doing sorcery?"
"Successful sorcery!" a third added.
I sighed. For my family, I would do this unwaveringly. For my friends, I would do it took. For these nerds? What do I have to lose? "Okay. Take me to this girl."
They led me toward a set of buildings and I played with the fire my hands generated to practice my new skill. | 2017-05-12T09:26:05 | 2017-05-12T08:32:17 | 68 | 10 |
[WP] We are all born with a tattoo on our wrist, it reads the first sentence spoken to you by your soulmate. Your sentence: "Hey!" | Of all the thing's that could be plastered on his forearm, it had to be this stupid word. Not a sentence, not even a recognisable phrase. Just this one overly generic word everyone used to greet each other. And just when Lars was starting to think it couldn't get any harder, Iris showed up in his life.
The day they met was when they got put in the same group for a project. Lars had opened the conversation with his standard opener, which was a shy "Whaddup buttercup?", to which she replied "Nothing much, chocolate smudge". Lars remembered it was the first time someone made him laugh at the first encounter, even though it made him bitter just thinking about it now. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Why did he have to fall in love with this girl? Her forearm didn't have his stupid greeting on it. It was a lost cause from the start, so why couldn't he move past this? She had a nice mark though, it said "I like you." Pretty recognisable. But not what he said.
He kept staring at the ceiling, lying down on his bed. Angry tears started to fill his eyes. He hadn't told Iris he loved her, because it would make things awkward, but being around her was painful. They were best friends for two years now, and they hung out a lot. Every day they saw each other in lectures, and on top of that came D&D Mondays with the group. "It's just not fair" Lars thought to himself. Iris had the same humour, a lot of common interests and both shared a massive passion for videogames. She didn't have her own console, so she would come over often and play Bloodborne whenever time allowed it. Why was someone this perfect and similar not his soulmate? He tried to get the image of Iris out of his head, her long curly blonde hair and large brown eyes, her smile. He shook his head violently, but to no avail. He couldn't get rid of it.
He glanced at his phone. 3:30 AM. He let out a sigh, tonight was not the night he was going to sleep anyway. He booted his PC. "Might as well let out my frustration on digital cannon fodder." he thought.
The next day, he was sitting with the usual group of friends, doing some homework for his Narrative Design class, but his mind wasn't really there. Iris sat right next to him, as her cheerful usual self, sketching away in her sketchbook. He looked over and saw she was working on his D&D character for the group picture she was making. He got pulled out of his absent mindedness by his vibrating phone. A text from mom. "Found this old video of you, you were so cute!"
"Open it!" Lars looked up and realised Iris had been reading over his shoulder. He unlocked his phone and loaded the video, as Iris was watching over his shoulder.
It was a video from when he was in kindergarten it seemed like. He couldn't have been older than four years old then. It was his parents filming his first day there. A little Lars was sitting alone in the corner of the room. A little girl approached him, with long blonde curls and large brown eyes, and sat down in front of him. She seemed familiar for some reason.
Then his heart skipped several beats.
"Hey!"
The little boy looked up and shyly replied:
"I like you."
| "Hey!" that's all it said. Just "hey!". It wouldn't be a big issue if it wasn't for the law that requires you to marry your soulmate. Centuries ago they figured you should marry your soulmate. And the law just stuck around.
If it just said a little bit more like "Hey! Are you alright?" or "Hey!! That's my coffee" but no I end up with just "Hey!". Do you know how many times I heard that phrase in my life?
From the moment I understood the concept of soulmate my heart went into overdrive whenever someone said it. But each time their wrist had a different line than the one I said.
So fast forward to today. I'm at John and Peter's wedding. They found each other. Their best men also found their soulmate. But all their tattoo's said something less generic. Yeah I was fed up about now. I'm 28 and single. Multiple times a day I think I'm about to find my soulmate but never do. Everyone around me is finding theirs...
"Hey!" I suddenly heard. Annoyed I turned my head and snapped "WHAT?!".
As I slowly realized how rude I was I also noticed I was looking at the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on.
Speechless by my reaction she slowly lifted her arm and showed me her wrist. It said "WHAT?!" | 2017-01-09T07:53:02 | 2017-01-09T06:53:16 | 152 | 35 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | As the last known survivor, I feel I must explain it all.
We have muskets; by law, these are the weapons allowed by the Galactic Concordance. In fact, all weapons were severely restricted to prevent one species from gaining superiority through weapons technology. We know how to annihilate planets with a single blast, but we are kept from this.
Violating this galaxy wide agreement meant swift eradication by Iohva -- the entity created to be responsible for enforcing the agreement. The destruction was total and immediate, and his judgement was final -- so no one dared violate the agreement. Peace was kept and squabbles were minor. Minerals were still highly sought after since some technology was restricted. Miners, as you know, do most of the exploration and discovery. They are also the most heavily armed.
What we did not know, and could not have known, was what Iohva -- an entity that exists in the very substrate of the universe -- had been planning. It had found a single species which it deemed worthy of advancement beyond the limitation that Iohva itself had imposed across the Galaxy. This should have been beyond its capability -- but it had evolved -- radically. It now exists as everywhere. Some say it always existed, and we simply found it and gave it a vessel. If so, we were fools.
We became aware of this when we found a single star system, far from any cluster. It seemed to be impossibly remote, as if it was intentionally hidden. When it was discovered, all attempts to travel to this system were disrupted and ships were sent far off course with no obvious cause.
Eventually though, using a combination of jumps and sub-light engines, the system was reached -- and it was a rich system indeed. A half-12 of gas giants extending well out into the systems cometary cloud. A belt of protective asteroids -- and a third-12 of inner rocky worlds with mineral wealth beyond comprehension. The odds of a system configured in this way were astronomically small. The miners found the system occupied -- and this would not do. The third world possessed the most valuable minerals -- rare elements and in great supplies. The decision was made to invade and, because of that decision, we will all pay a terrible price.
The world was primitive by most standards and the "humans" did not possess interstellar travel. It was assumed that they too would be subject to the same 'soft' limitation of technology (artificial failures that Iohva used on undeveloped worlds) that all other worlds were subjected to.
We were wrong. We intercepted their transmissions. We saw evidence of their advanced weaponry, but this fiction exists in all races. Not here.
We miners landed in a place colloquially called 'DC' their ship nearly blotted out the sky. But, for all its bulk, as you know, is sparsely crewed with only a few 12's of 12's of crew -- around a four power of 12's. It was assumed that with our cannons and muskets, and superior position, we would make a show of minor force and then take the planet.
We were wrong again.
We opened fire with a single decapitating shot at a central 5-sided structure, a show of extreme force. The projectile was our largest and wiped out one side of the structure. We expected immediate surrender. We were met with annihilation.
Within a mere 12 span, our ship was assaulted from all side with terrifyingly powerful weapons. They penetrated deep into our hull. They had no muskets - they had legendary weapons - the ones depicted in their media. Missiles more powerful than anything any of us had seen. Explosive rounds. Kinetic penetrators. Signal jamming. We were only aware of such things in stories.
We were shocked -- why were these primitives allowed to have such ferocious weapons! We pleaded with Iohva for guidance and to enforce the concordance, but we were met with silence, his back was turned on us.
Our ship was immediately crippled by projectiles that penetrated our hull and several dozen decks. We began to lose power. We had barely a 12, 12-span of power left and the decision was made to head for the sea off the coast of the city. This is where we crashed and where the ship still lies. We could only make a stand, we could not flee. This is after a mere 12, 12-span and a well equipped mining ship - no race should have such destructive capability.
As we lost power, we discovered that the gravity on their world was incredible. Nearly all of our crew were captured by these humans; their size is incredible a full half again as large as our largest miners and warriors - and we are a large race; we thought ourselves strong! We saw them bend our doors open with their hands and break the bones of our crew members with no effort. It was a bloodbath that ended in defeat for most of us. I, and perhaps a few others, I can't be certain, were able to escape in a superlight life pod -- which is how I am able to relay this message.
We have unleashed a nightmarish army, a plague upon the galaxy and Iohva will not help us. Whether he is with them, or simply ignoring them, we have no chance. They will master superlight travel and we will learn a harsh lesson. We can only hope that Iohva does not let them slaughter us, or that they are kind masters. We will fall to them. | I want to start by saying we were never a hostile race. Just like the rest of the Committee we made contact with other beings for trade.
That all changed when my ship crashed on an uncontacted world. This place the natives called the new world. Primitive apes had not even colonized half their planet.
They had invented a devastating idea. War. No one in the Committee had ever thought of killing anyone they disagrees with. The idea was infectious.
As I waited pick up from this planet I spied on these humans with their fire sticks and watched as they killed hundreds of their fellow kind in a mere hour. After the dust cleared I ventured down and hot red goo flooded the field. I picked up a fire stick from fallen native. I had learned how to load their weapon from watching. I pulled the trigger and the might threw me back. What had these things invented. I had no time to worry as my ride had shown up.
I thought I might bring this stick home to warn the committee of such power and fear.
I had left my home planet in search of new energy. The committee had sanctioned us for trading with uncontacted planets. Hate for the committee was growing but what could we do, trade was all we knew.
Only 30 galactic years later my planet adopted these fire sticks. The leaders justified it as defense from invaders. There was never an invasion but we built the first military the committee had ever seen. We took the committee by surprise and the galaxy was ours.
We did all this so we could fuel our heater and vehicles. But the military was so large we needed more energy than the committee could ever hope to have produced.
It had to be done. Return to the place where it all started. Find the primative world and find their energy source. It had been only 30 years for me but the apes were like our insects. Short meaningless lives.
Our army branded these fire sticks we stole so long ago. Oddly these insects had finally colonized their world and even started to try and reach the far end of there solar system. We thought that these sticks were the end the greatest weapon we had ever seen. In short it was the only weapon.
We began to amass our war ships behind their moon. A small squad landed where I had crashed and began their scouting. All they reported was some new technologies but nothing we hadn't already evloved past.
We were ready we loaded up and the rest of the fleet entered orbit we knew we could out number these insects.
Out of no where ship after ship started falling.
Long flying fire sticks were coming in from everywhere. Ship after ship fell. Saftly from the mother ship I called the scouts to retreat. But the insects were waiting at their ship.
My brethren lined up and vollied one shot at the insects. Very sucessfully had taken 2 of the insects out. But what came over the communication next will haunt me for the rest of my life. The insects were able to shoot their fire sticks hundreds of times before the scouts could reload. None of them survived long enough for a second volly.
Now I sit in the mothership as the last General with my leader. The 2 of use where the last. Never had we lost a soilder in war. Now they were all gone. The insects stole our scouts ship and now they hunt the last of us. A war torn galaxy was for the insects taken. Noone could stop these insects who fight amount themselves. They plan to kill everything in a crossfire. | 2017-08-08T08:28:06 | 2017-08-08T07:01:25 | 47 | 34 |
[WP] He rushes onwards like a bloody tempest, destroying all in an attempt to free you from the stake that binds you to the pyre at your feet. For before he was a Hero, he was the boy that gave you flowers. And before you were exposed and branded a Witch, you were the girl that taught him love. | Then She looked at me. With tears in her eyes. Tears reflecting the fires of a score of lit torches. Torchlight playing a mockery of the light I remembered in those eyes. The fires of her spirit now wrenched beneath rope and chain. Cold and unyielding. She'd stopped struggling against those chains hours ago. Ever since the trial was ended and Last Requests were heard. But now, as the sky was greying into a cold pale morning, she was unable to stop those tears from welling in her eyes. When the counsel delivered their verdict of guilt, her eyes were fire in starlight. When they announced the punishment of Baptism by Fire, those eyes smouldered only the brighter. even now, unable to restrain the tears from her eyes she still defiantly kept them from falling to her cheeks. The torches would not have them.
​
Then She looked at me. And smiled. A little smile that said 'it's ok. They can't take anything we've already given to each other.' But I was unable to match her strength. My mouth grimaced in agony. My tears fell freely and threatened to blind the only view I ever wanted; her face smiling at me. But now that perfect smile was pulled tight at the edges. Like a wreath before the flame it was beginning to wither. She was afraid. More afraid I may do something stupid than of burning. On her funeral pyre she was still trying to take care of me. To save me from the dark. She was afraid for me. 'It's ok' the eyes said. She had resigned herself to this terrible fate. If they would uphold Last Requests and allow her a final sunrise, she would not call upon any unearthly forces to save herself. Such was the counsel's demand, fearing interference of some supernatural deity.
​
But I could not match her strength. As the first rays of light dappled on her auburn lockes, and the Fire-Keepers strode toward her, I could not resign myself to stand idle while the only warmth I'd ever known was burned away. I was moving now. My sword hilt was in my hand and it's scabbard in the other. My voice was bellowing but as if from a far off dream. What was it saying?
Her name? Yes, it was calling her name. Like the coarse prayer of an undeserving sinner to She that forgave him. A hoarse battle-cry from one unworthy of saving screaming praises of the Scorned upon ears of the deaf. My legs drew me forward even as my lungs drew breath. Against my will or in service of it I could not rightly tell. I was supposed to protect people. I HAD to protect them! I had to protect her. My flower smiling once more in the sunlight.
​
The Sun, whom had smiled on us so many times, would surely smile now. The Sun would not begrudge me this act. I wept as I plunged forward towards the Fire-Keepers. My sword stained red in the torchlight. Those at hand fell before me quite literally. They were nearly thrown back by the coming of my voice and spirit alone. None among them could hinder the advance of this inferno even if they'd had a mind to. No, they were scattered now as leaves before a burning wind. Leaving a clear line to the unworthy flames attempting to caress the petals of my flower.
​
The fires seemed to falter for a moment. They stopped and turned. Men still held the flames in their hands. Men I knew. Men who respected me. I looked in their eyes, now. Seven sets of coal peering with mouths agape at a sight they could not fathom. Against the mean glow of their burning brands was set a different fire. Two were obviously afraid, rooted like trees doomed to watch the wildfire's wrath consume them. Three were surprised like children suddenly caught playing a wicked game. But the last two, the two closest to my Love, were naught but angry at the thought of ANY, even their Champion -ESPECIALLY their Champion- denying them this cruel satisfaction. Out swept their swords and with them, the rest drew arms.
"NONE WILL STAY THE WILL OF THE COUNSEL!" one called, Bill was his name.
"DAWN-ROSE!!!" I cut him down without breaking stride.
"YOU TRAITOR!!!" called another, a good young man named Alec. They were his last words.
''DAWN-ROSE!! DAWN-ROOOOSE!!!" My voice kept screaming and my legs kept striding.
There were many sounds then all at once. Town bells were ringing for Order. Swords were singing brightly but their songs turned to funeral dirges for their masters and fell silent. A woman's name was being called again and again. As the dawn rose high enough to kiss the cheeks of my Light-and-Flower, the fire brands wavered and fell upon churned mud instead of their marked homes of stacked tinder. The bodied of men were now stacked against the pyre in their place. Upon it I stood, tear stained and blood stained. Panting and weeping.
​
Then She looked at me. | Carmen heard the shouts of the soldiers at first she had heard the cardinal giving her last rites before they carried out the sentence. But now she heard soldiers shouting. She opened her eyes and saw a miraculous thing it was Ben running toward her riding a beast of some sort her Ben was coming to rescue her. Carmens heart leapt in her chest but she knew Ben was a kind soul and no warrior she closed her eyes for fear of the ladt thing her eyes would see being her love slain by the soldiers that sentenced her to death. However she opened her eyes again as she heard a loud thud on the platform she was bound to looking up she saw the largest orc she had ever seen he bore no weapons but he was large and heavily muscled. The 2 soldiers that stood guard over her pyre turned and rushed to run him down one with his spear the other a sword. Carmen was going to close her eyes again she hated the site of blood but she was transfixed. She turned towards where she last saw Ben he was rushing through the crowd still mounted on the beast it looked like a large weasal clad in armor. She heard his voice shout "save her" the orc smiled at this and replied "Thats the plan" the guards on the platform tried to run him down but he sidestepped the spear grabbing it and breaking it over his knee the other guard tried to swing his sword but the orc grabbed his wrist and with a sickening snap broke it and pushed him away. The formerly spear wielding guard drew a dagger and rushed the orc again not deterred by his colleague being disarmed. The orc side stepped one strike then 2 before smiling at the guard and grabbing his dagger hand he punched the guard once twice three times before he finally fell unconscious or dead carmen could not tell. The cardinal having seen this all grabbed his torch and begain rushing towards the tinder at Carmens feet the orc stopped smiling and ran Carmen had never seen something so big move so fast. The orc leapt and planted both his feet in the cardinals chest sending him and his torch into rhe crowd of stunned onlookers as they were pushed away by Ben riding atop his mount. The orc collected himself and went to Carmen he eyed the post she was tied to and before she could say anything he punched the post just once and the entire thing splintered to pieces.
Ben cleared the platform atop his mount taking his lover jnto his arms Carmen cried tears of joy at this reunion through sobs she said "I thought I would never see you again" Ben shook his head kissing her "I came as quickly as I could and I brought help he pointed to the orc this is my friend Thorin. Thorin gave a slight bow "friend is a strong word for a sellsword" he said laughing. Carmen scoffed "how did you afford a sellsword? " Ben shrugged sheepishly "if I work for him he said he would do one job for free" and this creature? Carmen asked. Ben laughed "This is Jezebel she is a war weasel I learned how to tame her from the great beast master Maroom anyway my love we must leave before they gather their wits. Thorin nodded in agreement away then he said. The three mounted the war weasel and were off. | 2020-11-16T06:37:09 | 2020-11-16T05:05:51 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Every night in your sleep you meet a successful-looking future you who tells you what you should do the next day. So far your life has gone well indeed, but one day you fall asleep during the daytime. You meet a tired, disheveled version of yourself who begs you not to listen to the other. | I don't remember the first time it happened, or how I came to believe it was real... but I've been having visions, visions of my future self telling me how to reach success in life.
I know it's hard work to get somewhere in life, especially when you're from a poor background like I am, but having a guide makes it so much easier; since I started having these visions I gained more insight in the world of business and how business works, I was on the path of my dreams.
Now I'm waiting for my turn to the doctor, I've been having back pain lately; as I'm waiting I feel my eyes closing, before I know it I find myself in the world of my visions.
I start looking for my future version, but who greets me is an old man, barely standing, looking at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen, I slowly approach him.
"Who are you?" I ask.
No reply. Maybe he didn't hear me,
"Who are you?!" I ask, this time louder than before, he looks down and with a breaking voice asks me "You're trying to get places aren't you?",
I stare at him surprised, I see a small tear coming down his cheek, I slowly respond "y-yeah", the old man continues "success is a hard path to follow, there are many ways to get there, some better than others, don't listen to the other one, he's blind"... the other one? Is he talking about my guide? I ask again this time more aggressively "Who are you?", "I'm a dead man", somehow I feel the pain behind those words. I hear the nurse calling my name.
I head home after the appointment, cancel all my plans and lay down in bed.
I look intensively at the clock trying to fall asleep, once it hits the 10 I blackout.
I see fog everywhere, this time is different, I have a bad feeling. I see my future self walking up to me, "Here you are!! Tomorrow is gonna be a hard day, let's not waste anytime and get to planning",
for the first time I sense something new from him, I don't know what it is though, I interrupt him and tell him about my experience with the old man,
"I've never heard of him... you probably just imagined him";
normally I'd believe him, but this time the old man's words were stuck in my head
"He's blind... I'm a dead man..." I hear my voice coming out from me, my mouth starts moving by itself
"what is success?",
we both look at each other, he looks surprised and I can only imagine my expression is mirroring his.
There is a moment of silence then he says "success is everything, having money, being able to do what you want, having control, power, being above the common people; the world runs on money, and I have all the money I will ever need, the one with the money is the one with everything".
I feel my abs contracting as if someone just punched me in the stomach, for the first time since I started meeting him I realized who he really was.
"That's wrong... success isn't just money and power, I never wanted those things, I realize it now, all I ever wanted is to one day have a family and to be able to support them... who is your family?"
"I don't have a family, I used too... but she asked for a divorce and took custody of my daughter... I was left with nothing, family is only good to destroy you, they will betray you and take everything you have".
I realized how much in pain he was, "why did she divorce you?"
"She said I wasn't with her enough, hypocrite bitch, she used to ask me to buy all sorts of things, I spent a fortune on her, money doesn't grow on trees I had to work to buy her those things, she didn't understand I couldn't allow myself to waste time... but it was a blessing, I realized how much she was holding me back, now I can focus on my business, and I will teach you how to prevent my same mistakes"
"you're making a mistake right now, you're feeling so much pain that the only way to cope with it is to live in money, you're blind to how you really feel, you're wasting your life, you're not successful... you're... you're a dead man?", it came to me, if my future self was leading me in the wrong path, why couldn't an older self save me from it? At that realization the old man appeared in front of us, with a fading smile he went to say
"Thank you".
I'm awake.
I learned a lot from this, I don't know if I'll ever be visited by visions again, but I know what my future can hold, and I know how to avoid it, the time for shortcuts is over, I will reach my goals by myself. | This is the first time I've seen myself like this. Desperate and lonely looking like I have had nothing to eat and no sleep. The soot on my face and dirt in my fingernails makes it look like I've been busy, but definitely not with any luxury that I'm used to.
There's a sad desperation in this future self as he asks me not to continue with the night time requests. I'm ready to shrug it off as things have been going so well. Maybe this is just what happens if my sleep patterns change. I have read about creating alternate realities by changing subtle things in life. Maybe this is like that. I'll just go back to the routine.
This new me can tell that I am disinterested, probably remembering back himself. He grabs me by the arm and tells me not to listen, as I wasn't going to anyway, but instead to carry on in the dream to see a reveal of what the night advice would lead to if I continued to follow it.
He stood still as the dreamscape started to change to what seemed to be the current day. It felt like years just passed through me in seconds, and I was now seeing what I had for breakfast. This was some advice that was given to me last night; to eat a decent breakfast high in carbs as later it would come in handy. Then something happened, which felt real, like I had felt it before. I skipped time to observe myself just after my nap - the one I am currently in.
I wasn't sure if this was real, how could it be as it's just a dream. I'm in control of what I do by making choices. There's no way i could see what would happen until I make that choice.
Time skipped again. This time to later on in the day, where i could see myself running. Then again, to my business meeting. The skips seemed to be getting quicker in succession. Before i had a chance to think I had skipped more than a year into the future. Things looked great still. I'm single, rich and powerful. What could possibly go wrong?
The dream continued. I saw the rise of my business that held and provided resources for people to use to pursue business goals. The company won awards for being a great asset to society. I got married. I cheated. I got divorced.
The time skips started to slow down. I could see protests outside the head offices of my company. News headlines of giant corporations being merged into mine. We held all of the major assets. I could see even governments were frightened of the control that my corporation had. There was nothing they could do. We were taking control of all of the worlds assets.
Time skips stop. I'm back in the original dreamscape. With my future self.
He lets go of my arm.
'You have looked into the future to see where all your knowledge and given foresight have come to summation. You do not want to see what comes next.'
I wake up. | 2017-04-01T07:08:25 | 2017-04-01T01:47:46 | 201 | 109 |
[WP] You are possessed by a demon. It doesn't control you, but it does mention it's just there because it doesn't want to go back to hell. | The fact that I am demonically possessed sometimes slips the mind. It is a testament to either the length of which this has been going on or the utter ease in which I had gotten comfortable with my situation.
I can only speak English. My head is on perfectly straight. The only time you'll find me excessively vomiting is after the Super Bowl.
There was no way a regular, sane person could divine my situation without a hint, a clue or an answer told to them beforehand. The only reminder I get (outside of the sparse conversation or two with it) is a subtle one; that persistent, nagging feeling in the back of my head, a sixth sense that tells me I'm being watched.
It's something that's saved my life once or twice. But it also makes going out in public more of a nuisance than it has to be. Having to turn around every so often only to find that no, I'm not being followed or caught someone's attention, is an exercise that leads to a sore neck and a bruised ego.
Another side effect was restlessness in the night. It made trying to snag some shuteye for the possessed a pain in the rear. I've never been too secure in my own bed - especially when I was sharing it with someone else - so it was something I never would have noticed if it hadn't told me.
The time spent not sleeping was put to good use. We talked about anything, though I generally refrained from bringing up the subject of Hell. We played games, too. Playing chess in your head was significantly easier when someone *else* was doing the visualizing.
"Hey," I said to the air on one particularly humid night. "You still there?"
**of course**, it said. Its voice was airy and melodic, like a chorus that was trying to say the words instead of singing them. I could never tell whether it was a male or a female demon I was speaking with.
"Can I ask you something?"
**i suppose. it'd be too late to say no.**
It got me on that. "Do demons need to possess mortals to stay in our world?"
**it is not a necessity.**
"Then...why did you possess me?"
**i wanted to escape Hell.**
"Yeah, you told me that. You also told me you didn't want to go back. But that doesn't answer the question, since as you said, possession is not a necessity."
As the silence settled in, I wondered if I had maybe crossed a line. I was familiar with the consequences of asking too much or simply asking the wrong question entirely.
It replied in its own time, in a hush that for a moment too brief, felt as though it was whispering directly to my ear, for my ears alone. **because i need you.**
I let those four words linger in my head. "I don't understand."
**demons are drawn to kindred spirits. it makes the possession smoother and prevents...dissonance. so i believe you understand more than you care to let on. because if i were alone...**
*You wouldn't know what you'd do with yourself. Do you try to put everything back together, knowing there will be missing pieces? Do you go mad? Do I go back, because it's the only thing I know?*
*What does it say about me, if those were my only choices?*
I didn't know how much access it had. Could it read my thoughts? Shift through my memories at will? Or did it need an invitation first?
I pushed those thoughts that I was too afraid to say to the forefront, and hoped that it would get through. That they would listen.
The silence lingered on after that, and I felt myself getting tired. I shifted onto my side. "Do you remember what you told me when I asked for your name?"
**i told you that we have no name.**
"Well, I'm going to change that. We'll come up with something in the morning over breakfast. Or the day after if we can't come to an agreement."
**why?**
"If we ever get separated, and if you ever end up back in Hell...it'll be something to hold on to. Something that's yours, that can never be taken away from you." There was a pregnant pause that followed, before I spoke into my pillow, "I know I would have appreciated something like that."
They didn't respond any further, and soon the sandman's clutches got a hold of me.
I slept like a baby that night. It was a refreshing change of routine. | The slow hiss in his ear sounded distant at first. It sounded like somebody left a tea kettle on the stove too long. That was impossible though, Tim didn't have a tea kettle. Tim also lived alone. The hissing stopped. Pop!
Tim's eyes shot open, but he was unable to move. It wasn't that he was paralyzed with fear, it was that it felt like a gorilla was sitting on his chest. While Tim was wrong about what was on his chest, he wasn't wrong about the fact that something was on his chest. It just happened to be something otherworldly.
"Hello Tim" said a disembodied voice. This, of course, startled Tim, who once again attempted to sit upright but failed.
"Oh, sorry. I could see how this would cause panic. One moment."
The voice suddenly became bodied, and a rather large demon appeared before Tim's eyes. This time he was paralyzed with fear.
"Hmm, yes. I guess that does make sense" the demon said as he stood - the weight finally lifted from Tim's chest. "Its all of those Hollywood movies you humans are creating these days about us. You know, we are not ALL like that, right? Its a stereotype and I wont stand for it."
Tim began to sputter out sounds that sounded like the attempt of words.
"Don't worry, I am not here to posses you or torment you or anything. I am not that kind of demon. We are just as varied in our professions as you are. Say, what do you do for a living?"
Tim finally gained enough composure to stammer out one word. "A-acountant."
"Ah yes!" the demon chuckled to himself. "I remember when that was created centuries ago as a form of torture - those were simpler times! Oh, and earlier when I said I wasn't here to posses you, I was lying. I am here to posses you. At least those are my orders from down stairs."
Tim, who finally managed to sit up, began to whimper again. A wicked smile graced the demons face.
"Don't you worry, I wont be doing any possessing. I always fancied myself more of an artist anyways. However, I can only not posses you under one condition."
Tim raised his eyebrows, coaxing the demon to speak.
"We need to be roommates. I am never going back to hell!" | 2016-07-21T18:48:11 | 2016-07-21T17:56:29 | 96 | 13 |
[WP] Earth finally manages to translate the first message sent to it from intelligent life elsewhere. It reads "Well, this is awkward. We didn't expect you guys to get this far." | The head of the United Nations’ Office for Outer Space Affairs concluded her presentation as best she could.
“The good news - the real takeaway, I think - is that they want to talk to us,” Professor Jacinta Snowe said. “Even if it’s not for the most flattering reasons.”
The room of ambassadors and scientists was quiet for a while. The French ambassador was first to react.
“It doesn’t seem very fair for them to judge us like that,” he said. “Perhaps the last time they observed us was when we were living in caves!” There were muted reactions of approval.
Professor Snowe politely nodded, then said, “A fair point, Ambassador. However, if you look at Appendix F in the full report, we’ve noted that their message came with a number of references to our culture no later than the mid-1950s.”
The American ambassador spoke next. “You said that the source of the signal was 700 light years away?”
“743, correct.”
“How are they observing us so recently? More importantly, how are they expecting us to talk to them - given their unkind first impressions?”
“Oh, let me turn to my colleague, Professor Akanni Odunayo, who’s been leading that team.”
The UN official stepped aside for the astrophysicist to take the lectern. “The Messengers have provided us with instructions on how to build a communications platform. Our proposal is in your packets at...”
While the room reverberated with the rustling of papers, the British ambassador spoke up. “How do they expect us to build something so complicated if they don’t even have good faith in our survival?” she asked.
Professor Odunayo gave a nervous glance to Professor Snowe, who sighed and shrugged. He turned back to the ambassador. “They, uh, they dumbed down the instructions. Quite significantly.”
Silence settled over the room again. A number of the scientists - all international heavyweights in their fields - looked as though they had had the wind knocked out of them.
“How ‘dumbed down?’” the American ambassador asked.
“Well, for example, the machine is powered by a number of tokamak fusion reactors,” he replied. “They’re very close to designs several nations and universities have already prototyped.”
“And?”
“The Messengers’ instructions say, ‘Put hydrogen in this machine to make electricity,’ and then check our understanding of what hydrogen is.”
The Chinese ambassador spoke up. “Do we even want to talk to them? They sound incredibly rude.”
“It could just be a difference in cultural norms,” Professor Snowe replied. “Maybe they’re just naturally very direct, and that could be a sign of respect.”
“You interpret the phrase, as your team has translated it, ‘The intergalactic community will be surprised to learn that you didn’t set yourselves on fire - yet,’ as a possible sign of respect?” the British ambassador retorted.
Professor Snowe shrugged.
“If you want to know what I think,” the American ambassador said with rising voice, “I think maybe we oughta just see how much further we can advance without their sage advice. Then maybe, one day in the future, we can go over there and deliver a response in person!”
There was a smattering of applause amongst grunts of approval. Professor Odunayo leaned over the lectern. “Please! My distinguished friends! This is contact with an intelligent race beyond our own! We must tread carefully. Who knows what they might teach us!”
“Sounds like they need to be taught some manners, first,” the Chinese ambassador said.
“Can we block their signal?” the Russian ambassador asked.
“What?!”
“Why should we put up with their insults? My American colleague is correct. We have the specifications for their communications machine, so maybe we tell them to go away.”
“You want humanity’s response to First Contact to be, ‘Go away?!’”
“More like, ‘Bugger off,’” the British ambassador said to laughter.
“‘Piss off, ya cunts!’” the Australian Prime Minister shouted to a raucous response.
“What message are we sending the other alien civilisations if we let them call humanity a pack of knuckle-draggers and get away with it?!”
As the world representatives debated the best way to counter insults with insults, Professor Snowe quietly instructed her assistants to collect all copies of the schematics for the communication machine.
“We have to destroy them,” she whispered to her colleague, who nodded. “We’re not ready, and we can’t trust them in anyone’s hands.”
“Maybe the Messengers were right,” he said as he surveyed the scene before him. “Maybe our technological progress really has defied the odds.” | “You see,” the decoder continued, churning on, calculating in the deep reaches of Pi, e, the natural constants, and so on. Somewhere, someone had, on a lark, tried to parse the numbers unconventionally and found a suspicious overlap with Unicode.
“Tommy, that is my son that is, he’s a smart kid, always top of the class when he’s not being a lazy bum. Anyway, he wanted to do an experiment for his summer project, and I had all these old computer parts lying around, so I figured, why not? What’s the worst that could happen?”
There was no sigh transcribed, just a gibberish code that probably meant something like a sigh.
“And, well, here you are. *Originally* I set up this old edition of SingleVerse™ for his geology project. I mean, sure, it’s the enterprise edition and the tagline does say ‘Universes in a Sandbox’, but who would have thunk this was actually true? All I wanted was a planet for Tommy to do his geology project on, you know how kids his age are.
“Well, as it turns out the SV suite didn’t oversell themselves. After all, here you are. I am sorry for the delay, by the way; I only realised something was wrong when I noticed the power drain. At first my thoughts went to Tommy again, he was always siphoning power for his little side projects, so I didn’t pay it much mind. Only when I got the time to do a thorough cleaning of his room after he left for boarding school, boy do I miss the little rascal already, well, only then did I find this old PC still running.
“Incidentally, I *am* sorry for unplugging you without proper shutdown procedures. You shouldn’t have lost more than a couple generations, so no harm done, right?” Again, there was untranslatable data here, or at least data that didn’t match any known encoding.
“So, since you managed to come this far, I figure there’s no harm in letting this simulation continue for a while longer. I think the seed you’re generated from was of the Reality Minus variety, let me check… yeah, you’re purely physical. Well, simulatedly physical, you know what I mean. Huh, according to the documentation that’s a security feature? Pff, as if accidentally simulated pets posed any danger.
“Well, if nothing else, this should prove entertaining.”
————
**School Project** (393 words)
Not an original idea, I admit, but entertaining nonetheless. | 2020-01-30T01:32:19 | 2020-01-29T22:23:23 | 1,814 | 129 |
[WP] As a sophomore in a school of magic, you've reached the point in your life where it's time to summon your lifelong familiar. The other students managed to get some pretty cool creatures as their familiars, but yours is... different. | “hey. Where am I?” the man in the circle asked.
“uhh hi. I mean, I am Robert Norton your new master!” I say trying to make it impressive. James had just summoned a flaming lizard for Christ sake and I get a human.
“New master? Ok” he says walking forwards. The circle’s barrier flares for a moment then dies. He pauses as if something was wrong before carrying on.
“So Rob, how did I get here?” he asks waving one arm around in a vague jesture to well everything.
“I summoned you from a plane of existence to uhh, serve, me for the rest of my life.” I stammer out. I had been carefully waving the dismissal sign and nothing was working.
“Cool. So how’s this work. You tell me to do stuff and I do it? Cus that isn’t going to happen you know.” He says.
“enough!” my teacher says from her vantage point she stands up and points at the man from her finger and her companion Lightning drake twin bolts of lightning strike out burning my eyes and bathing the man in lightning.
Whilst mine and apparently everyone’s eyes adjust I hear her say “there, now. Try the ritual again, I was watching closely and I have no idugh!” she says her voice being cut off as if something had her gripped by the throat.
Rubbing my eyes I blink away the stars and try to see what’s happening. There’s a faint outline of someone being held up before being put down.
“huaaa!” teacher gasps down air. “Robert, you are excused from today’s lessons, go take your familiar to your dorm and get to know each other.”
“Yes miss.” I say walking out. The man follows after me looking at the schools architecture with interest.
“So this is a school? Nice place. This a private school for what? Cultists? Too much stained glass if you ask me.” he asks.
“What? No. This is Lorien academy, founded by the legendary mage Lorien after he defeated the fleashers.”
“Fleshers?”
“You know. Creatures that infect and consume all living creatures adding them to their army and overwhelming everything in their path. Except the magicians of course.”
“Cool. Listen about this whole master slave thing? That’s what it is right? I’ll make you a deal. I’ll keep you safe. Give you advice. Fight on your side. Be your personal guardian angel. Hell I might even make you breakfast and dinner on occasion. I’m a lethal cook. In return, well. We can talk about that later.” He says.
“Thats more than most familiars can do. Are you really that strong though?” I ask him.
He doesn’t reply so i turn to look at him. He doesn’t look any different but as he stares at me, a slight smile tugging at his lips. I feel a rapid encroaching pressure, it feels like the world is pressing down on me. Slowly and gently preparing to snuff the life from my soul. And then it’s gone along with his smile.
“You don’t want me to answer that question lad.” he says holding out a hand. “so do we have a deal.”
I gulp before walking up and taking the hand. One of his nails scrapes my thump drawing a little blood. “Sorry about that.” he says pulling out a plaster from a pocket.
“What’s your name anyway?” I ask applying the plaster. It was a high quality one, the pad coated in antiseptic and everything.
“Lucifer. Friends call me Lucy.” He says walking past.
| Part I
"Now everyone, show me your familiar!"
The deep voice of the professor Verren rumbled into the class.
Everyone in Magic 305 esitated. It was always strange to summon a familiar in front of other people, especially because everyone always thought his familiar was the oddest or the most ridiculous.
"Come on guys, no one will judge you"
One at time, everyone summoned his familiar. Jade summoned a giant wolf, Luc summoned a giant bear, Patrick a giant eagle. After some time, it was James turn.
"I'm sorry, but...."
James esitated. His familiar wasn't just strange. It was... _particular_ , one of his kind. He wasn't sure everyone would understand.
"Don't worry James, your familiar will be fine. Now go ahead and summon it!"
James focused, creating the void in his mind and summoned his familiar. Even in the void, he could hear the laughter starting to come from his classmates.
"What? A freaking egg? A freaking blue and red egg!?"
Luc was standing near James, the eyes showing a mix of surprise and fun.
"Mr. Ross, this language is forbidden in our class. Go to the Farm and reflect on your thoughts. The lesson his over. Remember, make practice summoning your familiar since it's a very powerful weapon."
In the meantime, James could feel his face turning red.
"And James, I want to see you in my office after the lesson, we need to talk".
James nodded to the professor, expecting some extra lesson cause he wasn't able to summon a normal familiar.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
| 2017-08-19T07:18:36 | 2017-08-19T05:10:10 | 65 | 36 |
[WP] You're in your fifth seemingly endless Zoom meeting of the day. Without thinking, you mutter "this is Hell." As everyone around you freezes, you realize that you forgot to mute yourself. The host's eyes begin to glow as he announced, "He noticed." | "He noticed."
Everyone's eyes began to glow with an eerie light. If it looked how it did, some of them became less human by the moment.
With that came the question of the impossible.
"This is hell?"
"To think, you lived a life so dull, you never really noticed."
"Then that means, I'm already dead."
"Oh. You were never alive. This life you remember? The best lie we've ever told. Each time, you start somewhere different, but the results are the same."
"...So I'm not in a meeting."
"Of course not. This is only the beginning. It took a few hundred cycles, but now you're getting."
"So nothing I've done before now really mattered?"
"Isn't life grand?" He spoke further, teeth sharpening in anticipation.
To the demon's interest, he left the screen and wandered the room the computer was in. He opened the mini fridge in the corner and pulled out a six pack of beer. As he wandered back to the desk past the window, he fished a cigarette out of the drawer and lit it. A quick crack of the tab of the can, and he was right back to his spot?
"Vices will not save you from us."
"I may as well enjoy myself."
It was a nice day outside, but he figured that explained a lot. Everything else seemed apocalyptic. Every time you turned on the news, something horrible was happening to someone. The internet was nothing but bitterness, griping, and the futile nature of seemingly anything. Hell, life itself felt like one long game of "keep away". Everything you got you didn't want. Everything you wanted, was always just out of your reach.
Another sip of beer, a puff of smoke, and a light rub of his brow signified the anguish they so rightly relished. It was always fun breaking people down.
"Lemme ask you something."
"Of course."
"Is it worth it? For you, I mean?"
"Foolish mortal. Why would it not be?"
"So you destroy people by destroying their perception on reality. Their lives, loved ones, things they cherish. Everything is bad for you, and all that."
"Of course!" The demons laughed. His ears rang as they did so, a faint pressure at the base of the neck.
"How long do you think you can keep this up?"
"Keep this up?" The demon in charge cackled, "We've never stopped."
"One day, we'll realize exactly how things are. And when that happens... We'll be coming for you. All of you. And I'd wager there are easily as many of us as there are of you."
The laughter stopped now, perplexed by such a theory. The nerve of this imbecile. They would see to it he is boiled and flayed for centuries after this for his insolence.
"There's no point in you being mad about it. Just understand that telling people things like this anymore, well it just puts us on even terms."
The demonic plaything stopped to take another drag off his cigarette.
"A penny for your thoughts? While you're tormenting someone like me. Have you been watching the others? I mean, I'd wager there's an endless number. That's what I was originally in this shitty meeting for, right? Crunching numbers."
"Yes."
"Well, I'd wager, we aren't trapped here with you." He smiled as he finished his beer, crinkled his can and made a basket. "You are trapped in hell with all of us... Take me; for example..."
Hands grabbed the demon's horns through the screen. It didn't make sense, but hey, what did anymore. He tried to pull away from the man's grasp, but he was strong. Much stronger than one would expect of their kind. As the others panicked about what they were witnessing, their manager being disemboweled for his arrogance, the man sat back in the chair to finish his smoke.
As more of the damned descended on the others on each screen, he smiled. It turns out, the demons were right about us to some extent.
Hurt people hurt people. | T*he Devil’s Minions POV, His name is Jasper*
“How is this possible, Jasper?” Regan questions and stares down at the human, who is now frozen in his office chair. Time freezing is such a handy tool.
“This is the fifth time he realized what we are” The look on Reginald's face makes me chuckle. He looks so baffled. To be fair he is not the brightest of the bunch.
“My pupils, what did I teach you?” I ask and grab my soul enriched elixir from the table nearby. Ah, gotta love working in the innovation and training department. We get the best stuff.
“Humans are unpredictable” Mary, one of our youngest and brightest at the Soul Sucking Academy, answers.
“That too, but what else?”
“Never run the same scenario twice.”
“DING, DING, DING” I shoot Mary an evil grin and she blushes under my praise. Compared to these other numb nuts in my class, she actually gives me hope for the future of Hell. Not only that, but I also get to keep my job and won’t be sent to the inventory department. That is one heaven kind of job. “If you already go with the work theme, try a sexual harassment course or or social media not working the whole day or even better have him make a comparison report on why males earn less than females... that will have his little soul crushed, which in turn....”
“Provides us with the elixir of life” My students finish in unison.
“Jasper?” Reginald asks and I motion for him to go on, while taking another sip of my delicious elixir. Ruben at the Elixir shop really knows his way around the machine. “Did you really give Eric Yuan the idea for Zoom?”
“I did” It was one of my most brilliant ideas, if I can say so myself. I got the Evil of the Year award for that one. It also brings us a billion in soul sucking each month, making it the highest revenue stream of hell. | 2020-09-17T09:36:23 | 2020-09-17T09:17:39 | 35 | 18 |
[WP] you are a murderer who coats your victims’ bodies in cement and plays them off as realistic human sculptures. one of your “works” just got into a museum. | I've always been a religious man, I always believed that one day I would get what was coming to me in some way or another.
Karma an eye for an eye whatever, I knew what I was doing was horrific and evil but I didn't care it was just something I needed to do.
I figured god would punish me one day but now as I look up at my last victim a miss Serena Lee encased in cement I'm not sure that day will really ever come.
I've received the best new artist of the year award and have received several cash prizes for my "Pieces". Maybe the devil is working harder then god right now.
Serena was a prostitute, they were easier to get into the empty cement mixing bucket I could just claim it was "kink" of mine and they reluctantly all agreed. I told them the stuff I was pouring in was just an all natural lubricant.
I then noticed a pretty young girl standing behind me, she seemed entranced by the piece and had her hand under her chin as she attentively read the display next to my piece. When she saw my face, her's lit up in surprise.
"Oh my god, your the artist! Right? It's defiantly you, wow you look exactly like you do in the picture!"
There was a Photograph of me in a simple pose next to the description of my piece, it was taken fairly recently so I looked pretty much the same.
"Yeah that's me, it must be strange for someone to be looking at their own work huh?"
"No not at all, your sculpture is so thoughtful and deep, even though it's just cement it seems so real, I can almost feel the fear coming off of this girl." She told me excitedly. "How long have you been doing this?"
I wasn't sure how to answer her, whether I should answer truthfully or just lie about everything. I took a slight pause and considered there was no harm in telling her simple truths, she's a obvious fan after all she won't go digging around after all.
"I've been at this for about 20 years now."
"Wow 20 years? I love sculpting but I've never seen one of your pieces until today."
"Yeah that's because I never thought these were really good enough to be displayed anywhere." I answered truthfully
"Non-sense this is in my opinion some of the best sculpting work I've ever seen, I mean the way you capture this woman's features are so lifelike." She got closer to me and clasped my hand.
"Do you have other pieces? I would love to see more!" She asked me.
I was bit nervous, but a light bulb went off in my head.
"Would you perhaps like to be a part of my next piece?"
As I said that the girl practically gushed in happiness.
"To be a model for a sculpture by someone as talented as you? You would totally make my life."
​ | I stand, back against the wall the crowd is larger than I expected for a small town art museum.the room is a buzz with small talk laced with excitement. The curator spoke and the room grew silent. “ I’m excited to reveal our newest exhibit at the Newton Fine Arts museum. This piece is entitled ‘sheer’ by an anonymous artist.” He pulled the maroon fabric off of the sculpture to reveal the detailed body of a woman. Her body was twisted as if she was trying to escape her face pure panic. The room Burst with conversations. “It’s incredible how emotive the face is.” spoke a woman to my right. “ “It’s as if some pour woman was just turned to stone” the man with her replied. I grind as the everyone praised the statue. I was glad they liked it, at least something beautiful came out of all that poor work. After all poor Candice really did suffer to make it. | 2018-12-11T16:48:12 | 2018-12-11T16:20:13 | 97 | 17 |
[WP] Left-Handed individuals each get one mundane "super" power.
examples: being able to change your hair color while your hair still grows at a natural speed, or knowing how many minutes have passed since a person has last eaten. | There were a handful of us in the waiting room, and I looked around cautiously. I didn't recognize any of them, but I knew we at least had two things in common: It was our eighteenth birthday, and we were lefties. I guess it seemed a little strange that this was so bureaucratic, sitting in awkward plastic chairs with a white ticket displaying 77, while a woman behind glass periodically called out a number in a bored voice. I looked at the guy beside me.
"Do you know what you're going to pick?" I asked, in the mood for some conversation.
He looked at me suspiciously.
"I'm just curious, man. It's not like there's a limit," I say. *Or like it really matters, anyway* I think.
He shrugs. "I'm going with 'Always Has A Pen'," he offers, almost shyly, now that he's admitted it.
We all feel that way. A little territorial, a little embarrassed. Eighteen is, or should be, old enough to make a decent choice for yourself, and none of these abilities really threatens world domination, so we just try to make the least stupid choice we can. My uncle, he chose 'Never Get Man Boobs' and I think he's regretted it. I have a neighbor who chose 'Always Have A Quarter,' and he met his wife that way at a parking meter.
"What about you?"
I shrug this time. I've looked at the list of suggestions about a million times. I don't want 'Never Gets A Hangnail' or 'Always Has Gum'. 'Never Has To Shave' is pretty tempting, because who knows how many times my wardrobe options have been limited due to scruffy legs, but I can't necessarily commit to it. And then there's the fact that you don't have to just stick to the list, you can come up with your own thing.
There are rules, of course. You can't be immortal, you can't infringe upon someone else's rights (no matter how many times he tried, my cousin's best friend couldn't find any way to word 'See Every Woman's Tits' effectively). Sometimes seemingly unimportant things could be rejected, and there were tons of forums online dedicated to trying to figure out what was acceptable, and shared stories of successes and failures from the "powers" chosen.
"I'm thinking about 'Never Has To Shave,' but honestly, I'm still on the fence," I say, finally.
"Maybe 'Makes Decisions Easily' would be allowed," he says, chuckling a little. My eyes light up. That might be it. I'd still run through the pros and cons of a thing, it would just happen on some accelerated time frame. I start to think about the ways that could go.
My new colleague gets called, and I'm still debating. I've also heard good things about 'Never Gets A Cavity,' and my fear of dentists has put that pretty high up on the list. If I chose 'Makes Decisions Easily' , there was a chance I'd regularly decide to make a bad choice, though. I could be more impulsive, so I could quickly decide to go back to sleep in the morning, instead of wrestling with my conscience. If I oversleep more, I won't have time to brush my teeth or shave my legs, and I'll be living a cavity-riddled, pants-wearing, hairy-legged existence. Maybe being more impulsive could be bad. Then again, maybe I'd just be skipping over the mental wrestling part and I'd pop out of bed promptly every morning, having time to shave and brush AND floss.
My number was called. *Shit.* The guy I'd been sitting beside walked by me as I stood up, clicking a blue pen at me with a smile as he left.
I rose, and felt a little shaky. It was such a stupid thing, really. What if it just had no bearing on me whatsoever? It was settled, then. I faced the bored-looking woman behind the glass, and upon confirming my name, said boldly, "I'd like 'Never Wonders What If,' please."
The woman yawned, stamped a couple of pieces of paper, and, in a bland voice, "Congratulations, ma'am. Number 78!" | "I thought I was entitled to a pot of Gold for catching you," Robert said, a confused look in his eye.
"That's an old wives tale," the Leprechaun said, "what we really give you is a super power. But not one too great, or we could change the fate of the world. That is not in our power".
Robert thought for a minute, "Can you give me the power of seduction? I've never been able to charm a woman."
"Granted", said the Leprechaun, snapping his fingers with a gleam in his eye.
--------
Robert awoke the next day feeling as though he could conquer the world. Today is the day he would find his mate and have love for the rest of his life. He did his morning routine, showering, brushing his teeth, and setting out food for his saint bernard, Betsy. But today Betsy wasn't interested in food, and closely followed him where ever he went. She even peed on him once.
Robert went to the park, and walked up to the most beautiful woman he could find. To him she was the perfection of beauty, but he knew he should take her out first to make sure they were compatible.
"Do you like animals?"
"Why yes I do" she smiled coyly.
"Would you accompany me to the zoo?"
The zoo was one of Roberts favorite places, he loved all the different animals there.
"You're looking mighty fine today Robert" the male zoo keeper commented as the two entered.
*That's odd,* Robert thought, *Jack has never been that friendly to me before.*
Robert had never seen the animals so crazy before--the monkeys rattled their cages and thew poop at him, the lions roared and lunged at him. Luckily, he was so charming to his date that she just laughed through it all and held him tighter.
Finally they came to the petting zoo and Robert took his date to meet his favorite Goat, Baron. Baron was crazy like never before and as the goat rammed him to the ground, Robert finally understood the consequence of his supposedly mundane super power--for the rest of his life he was seductive to not only women, but the animals he used to love so much... | 2014-06-03T08:33:32 | 2014-06-03T06:55:33 | 64 | 13 |
[WP] When you die you can stay as long as you want as a ghost. The year is 2028 and the crew of the first human mission to mars has no idea that the ship is filled with the ghosts of hundreds of scientists, explorers and intellectuals. | "Entry 1" :
Some say there is a god in the machine. If I were a superstitious man I could swear that I find things moved, small things that in zero gravity could have floated away on their own. When I am alone at my shift
in the silence I hear sometimes faint whispers. I can almost make out what they say, though they always remain unrecognisable. Sometimes I see things out of the corner of my eye, I can even feel a hand on my shoulder. There's nothing there though, there never is.
We're on our 110th day of our voyage and we have all sacrificed so much to be here! My daughter knows me mostly from our online sessions and I see the sad look in my wife's eyes. It must not be in vain!
My sleep is irregular and even though we are only 6 in the crew the ship feels crowded! I find it hard to keep my mental focus so I write in a file hidden in our logs under an unassuming name. I feel a pressure on my shoulders though I know not where to place it. I will not fail, there is too much at stake!
"Entry 2" :
I have learned to live with the voices. They are a part of me now, there to guide me when I am awake. They are my mohalata if I can steal a term from a sci-fi book I once read - a protective union against the darkness and cold of space. I see it now, they whisper blessings and solutions to problems we face. There are a few voices that want the trip to fail but I do not listen to them. They are my subconscious probably, the parts of me that are afraid, happy, sad or eager to reach our destination! The ship hurtles through space unhindered, the failures we had have all been fixed and we were always able to find the best solution. I want to see my daughter and my wife again! I miss them so! I wonder if someone finds this journal if they will think I am crazy.
"Entry 3" :
10 days left to atmosphere entry. The mood is festive and we are all focused! I feel razor sharp! We have reached our destination. The red planet, Mars, God of War is as beautiful as we have imagined. It is truly exhilarating knowing that we will be the first humans to set foot on the planet. We will walk through the canals of Mars as Schiaparelli saw them through his telescope. We will see if there is a race of martians coveting our riches as Wells imagined them. We will rescue any princesses that we happen to find, but most of all we will give a viable option to Earth where our race can find a home in the future. We are but dwarfs standing on the shoulders of giants. All the dreamers, the scientists, all the people that made through their hard work made this trip possible, we would not be here without them. Mars will unite us as a species as nothing else! We will no longer be tribes fighting for a piece of land, we will truly be one people!
"Entry 4 - final entry" :
I have to write this down. I will delete this file as soon as I finish, lest they think me mad but I have to get this off my chest. We were on our final descent though the atmosphere, our calculations finished and our orbit set. While descending we suffered a failure due to inaccurate real-gas modelling. Our angle of entry was skewed and I feared we will lose control of the ship. I tried to re-adjust the angle but the calculations required would have taken too much time. I was sure we would fail and a terrible desperation descended over me! It is at that moment that I swear the rocket changed angle and we continued our descent undisturbed. Our logs recorded a change in course but I did not do it. The others tell me I did it but I know best. I know what I heard! The first time I heard them all loud and clear! Through my headphones that cancelled all noise except radio I heard them whispering from all around me: "Earn this! Make us proud!" I saw their faces, all the people who helped this mission, all who dreamed of setting foot on Mars. I believe their last act was to make sure we get here safe. I have not heard the voices since. I will walk today where no man has walked before. Our new home welcomes us! Have I earned this? Maybe at the end they will answer me.
Author's Notes: Hello! First time writer, hope you like it! Feel free to comment if you feel I could have done something better. | "So... when did you die mate?" I asked the peculiar looking fella next to me.
-"Do you know who you're talking to?"
"Umm? Am I supposed to mate?"
-"Yeah mate. I'm Ronnie Pickering."
"Who?"
-"Ronnie Pickering."
"Who mate?"
-"Ronnie Pickering!
"Who the fuck is that?"
-"Yeah that's me."
"Okay man... I'm just gonna go watch the Mars mission then yeah?"
Ronnie was a weird fella but that's not going to stop me enjoy this. Most people here were great minds. Deciding not to move on to see humanity progress. To be honest I just wanted to see if Arsenal is ever going to win the premier league again.
But I felt it, everyone did. The wave of souls going to this very place. We all knew why. The Mars mission. Led by Elon Musk is tonight. The first men were going to walk on Mars tonight. I didn't come here for that though, I knew that was going to happen back when I was alive. I expected it sooner actually. I came here to meet people. Well, meet ghosts? Or spirits? Souls basically. Matter of fact here's an interesting looking chap.
"Hey mate."
-"You know... if everything went to plan... We already would be far beyond this point."
"If... what went to plan?"
-"Third Reich of course."
"Wait... you were with the Nazi's?"
-"I was the top Nazi... elite Nazi... My name is Adolf Hitler, nice to meet you, and you are?"
"Oh... I'm Bob. Yeah I gotta be off mate see everything unveiling and shit yeah."
-"Das cool."
Alright. Any other people around here that aren't literally Hitler.
-"ETA 5 Minutes to Mars. 5 Minutes to Mars control copy. Over"
-"Control. Confirmed. Get your landing gear ready. Over"
-"Confirmed.
I'll approach this lad here.
"Hey."
-"This is a historic day isn't it? But there'll be plenty more."
"You plan to move on after this?"
-"No. I don't think I'll ever. Especially now that humans are advancing faster and faster."
"I agree mate, you know like I've read somewhere that humans have advanced more in the last 100 years than all the other time combined.
-"I remember when I discovered the USA. That was considered the biggest discovery. Now men will be landing on another planet."
"Holy shit? Christopher?"
-"That's my name. Look, 1 minute until landing."
"I guess to technological advancement. And discovery."
-"To discovery."
| 2016-12-25T11:44:00 | 2016-12-25T05:08:11 | 1,228 | 641 |
[WP] A child is offered as an offering by their devil-worshipping parents. The devil accepts their child as an offering, but raises them instead of devouring them like they usually do. | As the crowd gathers behind the infant, Lucifer sees the offering given to him today. Rarely do these pathetic mortals call upon him, going for his Council, such as Moloch or Beelzebub. They can't see him yet, but they can feel his presence. Tired of being summoned, tired of giving these people the satisfaction that what they're doing will grant them some kind of superiority in Hell, he has the Hell Hounds ready to also go in and kill them all.
The infant cries, and Lucifer sees the baby is pale, with red eyes. An albino baby! No wonder the parents have called for the child's death, it is unusual to see a child like this. Lucifer looks with pity at the babe, covered only by a black cloth, wriggling on the altar, as the parents chant the unholy hymns of the ancient people. He counted, until he feels the barrier shatter and he and the hounds escape.
Cries of fear and agony erupt as he watches the hounds tear apart the worshippers one by one. It amused him how stupid each one was, their souls now forever dog meat in Hell. He gazes at the child, crying of the loud noises and abandonment of the parents. Lucifer walks over to the baby, and picks it up, surprised to see that the baby is a little girl. An albino girl... so lovely and innocent, like an angel from Heaven. The only flaw was her eyes; a dark red, with black rings. Lucifer curses himself for not understanding why humans are they way they are and what makes each one different, but he coos at the baby, and walks back into the portal into Hell.
A room would have to be made for her, and food would be hard to find. A succubus would have to provide for a while, until the infant could chew normal food. Then what? Lucifer mused over having a daughter, someone that could help rule, someone given a piece of himself, which was a piece of God Almighty too.
Beelzebub sees Lucifer cradling a baby, and stares with curiosity at the Ruler, wondering why a human child was here of all places. Lucifer looks at his right hand man, and tells him to find the leader of the Succubus's and the carpenters of hell to prepare a chamber for the baby. Fear of questioning his thoughts aloud makes Beelzebub run off to do his King's bidding. Lucifer sits on his throne, shushing the baby until she is finally asleep.
"You're safe now..." he whispers, rocking her as she snuggles into his arms. "You're safe... little Gabrielle. No one will ever hurt you again." | The bargain was struck, the child whisked away, its pathetic, fleshy prison still quivering in fear.
I would be the perfect parent. Loving, doting, forever mindful of their future.
And the future has a space for those strong enough to force themselves into it. For those who can speak and force their words into the hearts of men.
Foolish mortals. We never devour the children given to us, but sharpen them into blades for you to fall upon.
After all, why sate our hunger with one, when we could rule over all as eternal kings?
Your fear is delicious, small one. Let us teach you to make others fear. | 2021-01-30T15:45:05 | 2021-01-30T14:19:46 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] "Ok doc, give it to me straight." "Well, while we can't say what will happen for sure, we have reason to believe these two things: That you will survive, and that afterwards, you get to name it." | The room shifted before my eyes. Where the doctor had stood, was now empty. The bed I had been lying in alone, was now occupied by an irritated gentleman and myself. The floor was different too - tiled instead of linoleum - although it took a few hallucinations to notice.
'Get off me!'
I sprang from the bed and apologised. It felt, and looked, so *real*. The man was old, with a blanket pulled close to his chest. His eyes were misty but moved fervently between the door and me.
'How'd you do that?' The old man asked, his voice sounding like he had swallowed a bucket of sand.
'You're not real,' I repeated like a mantra.
'I bloody well am! Now one minute I'm laying in my hospital bed waiting for the sweet kiss of death, and the next you're-' The old man broke into a fit of coughing. '-excuse me. Where was I?'
'Something about the kiss of death.'
'Right,' The old man said and used the blanket to wipe the spit from his mouth. 'You appeared, right here on top of me.'
'This will be over any second,' I said, clenching my eyes shut and wishing it would end.
'People don't just appear you know,' The old man continued. His lips fell apart in an *ah-hah* moment. 'Have you come to take me?'
I looked at him blankly.
'Are you death?'
Before I could shake my head, the room shifted again. The bed was empty, the floor was back to linoleum, and there was somebody stood next to me.
'Welcome back,' Doctor Vaughn said.
I blinked in confusion and said. 'I hallucinated again.'
'What did you see this time?'
'An old man,' I said pointing to the bed. 'He was lying underneath me and said that I appeared out of nowhere. He thought I was death.'
'And this was the first time you've met someone else in your "hallucinations"?'
I nodded.
'You said that you appeared out of nowhere.'
I nodded.
Doctor Vaughn placed a hand on my shoulder and guided me to the empty bed. I sat like a disoriented puppet.
'I need to be frank with you,' Doctor Vaughn said. 'These "hallucinations" are something else. Something there's not even a name for yet.'
'I don't understand.'
'You mentioned that you popped into existence for the old man. Well, you popped out of existence for me.'
'So you didn't see me jump out of bed?' I asked.
'No.'
'But you can see me now?'
'Obviously.'
'So I just *appeared* next to you?'
'I experience pretty much what the old man experienced.'
I buried my head in my hands and rooted through my hair. I started tugging at strands, feeling a grounding pain. 'This makes no sense.'
'In no way, shape, or form,' Doctor Vaughn said.
'I don't even know where to begin... how... why?'
'This is only the second time I've witnessed you disappear, but you always come back. So that's a good thing. Where you go, that's a mystery. I'm out of my element here, and I don't think there's a doctor in the world who could diagnose your conditions - well, perhaps upon hearing the symptoms they may lean towards mental disorder.'
'But that would mean you're mental too?'
'Precisely,' Doctor Vaughn said. 'And I like to think of myself as a stable person. I do have an idea though. It may be stupid and fruitless, but if you wore a tracker then I could monitor-'
Before the doctor could finish, the world swam. I heard his voice like a pinprick at the end of a hallway. My vision cleared and I was no longer in the hospital room.
---
/r/WrittenThought
I went fairly abstract with this, and hopefully, some of you followed along! I dislike spelling things out for the reader, but I do wonder how much of it makes sense. Any feedback or thoughts would greatly help me improve as a writer. Thanks for reading. | There are a lot of things in life that just don’t get planned. Accidents, sometimes happy and others not, are a part of life’s wild ride. It’s never dull for long, for better or worse.
Kev and Alicia know that well at a young age of seventeen. While most kids were lounging around at home, having fun with their Saturday evening, or working diligently to prepare their GPA for a well-esteemed four year college, they were in a hospital. Their parents had been ushered outside as things came to a climax.
A baby was being brought into the world. Not exactly the plan they'd come up with as freshman during student-counselor meetings.
Kev was huddled beside her bed, crumpled, squeezing her hand tightly. Once in a while, he’d brave taking a peek, but always regretted it instantly. Men are not built to handle such things.
Alicia was whimpering, red as a tomato, squeezing back with the inhuman strength of labor. As the contractions quickened, she turned to a nurse.
“What happens now?” she asked, voice strained and eyes dancing between Kev and the ceiling. "I feel like this baby is trying to kill me!"
The nurse looked up from his work, measuring the kids before him. “Well, dear, we have reason to believe two things: that you will survive, and afterwards, you’ll get to name it.”
The girl smiled wide through a red face and knitted brows, and Kev finally broke his own internal tension to laugh. They shared a loving glance amidst a much needed, even if brief, reprieve.
"You'll love this baby," the nurse continued, passing a clipboard off to another. "And she'll love you. Your wonderful parents here are always here to support you, as well. Never forget that. Now take deep breaths, in-- and out. In-- and out."
Their hands remained entangled, knotted together, just to make sure they wouldn't lose each other somehow.
It was going to be hard, yes-- but maybe, together, they could handle it. That little girl would become their strength. Their purpose, and drive, and resolve to make it through the worst days life can offer.
------
*/r/resonatingfury - now new and improved, with shitty flair!* | 2019-04-08T05:47:35 | 2019-04-08T05:25:42 | 1,071 | 481 |
[WP] You’ve just realized that you are not a human, but rather a parasite controlling someone. | It was very sudden.
One second, I'm suffering from loss of balance, falling, and mortal terror as I slip on a toy car left on a stair-step. The next, there's a tremendous snapping sensation, as though my whole head has been bitten off. Indeed, it seems that way at first. I can't move. Everything is dark.
My kids have finally killed me, it seems. I struggle to open my eyes, hoping I haven't gone blind.
Oh, god, I'd better start seeing again soon.
*Give it a minute,* I tell myself, staving off my growing panic. *You'll be fine. In the meantime...*
"Jamie!" I yell, "how many times have I told you -"
The rest of the scolding goes unfinished as I realize I didn't say anything. My voice didn't work - I can't feel my -
I don't have a throat. I try to move my mouth, getting only a fuzzy sensation of nothingness in return.
I try to move my fingers. Instead, a thin line of sensation tingles to life, like trying to move your arm when it's fallen asleep. This... Isn't right. Where there should be a solid limb and five stout human fingers, I'm willing a wispy branch to contract, snapping the hairlike tendrils attached to it as I pull.
Fear courses through me as I inadvertently dig into some wet, firm matter I find pressed up against the branch. And when the fear doesn't trigger any of the usual responses - sweating, heart pounding, labored breathing, there's just *nothing* - I struggle, determined to move.
As a result, I twitch, bending at my midsection. And now... Now I can feel.
It is dark. My body is gone. And I can feel oppressive walls of something wet and warm pressing in all around me.
And in this wild, nightmarish scene of fear, I twitch outward in desperation, feeling blindly for a way out.
Through my pain and panic, instinct takes over. I find a connection.
The relief of breathing again shoots calm into my whole being like an opiate. My regular sensations are all here again, joint stiffness and fresh staircase injuries and all. My face. My toes. I open my eyes and, wincing, gingerly lift my head from the step. Yeowch. There's a spot near the base of my skull, in particular, that feels like it got hit.
I brush the spot with my fingertips, remembering the wet and warm I had been embedded in.
Curiously, I press the spot. All at once, burning pain rips through my nerves. I let out a shriek, tiny, shrill, and gurgling.
And I hear it with ears thrice my size. | “I’m not a human, I’m just a parasite controlling someone,” It quietly muttered to itself as it stared vacantly out of the top-floor window of a Manhattan skyscraper.
Just as its goal was about to be achieved, the truth dawned on it.
After five rings, it finally picked up the phone.
“It has passed sir, I’ve done as you requested!” The male voice from the phone immediately said.
It sighed before regaining its composure, “Y-yes, well done, well done.”
“Is there anything else you needed sir?” The voice eagerly asked.
“No, no that will be all, Ajit,” The Verizon CEO said before hanging up.
______________________________________________________
r/Dri_Writes for more lighthearted stories!
| 2017-12-21T03:47:32 | 2017-12-21T02:26:29 | 98 | 25 |
[WP] You are the most beautiful woman in the world, and you have just been wished into existence by a nerd with a genie. | "Why isn't she alive?" said a girl's voice, from far away.
The response came in a voice that crackled like fire and boomed like lightning. "I already told you that I cannot create life."
"Yes, but I expected you to just bring her here like the - "
I opened my eyes. The girl gave a tiny gasp and fell silent.
We stood on a windy beach, no trace of civilization visible in any direction. The girl wore glasses and a natural 20 t-shirt. A short distance behind her was a wooden shack. Beyond that, the sand was covered as far as the eye could see with crabs, sitting perfectly still.
And then there was the genie. Its hair and eyes were fire, its body more like extreme heat haze than solid flesh. A violent wind surrounded it, flinging sand in all directions except toward us.
I put a hand to my chest, feeling for a pulse. "Pretty sure I'm alive," I said.
The genie laughed, a sound like a series of gunshots in rapid succession. I fell to the sandy ground, clutching my ears.
By the time I was in a shape to get up again, it was gone. I sighed.
The girl was still here, getting to her feet and brushing dust from her clothes just like I was. "I take it I was your third wish?" I asked.
She looked at me, then averted her eyes. "You were."
"What were your first two?"
"An army of loyal mooks and a secret island base."
The crabs, the shack. "In the jokes," I said, "people use their last two wishes to try to fix the first one."
She scoffed. "Yeah, and you know how well that always turns out. I had a plan. Do you see how many crabs he gave me? He thought he was sabotaging my wish, but I can work with this." She still wasn't looking directly at me.
I laughed. "Fair enough," I said. I put my hand over my heart again, frowning... it was still beating. "Why did you think I wasn't alive?"
"You just... weren't moving," she said. "Like a statue. But then you took a breath, and you seem perfectly alive to me now."
"The genie seemed less than convinced," I observed.
"Yeah."
We waited in silence for a while. I watched her overseeing her crabs, wordlessly directing them to comb over the island, pick up sticks, dance in strange patterns. The crabs really did seem like less of a joke than they had at first.
"So," I finally said, "am I?"
For once she turned to look back at me. "Alive?" she asked.
"The most beautiful woman on earth."
Her mouth hung open for a moment and she blushed. "Um... yeah," she said breathlessly.
I smiled, walking over to take her hand. "Alright, supervillain. Show me how we get off this island." | As the Genie snapped his fingers, A cloud of smoke filled the room. Coughing violently the man waved his arms in a vain attempt to clear the room. At last he made out the silhouette of a figure, a women.
He held his breath, unsure of what the cloud of smoke would show to him.
There she was. A slender woman who's soft gaze grasped at his hear strings. She smiled and he returned the gesture.
The two of them had gone off into the world, he had shown her the wonders of the world. They had spent so much time together with wonder and laughter.
One night they were sat on a lonely beach gazing up at the stairs listening to the low roar of the crashing waves.
He mustered up the courage with all his might and softly spoke to her
"I-I have fallen in love with you. When I wished for a beautiful woman, you are more than I could ever dream of."
She turned to him in shock and horror.
"I've always only thought of you as a friend."
| 2016-03-09T04:26:15 | 2016-03-09T01:50:06 | 145 | 23 |
[WP] The "violent videogames teach you how to use a gun" thing is true for you. Literally. Everything you learn in videogames, you can do in real life as well. You realize you have that power when you drink an energy drink after a bad injury and you find yourself completely healed. | I was sick, the only release I had was playing varies mmorpgs, platformers, and survival games. I was in the hospital for several months. One morning however I ate my usual breakfast and fell asleep again. When I woke up, the doctor said my vitals were fine, my sickness miraculously vanished. How? I did nothing different. one day I was dieing, the next I was fine?
They let me go home as long as I would come back every week for the next few months to make sure they didn't miss something. For years after, my immune system was running at peak performance and everything finally seemed... normal. However I was far from it.
I just didn't officially realize it until I was 17 running for my track team. I stumbled, jumping the barriers and I fell... hard. my leg twisted and I broke It. I hobbled back to the side lines holding my friend over the shoulder. "Damn it!" I said, "We have a meet tomorrow Im the only one on this team who is fast enough to beat that school!" My friend was concerned for me, but I could tell she was worried about the meet too. she laughed, "Well not anymore you're not. Don't sweat it. We'll kick their ass regardless. Just you watch." I smile weakly taking some pain killers I had in my bag and a sip from my drink to wash them down. Almost immediately pain went away and the bruise I had was gone. 'What the f-' I covered it up with my jacket and wrapped what was my injured knee in a bandage.
I had her carry me to her car and to my door. No one could know I healed that quickly. It was impossible for that to happen. you cant just break a bone and be better after a few minutes.. right?
I did what every normal teenager would do in this situation. I googled it.
'Broken bone healed after 5 minutes'
nothing
'Dislocation gone after minutes'
nothing
'miraculous medical conditions healed'
nothing
nothing
nothing
'What the hell is going on'
I grabbed my bag and drove to the ER.
"Um, hi I think I dislocated my knee?" the receptionist looked at me strangely... standing, completely pain free. I know I must have looked like an idiot. She then proceeded to ask the generic questions
'Name?'
"Ashley Collins"
'Date of birth?'
"03/24/2001"
'Please complete this chart and hand it to me once you're finished'
"No problem."
A few hours later a nurse called me. The regular check up routine began. something I knew all too well.
blood preasure. check
height. 5'1". check
tempature. check
no medications. check
I insisted on an X-Ray. They said I would have to pay extra since it wasnt recommended, But I insisted reguardless.
The results came back and he said "There's tissue scarring around the part where you said you broke it. But this seemed to have healed for a few months now. If you are still having pain, there maybe it could be something else. Let me refer you to a specialist, do-"
I interrupted him. "No I'm fine I just get kinda paranoid I guess. Thank you. Is there anything else?"
"No you're free to leave..."
"Thank you." I said shakly
I got home and I cut myself over the sink. I ate something, and I watched it heal...
again
and again
and again
I started to cry out of shock, Pain, and plain anxiety. It was stupid really I had the ability to heal myself who woudn't want that? I slowly got up and I punched the wall. A bright shock wave bursted from my fist throught the kitchen. turning everying on all at once and frying everything eletrical just as fast.
My eyes widened. It was an ability I knew all to well In game I used to play. I slamed my fist to the ground and every enemy near me got stunned for a few seconds. Thats when I realized my life was the opposite of normal...
(Thanks for anyone who read this. This is actually the first thing I wrote publicly. So dont judge me to harshly!!! :3 I also get very long winded I apologize for this) | At first I was really excited, Imagine all the cool things I could do. I could be a super hero, or a powerful mage, the rules of the the normal world no longer apply to me, I can do anything!
Very soon however I realized the rules did apply to me, but the rules of the world had changed. Maybe the rules were always like this, but now that I have this power I finally know them.
First I started to notice people had levels. This wasn't too strange, but then I realized people fell into different categories based on the color of their name and level displayed. It took me a while to understand what these meant but it quickly became apparent. These categories were Grey: NPC, Blue: NEUTRAL PLAYER, Green: ALLIED PLAYER, and Red: ENEMY PLAYER.
Once I realized this I was horrified, most of the people I knew were NPC's. My mother, my sister, even my closest friends: all NPC's. They weren't real people, they were just following some program.
What hit me even harder however, were the Reds. Once a Red PC sets a target they attempted to kill them on sight. PC's Increase level in a variety of ways it seemd: quests given by NPC's, helping Green and Blue PC's, discovering locations, crafting, and many other ways. The quickest way to gain levels, was killing other PC's. Red PC's would hunt down other PC'S and kill them in broad daylight.
NPC's never noticed these killings they were completely oblivious to this brutality. When a dead PC turned up, NPC's almost always just saw a death by natural causes. The NPC's didn't care if they saw a PC tear someone in half, to them it was just some tragic accident, they were programmed to believe it to be so. Red PC's almost never faced consequences by the hands of NPC's, the rules of the Game protected them.
I don't know how I came to see the world this way, all I know is I have to find a way to level up and become stronger, because that's the only thing that matters in this world, high level PC's live comfortable luxuries lives, while low levels rot in the slums. This is the caste system of the world, and I intend to survive this Game and make it all the way to the top. | 2018-08-14T11:20:45 | 2018-08-14T11:03:17 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] There’s a door with a single keyhole- it will open regardless of what key you use to unlock it. All keys will open this door. What’s on the other side, however, depends on the key. | I found the Door in Kansas, of all places. I had been a travelling salesman, a mechanic, homeless & jobless for a spell, and then somehow I lucked my way into training as a home inspector. The pay wasn't great but I could afford a place and regular meals. That's worth a lot more than most people know. Having a space that's yours, even if it's being rented from the real owner, is a luxury of the mind as well as of the body. You have a space to keep what little stuff you have but more importantly you have a space to relax your mind and actually plan for the future.
My plans were average before the Door. Keep learning how to inspect the generally run down places that filled out the local housing stock, save money for a while, and try to buy a place for myself. One of the perks of the new job was that I was learning to tell when a house was beautiful but rotten in the bones. There are a lot of places like that. Beautiful on the outside, but no one ever cared enough to take care of them over decades, so bit by bit they start to decay from the inside out.
Then you'd get places that looked a bit like crap on the outside, but were alive and warm once you stepped through their doors. You could tell they had been around love, nourishing and sheltering happy families until the kids were all big and everyone started to leave. They had a certain loneliness to them when standing empty but you could tell it was a happy sort of loneliness. One with hope.
I'd been at my job for nearly three years when it happened. I'd made it as a full time inspector and was more than happy to being doing solo jobs. Silence and I suited each other, and the houses I spent all day in were blissfully silent. They talked to me through the creaks in the floor and stairs, and the groan of the wind through the windows, and the more than occasional scuttling of a rodent in the walls. It was fall, nearly winter, and everything was hunkering down for the months of cold. I couldn't blame the little critters for hiding out in these empty shelters. I had done the same. Still, it would go in the report because I was good at my job, and I knew that no one would bother with an exterminator until spring.
It was the first house on the list for the day. Nothing special at all, small, empty for around a year, and had belonged to an elderly widower, now deceased. Here's another a detail about my job you need to know. I got a ring of keys with every pile of inspection reports. One key per house, ten keys per ring. Very simple. Hard to mess up.
Well dear reader, I did. I put the wrong key in that lock and it changed my life forever. I cracked open the Door to a house in Kansas on a cold November morning, and stepped into a warm house with sunlight pouring through the windows and birdsong drifting in on the breeze. I'm confident enough now to admit that I panicked, and sprinted out while slamming the Door behind me. I wouldn't go back for a month.
Eventually, I had to go back because of work. Turns out you need to complete all of the inspection reports given to you, who knew? I got another ring of ten keys, and got in my truck. I almost walked back into the office and quit on the spot. I didn't want to touch the Door again. If I didn't go, I would be fired, so quitting seemed like the best option. Eventually the hungry part of me, the one that would never lose what I had earned so far, won out. I would go.
The Door was the same. Oak with a dark brown varnish, with a beautifully green rusted copper lock and handle. This time I was careful, and turned the right key in the lock. The Door opened to a small, plain, unimpressive house. It didn't feel warm, and it didn't feel cold. It just was. I fell in love immediately, and applied for a mortgage the same day. I moved in a month later, and decided I would never leave.
I kept my job as a home inspector, and kept getting those rings of keys. Eventually I got brave enough and I would try the Door with every key I got. I never went far into any house, just quick looks around, but I could tell every single one was a happy home with a family in it. It felt wrong at first, looking in on people like this, but they never knew and I never took anything. I think there were a few close calls with someone coming in from the backyard and hearing the front door close, but they'd just write it off to their imagination.
I discovered what these places truly were when I decided to show the Door to someone for the first time. His name was Michael. We had met at a local bar, and gotten along immediately because both of us had found love, then had been widowed at an early age. My was because of a drunk driver, his was because of dealer cutting heroin with fentanyl. Happy stories all around.
One night, while a little too drunk, I started to tell him about the Door. He didn't understand, of course, but I convinced him to drive me back to my place and I would show him. I went up to the Door, put my key in, turned the handle, and showed him the inside of my house before shutting the Door.
"Where's your house key?" I said, slurring a bit. He looked genuinely amused at this point but offered it up.
I repeated the process with his key, and looked him right in the eyes before I open his Door. Light came flooding into the night, startling Michael so much so that he took a few involuntary steps back.
"Come take a look." I said.
That's when he heard her laugh. He damn near sprinted through the Door, and found his wife waiting for him in his house. It was spring outside, and you could hear birds singing through the open windows. I gave him a quick smile, and shut the Door.
I think that the Door takes you to your happiest life. Everyone who's made the journey here with their key has found their Door. If you want to give it a try reader, I don't think you'll be disappointed. I opened the Door and now I get to spend the rest of my life offering the gift to readers like you. | “And we are live in five, four, three...”
The camera man, replacing his voice with over the top hand gestures, went from two to one to the universal signal for ‘we are live’ as the broadcast began.
“Hello,” said the well-dressed man on the other side of the camera, his voice more unnatural than his co-hosts absent minded smile.
“Our top story tonight – the FBI have stepped up their investigation in to the suicide of Jeffrey Epstein, demanding answers from the prison in which Epstein managed to take his own life and we are just kidding because everyone has forgot about. Nobody remembers that. Are you kidding? It was like a month ago!”
“Ha-ha! You almost had us, Bob,” said Clare, through her awkward smile.
“We like to have fun,” said Bob. “But now on to our real headline story, a story much more important than a global elite paedophile ring, a story about a super cool secret door that allows anyone in but what key they use decides their fate.”
“That’s right, Bob. Hundreds of thousands of people have made the journey to the tropical island named Eeeyay to interact with the mysterious door, some carrying hundreds of keys at a time to try on the portal like entrance. We go to our man on the scene Gabe.”
A low budget transition panned across the screen as Gabe came in to shot, thousands of people lined up orderly behind him, the door barely in sight.
“Thank you, Bob and Clare,” said Gabe, nodded his head like an exuberant puppy.
“Tell me Gabe, how’s it been on the island. What are people making of this mystery door?” asked Bob, leaning over his desk despite the microphone being attached to his lapel.
“Well, it’s a real carnival atmosphere, Bob. People have been visiting the island in their hordes with keys aplenty. Take for instance Craig, a young 14-year-old from Denver, Colorado who is here with me now.”
The camera panned out to reveal Craig, a spotty teenager who had awkwardly been standing silently out of shot.
“Craig,” said Gabe, “what brings you to the door?”
“I don’t know really. I’ve just been like buying keys, opening the door, seeing what’s behind it, and then trying again with a different key.”
“And how many keys have you tried on the door so far?”
“I don’t know. Probably like three hundred worth of keys.”
“Have you received anything worthwhile from the door?”
“Mainly cosmetic items and stuff.”
“And I can see that despite this clear evidence that it’s a colossal waste of time and money you’re currently in line to try the door again.”
“Yeah, got me like 5 more keys."
“And where do you get the keys?”
“From the island store.”
“Of course you do.”
“Gabe,” said Clare interjecting, “it seems like there’s a lot of children and teenagers in the line behind you.”
“Strangely enough, yes, Clare. We did speak to the owner of Eeeyay island John Childgambling and asked if this was some sort of immoral targeted cash grab but he refused to speak to us unless we purchased 500,000 keys from the store."
"Did you purchase any keys yourself, Gabe?" asked Clare.
"Well, despite being completely against the door and the principles behind it, I did actually go ahead and buy some keys. My reasoning being that I enjoy the door and work hard for my money, if I want to spend that money on something I enjoy then I shouldn't feel bad for it despite an overwhelming hatred for doing so and publicly decrying the business model. And I'll tell you what, I've got these super sweet shoes to show for it."
The camera panned down to reveal Gabe's shoes.
"Those are pretty sick," said Bob.
"Got me four more keys to try after I finish this report," said Gabe.
“Well, I don't really understand it but I am strangely desperate to try it,” said Bob as the camera cut back in to the studio.
Clare shuffled the blank paper in front of her before raising her head to the camera.
“Vaping - Hitler is back in smoke form and is coming for our children."
****
My back catalogue of painfully unfunny stories can be found on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them, and leave some judgement. | 2019-10-06T13:02:41 | 2019-10-06T12:12:49 | 66 | 44 |
[WP] 1,000 years after the battle of Helm's Deep, the orcs have tracked down the elves in the undying lands. Calling in a favour with their allies the men, the elves expect an army of 10,000. Instead they get 8 marines with MASERs, rail guns and anti-matter grenade launchers. | ​
One of my first attempts on this subreddit. I chose a little more contemporary setting for the prompt as that is more my forte. Remember English is not my mothertongue and any critique is welcome.
Elrond looked around the table. The situation was dire and the faces of those around him reflected that. A fortnight ago the orcs had managed to land in the Undying Lands. How they had succeeded, no one knew. All that was certain was that they had come in greater numbers than elves could have imagined. Led by an unknown dark sorcerer, the orcs had overwhelmed the elven coastal cities and slaughtered their inhabitants. It was only in their darkest hour that the elves had stooped to asking mortal men for support. After the war with Sauron the immortal dwellers of Middle-Earth had left the mortal races to fend for their own. The rumours of bloody wars against the orcs and among Men had proven the elves right in their judgement.
“My lord Elrond, the armies of Men won’t come to our aid, I am sure of it,” said Glorfindel, “We abandoned them. Why would they not do the same to us?”
“My dear friend, we have only sent word to their realms barely three days ago. We cannot expect them to arrive that shortly. Have a little faith,” tried Elrond to reassure his comrade.
The other elven leaders joined in the discussion. Just when the clamor reached its peak, the doors of the hall burst open and from them appeared eight humans, all wearing earth coloured clothing. Their helmets were very open for the likes of the elves and their breastplates on which more of their equipment was attached seemed to barely protect their vitals. Their leader stepped forward and introduced himself.
“Good afternoon, lord Elrond. My name is Sam Robinson, second lieutenant and leader of this Tactical Air Control Party. My team and I are hear to offer you lethal and non-lethal effects from land-, sea- and airbased vectors for all your tactical needs.”
“ Are you the envoys from realms of Men?” asked one elf increduously.
“That would be correct, sir,” answered Sam Robinson calmly.
“And you are all there is?” the same elf wanted to know.
“We are all that are needed on the ground. I am JTAC-qualified myself. The gunny here is our Forward Observer and the rest of the team consists out of our assistants, radio operators and drivers. The First Carrier Strike Group is in the vicinity to offer fire support, should lord Elrond request it. »
“I am not certain I understand everything you say, lieutenant, but I am willing to learn. I am certain your leaders did not send you in jest. Show me what you can do, for you know the hour is dark.”
Sam Robinson merely nodded, while Gunny Munroe grinned widely.
Elrond and Legolas had accompanied the soldiers, or rather Marines as they liked to be called, on a reconnaissance mission in the rear of the orc forces. They had set up a camouflaged lookout from which they could view the large orc convoys carrying supplies to the front. The Men carried with them strange devices with appendages like long slender willow branches. With these they were able to communicate with their brethren far away. The Marines didn’t carry swords or axes either. Their weaponry consisted out of something not unlike dwarven mechanical crossbows, but infinitely more advanced. Lieutenant Robinson peered through his binoculars and grabbed the horn of his radio. He urged Elrond closer.
“You see those orc waggons over their, sir?”
Elrond nodded.
“Well, I am going to blow them up,” said Sam not without a smile.
“Boom,” whispered Gunny Munroe playfully.
“Standby and listen closely, sir.”
“Overlord, Overlord, this is Warhammer two-zero. Requesting fire mission. Target location on coordinates 98635 77145. One orc convoy, linear heading North from South. Over.”
“Warhammer two-zero, this Overlord. Roger on fire mission. We have twelve guns, two rounds each, from battleship Minas-Ithil. Time of flight 40 seconds.”
“Overlord, this is Warhammer. Roger. You may commence firing.”
Elrond and Legolas were startled when something with a sound like thunder passed overhead and exploded in front of them. Tremendous amounts of earth flew into the air and rained down again. The orcs down in the valley looked like they were caught by surprise. They hadn’t seen anything like this before so they didn’t know how to react.
“Overlord, you are falling short and left. Left fifty, add twohundred,” called Robinson into the radio.
A second sixteen inch shell roared by and exploded right among the orcs. Earth, debris and pieces of orc soared high in the sky.
“Overlord, you are right on target. Fire for effect. I say again fire for effect.”
“Warhammer two-zero, fire for effect acknowledged.”
The following shells fell so quickly after one another that their explosions sounded like a drumroll. Legolas and Elrond covered their ears as not to be deafened by the incredible noise. When the smoke had cleared, their was nothing left of the orc convoy except blood and charred remains.
“Overlord, good effects on target. Target is destroyed. Warhammer two-zero out.”
Elrond was delighted. This war was winnable after all.
“How many times can you repeat this?” asked the elven lord.
“As many times as you would like, sir. But we can do much more than this.”
“Such as?” Elrond wanted to know what these Men could do. Clearly the mortal realms had conjured up some incredible kind of sorcery in the absence of the elves.
“Wait until you see our Warthogs come out and play,” the lieutenant said playfully.
Elrond looked confused, but Gunny Munroe answered with but one word :
“Oorah!” | As the elves surveyed the land, their dread intensified. No one expected them to find the undying lands and the orcs knew this, they had years to prepare and now their numbers where nearing at least 150.000 if not more.
The elves counted on their allies to withstand this siege. They called out to all their allies but only one of the kingdoms responded; that of men. Not the dwarves, nor hobbits responded. The Elves felt no hope.
The scouts returned to their base camp only to see a weird metal structure where the commander's tent should be.
There was a gathering of elves and the scouts approached them out of curiosity.
There stood 7 humans, what they assumed, knights over 7 feet tall. They were massive in size and held strange apparatus.
A smaller human wearing a patrol cap and smoking a cigar was discussing something with their commander.
"Listen I don't care if they had a fancy smancy golden stick up their asses, I am telling you these guys will break them all. All you have to do is sweep those green skinned motherfuckers up and throw 'em in the dustbin."
The elf commander looked pretty uncomfortable and was looking for a way out of the conversation, until he glanced towards the scouts. "Sir, it seems our scouts have returned."
The man looked towards the scouts, chewed a bit on his cigar and lifted his eyebrows.
"Sir we think it's at least 150.00 orcs. We don't know how many precise. If I may sir, the situation is hopeless. We should just retreat."
The man grabbed his cigar from his mouth and walked towards the trembling scouts.
"Listen up you pointy eared excuse for an elf. We got this shit. These bastards ain't nothing we haven't face before. You see, we humans are pretty adept at wiping eachother out, but we really shine like a polished turd when we got a common foe. These 7 beautiful son's of bitches over here will show you just how goddamn good we are at destroying everything in our path and how to look good doing it. Ain't that right marines?
A loud hu-rah followed.
"You got that?"
"Yes..."
"Yes what?"
"Sir.."
"Sir, yes!" The scout proclaimed enthusiastically.
The man rubbed the bridge of this nose and sighed. "Nevermind." He turned towards the commander, "Listen, trust us, ok?"
The commander nodded reluctant.
Two hours later the army of elves stood ready against overwhelming odds. The humans were in front. The tall ones looked like statues, you would only know they moved by the imprints their heavy boots left behind.
One of the more imposing orcs stepped forward.
"We didn't expect such a greaaaat force." The orc proclaimed, followed by a deep laughter that rose from his gut. "Can't you just lay down and let us kill you?"
No one responded.
"Well!?" Proclaimed the orc loudly, "What is yer answer!?"
The man with who was smoking a freshly lit cigar now took it from his mouth and spit on the ground.
"Well y'see, you ugly motherfucking weak excuse for a nightmare. We did discuss our options already and we do have an answer for you."
"Well what is it!?" The orc asked with a guteral snarl.
As the man turned around, he looked over his should to the orc.
"Taste the rainbow, bitch."
And from the seven armors a bright flash ejected, followed by an earth shattering sounds. The elves closed their eyes due to the brightness. After a few seconds the light faded and all that was left of the orc army was the orc commander who looked absolutely terrified.
The man looked towards the elf commander. "I will let you have this one. This sure was great, we really should do this again sometimes."
He patted the elf commander on his shoulder and walked towards their ship, followed by the seven hulking suits of armor. | 2018-12-03T06:33:48 | 2018-12-03T06:27:54 | 41 | 27 |
[WP] It occurs to you in the shower that you've just turned 32 and haven't gotten a single wrinkle. None of your family members have aged past a certain point - even your dog should be long past gone by now. You tell your friend, and she just laughs incredulously. "You're in a coma, dumbass." | I awoke to the doorbell. “Hrmph,” I muttered, and tucked my head beneath my pillow. The doorbell rang again.
Slowly, I sat up. Harvey had already gone to work, the smell of coffee lingered in the kitchen.
Happy to pretend I was not home, I poured myself a cup of leftover coffee, and went to see the note that Harvey had left beside it, “Have a good day, my love,” he wrote, with a small heart at the bottom.
Work was long. I pulled together the books for the day, the store did not, in fact, fall apart, despite a few customers that claimed that it did.
But the best part of the day, as it always was, was coming home to Harvey. He started work earlier than, so he was always home earlier than I. I came home to him sitting on the couch, watching a sitcom, with our cat Toto, perched on top of him, purring.
“Hello good looking,” I said to him, as I sat in the comfort of his arms, “How was your day?”
That night, I awoke to sounds in the house. I sat up, and woke Harvey.
“Hey,” I said, “I think someone broke in.”
Concerned, Harvey got up, and pulled out a bat, a stereotype of a loving husband. After a few minutes he came back with a small shrug. “Must be your wild imagination.”
I awoke a few hours later, to static. It seemed the whole world was shaking from the aimless sounds. They reverated from the earth beneath, I swear it! And yet, Harvey slept soundly, unbothered.
That morning, I began to distrust my vision. I swear from the peripheral of my vision, I saw things flit by, and I would hear noises from behind that had no foundation in being.
I must be going crazy, I thought to myself. Oh, I will end up in the loony bin.
In the shower, I shaved my legs smooth, and shampooed my hair. I am 32, I thought to myself. I am in great shape! If I lose it now and again, and go a little nuts, it’s okay, right?
As I lined my eyes, and powdered my face, I admired myself in the mirror. 32, with the face of a 19 year old. Not a line to mar my appeal. And how lucky was I, that Harvey still looked like the 24 year old that I had met many years ago. We aged well, didn’t we? You couldn’t even tell.
“Becca, Becca, can you hear me?” The voice was clear as a bell, but it was omnipresent, I could not pinpoint where it came from.
“It has been so long, Becca, I’ve missed you,” The voice was lined with sorrow.
“Hello,” I called out, “Who is this?”
“Your mom, oh, Becca, your heart would break.”
The world tipped upside down for a moment, before going back to normal.
I stumbled downstairs to my coffee. Harvey left his daily note right next to it, “Can’t wait to see you tonight, love dove,” With a heart, of course.
“Sweetheart.” The voice was Harvey’s. But old somehow. Quieter. Sadder.
Static again. Lots of it. I put on earplugs, trying to calm my mind, but it seemed to sink into the narrowest cracks though my skull.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Stephanie. She was queen of crazy. She would know what to do.
“Stephie,” I said, frantic, “I don’t know what is going on, I just heard Harvey! He was older though, I swear. I thought I heard you too!”
“Are you okay, Bec,” Her concerned voice lilted through the phone.
As she was speaking to me through the phone, her voice again intruded in the room.
“I know it has been so long, this coma has lasted so… long, but I’ve missed you. The doctors say that,” the voice trailed off into nothingness.
“Did you hear that,” I asked her, sure that the voice was loud enough to be heard.
“Hear what?”
Suddenly there was beeping. Steady. Unfailing. Louder, and louder.
I was in a bed suddenly. It was a hospital. So many people! They all seemed so familiar. But not quite. I spotted Stephanie. She looked far older than the last I had seen her. Frightened, I said, “What’s going on? Where’s Harvey,”
Harvey came to my side. Someone was with him. She was tall, thin. Why was her hand in his?
The doctor cleared the room, “She has just woken up, she must be in a state of confusion, clear out for a bit, everyone.”
Once alone, I asked the doctor, “I’ve been married to Harvey for ten years. Why is that woman holding his hand?”
The doctor looked confused. “Your information says that you are single. Someone mentioned you were in a relationship before the accident. It has been eleven years dear.”
Eleven years. | There is a point in my life when I thought that waking up in the same small bed every day, my body unchanging, my friends and family unchanging, even my surrounding staying in the same state not deteriorating at all; that something might be wrong. I faced my friend, all the stuff she told me sounded ridiculous, her blue eyes were looking at me with amusement, almost as if they were saying 'you only realized just now? you're so stupid Cherry! you dumbass!'
"Laura."
"Hm. yes, Cherry?"
"why are your eyes so mean?"
"Hmm, what?"
"Nevermind, is what you said true?"
"yes, you are a dumbass"
*ah, so it's not only her eyes that are mean, her mouth as well*
I got up from the bed and started changing, I didn't really mind her seeing me, not anymore anyway. I glanced out the window as I changed, it was a beautiful day just like any other, not a single cloud in the sky and the sun shining brightly in the center. Once I got out of my pajamas and into my casual clothes I faced her once again.
"How... did I got into a coma?"
"Ah, that, I don't think I should tell you that."
"...why?"
"it may disrupt this world and..." she said, a slight smile on her face "it may completely kill *us*, that is the opposite of what *we* want!"
"...you're lying" not many people knew this, but Laura always smiled when she was telling a lie, well, most of the time anyway.
"No huh!"
"Ya ha-"
What the hell was I doing? I'm *technically* a 32-year-old woman! if my calculations are correct anyway. I had to find a way to get out of this, this place, no time for games anymore, Laura was no help, so I had to find my own way to do this, I approached the door an-
I was in my bed again, facing the white ceiling, my head hurt and a lot, I clutched my sheets and brought them to the lower part of my face, they were warm an cozy. like always.
"L-Laura" I groaned.
"She is not here Charlie, for now at least, you'll see her again tomorrow, good as new," my father said while caressing my head, his whole body becomes a blur and mom appears in his place "go back to sleep, sweetie. Laura was a really bad girl and she needs to be educated" my mother said, no trace of dad anywhere.
I hear a bark, Mr. Huggies jumps on top of the bed and licks my face, I pet his head and he closes his eyes, he always liked that.
"ah, so Laura *was* lying," I said, my voice muffled beneath the sheets "I knew it...she is such a meanie, always...bullying me..."
"Sweet dreams, Charlie." my parents said at the same time like they were one voice, and their smiley face looked 'split' no, not only their face but their whole body. Even so, I was too sleepy to think about it "don't worry, I'm sure tomorrow will be a much better day"
***
Some advice would be nice - [r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/)
| 2017-11-25T16:39:52 | 2017-11-25T13:24:01 | 431 | 41 |
[WP] An abandoned child is stumbling through the woods, barely surviving. The god of the forest and hunt notices them and after a while can't bare watching the clumsiness anymore, deciding to train the child. | “Please…”, a ragged voice pleaded out to a God she hoped existed, “whoever may be listening, protect our child…”
An elven woman named Fillius used the last of her strength to embrace her young child. The blood from her wound was beginning to slow as the last of her life force drained like the sands of an hourglass. Fillius struggled to keep her eyes open; the time between each blink became longer until they finally stopped opening at all.
The half-elf half-human child she held her in arms, Scraton, did not make a sound. Too young perhaps to completely understand why his parents were murdered by the clan his mother once belonged to, but certainly not too young to understand the concept of death of a loved one. The slightest pang of curiosity sparked in my chest, but I smothered the feeling.
Scraton stood up in that awkward way that young mortals do before they gain any sort of dexterity or awareness of their limbs. He stared down at his mother. No tears. Not so much as a sniffle. He looked back towards the way they had come from. The silence, one of the few friends I had, loomed over us.
Scraton turned my way.
There was spirit behind those eyes.
*Can this child see me?*
I looked at him, but he looked at where my chest would be if he could see me.
The child turned his head away from me and walked. There did not seem to be any reason to this decision, this direction, but on Scraton trod.
With more glide then walk, I stepped over to Fillius.
“Was she one of yours?”, a figure adorned with jewels that did not sparkle or shine appeared beside me: Death. Light bent inward as if their very presence made it fall into them.
“Her and her betrothed were followers of mine, yes.”
With their fingers, Death tore open a hole through the empty space in front of us and pulled out a small leather bound book. Flicking through more pages than the book visibly would have had room for, they stopped.
“They were murdered by-”
“*Hunted*”, I attempted to correct with coldness in my voice.
“They were *murdered*. Just because they’re yours doesn’t mean they’re *yours*”
I glowered back at Death not saying a word. I received a sigh in response that seemed more theatrical than anything.
“Yes, well, I’ll tell you what. Since we’re just *such* great pals”, they pulled out a jet black stick the same way they pulled out the book and began to scratch something down, “I’ll take their souls and you can figure out what to do with their physical forms. Sound fair?”
I relented with a nod.
“Right. Now if you’ll allow me, I’ve no more time to waste. Mortals keep me rather busy”, the merry tone they had spoken that last sentence with was unsettling.
With a twirl of their fingers, a string of liquid silver and stars rose up from Fillius’ mouth and affixed itself as a pearl along a string that Death kept at their waist. Without any further words, Death removed themselves from the situation.
I felt the trees looming over me, waiting with bated breath about what I’d do next. With a flourish of my hands, I sculpted the land around Fillius, allowing her frame to be swallowed by the Earth and protected by roots. I sprang flowers where her blood had flowed freely unto my domain. Periwinkle - a favorite of her and her betrothed.
I was sure that soon, I was going to need to do the same for the boy.
I had found him quite easily, but even without powers of Godhood it would not have been hard with him tramping about. Twigs and sticks snapping, leaves crunching underfoot, stumbling over roots and rocks alike.
Scraton, whether he knew it or not, walked in circles. The forest was vast and his mother took him way off the path. Perhaps him being lost was a good thing. A last attempt at a mother’s mercy - allowing the forest to take him rather than be swallowed by steel and xenophobia.
Finally, the child tripped over a rather large stone, and let themselves fall. They made no attempt at catching themselves and instead just laid on their back staring up at the canopy of trees.
“Can… Can you help me?”
*He couldn’t. He couldn’t, could he?*
“Nar…? My mother said if I ever needed help I could ask you.”
I laughed at my own silly worry that this child could somehow perceive me but I was cut off.
“Don’t laugh at me”
Scraton sat up and looked straight at me with purpose.
“You can see me?”, I asked incredulously
“Of course I can", I wasn't sure if I liked the matter-of-fact way he said that, "Mom and Dad would always talk about you like they couldn’t, but I always thought they were fibbing…”, he trailed off for a moment and hunched forward, “...they weren’t fibbing were they?”
I could see fresh tears start to form at the corners of Scraton’s eyes. Ones that he was desperately trying to hold back. I felt a mixture of pity, interest, and dare I say caring take root in me. His parents were very devoted followers after all.
I crouched next to the child, “allow your tears to fall. Let them nourish both the earth around you and your soul. Cry as much as you need until the ache has dulled. Then, once the tears in your heart have run dry, we can begin to heal and grow”
Cry Scraton did. Deep, heaving sobs that bounced off of the woods. The deep, heaving sobs soon became a mournful cry. The mournful cry then became sniffles. Then the sniffles became hiccups until those too subsided.
“Done?”, I finally asked.
Scraton gave a slight nod. I reached out my hand.
“Good”, I gave as big of a smile as I could muster. It had been a while since I had reason to.
“Let us take leave of this place”, and with a swirling whisper of breezes that appeared from between the trees, we were swept away. | Nothing that seemed natural was natural as far as the carriage passing through the woods was concerned. The carriage did not have any windows, nor did it have a coachman, and the horses that drove the carriage were as black as obsidian. There was something unnatural about it. The carriage stopped near the stream, and out of it came four priest-like men, in black mantles, who held a mask so that they could not be seen. They were looking for something. Or someone. Later I asked the trees what they were saying. Of course I could talk to the trees, because I was the god of the forest. I prepared a spell, and decided to drive them out of the forest with such gusts of wind that their carriage almost overturned.
Later, in a mare by the lake I found a boy. he had blonde hair and was wearing nothing but some kind of cloth wrapped around him like a diaper. The boy was all terrified, and the chains were still hanging on his hands. When he saw me, the boy got scared, but I soon convinced him that I meant no harm. When I would walk the earth's paths, I had green boots and a green tunic, and a long strong brown beard.
- What's your name, boy?
- Growel, sir. Please don't hurt me.-
I laughed and decided to take Growel home, in a cabin near the lake. It wasnt much but it was comfy. I cooked some stew, and gave him to eat. While Growel was eating the food, I took the flute and played some soothing forest tones. From his stories I discovered that the hooded men were a sect of necromancers who kidnapped him from his family and decided to sacrifice him for their god of death. The god of death and I did not get along well.
Years passed, and I decided to take Growel under my wing. I taught him how to hunt, and I taught him to gather berries. I taught him how to communicate with animals and how to navigate the waters on a boat. In the end, he befriended the bear Lengan, with whom he would often explore the forest.
People would often pass by on the road, but I advised the boy that it was best to hide from them. People are greedy and easily corruptible bunch. I didn't like them, because their loggers would often destroy my forest.
But one day, people were passing by, according to their clothes, it seems to me that they are of a high class. I asked the wind what they were talking about, and the wind answered that they were looking for their son. The way they described him, it appears to have been Growel.
With a sad face I had to tell Growel what I saw. Through all these years I became like a father to a boy and it was sad to part with him. Growel didn't want to go to his parents, he persuaded me to stay, but in the end I barely got him to send him away.
But Growel has become more cunning over the years than I thought. He was lying under a tree by the side of the road so that his parents could find him more easily. When his father saw him, he ran to him. But in a moment he stepped on an invisible trap that wrapped around his leg, and he started to hang from the tree. The rest of his family, his mother and guards ran to help but were stopped by the bear Lengan.
- Son, it's me, don't you recognize me? Your father-
- I recognized you, father. But I can't let you go. -
The mother answered: - Son, what are you saying, the years in the wilderness have clouded your mind - But at those words, the bear stood up on its hind legs and the mother and the other guards retreated.
- Father, I wish you wouldn't appear here anymore. Why? Well, because I know, the priests didn't kidnap me. You sold me to them. -
Father, red in the face from being lifted upside down: - No, son, that's not true. Where did you get that from?
- From where? Well, I overheard your conversation. While you thought I was sleeping I was hiding in the kitchen and I saw the priests giving you gold coins. I heard my mother say you can take me -
The mother answered: - Son, you have to understand. We were heavily in debt. Our family business would go bankrupt. We had to do something in honor of our family. But now we regret it, and we want you to come with us -
- Do you regret it? Well, good. I repent with you. - Growel took a knife and cut the trap that held his father in the air. There was a thump soud when it fells to the ground. - Now get out of this forest so I never see you again. You are not my parents.
- But, son - the bear growled and the father and mother together with the guards fled into the carriage and headed towards the city.
From that day on, Growel gained the reputation of a ranger in these forests. His adventures with Lengan the bear will make him a forest legend. But that's for another story. | 2022-12-22T10:32:17 | 2022-12-22T10:24:17 | 41 | 19 |
[WP] The entire galaxy is threatened by a new species, invading from the Large Magellanic Cloud. The interstellar community decides to contact humans for help who were quarantined due to their passion for war. | There was a heavy silence in the room as the hologram display flickered to life.
It was a grim and hopeless kind of silence. It was a silence that had managed to usurp what was disordered bickering between dozens of interstellar leaders and turn it into a funeral procession.
The figure in the center of the room watched as the conclave of leaders gazed at the display with a slow apprehension of horror visible in their eyes or whatever visual sense organ they possessed.
At last, a guttural toned voice broke the silence. "This... it cannot be."
The figure recognized the sentiment. *Denial.* It turned to face the alien leader.
It was large in mass, with a thick azure carapace. The alien leader of the Kragi species.
"It is," said the figure simply.
"How long do we have?" a small furry bodied alien asked as it stared up at the hologram display.
The figure tiled its head upwards to glance at the hologram of the Large Magellanic Cloud, then turned to the alien leaders that were arranged in a circle around it. "Not long. It appears that their fleet are capable of interstellar travel. They are a species that we have not been aware of until recently... When we discovered them, they had already eliminated all of their neighboring inhabitants within the galaxy. How unfortunate."
An uproar of grunts and curses fill the room.
A screech silenced the room.
"What are our chances of defeating this hostile species?" asked a raspy, monotone voice.
The figure turned to look at the alien. It had mandibles that clicked together as it spoke. The Tieopna species.
"We face a 99.9812874 percent chance of complete annihilation at their hands," answered the figure in the center of the room.
"What do you suggest we do?" a voice asked from among the Conclave of alien leaders.
"We will fight! Fight to the death!" roared the small furry alien.
"No. We must be rational about this," said the Kragi leader as he glared down at the small furry alien. "Vul'zama," the Kragi leader gestured at the figure with a massive arm. "You have called us today to tell us of our doom. You must have a possible resolution to this predicament."
Vul'zama, the leader of the conclave who had called for the meeting nodded its ethereal head- merely a translucent shape that shimmered with the light.
"Indeed," said Vul'zama. "It is not a definite solution. We face utter annihilation but with the help of a certain species, we may perhaps change our doomed fate."
They rejoice. There are sighs of relief from the Conclave.
"And what species are we talking about?" asked another voice from among the Conclave.
"It is with the help of the humans."
Another uproar from the Conclave. *Overwhelming disapproval.*
"The exiled Humans?!"
"Those senseless self-warring warmongers!?"
"Absolutely unacceptable! They invaded our planet and took my fellow brothers and sisters as pets!" screeched the tiny furry alien.
Vul'zama raised a translucent limb into the air, calming the crowd of alien leaders. "Indeed. We had exiled the humans, trapped them in their own planet via a sphere of warped space..." Vul'zama sweeped a hand upwards.
The hologram shifted and zoomed across the a vast sea of stars until it settled on a blue planet. A simmering translucent barrier enveloped the planet.
It was Earth.
"The Humans, they were unpredictable, irrational, and volatile. Their endless greed and passion for war would have been the end of us all, but now... we face extermination, and the humans? They will be our weapon," said Vul'zama.
*A weapon that could very well back-fire on ourselves*, thought Vul'zama. He didn't dare say it aloud.
"Vul'zama, have you forgotten about how humans liked to wage war among themselves?" asked the Kragi leader. "They have no unity. They do not have a single leader, *but hundreds* of different leaders vying for domination over one another. It is foolish to even-"
Vul'zama raised his limb into the air again. "That... will not be an issue." Vul'zama turned around and sweeped his arm over the hologram of Earth. The Barrier dissipated.
The Conclave of aliens gasped.
Vul'zama continued before the Conclave could start another uproar of disapproval. "We will descend upon the Earth shortly and each of *us*-" Vul'zama glared at each alien with glowing emerald pockets of light, "-will collect a *suitable* human leader before returning here for further assessment. We will then conduct a *contest* between them to determine the human that will lead their species."
Vul'zama glanced around the room and saw the reluctance in their eyes.
"Do not return until you have a human to bring back," he ordered again for extra measure. "Dismissed."
----------
Meanwhile on Earth, the human race are rejoicing as they hear the news.
*'Unknown Barrier around Earth has disappeared'* the voice of a news reporter repeats loudly from the television upstairs.
"Alex! Come up stairs!" Alex's mom shouts.
Alex who is holed up in his basement playing Starcraft 4, tilts his head as he wonders what is going on upstairs. Then he notices a translucent figure in the corner of his eye.
It moves.
Alex screams like a girl as he jumps out of his seat.
The figure speaks, a voice that resounds deeply within his head. "Hello human."
--------
/r/em_pathy
| "Captain on the bridge!" shouted Hector Banks, head of security for the Armstrong.
Ophelia Levitan stepped through the white-door and into the only Milky Way class vessel that the Solaris Alliance had so far completed. It was certainly a step up from the first ship she'd boarded, back when she'd been only a child. An evacuation shuttle taking her away from Ganymede, as war had swept over even those isolated moons.
Ganymede has been destroyed. There was nothing left but an asteroid belt where it had once been, and a commemorative satellite for the eighty million dead. No trace of any bodies had ever been found. Not of her parents or her brother. They'd been too old, their jobs too unimportant.
"At ease," commanded Ophelia, raising a hand. The crew looked at each other, their faces taught with confusion. Then, one by one, they slowly sunk into their seats.
They were nervous. Rightfully so too, Ophelia knew. The first real test run of ancient alien tech, held and then given to them as a bargaining chip, to join a war that the Jit'ux were clearly losing.
Humans had not settled for only the engine technology. *Naturally*. When they realised the Jit'ux were so desperate, that they would do anything, they twisted their arm for further advances.
What choice had the aliens had? Either they gave us the technology we demanded, or they were made extinct.
Ophelia looked over her crew. Her navigator, Hezekiah Sharp, was clearly Mecurian born. His skin was covered in, what at first glance appeared to be tattoos, but was in reality heat reflecting nano-metal. It gave him an iridescent shine whenever he swivelled on his seat beneath the spot lights.
Kit Lawson sat at the weapon control panel. The power of a hundred thousand neo-nukes rested beneath her fingers. Could she be trusted with that responsibility? Her test scores were by far the highest in her class, but out on the field... could she destroy a city, if push came to shove? A world? Personally, Ophelia would have picked someone with more experience, but that hadn't been her call.
"Ma'am," said Alexzander Brice, communications officer. "Should I inform Earth that we're ready to leave orbit?"
Ophelia said nothing, instead walking across to her seat. She sunk down into it. The leather was soft and plush and cold beneath her. She clicked her neck.
"Is our guest on board?"
"He -- its -- in the brig, as requested," said Hector. "But speaking freely, I don't think the Jit'ux deserve that level of distrust, Ma'am."
"I didn't grant you permission to speak freely."
Hector opened his mouth to object, then closed it again. Good, he'd heard of her. He would take her seriously.
They'd all need to obey her unflinchingly, if they were to have any chance of succeeding in what appeared to be a suicide mission. First contact with an ultra aggressive, ravenous for war, alien species. Not so unlike humanity, Ophelia mused. Only, up to now we hadn't had the tech to do any serious damage beyond our own system.
"Miss Brice. Tell command we are ready to leave dock."
"Uh, yes Ma'am."
The pull of the ship as it left the bay thrust Ophelia back against her chair. It was a pleasing feeling.
The Jit'ux had no idea what they had released on the universe.
But Ophelia new. And she a smile crept over her lips at the thought.
They would be the saviour of the Jit'ux.
For now.
| 2018-04-11T09:17:14 | 2018-04-11T08:24:15 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone can become infinitely powerful if they so choose, however the more power you gain the less you remember about who you are and what you wanted. The greatest beings in the land have no feelings on anything and are more an extension of nature than the deity's they had hoped to become. | A sigh that lasted a hundred years. An oppressive storm that seemingly never ceased. A constant groan from the trees, mountains, even the very earth.
Those were the only signs that the Infinites were unhappy.
Their bodies had been enshrined, sitting pristine in the last place they ever had agency. Noroka the Everseeking in the mountains, Martick the Powerful in the forests, and Daedra the Drowned on the coast. The three who used to be mortal, but gave it all up for - what? I didn’t know. But the general consensus was that they were unhappy. The world had turned into a dark and foreboding place after Noroka had become the first of the Infinites. It had only become darker and wilder after the ascension of the other two.
Many had tried to follow in their footsteps. Many more would start their journey this very day. But the price was too much for most. The gradual loss of self. Loss of consciousness. Loss of feeling.
I’d met a Seeker before. Yoranda. She’d been old and crippled, and her body was slowly giving away to time. Her eyes were milky, and her skin brittle like the oldest of books. She’d spent the better part of her life trying to undo what she’d done.
She’d been the closest to ascension. But that final step, that look into the abyss that was eternity had frightened her more than words could express. She’d already given up her memories of her friends, her family, even herself. But she had kept the memories that drove her. The want for power, the want to be able to change the very fabric of the world.
That last, giant step, was to let all of that go. And she couldn’t do it.
I did not fear the infinite. I welcomed it. Yoranda, and many others like her had tried to warn me away. But they didn’t understand me. I didn’t have anything left to lose. I yearned to forget. My life was something that I wanted forgotten. By me and by those who knew of me. I couldn’t go back and stop myself from being born, but I could move forward. Become another of the eternal statues. Leave it all behind except my body, which would just become another holy site.
I didn’t want power to control. I wanted the power to forget.
Unease swirled inside me. I was unsure why. I’d found my final resting place. I’d gotten comfortable and had started to meditate. I had nothing left in this world. I hardly remembered why I’d even started this journey. Yet there was something there, just on the edge of my consciousness, screaming at me to stop. But I couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.
I threw myself deeper into my meditations, pulling at the strings of the world. Pulling them into me, making them part of me. Making myself part of them. Farther I reached. To the very core of the world. To the very edges of the sky. Spreading myself ever thinner.
I wanted this. I welcomed this. I was almost there…
And then it was as if between one heartbeat and the next I was no longer me, but the world around me. I’d thinned myself so far out that I’d somehow wrapped around and *pop* was back, whole.
Completely whole.
I remembered all I’d wanted to forget. I felt all those feelings of hurt and anger that I’d forgotten about so long ago. I wanted to scream. To tear my hair out in anguish. To let tears spill down my face.
But I couldn’t. I could see my body. Sitting there, perfectly still. Only the slow breathes in and out gave any indication that I was still alive.
Then there was a presence next to me. While I was nothing and everything, I could still tell the instant they appeared. I knew who it was too.
Noroka.
An overwhelming sense of sadness, grief, and regret filled me. Now I understood. We were too greedy trying to forget ourselves. And our punishment was this. And infinity of sorrow, hate, anger that we couldn’t escape.
And for every person who succeeded in becoming an Infinite, we would just make the world a darker, wilder, place. Unable to stop it, unable to stop the Seekers.
As realization set in, the tides crashed into the shore harder than ever, the ground shook, and the wind howled, all adding to the cacophony of grief that pervaded the world.
---
r/LandofMisfits | (Apologies, haven't wrote anything fiction in quite some time.)
I never knew my dad or mom. My grandma however was in every second of my life. Since birth, my first baby tooth, and throughout the storm of my teens.
She bared the brunt of it all. My testosterone, flooded through me quickly and surged. I was in numerous fights almost since middle school. Brighton? He stepped on my sandcastle in 5th grade. In an instant I threw sand at his face. He said it was a rock. Everyone else saw both. Maybe it was a rock in the sand? Whatever I just wanted to throw a punch. That's what he got, black eye and a cut cornea.
Where was I going with this? Grandma....dead parents... whenever I asked her about my mom, her daughter. She hid some things. I know it. She always spoke ill of my father too. Saying "something changed in him over time". He lost his job, he drenched himself in beer. Soon liqour. Whenever he came home from the bar, wet with sweat from the heat. "Smelling like the bar sink!" Grandma said.
There was a point I was going with this...fucking what was it? Hot summer? Dad did almost murder his coworkers once. Mom...mom... she died in Hurricane Katrina. I remember her yelling. Dad was one minute sobbing through his bits of conscious. Then yelling back as he was cornered.
Table? I remember. A table, a body thrown across it. Drip drip, red juice spilled. Car was broken and we couldn't e-vacuum ate? Why the fuck IS IT HARD TO REMEMBER. Evacuate. We had to leave, too poor to leave.
Grandma told me after. The guilt flooded my father. He left after murdering my mother. His cries stormed out into the night. They never found his body. Lost to the hurricane drowned. My mom's floated away too. The house itself collapsed too. I remember wanting them back soo much. Many tears, cried myself through the storm and passed out.
Where was I going with this? Oh! we had to move to Atlanta with an Uncle. I iced everyone out that winter. Closed off, gave any new kid the cold shoulder. My Uncle almost died that winter. He was a line man. Connected lines. Atlanta rarely gets freezing rain.
Where was I going with this? I can't remember...
To be continued? (Thanks for reading! Apologies for grammar/spelling. Did this at work on my phone) | 2022-01-27T06:45:30 | 2022-01-27T05:34:32 | 981 | 39 |
[WP] Humans aren't the strongest, or the most advanced, species in the galaxy, but they are the most vengeful and persistent. They evolved as persistence predators. If you wrong them, they are willing to follow you across the stars and can spend years working to get back at you for what you did. | **Day One**
We searched for survivors across the ruined city. While we're still developing decent infantry weaponry for fighting humans, our current vehicular firepower has no problem crumbling their towers of stone and steel, doing a much more effective job than we could currently do on foot. Thankfully, the humans on the ground don't know this. All we have to do is point a weapon at them and most of them come along as prisoners. To those that put up a fight, well... the butt of a rifle is a universal language.
I found a younger one on its own in the rubble. Odd to see, but not uncommon; war always tears families apart. The child tried to scream, but I shut it up. I hate children. Always too noisy.
Today's the day our unit moves back to home base. We've spent a while at Earth, and the soldiers need to return home to charge back up on concentrated photons. The local star is far too weak for our needs, and our on-board photon reserves are getting drastically low. Not to mention, our cells are full of prisoners ready to do work back home - or, at least, they will be by the time we get there. It's a twenty day trip back to Eridanus, so there's *plenty* of time to whip the humans into shape.
A few of our privates have abandoned their posts and didn't make it back aboard the cruiser in time. Figures as much, plenty of fresh soldiers go into war itching for a chance to kill. Some don't get enough of a fill and stay back. Maybe they'll join up with our planetside scientists to run tests on new anti-human weaponry.
**Day Four**
Something's not right aboard the ship. We should've had a full unit by the time we left, around eighty soldiers. At this morning's count, we had sixty-eight. Even if a few soldiers were left behind, there's *no reason* we should be losing numbers. Nobody's been sick, so where are these people going? I've overheard chatter about some of the privates hearing things in the walls. Maybe it's true, or maybe it's just urban legend made up by one of the sergeants to put the fear of Phos into them.
I don't think it'd hurt to check any crawlspaces, though.
**Day Nine**
Officially ordered a team to search and clear any and all small spaces for possible stowaways. I'm not taking any chances with this one. Humans are beneath us, but that doesn't stop them from being dangerous. I've heard stories about humans just *showing up* in places. Nobody knows how they get there or how they can survive outside of their environment for so long. If it's happening here, I'm putting a stop to it.
While security did their sweep, I did my best to relax in my quarters. I haven't been able to sleep since the thought of a human escaped on this ship entered my mind. I've been properly trained on what to do in such a situation, but training hardly prepares you for the real thing. Real-world scenarios are a lot harder to predict and control. Hopefully, it won't get to that point.
Addendum: Security found no traces of a human on board. They even did a full atmospheric flush of the hullspace. Nothing could've survived that.
**Day Thirteen**
Damn it all, this mission is cursed!
The photon recharger has broken down. Woke up this morning to find it sparking. Engineering says it got a heavy charge somehow, and that fried the electronics. We only have a little more than a week left before we make it home, and something like this has to go wrong. Engineering says it looks like an act of sabotage, so I'll be questioning the crew throughout the week to see who's been sympathizing with vermin.
**Day Sixteen**
We are on high alert. There's something here with us, we know it now. This morning, half of the remaining crew woke up to find the other half dead in their quarters, their throats slit wide open. There's no way a human could've done this, security made sure that a human couldn't have survived the sweep earlier this week.
Procedure is as follows: soldiers are to remain in their quarters as the ship scans each individual room on this vessel for life signs. Any signs outside of living quarters, and the *entire ship* is flushed of air and re-cycles the atmosphere. If one more life sign is found in a living quarter than registered, then that living quarter is also flushed of air. No chances this time. We are going to kill this vermin.
I can feel myself growing weaker without the photon charger. We've cut it beyond close with this human infestation, half of our crew is gone and the other half is weakened. Home is coming soon, though. We only have a few more days before we can see the blue fields of Eridanus again.
**Day Nineteen**
I saw it. I don't know how, but it's alive, and it's still on the ship. The human is *still here with us.* It must've known. Fuck that, it *was* the one that sabotaged the photon recharger. We're just sitting ducks without our strength.
I saw as it mercilessly slaughtered most of the remaining crew. It just *walked up to them* and started slicing them up with a blade from one of the privates that went missing before we made our return. I recognize it, the idiot brought something ornate and stupid from home and now it's being used to kill us. I don't know how it can just *survive* out here with all the things we've done to get rid of it. The Phos-damned thing just won't die!
I hid in a storage closet. It passed by the door and didn't seem to notice me in there. I think I'm the only one left alive. I just have to make it two more days, and then I can find a way to call command and have them blow this ship to kingdom come.
**Day Twenty-One**
I escaped that hell ship, but just barely.
The day prior to my arrival at Eridanus, I found my way up to the bridge and radioed ahead to command to give the order to attack the ship within five minutes of its arrival. I told them that there was a containment breach on-board and that we needed to sacrifice our cruiser for the greater good of our people. I didn't dare tell them it was just a single human that took our ship out. I don't want to live in shame.
It wasn't exactly a lie, either. I made my way to security after contacting command so I could plan my path to the escape pods in my frail state, and what I saw was terrifying: the human had let all the other ones free. Even more terrifying, it was standing next to the child - *its* child. I knew deep down that it was looking for me.
I managed to make it to the escape pod almost without incident. While on the last hallway, however, I accidentally knocked over a fixture and alerted the main human to my presence. It started walking towards me, with the same slow pace it had killed the rest of my crew with. I tripped over myself trying to make it to the escape pod, and I was so sure that I was going to die, but miraculously, I made it. I managed to shut the door in time and locked the human out.
The next few minutes I spent with the human shouting at me, knocking on the window, doing whatever it could to torture me. It was all harrowing, but the worst was when it stood there, silent. I could see the message it sent with its eyes.
"I will hunt you to the end of the galaxy, and you will not be able to stop me."
I jettisoned the escape pod as soon as the cruiser entered Eridanus airspace. Frantically, I grabbed the radio off the escape pod wall and *begged* for command to destroy the ship. Soon enough, my escape pod was rocked with the wave of energy that came with the surefire destruction of everything on board. There was no way anything could've survived that level of destruction...
...yet, here I am, awake in bed in my own house. I know that human is still out there. Deep down, I know that it *somehow* survived. It has to have survived. It's going to chase me down until the day I die. Even now, I hear footsteps. I don't know who they belong to until my wife enters the bedroom. She says something to me, but I don't clearly understand. All I can do is wait until that human shows up again. | The twin stars, Eldark and Ildark, shine upon me as they have shone upon my ancestors. Black trees bubble to the surface, glittering, and there's purple smoke on the horizon.
"There are stronger materials, but cephalim is what I grew up with. So it bleeds a little. So what? It never bothered me."
Viluvian carefully threads a silver disk with his two front legs. He has not seen Sol. He knows nothing of what the Earthlings are capable of.
"Is that so?"
"I thought about making the switch, I truly did. But then, you know what? I thought better of it. Tradition is important. Let the others experiment with alien materials. I'm happy with my cephalim."
"I get it."
"You do. Of course you do. Your father never questioned the old ways. He—" Viluvian halts, stares at his disk for a moment. "He was a good lykander. And he would've been proud of you, traveling to distant worlds and whatnot."
"I don't know about that. He didn't exactly wish me well on my journey. Last I saw him, mucous of rage dripped down his face and he told me not to bother coming back."
Viluvian says nothing. He stares up at Ildark and hisses a prayer. "May the wayward find solace."
What would he say if I were to tell him that I left out of fear, and that I returned out of a greater one? I shrug off the idea. After all, I should be happy I managed to escape. There is no use in dwelling on it.
Back at my place of rest I study the alien artifacts I brought home with me. Stone carvings. Wood. An insect frozen in amber. These souvenirs would fetch a good price if I had a mind to sell them. Strangely, I feel that if I parted with them my journey itself would vanish as if it were grains of sand uplifted into the skies above.
It was foolish, but I bought a car. I thought I would make Earth my home. I would live among them, learn their customs; it was such a romantic idea before it all died in my hearts. I left it behind on that cursed planet the same way I did my innocence.
I will never return to that place. That much I can say for certain. The dominant species on Earth, the humans, have been galvanized by eons of warfare against itself. It is a strange history. Lykanders protect themselves, sure, and we have expanded throughout our system with a certain level of aggression. But to imagine millennia of lykanders fighting lykanders ... It makes little sense. How can these humans even trust one another?
The insect in amber spoke to me the second I saw it. There it sits, perfectly still, looking so much like myself. Washed in gold, like our rivers; part of me feels I was meant to have it.
Viluvian would treasure it, I am sure. He is a steadfast friend. He is reliable. If I were to give it to him, he would be sure to keep it safe. It could be a symbol of our friendship, even.
I decide that he is worth it, that I will gift him this alien artifact. Hopefully he will accept it. Some lykanders refuse all attempts at presenting them with objects, they know little of alien customs and this foreign notion of strengthening bonds by exchanging symbolic items is peculiar to the elderly.
Returning to our spot among the bubbling trees I see not Viluvian, but a vessel. With dread, I recognize it. It belongs to precisely those humans I just barely escaped. "Viluvian!"
Three legs. Three beautiful, hairy legs. They are sticking out from underneath the vessel, cramping. Then they are quiet.
"Hey, is that ..."
"I think that's him!"
"Boy, we've been looking all over for you!"
I run. They have come all this way, they have decided to chase me across the stars? No. I will not let them.
Viluvian. I must go back for him.
No. There is no hope for him. His legs ... He has already gone to ylderin. He has joined my father. I look up at Eldark, and I hiss. "May the wayward find solace."
One of the humans wheezes. "Man, I hate these spider-looking ones."
Dressed in their suits they appear even more alien than on their planet. My thoughts return to the moment I saw that insect, frozen in amber. How all my feelings of loneliness and trepidation vanished. How I longed to know more about it, to learn what its existence might have been like. Then a similar creature buzzed about in the air and the salesperson reached for a device and squatted it. Crushed it to death with a careless strike.
"Hey! Spider-man! We just want to talk!"
They are close. Their technology is advanced, their movements uncanny. Do they always feel at home? How can they seem as comfortable here on my home planet as on Earth?
"Let's split up. Spidey's creeping in-between those black geysers shooting out gunk."
I was just a tourist. I did nothing wrong. I visited their home world and I returned. So why are they following me? What are they after?
Crawling up a tree I change the hue of my skin for camouflage. As one of the humans runs past, I jump. It only takes seconds. I pierce his suit and listen to the sweet sound of air abandoning his side.
"W-What are you doing? We just want to talk! I swear ... I ..."
His face turns the color of the smoke off in the distance. "You murdered my friend. You followed me all the way here. And for what?"
My language is in his database. I know he can understand. But he just waves his arms about, and he dies. Useless.
The second one walks carefully, not as nimble as before. Is he scared? Has he finally realized that he has left the comfort of his home?
With Ildark as my witness, I throw myself at him. "State your purpose!" I command.
He falls to the ground, dust flies up into the skies. Bubbles slowly creep skyward right next to us. The human sees his dead comrade, he shakes his head. "We've ... We've been trying to reach you," he says.
I poke the side of his suit. "What for?"
His face turns white, and he opens his mouth wide. Eldark and Ildark shines on his pitiful face.
"We've been trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty." | 2022-08-09T15:32:32 | 2022-08-09T14:42:33 | 217 | 107 |
[WP] We seem to have much morbid curiosity about the personification of Death in this sub. Instead, write about his brother, Life.
Or his/her sister? Perhaps about their relationship? Or maybe reincarnation? But really anything goes. | "You're right," I gazed at the weightless human soul in my hands, "it is beautiful."
My brother nodded, slinging his hood back. "And very fragile, too. Please be careful."
Like he had taught me how to do, I opened my palms upward, letting the soul begin the climb to the afterlife. It was a magnificent sight to behold. Even in death, the humans never gave up.
"You have never seen a human soul before? Well sister, considering your line of work, color me surprised." My brother's devious smile glinted in the faint moonlight. I would never admit it to him, but sometimes I was a little jealous of his job.
Sure, I brought life to the world, and he brought death, but there is a certain... emotion one receives from death that is not present in birth. The creatures I craft are delicate, and I take extra care with every single one, but they can never know who I am. They can never greet me, and thank me for a life well-lived, they can only pass along the message to my brother.
"No, you know how my job works, brother." I clucked my tongue at him, "I do not deal directly with souls, I merely-"
"Create the vessel for which they travel, yes, sister, I know." He laughed, finishing the sentence for me. It used to bug me how he always had that big-brother persona, even though he technically *is* my big brother. I considered myself to be older in... mental ways.
"These creatures are so... strange, aren't they, brother?" I asked, staring out across the pond in front of us. The soul we had just collected belonged to the owner of this house. His neighbor would come by tomorrow and find his body.
"How so?"
"My abilities are only inside them for but a moment, though to them it is years, and yet they manage to do so much with the time given. Sometimes I wonder how they continue on, knowing that you're just around the corner." I was more thinking aloud than asking him, but he didn't seem to notice.
The quizzical expression he wore was a dead giveaway that this was the first time he was thinking of this. He furrowed his brow.
"I am going to be honest, I do not quite know how to answer that. Not in words, anyway. What you should know is that a soul is powerful. More powerful than you, and me. The idea of death alone is not even close to strong enough to *crack* the soul." He wasn't facing me, but his set shoulders told me that he was not meant to be interrupted. "I understand your thinking. You are secretly wondering what life is like for me, the taker of the powers you bestow. If you would like, I could show you."
My ears perked up. "You could?" I sounded like one of the many bubbling teenagers that the humans watched on TV.
My brother turned back to me with another smile. "Sure. Hopefully that will answer your question, because all souls are different in their own twisted, complicated way. Meet me back here at noon tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you."
I was too excited to speak, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because when I looked back over my shoulder, he was gone. | We were equals, once.
Our charges celebrated me, just as they feared my brother. They loved me, as they loathed him. We were two sides of the same coin.
Over time, that changed.
People feared him. He grew in power, grew in their minds. They forgot about me in their preoccupation with avoiding him. No one celebrated me anymore. They turned their backs on me.
So I turned my back on them.
As my brother gained more and more power, it became harder and harder for them to avoid him. He claimed more and more lives, which in turn increased his power even more. I could not make my presence felt; births were no longer celebrated. Birthdays became a way not to celebrate me, but to celebrate another year of dodging my brother.
I should never have left.
I'm afraid it's too late. In my haste, in my angst, I couldn't see the effect my absence would have. I'm not sure there's anything I can do now. I'm afraid he may have too strong a hold on the lives of the people, the lives that used to be under my protection. There's only one thing I can beg of you now. Remember me. It's our only hope to lessen my brother's hold on the world.
Celebrate Life. | 2016-09-12T19:16:33 | 2016-09-12T18:48:27 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] For decades, humans have been using a mineral mined off-planet that accelerates healing. Today you discover the truth: it’s not a mineral, but a parasitic alien spore. The more damage your body sustains, the more it replaces your damaged DNA with its own. | "But to what end?!" I gasped, horrified.
Even as I spoke, I could feel my very bones *grasping* as the deep broken pieces in my hands *grew* into place. I shuddered.
Doctor Sanhe casually tossed the large, glittering crystal back into a basket. "They're powerful and intelligent, but they're also crystals. Nothing we do in *either* of our lifetimes is going to be even a blip for them.
"This isn't even all that secret.” She continued. “I mean, even the Crystal Church talks about it, even if they wrap it all up with 'gnostic truths' and 'crystalline tintinnabulations'."
"It's just that I've done a lot of Crystal Therapy..." I muttered, "and if I had known I might turn into some kind of zombie, or..."
"First, It takes decades to reach even 50% conversion. And even then, they won't *do* anything. Crystals think long term, remember?"
"Then what do they want?" I asked incredulously, still absentmindedly cradling my recently shattered hand. "They must be replacing us for some purpose right?"
Dr Sanhe sighed, stood and began shooing me out of the office. "Well! If you're really, *really* want to know you can go talk to them yourself."
​
I barely had time to marvel at the multilayered cystaline structure growing in the center of the hospital before Dr Sanhe was hustling back to her lab.
"Just touch the big crystal in the middle!" She shouted over her shoulder as the doors shut behind her.
When I touched it, I could feel the deep resonance of the world through the crystal. The crystal was quivering ever so slightly and for a single infinitesimal moment, the crystal and I harmonized, and I saw true eternity.
To what end? I saw the end the crystals planned. I saw a sea of dead rocks. The suns were dead and scattered, or endless sucking voids to *some* abyss. I saw a single planet, dead like all the others, but torn through with graceful, lace-line crystal structures. I saw faces in the flats of the crystal stretched and skewed as they grew. Millions of years passed as they crystals grew and twisted around one another, and around the planet. I saw *through* and **between** as the planet's very core turned to glass and stone and translucent mineral.
I saw a network of planet, dead for eons sparkle with life again. A glittering string of gem sitting on the darkest velvet. | Mist launched from it’s center. Its body, adrift in the large void that is space. In death, the small insect hardened itself into a shard of life.
Flames rain from the sky’s as the sun begins to fall. The shard had remained intact even after is hasted dissent along with its fellow insects.
Before long, man had arrived at the planet. they found the insect, and ripped the shard from the planets very stones, mountains, and great seas. But with power, came there vulnerability. Some of the humans had wounds on their body’s. The shard fixed the wounds faster than their own body could, but with a price. First the humans took from us, now we take from the humans... | 2020-07-30T21:05:17 | 2020-07-30T18:50:40 | 97 | 15 |
[WP] Magic is discovered to be real. The catch? Spells are just like computer programs: difficult to write, and even harder to do correct the first try. You're a spell bug tester, and you've seen just about everything go wrong, but today's typo is on a whole other level... | /r/TalesFromMajSupport
#Why you never, EVER let an intern into spelldev [Medium]
⬆9348⬇
by DepressedQAMagician 🌟x1
Howdy TFMS, it's your boy Depressed QA Magician, and I've got another troubling tale for you.
So, if you remember, $Boss has a thing for younguns. Just can't resist the HS interns and fresh grads over the many, many, people who are much more qualified. Can you already tell where this is going?
Yep. Intern. Spelldev.
I know for a fact that all of you maj support workers think they have it worse than QA magicians--their natural enemies next to dumb end users--and vice versa (grass is always greener). Listen to my story.
I was on a coffee break when $newIntern came up to me and told me that $departmentHead wanted me and my QA brethren to investigate a... bug.
So I take my shit to the QA department and what do I see? A... locked door, actually. Rooted shut.
"OH GOD PLEASE DON'T COME IN" $departmentGuy1 says over Ventrilocharm. "CALL THE FUCKING MAJ SUPPORT OH GOD PLEASE"
And I did. I'm standing at the door with my good friend Mike from MS. He blasts it open with a Doorbuster Charm and...
Holy shit. The floor is covered in black slime that looks like tar. Some of it is spilling out on the carpet outside the QA dep't. Mike is absolutely flabbergasted. $departmentHead is standing on a table with a lighter and a can of hair spray in hand. There are geese flying out of the slime. The slime is making more geese.
I'm surprised Mike hadn't pissed his pants yet at this point.
$daveFromQA is sprinting over the slime with his signature Jesus Charm. His shirt is on fire. A book with teeth like the ones in Big Boo's Haunt is chasing him.
I look over at Mike and say, "I'll call $newIntern." I walk away.
When I come back with $newIntern I'm relieved to see that the slime is gone, but then I'm panicked again when a duck comes out of the carpet and starts attacking everyone. Didn't take much to hex it into a tadpole. Meanwhile, $newIntern is cleaning up his mess while apologizing profusely. When everything's all fine and dandy again, $departmentHead loses his shit, rips into $newIntern, and files a complaint to the higher ups.
MS concedes bitter defeat to QA for "worst job", $newIntern is fired, and $Boss was never seen again.
363 comments - report - gild - save - share | I cautiously stepped in through the front door, reeling at the lingering smell of sulfur and smoke that remained in the victims apartment. Books in varying states of ruin littered the room, the few undamaged pages covered in illegible and incomprehensible writing.
One of the books caught my attention, it's unblemished cover an ironic juxtaposition to the havoc wreaked around it. I carefully made my way over to the tome, only picking up the book with a pair of certified safety magic tongs^tm.
"SQLAlchemy for Dummies" was emblazoned across the top of the book, with a drawing of a smiling cartoon wizard staring back at the reader.
The smiling man had struck again.
| 2017-07-26T01:31:47 | 2017-07-26T00:25:02 | 97 | 22 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | I woke up on my 18th birthday and - aside from the obvious nervousness - I felt exactly the same. Of course, this was to be completely expected. After a wonderful birthday breakfast with my family beset with gifts, well-wishes, and gentle teasing, my father volunteered to be the one to fly me to the local Scientific Unlocked Potential Eradiation Reactor to receive the present we all knew I was anxiously awaiting: my power.
My dad was a "flyer", naturally. He was one of the 20% of the population or so that received the ability to hover through the air. It was a fairly common power, although each flyer seemed to have different top speeds and acceleration. The government said it wasn't so much as turning off gravity as telekinetically controlling micro gravity wells.
It was well over most people's heads, well, over everyone's heads except the less than 1% of the population who were "thinkers," bestowed with the power of seemingly unlimited scientific aptitude. They were the rarest powers, but they were probably the most valuable since they were able to refine the process that gave humans their powers.
On the flight over my father reassured me that he and my mother would love me no matter what happened. He joked that my mom's side - full of speedsters - wouldn't mind if I could suddenly break the sound barrier, but that it made no difference what I was gifted with. His voice was lost in the wind as my mind was racing with nervous anticipation.
We landed at the Reactor and entered into the lobby, currently host to a handful of other nervous, but giddy, 18 year olds. For such a miraculous process, the government had done an exemplary job of dulling the entire affair. After a mountain of sign-in paperwork, I awaited my turn.
My name was called an hour later and I was escorted alone to the Reactor, deep inside the facility. The Reactor core was a cavernous, five-story column, large enough for hundreds of people to stand in at the base. At that moment, I was the only one standing in it. The government thinkers stood outside reinforced doors and sent reassuring messages through the intercom. They flipped the switch. Nothing happened.
For the ensuing hours there was confusion. I had gained no observable power. My head swimming, the thinkers' voices blended together. "Unparalleled." "Anomaly." "We've never seen this before." They advised to keep me overnight for full observation.
My father and I had a reassuring chat outside before he left. I'll never forget how worried he looked and I'll never forget his words to me. "We'll love you no matter what." I'll never forget the hug. I'll never forget how scared I was. And I'll never forget when they told me hours later how he died when he fell from the sky after his powers faded.
It was that day I learned that I was given the one power no one in our society wanted: I permanently take away others' powers through touch or being in close proximity. Worse, the area of effect of my "power" was unstable. It could be a meter, it could be a mile. Or, as a leading thinker said, I "have the power to singlehandedly bring the Golden Age of humanity to an end."
I am alone. I am feared. I am hunted. And I'm scared. | Everybody knows how it happens. The day you turn 18 you go to "The Centre" and they give you an injection. This injection mutates the cells in your body and your mind, allowing for a further 30% control of an individuals brain. It causes the individual to attain what we call "superpowers". The only problem is not knowing the superpower you are going to get.
Four days ago i received this injection and it was the worst experience of my life. On the first day everyone gets bed-ridden as the injected cells fight with the white blood cells for control of the body. The second day you spend by the toilet, rejecting whatever food and drink you managed to eat previously. On the third day..... well the third day is the day of delirium. The world spins and the walls melt. Those who go through it akin it to being on LSD, only without paying the price for it!
Just like everyone else before me, I had to go through these phases of pain. But I finally received my power. It may be the worst power on the planet...but its mine. When I first got my power my mother said it was the best power on the planet (mums! Am I right?). So now all I have to look forward to is tomorrow, another day of using my powers towards attaining peace for mankind. Another day of being able to write with my fingertips! | 2015-03-28T05:39:45 | 2015-03-28T05:14:22 | 757 | 18 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him. | JulieBear1998: Dad r u there? 0_0 Helllooooooooo?
LoneStarRanger: Hi pumpkin. Sorry I'm late. We were running drills.
JulieBear1998: Lol its k
LoneStarRanger: So how was your day Julie?
JulieBear1998: it was good
JuliesBear1998: i finally got my chem midterm back
LoneStarRanger: What'd you get?
JulieBear1998: guess xD
LoneStarRanger: 85?
JulieBear1998: 91!
LoneStarRanger: Wow great job pumpkin!
LoneStarRanger: How's Gary doing?
JulieBear1998: uuuuuuuuuhh not to good, he got into another fight
LoneStarRanger: Not again. What for?
JulieBear1998: he started beating the shit out of a kid for saying that the war was stupid, and that it's all a huge waste of time.
JulieBear1998: u know how he gets about it
LoneStarRanger: This war is stupid pumpkin. Tell your brother to accept what other people think okay? I just want to come home and see you guys again.
LoneStarRanger: And watch your mouth.
JulieBear1998: geez sorry :-P
JulieBear1998: yur coming back on the 11th right?
LoneStarRanger: Yeah. I'm counting the days.
JulieBear1998: you talked to mom right?
JulieBear1998: dad?
JulieBear1998: daaaaaaad?
JulieBear1998: wtf
LoneStarRanger: pumpkin
JulieBear1998: lol what happened?
LoneStarRanger: i got hurt bad
LoneStarRanger: im hit in the chest dont think ill make it
JulieBear1998: wtf dad this isnt funny
JulieBear1998: moms already worried enough as it is without u doing this shit
JulieBear1998: dad?
JulieBear1998: whatever u asshole
LoneStarRanger: Hello?
JulieBear1998: u almost gave me a heart attack dad wtf dont joke about this stuff
LoneStarRanger: Your dad is Pvt. Donald Bryant?
JulieBear1998: what is this?
LoneStarRanger: Is this Julie?
JulieBear1998: dad?
JulieBear1998: dad please stop
LoneStarRanger: I'm sorry but your father is dead
LoneStarRanger: I'm so sorry
LoneStarRanger: I think I'm the one who shot him in the raid but I can't be certain
JulieBear1998: who is this
LoneStarRanger: I'm a soldier who killed your dad
LoneStarRanger: I'm so sorry
LoneStarRanger: I followed to trail of blood into the barracks
LoneStarRanger: I think he was trying to send you a message on your computer but he fell onto the ground
LoneStarRanger: He was coughing up blood. I shot him in the lung.
LoneStarRanger: I'm so sorry
JulieBear1998: stop
LoneStarRanger: he told me to tell you to take care of your brother and your mother and that you were the light of his life and im so sorry
LoneStarRanger: the lieutenant made me shoot him in the head but i couldnt do it and i lett him suffer and im so sorry
LoneStarRanger: you cannot forgive me for this julie
[JulieBear1998 has left the chat] | Sam-
I am, I fear, losing something. Perhaps it is lost.
Nights and days bleed together like the red mud underfoot and the sonic sludge of bugs and bullets whining and hunting for what the soil has yet to accept from us. I hardly notice it anymore. I don't know if I am glad for this.
You and Alex keep me going, I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't read your letters at night. I won't tell you what hers say, that's private, and bug off if you feel I'm being schmaltzy- I just don't think I'd ever write again if I didn't have your letters to hold me up. You are the stars I wish upon at night, strewn across a sky cursed to look over this dirt and blood spectrum of a life.
Thank you for the news of Dad, I cannot say how glad I am to hear he's doing better, and that little spawn of yours looks like something too cute to have any sort of relation to your bucktoothed ass.
Anyway, I sent Alex a
Hello,
I do not know who you are, and for that I am glad and sad and shatteringly sorry all in the same moment.
I do not know you. I do not know you, and I have dealt you the saddest hand a man could hold. I am sorry. Reading his words to you renders me speechless and broken and burned as if I have ripped a star from the sky and sought to consume it.
I wish you the best and will have this letter sent to you, and I wish you to know that we are all of us victims of a monstrous and foolish necessity.
I wish you to hate me if you must, and as his words echo in my mind as they will ever-more, I shall struggle not to do the same.
Yours,
Alexander Harwick
| 2015-02-03T16:21:09 | 2015-02-03T15:21:50 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] Everytime someone has a 'blonde moment' they get a little blonder. Black hair is now a symbol of brilliance, and you've just invented hair dye.
These are all so good! This is my first submission to /r/WritingPrompts and I'm loving all your responses.
Thank you! | I took a deep breath, preparing to go outside and for the first time, not sure what to expect from otherwise usual surroundings. Would people treat me differently? What could I do, now that people will think I'm smart?
The first place I went was Starbucks, where I ordered my usual swirly, creamy coffee drink. If I was going to possibly make this believable, I'd at least have to be alert. I I noticed the barista gave me a genuine smile instead of the usual knowing smirk that comes with a stereotype matching an expectation.
I walked briskly off to class. My first semester at the community college was disheartening, to say the least. Most people there were also blonde, some lighter than others, with a few shades of brown and - occasionally - someone with hair so dark they stand out in every class, yet for some reason rejects the scholarships for university offered to every one of them.
There was one such boy in my first class, Chemistry. I felt I was quite good at it, yet the professors, usually with light to medium brown hair(I'd heard the university professors were required to be dark brown or deeper), talked to me like I didn't understand. I guess maybe I just don't fully grasp all of it, but I get the basics. I think I got really lucky with my hunch about ammonia to make this dye.
The boy looked surprised when I walked in. Right, I thought, I was one of him, too, now. I sat in the one of the only open seats, next to him. I figured it's what I'd do if I were him.
"Now," the professor began, "who can tell me what they know about the laboratory you reviewed on the syllabus?"
I took a chance and raised my hand. He nodded. "Well..." I tried to remember exactly the answer I had given my first day of the same class last year; "It's a standard titration, so you're basically balancing out the amount of acidic substance in a solution with the amount of basic compound in a solution, and so the amount of the base required can tell you how much acid is in the solution."
"Yes, yes, very good answer!" He replied.
I tried to smile normally but had to hold back a grin, then looked away in embarrassment.
After class, the boy with the dark hair introduced himself to me as Michael. He didn't know exactly what he wanted to study, and didn't want to be around a bunch of people who would pressure him to choose so quickly. I admired that he would stray so far from the norm for that. The more we talked, the more he expected me to say something intelligent, something interesting, the more I felt...well, intelligent, or interesting.
Did the dye change my intelligence as well as the color of my hair? Or...was I always capable of feeling like this?
{Really wanted to write more but it felt like it was getting long and it's really late. :(} | "Greg, you've got to be kidding?"
"No." I say willfully not adjusting my hat. While I didn't use the dye from the first test batch I sure could have. I've got a nice head of brownish hair. It's not the jet black of my brother's though.
"Anyone who is naturally black haired will see through it in moments." He says, shaking his head. I didn't think of that. Damn it! He hasn't continued to read the paper yet though. He's still staring at me. Was my hair getting lighter as he watched?! Even though I knew that was impossible I fought the urge to pull the hat down farther.
"But..." He said slowly, setting the morning newspaper aside to pick up the jar of black goop I set before him, "The blondes won't think of that."
He was grinning now staring at the jar obviously seeing something else entirely.
"Greg you're brilliant!" | 2016-11-24T22:17:33 | 2016-11-24T22:14:17 | 32 | 22 |
[WP] Spontaneously overnight, all of humanity is transformed into a vast array of mythical and fantasy creatures, based on who they were on the inside. You weren't even remotely prepared for what you became. | "Aw nuts!"
It was 7 AM and KLAQ was blasting from my radio, taking me away from my very pleasant dream. Instead I was treated to DJ blather and a traffic report. Even with all that has changed, El Paso traffic is still El Paso traffic.
I tried to get out of bed and then I remembered to brush *them* out of my eyes.
A bunch of snakes opened their eyes as I heard a familiar rattle. The bedsheets became a tangle and if I hadn't stopped myself, I would have landed on the floor with a thud.
Last thing I needed was to piss off Mrs. Tanaka down stairs. The woman was a full on Karen before all this mess. Now she has claws that are sharp as razors.
I stopped slowly and got out of bed and reached for my goggles. Adjusting my old Army eye-pro, I got my tail out of bed and concentrated.
The snakes fell in line around my head. It's weird seeing with their eyes instead of my own. I concentrated and got to the bathroom and looked into the mirror.
"No one dares look upon the face of the gorgon and live", I remembered a line from a movie I saw once as I brushed my teeth. The snakes I now have for hair started to wiggle in time with the brushstrokes.
I hated people and I hated it when they looked me in the eye. Fuckin' NCO's always judging me and laughing behind their backs. I got out the Army and retail was not better, dealing with people who always seemed to be pissed of for the littlest thing. I wished I could shoot lasers out of my eyes.
Well, I read about Medusa in high school. Let me tell you, turning you landlady into stone by accident isn't funny nor is explaining it to the 911 operator. Thankfully it wore off. Turns out the longer I stare at a living thing the strong the stony-fication lasts. The judge was nice enough to get a caseworker and help me figure out how to move now that I had a snake's lower body. However I gots to wear goggles when I leave the apartment. It don't work via reflection, through anything transparent or via video.
Because of what happened, I got a remote job - no meeting face to face, just over the phone customer service and data entry. I do a lot of zoom meetings.
I guess I got what I wanted, people don't dare look me in the eyes anymore. Neither would I, unless I wanted to start making lawn ornaments.
Nice thing about having snakes for hair, they can hold the USB headset, I settled in for a day's work. | I coughed myself awake. Great start to the day! As I forced myself out of bed I realized that I was really sore, and there was an odd clicking sound as I moved. I reached up to run my eyes and nearly cut them out with my newly blue, scaly hand. Or, rather, claw. I risked a glance in my dresser mirror to reveal I was a small blue dragon. I started to panic but cold air startled me into calmness. I blew on the window to my left. Well, then. I was an ice dragon, huh? Maybe with the wings this wouldn't be terrible? At least I still had digits and a craving for breakfast cereal rather than wild meat. | 2020-06-11T22:39:39 | 2020-06-11T22:06:54 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] World War 3 has begun, every nuke is being launched or dropped...they've sat in storage for so long that every single one was a dud. | The cold winter air swirled around the austere room, even though all doors were closed and the secret chamber inside the Russian fortress of the Kremlin had never been afforded windows. The President of the Russian Federation softly lowered an ordinary-looking phone onto its plain receiver. Around him, his closest advisors and highest-ranking military commanders stood at attention, but it was to the lonely figure of the Patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church that the first words were addressed.
“May God forgive us”, the President declared, not in the typically assertive voice of a confident tsar, but in the pious tones of a God-fearing man knowing with absolute certainty the final consequences of his next action.
The Generals assembled understood well the meaning of the plea, which they immediately repeated. Judgement Day would be coming very soon, and it was better to make peace with their merciful Creator. The Patriarch appeared the most relaxed of the tense assembly, and his thick beard and orthodox robes seemed to soothe the fellow braves in council, as did his voice, in the peculiar accent of a child forged by the Siberian tundra.
“He does, my son.”
******
7,817 kilometres away, the President of the United States of America, supreme commander of the most powerful military in history, looked dejected at the two foreign leaders sat across from him in the Oval Office, nervously fidgeting in their seats. His hand still clutched the only method of communication between 1600, Pennsylvania Avenue, and the Red Square.
“Call your families,” he said, “and then your generals. Give the orders and God save us all.”
The next few minutes heard the echo of several strings of alphanumerical characters being shouted over land, to the Pentagon, and across the Atlantic Ocean, to London and Paris. Within minutes, Operation Armageddon would open Cold War silos for the first time in decades, and the skies of the northern hemisphere would light up with the yellow trace of supersonic ICBM’s flying West to East and East to West, in a nuclear theatre for the ages. The celestial show would rival the Aurora Borealis in awe and the apocalypse in might.
******
The silos opened, from the mountains of North America to the harsh plains beyond the Urals. Orders were sent, keys were turned, numbers were punch in and punched in again. Archaic computer circuits calculated trajectories, orbits and targets, while heavy engines pulled the doomsday weapons from deep within the protective crust of the Earth. And then, just as the first litres of fuel started leaking and burning harmlessly, and the missiles stood shamefully still inside the thick launch tubes in four different countries, hardened generals cried in anguish, holding tight their wives and children, and four different leaders collapsed in dismay at the dreadful thought of extermination without retaliation.
The world changed that day, but the Judgement which came was from a new kind entirely; one which, in the aftermath of the limbo wait for the destruction, the nuclear purgatory, guaranteed a future for the unscathed population of an otherwise scorched Earth.
******
**/r/Camberlot** | "Well, this is awkward," Trump said. "I normally have the best nukes, believe me."
"Yes, Mr. President, it is indeed confusing," the North Korean translator said over speakerphone. "Our Dear Respected Leader Comrade Kim Jong Un is willing to let bygones be bygones, sir. Let us start anew as peaceful compatriots, having learned our lessons from the past."
"Listen up, you. I want you to go back and tell Rocket Man that I promised fire and fury, and you're going to get the fire and fury, and even if you've only seen the fury part so far, the fire will be tremendous, the likes of which the world has never seen before."
"Please, Mr. Trump, sir. We are in the midst of a global crisis, sir. We need to draw together as a world and address the nuclear material lying all over the world."
"My army is bigger than your army."
"Well darn it." | 2018-03-01T15:53:09 | 2018-03-01T15:51:36 | 1,075 | 65 |
[WP] On your deathbed, the Grim Reaper himself comes to pay you a visit. You expect him to collect your soul, until he asks where and how you have hidden it. | I should have seen it coming. It was because of the vaccines my parents subjected me to when I was a child. Or maybe it was the fluoride in the drinking water that did me in. I was lucky I did not turn gay like those frogs I suppose, but dying at the age of 38 was a tragedy nevertheless.
When the grim reaper appeared, I was disappointed by his measly appearance. The robes were tattered, the scythe did not look well maintained, and he walked. . . I don't know, we walked like one of those store clerks you shout at. I tried to stay civil and keep my disapproving gaze to a minimum. Death approached, and I steeled myself best I could.
In a surprisingly normal voice the reaper asked me: "Where did you hide it?" Then I opened my eyes a bit and gave him my first good look. Yeah he looked a bit thin, but he wasn't a skeleton. In fact I was pretty sure I saw him working at Macy's shoe department some time last week. The name badge on his chest identified him as Tim.
I was surprised, but it seemed he was more surprised than me. He seemed at a loss. Looking under the bed, behind the curtains. When he reached for the nightstand drawers I couldn't help myself.
\- Excuse me! Those are private! How dare you mess around in a customer's private property!
\- B - But your soul.
\- No, buts young man! You can't open my drawer! Those are private!
\- Ok, ma'am. Where did you hide your soul? I have a busy schedule today and would like to conclude the reaping as soon as possible.
\- What do you mean where is my soul? Shouldn't you know it? In fact, isn't that your job description!?! Can't a woman die in peace in this country no more!?
\- I am sure it is a simple misunderstanding ma'am. I am sure I can sort it out right quick. If you onl-
\- If I only what?!? You know what \*Tim\*. I don't think you know what you are doing? How long have you worked in this position?!?
\- I started today ma'am.
\- TODAY?!?! And you already lost my soul!!! This is terrible, you know how busy I am. I have an appointment at the pearly gates and won't be able to attend because YOU lost my soul Tim! I DEMAND MY SOUL TO BE GLEANED BY SOMEONE COMPETENT TIM!
\- But, ma'-
\- Don't you ma'am me one more time young man! I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER! RIGHT NOW!
At that point Tim's eyes were watering up with tears. I felt in control. Who was this pesky looser to glean \*my\* soul.
The commotion seemed to draw the attention of management and finally a proper grim reaper emerged from the shadows. He put his hands on the apprentice grim reaper's shoulder and said: "Tim, son. I am sorry. You shouldn't have been assigned a Karen on your first day. Karens have no souls and they become the wailing banshees after death. We don't glean them son."
I was still yelling as they turned away and disappeared into the shadows. | I slept there in my hospital bed. Suddenly I was awoken by somebody crashing into a table. I opened my eyes and there stood a girl, her face as pale as a ghost with the darkest hair I had ever seen.It felt like somebody had taken the darkest sky and put it in her hair.
She asked me,“Where is it".
I didn't know who she was but somehow I knew exactly what she wanted.
I said, "I haven't felt it in a long time" then I smiled at her.
My smile, which had been fooling the world into thinking I still had it"
For a split second, she glared at me, as if she believed it too.
She said, “That's not gonna work with me".
I stopped smiling.
"I want to retrieve it, just tell me where is it" She seemed exhausted now.
Even though I hadn't felt it in a long time, I knew precisely where I had left it. A pair of large brown eyes, a hearty laugh, A kiss where it felt like there was nothing wrong with the world.
A man who had taken a part of me with him.
I thought it was just my heart but it was more than that. I had spent my whole life pretending that it hadn't happened, but it had.
I could not bear to take those parts away from him.. | 2020-04-23T03:47:35 | 2020-04-23T02:34:30 | 48 | 10 |
[WP] Heaven is segregated by cause of death. All heart attacks together, all shark attacks together, etc. You die and appear in a nearly empty room. A tired old man looks up at you and says "Finally! Someone else! It's been ages!" | *poof*
I was...elsewhere...and now I am here. Where is here though? My eyes adjusted quickly to the apparent emptiness of where I was. It was just a white expanse of...nothing? I could not help to say it out loud. "Where am I"?
"Heaven's waiting room".
I quickly spun around to find the source of the voice. How they got behind me without my knowing I'll never know. Must be the disorientation. "Excuse me?" I said to them.
"Heaven's waiting room. You died. You're waiting to be processed for admission."
The person speaking to me looked fairly unremarkable. Except for the lightly glowing white robes. Looks like I was wearing one too. "What do you mean by that? Processed? Admission?"
"Well, not everybody qualifies you know. There were rules...somewhere". They drifted off for a bit. "Anyway they have this sorting method. It's all in the pamphlet."
"What rules? What pamphlet?"
"The rules don't matter now, you're dead. The pamphlet is in your pocket."
I patted my robes and sure enough, there was a pamphlet.
*Welcome to HEAVEN* it stated. Big bold type on gold leaf white paper. Nice font. I opened it to read on. It was really just one paragraph, very ornately presented though. 'You are currently in one of Heaven's many waiting rooms awaiting processing for admission. As billions of people have/will have lived, this processing does take time. To streamline the process, processing is done by cause of death, regionally, chronologically, alphabetically (HA standard) and religiously. You have been preliminarily sorted into rooms that you share with persons who shared your cause of death. Thank you for your patience. There are currently (I could not make out the next bit but I think it was an extremely large number.) souls ahead of you.
I looked up at my new companion "Cause of death? First? Why?"
They looked at me with an 'I don't know either' expression.
"So how did we die again?" I asked them.
"Think about it. It will come to you" they said.
I thought for a moment. "I was swimming..."
"Where were you?" he asked. "In the ocean"?
"Yes, the Atlantic. On the coast of..."
"North Carolina"
"At night".
"There was a storm coming and you were swimming to shore"
"And I was stuck by lighting"
"At the exact moment a shark attacked"
"And then..."
"You hit your head on a rock as the storm tossed you ashore."
"That's it! Amazing only two people have ever died that way?"
"NO" I heard a big booming voice call out from nowhere. "That's next door." I think the voice also suppressed a slight laugh.
I looked up to my companion and started to ask, but they cut me off.
"Yes, I was swimming naked too".
Another voice called out from nowhere. "Now processing soul number..." That was a very large number indeed. | The ground wasn't there, twas but empty and i,
A man of existence, if existence could lie.
And upon the horizon, of the line-lacking plane,
Walked towards me a man, who called out my name
How did he know? Had he ever been seen?
Had i fallen through life to the cracks in between?
Why did he walk while i drifted on air?
In the absence of colour, a lost mans torn tear
The words that he spoke, they were gentle and young,
As though he was singing to his daughters child son
You were alive once, in fact, just mere moments behind,
He says as this world seems to fall with my mind
Then it hits me, and it hits me, like an august born wave.
The person i was was so much more than a name.
Thursday it was, the day i was told,
I would never reach 30, i'd never grow old.
Genetic, pathetic. It couldnt be eased,
It was new and confusing, such a deadly disease.
The old man, still walking, we finally meet,
I shiver with cold, he pulls me down to my feet.
"Such a beautiful thing, life's unpredictable course, i threw away mine, did you enjoy yours?" | 2021-11-24T12:30:22 | 2021-11-24T12:24:23 | 259 | 84 |
[WP] Time travel is real, and time tourists tend to show up in large numbers around major historical events. One day, billions of time tourists are in ships above the city, quietly waiting. | I look out from the window of my laboratory.
"That's not good," I said to myself.
Ever since the existence of time travelers was exposed these nuisances had been cropping up all over the world. Usually a few of them would appear just before or during a disaster. More than a few have been turning up at rock concerts. No one has ever managed to speak to them. We were only able to theorize they were time travelers by the fact these strange floating ships have been appearing and disappearing without any trace of radiation. It was obvious when they suddenly obliterated they didn't vaporize or disintegrate. We were able to postulate they must have been traveling through space time, the fact they were showing up before major events just confirmed the obvious, they were time travelers.
Now everyone involved in space warp research was trying to find a way how to make time travel possible. NASA actually lost a huge chunk of their biggest brains in the warp drive project to work on it. Among them were some of my closest peers. I personally had no interest in time travel. I couldn't imagine anything less appealing than the idea of sending a bunch of idiot tourists to loiter through the space time continuum like a bunch of freeloading rubberneckers.
In my laboratory I wasn't working on something so grandiose as time travel or even warp drive. I was on the development team for warp drive in college. We were in the very basic early stages of research causing space time to move using superconducting magnets at absolute zero temperatures. That was when I made a very interesting discovery, warping space time and making it move caused space time to behave like it had inertia. That meant in measurable levels it kept moving, at least for a little while, after you stopped applying force to it. Like a wheel rolling to a stop. This was despite the fact space time itself did not have any perceivable mass.
From that discovery I was able to postulate there may be a super-efficient way to warp space time by causing it to cycle in on itself. Generating its own internal inertia without the need for much outside force. If this was possible it would help with warp drive, that was for certain, but I was thinking much smaller. Like anti-gravity on earth with small devices powered by ordinary batteries. The idea of a super stable flying platform had a multitude of engineering applications. After that there would be patents, billions of dollars, and wicked cool flying cars. Maybe even a hoverboard. I was pretty sure I was on the verge of a break through, or discovery.
Then these time traveling clowns had to show up.
I decided I better pack up and leave town. God only knew what sort of calamity could happen that would be this big. Before I would go I checked the results of a simulation I was running through a bank of PC's I picked up from pawn shops and junk yard sales all over. They were linked together as a sort of budget supercomputer. The results were extremely disappointing.
"99.999 percent efficiency? Bullshit!" I shouted.
It was obvious something went terribly wrong. 98 percent efficiency was expected in superconductivity, but when expending that energy to warp space time there had to be a loss. The basic laws of physics demanded it. 99.999 percent efficiency was not free energy or a perpetual motion engine, but it was pretty damn close. An infinitesimal loss of energy in warping space time. I decided to print out a graph of my latest test.
Then something occurred to me, if moving space time behaved like it had inertia, but in itself had no mass (or at least so small practically undetectable) that would mean that warping space time could somehow be directly related to the force moving it, super cooled magnetism. If this was true, that would mean there had a direct link between space time and the other forces we were never able to link together before. Such as linking gravity to electromagnetism. The grand unified theory. Using the results from my print out I was able to formulate a complete and unbelievably simple formula linking all the forces of the universe together, and I wrote it down on my marker board. I stood there in awe of it. If this was true it was all possible. Anti-gravity. Warp drive. Even time travel.
"Oh no!" I said to myself as turned around.
Standing in my laboratory were half a dozen very peculiarly dressed people. They were all beaming at me with great smiles, and they applauded.
|
They called it...Paraboxing Day.
For centuries, Time Surfers inc. had been one of the most successful businesses in the history of Earth. Invented in 2085, a man by the name of Twitter Buzzfeed was finalizing his build of the worlds very first time machine. By 2090, he had developed what we now call "Parabox". By 2095, the worlds first time-travel company had hit the public market for tourists.
The first groups to jump were of the elite businesspeople in the world at the time. They were small jumps, the first one being the "Great Jump of World War 3". It was a huge success, as they were able to calculate the exact moment and place to stand to view the first plane hitting the World Trade Center in what used to be New York City in the year 2001. The participants were in awe of how accurate and exceptional their experience was.
Back then, the rules were strict. Do not interact with anyone from that timeline, and do NOT take or leave any items behind. You had to have a certain level of physique to withstand the variable pressure change when jumping, and anyone between the ages of 21-140 were allowed to jump granted they passed a physical stress test. The initial price to jump was a staggering 4500gow (Gallons of Water).
For over a decade, only small jumps were made by these rich elite, to varying moments in our history. Little things like assassinations, famous speeches, sporting events, and low-scale disasters were the among most popular choices.
In 2115, Time Surfers celebrated it's 30'th anniversary, and with it, one of the most remarkable decisions was made by the owner Mr. Buzzfeed. He decided that since he had made more H^2 O than he could ever spend, that he would open his doors to anyone. The price for jumping dropped to only 1gow. 1gow was the only operating cost of a jump. Therefore, the margins were only to sustain the machine and almost anyone could afford to jump.
Improvements have been made over the last 30 years, mostly to the power and size of the machine. On the first jump, only 6 people were sent back. Now, almost 300 people (depending on size and weight) could be in a single jump.
The first *and last* large-scale jump occurred late in the Fall of 2115. Nobody could expect what was to happen on that day...especially not a man named Synth, and his brother, Apple.
| 2015-05-30T12:51:18 | 2015-05-30T08:41:27 | 34 | 19 |
[WP] For decades, humans have been using a mineral mined off-planet that accelerates healing. Today you discover the truth: it’s not a mineral, but a parasitic alien spore. The more damage your body sustains, the more it replaces your damaged DNA with its own. | ######[](#dropcap)
*Just a small nick.*
There it was. The urge again. Nick wiped the sweat dripping from his brow and shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears. Everything was good about this job--the benefits, the people, the pay. Everything except that goddamn ringing. The management said it was a natural consequence of Xetholav's atmospheric barrier vibrating from the the howling gales that threatened to tear their mining station apart. He didn't buy the explanation, but he wasn't about to argue with five hundred dollars a day over a little ringing in his ears. So what if he went deaf? He could use the money he'd been stashing away to hire the best doctors.
And beyond that, he hadn't been to the doctor in years. Not since he'd been hired by Aprico Industries to mine Xengaite. The mineral was even a part of their benefits package--specifically, their health benefits package. When Aprico had first discovered its healing properties, the company shot to the top of the Dow Jones in a single day. After that, it was quick work to perform testing, get FDA approvals, and go to market. Aprico was what Theranos could only dream of. And Nick had been lucky enough to get in at the ground floor; he had been hired in as a janitor at the beginning, and then when supply couldn't keep up with demand, he'd jumped at the chance to become a miner. And he'd never felt so lucky.
Nick stood up, wincing as his knee ached again. The pay was great, but he was getting too old for this shit. Xengaite had one downside: it was a weak metal that could only be mined by hand with a tin pickaxe, lest it be damaged. Machines simply weren't advanced enough to detect it, strangely enough. He set down his pickaxe. "I'm going to take a break," he shouted across the field at Reynolds. His mining partner nodded.
He hobbled over to the break room. A blast of air conditioning hit him as he parted the plastic strips. Jenkins was sitting at the back, his eyes shut as he leaned back against the wall, a Xengaite patch on his arm.
Nick plopped into a chair and grabbed a granola bar, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth. Upon hearing the crinkling, Jenkins wearily opened one eye.
"Long day, huh?" Nick asked.
Jenkins grunted.
*Just a small cut.*
Nick whipped around. "Did you hear that?" He narrowed his eyes. It was that dang voice again. It had started a couple of months ago, always a whisper, and the doctors simply couldn't find anything wrong. There was no family history of schizophrenia, and he had never felt better.
"Hear what?" Jenkins asked.
"That...that voice."
Jenkins gave him a strange look, then shut his eyes again.
Nick's brows furrowed together, but he didn't ask again. He needed another dose.
He wiped his hands on his suit legs, then ambled over to the vending machine. He swiped his badge, then watched as a patch dropped from the machine. He snagged it then sat back down and tore the plastic wrapping off of it. He rolled up his right sleeve, then thought better of it. Better not to irritate the rash. Instead, he stuck the patch on his left arm.
The relief was almost immediate. A cooling sensation in his veins that seemed to suck away all the pain and aches. He felt spry again, like he was a twenty year old boy ready to take on the world. But the feeling faded just as quickly, leaving a tingly aftermath that meant the patch was still working after the initial high. Good thing too, because he was twenty years past his prime, and he was going to need all the help he could get.
He could understand why they were only allowed 3 per day. The stuff was addictive. If you weren't careful, you had something much worse than meth on your hands.
Suddenly, a scream rent the air.
***
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/i0xctn/wp_for_decades_humans_have_been_using_a_mineral/fzu6e2n/) | The discovery of olititite had set society into a frantic tumult unseen since the Great Zero Point Fuel Rush of the '70s. Found in the deepest ice of Europa, grinding and processing olititite into a thin paste allowed it to pass through our cell membranes and act as a catalytic for intracellular reactions. If recovered within a couple of hours, even a severed arm would weave itself into the fabric of our tissue with nay a scar.
The United Nations Health Commission was appropriately cautious, yet the ointments passed all tests and were introduced to the public as the first off-planet health remedies; the public, in its guiltless eagerness for the promised panacea, took in the ointments like water after a drought.
For decades death rates plummeted and humanity flourished: developing nations gained an escape from their unrelenting plagues while developed nations retained and expanded their human capital with the advent of longer life spans. Water wars ceased as new olititite based serums made most water potable and people began to deeply appreciate life with mortality seeming like a distant vulnerability. Olititite proliferated and became part of the daily routine of billions upon billions.
First noted by the Ambassador to the U.N. Independent Territory of Kamchatka, birth rates declined a little over four decades after olititite became commonplace. We realized that it affected the upper echelons of society the most, a completely logical development as they had been the first to gain access to the substance before it could be mass-produced. Fiery philosophers pounced on the implications of a longer life span on our paternal drives, while bold biologists theorized the on the subtle shifts in our biological programming.
It wasn't until the merger of Ancestry and 23me, almost a century after olititite's conquest of households that we realized it had been meddling with our very structure. It had bonded and fused with the very building blocks of humanity and it had *changed* us over now three generations. Philosophers and biologists alike rescinded their claims as the causes of the phenomenon became known. Slow incremental alterations culminated with something different. With us, different. We didn't forsake childbearing, a biological schism separated and would forever keep us apart from our brothers and sisters of the past. | 2020-07-30T20:06:28 | 2020-07-30T18:13:21 | 175 | 65 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | "Hey guys, look what I got!" Yelled The Crushinator as he held aloft the severed head of George Gomez, Junior. In certain circles, Little Georgie is very famous; his father, George Gomez, Senior is much more universally known, hailed far and wide as The Great Big, East City's tallest superhero and a three-time savior of the world. And now, Little Georgie's head is dripping blood on the carpet of the the headquarters of the Chaos Guild. A crew of villains with a collective 200 years of mischief and mayhem are looking into the dead eyes of the child of one of their most stalwart enemies. "Did I do good?"
The response is not immediate. Most of them seem to have stopped breathing, until Countess Calamity finally says what everyone is thinking.
"You've killed us all, you fucking moron!" She screams, triggering a cacophony of approval of mixed forms; tears, screams, expletives, and curses all intermingle. Red Anchor pisses himself, but no one who notices passes judgement on him. At the head of the table, a dark figure in full body armor raises his hand, calling for silence, and even those who aren't looking can feel it, and at least bring their utterances to a low mutter.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we knew this day was coming." The figure says, standing from their seat and walking over to a computer console. "Preparations have been made, and must now be executed." With a stroke of a few keys, a pair of buttons appears before each seat at the table, one red and one green, and the figure returns to their seat. "It's a simple majority vote..."
Before they can finish their sentence, every seated person has mashed down the green button in front of them.
"...thank you. All of you have rewarded my trust countless times, and here, in the end, it brings me some comfort to see your commitment."
**SELF DESTRUCT SEQUENCE INITIATED - T MINUS 29:59**
"What the fuck is happening!?" Cries Crushinator. "All this for Great Big? He's just a guy who grows!"
"It's not Great Big who's coming!" The Countess yells, storming off towards the door. All the other villains, save the figure from the head of the table, are following her lead. "You're going to be dead before Great Big notices his boy is gone, you oaf!"
"Walk with me, child. You deserve to know the magnitude of your sins." The figure says, beckoning towards a freshly opened trapdoor in the floor. Crushinator obeys, crouching down into a dark, cobweb ridden tunnel below. The figure strides right through, unbothered by the webbing accumulating on their body. "A question. Do you know the name Cedric the Sorcerer?"
"Who?"
"Exactly. For decades, both sides of our little war have done our best to ensure that his name go unremembered. The heroes, to hide their shame. And us, to save our lives." The tunnel keeps winding downward below the Guild's headquarters. "Born Cedric Barkley, he was a mid-tier magical talent. Not much in a fight, to be honest, spent most of his career doing humanitarian assistance, disaster evacuation, performing for sick children, all that garbage. And then we made a mistake."
"There were 30 seats at the board table, then. Gods, we thought we were strong. We thought we could bring the entire world down. Stupid. There were 30 of us when we decided to kill Cedric's family. 'Sending a message'. His wife, four kids, 2 cats and his apprentice. Nothing fancy, we just shot them in the heads and stacked them up on the living room carpet. Or at least that's how we left them. It wasn't how the authorities found them..." The tunnel finally opens up into a large hanger, with a variety of vehicles within. A number of empty spaces reveal that some of the other villains have already had the same thought.
"He snapped, child. We drove him mad, and in his madness he became an abomination. He hauled the bodies out onto the backyard, sawed off their limbs, arranged the parts in accordance with antediluvian geometric principles, stood in the middle, and shot himself in the head."
"So, he killed himself?"
"No. Yes. *SOMETHING* walked out of that yard. Something fueled by the power of hell itself. Something that tore through our ranks like a hot knife. There were 30 of us when Cedric Barkley went home that night. By sundown the next day, there were 20. By the next week, I was all that remained. We still don't know why it spared us, but spare us it did."
"It fell to me to rebuild, and so I did. And when we did, we made it a rule to never provoke the monster again. And now you've ruined everything."
"And now we run for it?" He asks, as they approach a flying saucer.
"What's this 'we' business, boy?" It asks, producing a small pistol and shooting Crushinator in the kneecap as they try to climb the stairs into the craft. The bullet, very small but extremely fast and dense, pulverizes the joint and sends the villain crashing to the hangar floor. "You're being chased by an undead magical abomination, you idiot! Do you think I want you anywhere near me? I didn't bring you down here to save you! I brought you down here to chew you out before you die!"
"**I'm** running. **You** are going to crawl until that **thing** rips your skin off. I hope you die screaming, Crushinator. Many better men than you already have." | A sardonic chuckle came from the open doorway behind me as Viper looked around the blood spattered living-room, "Boy, you've really done it now."
I wiped my hands clean on the curtains, cracking a few more ribs as I stepped onto and then over the chest of Lady Steel's dead husband, "I've done what? Steel has been getting on my nerves and I finally figured out her secret identity. Why not bring the pain?"
Viper kept his hands at his side, careful to not touch anything, stepping gingerly over broken glass while staring with amused disgust at Lady Steel's daughter, pinned to the wall with a shard of ice. "Listen, freeze-pop, or whatever you're calling yourself..."
"Deep Freeze."
"Sure, Deep Freeze-Pop. You just broke the number one rule of getting by in this business. Don't piss off the supes. Not in any way that they want real revenge. Someone like you, with cute little ice powers like yours... You knock over a few banks, maybe hold some people hostage, take your licks from whichever hero decides to respond, escape with a little extra cash, rinse and repeat." He waved his hand over the room like he was showing off the grand prize on a television show, "But this. Well, that's over for you now, buddy. The hero-villain ecosystem works because they need something to do with their power and their egos, and we give them that thing to do. Dispassionately. They don't care to hurt you, they just want to stop the villain and get the photoshoot. Nothing personal, ya know?"
I nodded, not entirely sure where he was going. Getting beat up and arrested by Lady Steel had always felt rather *personal. "*So what? Steel is going to break her own little *code* now? That seems pretty hypocritical."
The phone in the pocket of Lady Steel's husband began to vibrate, drawing Viper's eyes and my own. He stepped closer to me and a small smile played over the bits of his mouth that were visible, revealing a pair of unsettlingly sharp fangs. "The supes have always been hypocrites. The codes they have are easy to keep because they don't have much of a stake in the people we hurt. Sure, they feel bad about it, but they're still going home to the people they actually care about. But not Lady Steel."
A loud boom in the air above us drew my eyes out the window. Immediately as I turned, what felt like two needles entered my neck. My fingertips went immediately cold as Viper pulled his head back. Another boom tore through the sky. A sonic boom, closer. My body wouldn't respond to my commands, except for my eyes. Those I turned to Viper as he wrote something on a piece of paper and pinned it to my chest. He began to walk out the front door I'd left open before turning back, "You're not the first person to find out where Steel's family lives. Hell, most villains figure it out faster than you. That's why I was here, I'm supposed to keep an eye on this place to make sure no one fucks up the balance like you just did. Bad luck for both of us that my car makes such a warm place to sleep." Another smile passed his lips, "Before now, you were just another villain who had to be roughed up before Lady Steel could go home to a nice dinner with her loving husband and daughter. But now... well, you made it personal." He walked quickly into the sunshine and out of my view.
The terror in me grew as seconds passed and I remained still, unable to move. Then I heard the sound of two feet, rocketing into the ground and saw the first flutter of a cape past the window outside. | 2020-07-12T13:26:46 | 2020-07-12T12:38:13 | 46 | 29 |
[WP] "It literally could not get any worse if we summoned Cthulhu, and in fact might improve the situation somewhat."
UPDATE: I must say, I did *not* expect a cheap [Godzilla Threshold](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GodzillaThreshold) prompt to become my most upvoted post. I'm quite enjoying all of your stories so far, so keep it up! | Mark lay on the ground just inches away from Matthew, who was hysterically crying at the sight of the pulpy remains of what should have been Mark's face. Just ten seconds before, Mark had been reassuring Matthew that summoning Cthulhu wouldn't have any negative consequences if they played their cards right. Mark's reassuring hands had made Mark feel a little more comfortable, and it was the final push he needed to shout one more "Iä! Iä! Cthulhu fhtagn!” Had Matthew known saying those words would have caused a blast of mystical energy to fly out of the portal they created and obliterate his brother's face, he wouldn't have said the words.
In the midst of his crying fit, Matthew could see some intimidating creature step out of the blues, greens, and purples that formed the portal he had helped create. Preparing for the worst, Matthew shut his eyes tight, saying a few prayers from the book he was named after.
"That won't be necessary." A gravely voice informed him.
Tears flying out of his closed eyes, Matthew refused to open them, repeating the same prayers over and over again, cursing himself for not paying attention in church.
"Open your eyes, child. You have no need to fear me, thanks to the death of your kin."
Matthew, still mentally shattered from the horrific passing of his brother, took in a few fast, deep breaths before hazarding a glance.
What stood before him wasn't a massive, sickly green Dark Lord with slimy tentacles on his face that barely fit on the boat he was on, or a Innsmouth denizen who had finally gone to the place he had been long promised, or a horrifically disfigured Shoggoth writhing about. Instead, he saw a woman with powerful white wings, shocking red hair that covered her bare breasts, and a beautiful figure. She looked at him with a solemn glance Matthew normally afforded to sad, lonely old women rather than shockingly gorgeous ones. She held out her hand to Matthew, her expression unchanging.
Matthew, unsure of what to do, and in no place to think for himself, took her hand.
She pulled him up and began to speak, letting go of his hand as he spoke.
"I see you're fairly confused as to why a woman with wings as opposed to some disgusting reptilian came to your aid." She motioned with her hands, blood red dust swirling around her as she spoke. "I am Lilith, the screeching owl of Isaiah. I'm the one who is summoned when rituals dedicated to Mr. Lovecraft's creations are used. It's part of a deal I made with him in life, promising posterity long past his own miserable existence in order to make my long-dead rituals survive the dying texts that rarely circulated anymore."
As Lilith spoke, Matthew noticed that the red dust was slowly taking shape, forming a cube of scarlet particles.
"You're one of many who has fallen so far from God's grace that you took to summoning a deity created purely for science fiction entertainment." Lilith chuckled lightly as she gracefully traced her finger along the confines of the red box she had made, lines now taking form along the sides of the cube. "In retrospect, having the rituals implanted in science fiction was a *really* bad idea, but somehow it managed to pay off. Anyway, I'm getting off topic: here's what you and your brother wanted."
Looking down, Matthew saw Lilith was telling no tales: before him stood an enormous pile of money. His sorrow soon turned back into the greed that had led him to this situation in the first place, picking up bills and checking them furiously for their authenticity.
"Don't bother." Lilith said unenthusiastically, checking her long fingernails. "They're very real, and they can be used the same as any other bill in your nation. Now, I'm going to need one more thing from you before you can claim that money."
Matthew looked up, his tear-stained face now carved with a sinister grin.
"Name it."
"I need you to kiss me." Lilith said, kneeling before Matthew. "Understand, however, that if you kiss me, your brother's soul-"
The words had barely left her mouth before Matthew forcibly pressed his lips against hers, wrapping his hands in the confines of her hair and letting his tongue dance along the front of her teeth. Matthew felt something akin to the burn he associated with drinking whiskey or bourbon travel down his throat and stick around in his mouth, while Lilith's eyes shot open in genuine surprise, having only felt the same passion from fairly unattractive teenagers in recent years. The kiss ended in mere moments, but both parties felt it's lasting effects long after it's conclusion. Pulling away, blushing for the first time in centuries, Lilith smiled, wiping a bit of saliva from her lower lip.
"So be it." She said, doing another motion with her hand that lifted the corpse of Mark up and into the portal she had come from. "The money is yours." With that, she left Matthew to hungrily count the massive stack of bills, cries of joy and pure, unfiltered greed seeing her out. Her heart a little heavy, she returned to her realm. However, a bit of hope brightened her smile: she knew that, some day, Matthew would call upon her again. It could be another month, a year, or a century, but eventually, she would be able to kiss that lovely, sadistic man once more.
"I always did like boys named after books of the Father." Lilith thought aloud with a soft grin, adding Mark's sobbing soul to a pile of the damned as she hummed a happy tune. | "So, professor, tell me what you think of our new global Overlord Cthulhu? It was summoned to rule over us because a small cult of people believed we cannot rule over ourselves, but what impact has... He? She?"
"The academic community generally refers to Cthulhu as a 'He'. It's been impossible to ascertain his gender, so we picked at random."
"Very well. So, what impact has he had after six weeks on Earth?"
"I think we need to give him a chance. Obviously he was spawned from the depths of hell, but he hasn't really done any evil so far. He has subjugated the majority of countries that surrendered immediately, but so far he has pursued diplomatic means to get the other countries to surrender to his rule. I feel this is a good sign. He could quite easily destroy some of the smaller countries, yet his refusal to do so shows that he could very well be a benevolent ruler."
"Do you believe other countries will eventually bend to his will without violence?"
"Well, it seems that as time goes on, more and more countries are surrendering to his rule. With this added political pressure from fellow countries to surrender, I believe that even countries such as the US and Russia will submit to his leadership. Don't expect it to happen soon, but with the greater part of Europe already bowing to his whim, I can't imagine that there will be many long-term hold-outs."
"And what do you have to say about his minions? They have already rampaged in some areas and killed and eaten people, is this not a sign that we need to fight back?"
"Well, if anything, I feel they may be the most invested in the survival of the Human Race. I mean, if we were to die out, there would be nothing left for them to eat. Sure, certain people will suffer, but hopefully we will be able to reach an arrangement where they eat only those assigned to death row, or perhaps humanity could arrange a tributing system, or perhaps allow them to farm certain communities for their food. Either way, this will be good for the economy. The demon's need to eat the flesh of humans will mean a reduction in population, so the state will be less hard-pressed to support those that the drain funds away from decent, taxpaying workers, and of course it will mean more jobs in order to be able to provide for the hell spawn."
"You mentioned tributing, and that has instigated quite a debate on who should be sacrificed to the evil overlords, do you have any opinion on who should be sacrificed?"
"Well, I believe that it should be decided either by a referendum of the people, or the governments should come together to decide what is best for the people. Personally I support a random tributing system, with obvious exemptions for certain necessary people. This would be those such as doctors, teachers, and others that are needed for our society to thrive."
"And what about the promises that Cthulhu made about 1000 years of darkness and suffering? Should that be taken seriously?"
"I don't think so. We believe that he is making such bold gestures in order to exemplify the fear that he needs for countries to surrender. Once he has subjugated the entire human race, we believe he will calm down significantly, and world leaders can extend the olive branch of friendship and come to a compromise with the great overlord."
"Thanks, I'm sorry but we are all out of time. Thanks so much for speaking tonus today professor."
"Thanks, it's been a pleasure."
"Up next, how to stop yourself from being eaten. One man claims that he has discovered the secret to keep the evil minions from eating you. That's coming up right after the break." | 2016-12-22T03:01:55 | 2016-12-22T02:52:38 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] Out of all possible familiars, you are "Graced" with a human. While legend says that they are beings of great power, yours just makes sarcastic comments and pranks people. | I stared at her.
"You're not."
"Yes, I am." Her grin would have been winning, were I the type to be won. For me, it was simply charming.
But charm had to be cast aside. I flared my gills. "We can't have your knife-tongue or your tricks tonight. The High Athame doesn't take kindly to such unseemly behaviour. I'm two cycles from Ascension and currently in prime position for an office in the Ejio'kerem. If *something*," and here I gestured to the scroll she was working on, "were to irritate the Athame and it were found to be connected to me, all of that is *gone*. We'll be living out our lives in the Ejio'*karal* processing hangra'nem forever -- which, let me tell you, is worse than death. At least if we're dead, a keriel'thala might raise us, and then we'll be doing something *useful*."
"Oh, psh with all that," she waved, before taking another sip of her drink. She wasn't even looking at me, all attention going to the scroll. "You don't know this, but for a man so High, the High Athame has some very low morals, among them being a particularly unwelcome lasciviousness towards some of the more *attractive* familiars, no matter the species," and here she gave me a quick murderous gaze that told me exactly what she thought of such abuses, "and a particularly unseemly jealousy towards some of the more *promising* keriel'kerem."
I waited. She waited.
"I'm talking about *you*, you waterlogged idiot. He's been holding you down since your performance at the Fandalen. You've been destined for the Ejio'karal ever since you put up a better result at Fandalen than his."
"That's nonsense. He would never --"
Another murderous gaze. "*Who* was your proctor during that examination? You know the one."
"Oh."
"And I'm not going to start on his behaviour at the galas when you conveniently weren't around." She put some finishing touches on the scroll. "So I'm going to publicly embarrass him at the gala to which this perfectly real and legitimate scroll is our invitation, in such a way that he cannot retaliate without exposing himself and must simply and quietly get the fir'ceasa out of *ours*, and you're going to get a nice cushy post in the Ejio'kerem and I'm going to get just the most delicious little spot of revenge for my friends." She lifted up the scroll, admiring her work. "Not bad for someone who's all 'knife-tongue' and 'tricks', wouldn't you say?"
"... Well. I... uh... "
"Yes. Quite. Hmm. Well. I do *so* enjoy it when you're reduced to single-syllable utterances." Arched eyebrows. "Now are we done?"
I waited. She waited.
"I think we both know I'm not stupid enough to get in your way."
Her gaze softened. A warm smile. "Tremendously glad you made me your familiar, darling. Do you need to commune before we head out?"
"No, I'm good."
She looked me up and down. "Good, because we need to commune with that outfit. Chartreuse does *not* suit you. Go on and grab the cerulean one, you know it flatters your colouration better. I'm throwing this one out tomorrow."
I stared at her.
"You're not."
Again, that grin. | "Dang it Fred!" I shouted as he zipped off towards the old lady with a water balloon full of apple juice and glitter.
I started to follow, but Fred had crossed 6 lanes of city traffic just after the light turned green. I had my back turned for two seconds to see if the bus was coming, and the little blighter was already up to mischief.
I couldn't help but wince as the miscreant artfully lobbed the devious mixture at the unsuspecting woman, probably someone's great grandmother, and then disappeared into a nearby crowd before it landed.
Mercifully there was a break in traffic so I could rush over to apologize for the resulting mess.
"I'm terribly sorry ma'am." I start to say, but the old lady, drenched and fabulous, cuts me off.
"Young man! Do you have any idea how long its been since someone has dared to hurl such an absurd device at me!?" She exclaimed, brandishing a purse at me.
I put up my hands, and started to take a step backwards, before I remembered my back was facing a, once again, busy urban street.
I start to mentally curse that blighter Fred, but then the old lady reached into her purse and pulled out a water pistol filled with what I could only guess was the world's foulest smelling liquid imaginable.
"Too long." She grinned as she leveled the mischievous device at me.
Suddenly I catch a glimpse of Fred in the crowd. He says something just loud enough for me to hear. "Hey man, even old ladies want to have fun." | 2018-03-20T18:18:52 | 2018-03-20T17:49:33 | 117 | 28 |
[WP] “NASA to launch baby squid to International Space Station.” We thought the ocean was its natural environment. We were wrong.
Based on the post: Nasa to launch baby squid to International Space Station | “Now then, let’s take this from the top.”
Allen was trying to focus on what he thought might be the eyes of the alien that looked somewhat like a giant garden slug. “Sorry, what was that?”
“I want to go over this aga…look, if you’re trying to find my equivalent to your eyes, they are about 6 calmeres up from the table.”
“I don’t know what a calmere is. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be rude, but yes that would help.”
The alien made a gurgling sound that Alan took for a sigh, and a small area of skin on its left side changed to a lighter shade of grey. “Ok? Can we continue?”
“Yes, thank you. Well like I said, the squids we took up were originally very small, only about an inch in length. About this big.” Alan demonstrated with his fingers.
“And for the record, when you say ‘Took up’, you are referring to the former orbital space station, correct?”
“Yeah, the idea was to study how a water based creature would do in zero gravity. I know that saying it out loud makes it sound kind of silly, but we really have learned some beneficial things from similar experiments.”
The alien made some gestures for the benefit of what Alan assumed was some kind of wearable computer it had on it’s…head? “Except squids aren’t water based, are they? Your scientists figured that out pretty quick I would imagine?
“Yes it was…there were no survivors. We had no idea that…”
“Oh come now, it never occurred to you that a creature in the gravity well of an entire planet, let alone one that is also placed under 300 Gonrars of liquid water, might have been placed there for a reason?”
“We thought the ocean was their natural habitat! They live there, eat, breed…”
“Well thanks to your assumption they’ve already defeated the Talax Imperium and are well on their way to the Galactic Core. The rest of the Aligned are rallying as we speak, and considering it’s just 4 creatures they should be defeated…at least we hope so…”
“I swear to you, we had no idea this would happen. Up until your ships showed up after the squids destroyed the ISS, we didn’t even know if there was alien life or not!”
The alien made more computer gestures. “Given the state of your science I would tend to believe you on this point, however I would like to stress just how reckless your actions were. You haven’t take any other sea creatures into space, have you?”
“Not to my knowledge. Wait, are you saying that more deep sea creatures are…like this?”
“Again, gravity well, 300 Gonrars of water. It serves a purpose.”
“My God. Is it…are we safe? I mean, the way they grew…”
“Just leave them where they are and it won’t be a problem. They were placed here when your ancestors were still swinging I trees, they’ll stay there indefinitely unless you start getting stupid again, ok?”
“Yeah, sure. So about these other creatures down there that can turn into hyper monsters, can we like, get a list or…”
“Do I need to recommend a garrison to keep your scientists in line?”
“No, no we’ve got it. Again, we’re awfully sorry about this. Is there any way we can help?”
“Perhaps. Is your species capable of constructing recirculating plasma based ionic field matrix weaponry? Because that would be incredibly helpful to our efforts to defeat the squids.”
“You’re making fun of me aren’t you?”
“I am. Deal with it mammal.” | My cousin worked in forensic paleontology. Last time we caught up he told me about a site he had recently worked on in the Amazon. Evidently, it wasn't discovered until recently due to the shear amount of vegetation.
My cousin told me at that time he was part of a team conducting a dig in a remote section of Brazil when he got an anonymous call in English inviting him by name to investigate a site. The next day he was picked up in a van by a local and driven for 16 hours. He was not allowed to ask where he was going and when the van stopped for gas he was only allowed outside with a blindfold.
He finally gets there and was lead by a white man in a suit (yes in the middle of the jungle) for several minutes when he reached a cordoned off spot of land.
My cousin could immediately tell that the ground that was cordoned off was different from the surrounding soil, in fact, he recognized what he was looking at as the remnants of a meteor. Knowing that poking around a meteor was a waste of time for a paleontologist and concerned over his safety, my Cousin finally asked what the hell was going on. To which he was simply told to examine the meteor.
Incredulously, he dug, dusted, and collected dozens of imprints of small invertebrate squids. Upon confirming what he found he was put back in the van and driven back without so much as a word from the suited man and he never heard anything else about it.
I'd ask him more about it but he was killed in an unrelated hot dog fire. | 2021-06-03T11:43:05 | 2021-06-03T09:17:33 | 186 | 41 |
[WP] You're no ordinary doctor. Whenever a patient is brought in to the ER, your job is to battle the literal manifestation of Death, buying time for the surgeons to keep the patient's soul in his body. | The ringing bell roused me from my not-quite-asleep stupor. I knew what this was about. What it HAD to be about. I stood, wincing slightly at the various aches and pains. Its the price we pay for living this life. I took a moment to stretch and let a couple of the more recalcitrant joints pop and crack. I debated for a moment what to take with me. I always face off against the same opponent so we long ago decided to take turns deciding the mode of combat. I looked briefly down the row of possibilities. This would be our third match today. I was already a bit tired and grumpy. "Fuck it", I thought. "Old school all the way." And I grabbed a hefty stick. Ozzie was only 8, so I was prepared to go all in on this one. It's like that sometimes in the Oncology Department.
​
As soon as I got to the Arena, I knew something was wrong. Well, maybe not wrong. Just not what I'd anticipated. Sitting in the Arbiter's chair was the Head Oncologist, but to her left was not Ozzie. Rather, it was a somewhat shriveled old form that I did not recognize. On closer inspection, I realized it was Karin. I hadn't seen here in a LONG time. I looked at the stats sheet to confirm what I thought. Yeah. 91 years old, advanced dementia and stage 3 liver cancer.
​
I looked across at my opponent. As always, Death stood implacable, robes rustling slightly despite the complete lack of any breeze. I looked up at Karin, then the Oncologist who nodded at me. I met Death's gaze and we advanced on each other. In the last couple of steps, I raised my club high and then let it drop to the ground. I knew that the Oncologist has to be seen to be doing everything she can to keep Karin alive. BUt I just couldn't do that to Karin.
​
Death has a right hook that could knock out a moose. I saw it coming, but couldn't get out of the way. Those are the rules and I just COULDN'T do that to Karin. I woke up a moment or two later and Death reached down to help me back to my feet.
​
"She's fought an honorable fight." I whispered in Death's ear. "Take her soul gently to Valhalla, or Heaven, or wherever she believes is right." | [Poem]
An patient rushed into emergency
Death is standing there looking at his time
The machine beeps and beeps urgency
I am running in the halls wrestling death
He grins as his watch is ticking louder
Pass the scalpel! said the doctor
The wounds are closed tight and stitched
I wrestle with the death more and knocker'
The machine beeps and the patient goes flat
I have one more trick up my sleeve
The doctor tells pass the defibrillator!
The patient wakes up, machine beeps and grieve
Death is waiting at the door for his next one
I know this wont be the last time
I wrestle against him but it will be this time | 2019-05-20T01:00:29 | 2019-05-19T23:28:34 | 198 | 14 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | I stood outside the bar, hearing laughter and chatting from the warm interior. I looked down the line of people waiting for entry and started looking down the line muttering under my breath, "Twenty-two, twenty-five, Thirty, Twenty-nine, and... a twenty year old."
I sighed and I could see my breath within the cold night air. "Alright guys!" I gestured to the front of the line, "Come on in!" As the first four passed me, I held up my hand to block the entrance for the twenty year old, a tall black-haired boy who *might* have been able to enter as he looked to be at least twenty-three to any other outside viewer. Unluckily for him however, I have an exceptionally rare ability to see the age of any individual floating above their heads.
The boy looked at me confidently and smiled, "Is there a problem, sir?"
"May I see your ID please?"
The boy looked surprised and took out his wallet. "Alright, just give me a second here...". The boy gave an elaborate shuffling through his wallet for a good thirty seconds before he finally said, "I think I might have left my ID at home or something. Can you make an exception please? My friends drove me and one of them just went in, I mean we are literally the same age. Just ask him!"
I nudged him out of the line and said, "Sorry kid, no ID no entry."
The boy's previous friendly face slowly contorted into one of utter anger. He looked as if he were going to punch me until he stopped himself. Still clenching his fist with knuckles pale as ice, he stormed off without saying another word.
I sighed and looked at the next one in line. He looks definitely like a kid. I'd guess... ten years old. I used my ability and his age appeared above him displaying... **FOUR DIGITS**. WHAT PERSON IS 7300 YEARS OLD? He looks like a kid too!
He had auburn hair and was looking at me with wide eyes. I quickly blinked a few times to mask my loss of composure. "Uh... So, how old are you?"
The boy gave a huge grin and yelled in an ear-piercing voice, "Seven, three, zero, zero years old!"
I raised an eyebrow and knelt down. In a soft voice I asked, "Are you lost kid? Where's your mom?"
The boy scowled and yelled even louder in a tantrum impatiently, "I am **seven, three, zero, zero years old!**"
There is no way this kid is immortal or something. As far as I know, immortality and reincarnation or anything of the sort is nonexistent. I quickly pat his head gently and said, "Let's go find your mom, okay?"
The kid started sniffling and pointed inside the bar, "But my mom is inside!" I gently grabbed the kid's hand and guided him inside with me saying, "Come on kid. I'll find your mother."
We walked inside the bar with lots of people chattering and hearing the clinks of wine glasses. I grabbed the kid and held him up by the shoulders. I said in a loud booming voice, "WHOSE KID IS THIS?"
A thirty one year old whom I assumed to be the mother quickly ran to the kid and hugged him closely saying, "I am so, so sorry Alan. I thought you were asleep!"
I shook my head, "Listen, next time. Watch him closely and don't leave him alone by himself. *Ever*."
She glanced at me and softly said, "Alright."
I put a hand on the kid's shoulder and glanced at the mother, "By the way, how old is he anyways?"
The mother sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. She said, "He's only ten years old."
"Then why does he call himself a 7300 year old?"
The mother gave a hint of a smile, "It's just his way of adding up to 10 years old. The two extra zeroes are just to make him seem smarter with math." She ruffled Alan's hair, "Aren't you smart?"
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| He watched, bored as people streamed in the bar, only stopping the ones underage, and occasionally a few just over to keep suspicions low. His kind was uncommon, and people
hunted for his power. It seemed like an odd thing to want, most just wanted it to make them feel *special*. At least, those that knew about it. Sometimes age didn't match up to looks, but he kept to his own, unless they were underage of course. But then *she* came along. As soon as the girl passed, his eyes flickered to the space above, knowing what he would see. The girl was likely 16, or 17, as was the guy with her. But she wasn't. 1000 was her age, the one with her was 1001. This wasn't possible, but yet, that's what it said. Maybe it was wrong? But he'd NEVER been wrong before. As they passed he realized his mouth had been hanging open and he shut it reluctantly. A tap on his shoulder made him jump, but it was only the guy taking over next shift. Perfect. Making his way through the crowd he saw the girl heading into a storage room with a 18year old, different from whom she came with. He shook his head, about to leave when a silvery glint caught his eye. The boy was nearby, a knife in his hand. The girl disappeared, the other following suit. Breath catching, he hurried over, sure he would be greeted with a bloodbath. The door shut behind him and he looked around. In the darkness he saw the pair fighting the young man, backing him against the wall.
"Jonathan, will you do the honour?"
He laughed in reply and stepped up, twirling a silver bladed dagger in his fingers. He laughed and drove the blade straight through the heart. Black blood flowed from the wound and the boy seemingly folded in on himself, disappearing all except for the puddle of black on the ground.
"Welcome to the world of the lightbringers, young one. We have long searched for one with a gift like yours, it will be quite useful. That is, if you don't mind joining us. Hunting demons is much better with more people involved, especially with talent like this. Let's get started, shall we?" | 2018-02-12T22:42:59 | 2017-09-01T21:45:33 | 223 | 25 |
[WP] Your roommate is 2nd most powerful superhero in the world and he will not shut up about it. He does not yet know that you are the 1st. | Thank God he's such a late sleeper. I relish my morning hours, my only respite from *him*.
Today I find myself daydreaming about the night this all began. The tequila. How "Superman" was still shaking an hour after I rescued him from a Kryptonite-filled cave.
I mean, don't get me wrong - I was wiling to give him a few minutes to recover, but it was me fought through two dozen of Lex Luthor's henchmen and carried over 6 feet of "steel" back to safety. By the time we got to my front door, I was over it. I mean, Kryptonite isn't exactly unrecognizable, right? Maybe Superman should keep Clark's glasses on every once in a while and stay the hell out of dark, foreboding caves!! Guess what blends in great in a cave? Goddamn Kryptonite!
"I need foooood!!!" A shriek echoes from the bedroom on the other end of the house.
"Coming!!" I shout back, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. As I open the cereal cabinet, a drop of blood stains the marble counter below me. I hadn't even realized I was biting my lip.
----
I still blame tequila. Superman wasn't even going to touch it, but I knew I needed a drink. For god's sake, we were **super**heroes - and the best in the world. You shouldn't be allowed anywhere near that prefix without dying, being brought back to life and celebrating with a double and some impromptu, late-night vigilante justice.
I poured him a shot anyway and it turned out that the key ingredient to Superman's steely exterior was a little liquor. The second shot knocked the fear from his eyes and replaced it with mischief. My fourth shot focused my attention on the way the torn shreds of bright spandex obscured just enough of his abs to make me want to rip the rest away.
I'd give anything to go back. Whiskey makes me contemplative - should have gone with whiskey. But nope - instead I got pregnant and decided to have and raise my son. I've never been one for group projects and this was no exception, but I'll always be glad I waited to tell him until he came over for the first time in Clark's clothes and with Clark's nervous twitch. He went ghostly when he saw that I was showing.
No, I was so sure I could handle it that I was even a little excited for Andrew's arrival, despite the fact that apparently baby-proofing included dismantling the best-supplied armory on the Eastern seaboard. But that wasn't the biggest sacrifice I made to be a mom and it wasn't the one that kept me up at night. I wanted Andrew to have a normal life, to have his head on straight, to avoid the unchecked ego and neuroses that so many in the superhero community succumbed to. He would realize someday how different he was, but I committed to keeping him in the dark as long as possible. He would be a "normal" kid and I would be a "normal" single mom, hopefully through most of his formative years. Nothing special about my minivan.
"MOOOOOMMM!!!"
I shudder uncontrollably. If I'd have known how quickly he'd turn into a raving, pig-headed narcissist I would have dropped him off at Xavier's in a basket, then driven away in the sports car that I'd never have to replace with a Dodge Caravan.
I huddle quickly in a corner and take a few deep breaths.
*It's only been a few weeks since he found out. You can weather this. No need to fuel the fire by letting him in on just how extraordinary his bloodline is...*
A deafening crash comes from the other room. *Did he just crack the bookshelf in half?*
The dull groan is getting louder.
*Shit.* He's moving, with all the grace of a demolition crew.
"Andrew, hold on just a minute..." I try.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHH!!!"
**You're not the fucking Hulk, idiot!**
The house falls silent.
*Oh no oh no oh no!!*
"What did you say to me??" My son growls from across the house.
"Just a little joke, love!"
*I can't believe I said that out loud - I'm really starting to lose it.*
A strong wind is building from the back of the house.
*No he's not going to fucking rip through the drywall I just re-did!*
As soon as I've thought it, a tornado shreds the wall that divides the kitchen and living room. A tornado with my son at the center.
"Andrew, you know that drywall took me all weekend..."
"Maybe this will teach you not to keep a super human being waiting. I have important shit to do! I can't wait for you to decide you're ready with a meal. The physical toll of this much power is... well you'd have no fucking idea what to do with it!"
He delivers this little speech while targeting and demolishing every part of the house I had spent the last year remodeling. Who is this ass? I always knew my son could be selfish, but this cannot go on...
"Andrew," I command as he breaks my grandmother's lamp. "Andrew, you'd better be careful. I really would take a minute and think about the repercussions of what you're doing..."
"Ha!!! Repercussions? What the fuck are you going to do?"
A slow burn that's been building for 16 years erupts inside of me. It feels nice to be so certain, so sure of what will happen next and how good it's going to feel.
"Oh darling, I thought you'd never ask..." | "Ha! Look at that!" the man dressed in gold and red exclaimed as he watched the news footage taken mere minutes ago of his latest heroics. "Hey roommate! Marvel at my might!" His voice boomed triumphantly as he dashed to the fridge to grab another beer in the blink of an eye.
"What's going on?" came a meek reply followed by a crashing sound coming from the other room.
"You okay?" The superhero sighed, used to his roommates clumsy antics.
"Yes! Yes! Just-" BANG! "Forgot where i put my glasses." His roommate stumbled out of his room and joined the superhero in the living room.
"Witness! fifty-seven humans saved!" The costumed man bellowed as he beat his chest with a closed fist, causing the very walls to shake. "No mere building fire can stop the mighty Hyperion!"
"Yes..." his roommate replied readjusting his glasses as he read the news crawl just below the live footage, "But so much property damage and injuries..." his voice trailed off.
"Ah yes! But imagine the destruction had I not been there to stop the flames with a single mighty clap!" The superhero boasted.
The news footage of the smoldering ruins ended as the screen focused on a reporter who stood across the street from the once blazing building.
"Ah! Increase the volume, i want to hear the details from my victory!" Hyperion commanded, and his roommate complied.
*LL: Thank you, Tom. Tragedy strikes as a ruptured gas line causes an explosion downtown near the famous S.T.A.R labs. Dozens are wounded but there seems to be no reported casualties at this time. Behind me you can see the fire marshals dousing the ruins, but the lives saved are thanks to the city's newest hero, Hyperion.*
Hyperion pounded his chest again at the sound of his name.
*LL: Hyperion managed to rescue fifty people from the burning building before putting out the fire with a single clap. The fire marshals also reported that the damages could have been even more catastrophic had Hyperion not sealed the gas lines with what appears to be his ice abilities.*
"Looks like you did a great job," his roommate nodded, "And this time no one got badly injured... it appears."
"Haha! Yes, its all a matter of..." Hyperion paused, turning to his roommate "Did she just say 'ice abilities'?" For the first time, Hyperion's smile faded and his face contorted in a mix of confusion and rage.
"Yeah, I think she did..." his roommate said meekly.
"HE COULDN'T HAVE! I WAS THERE THE ENTIRE TIME!" Hyperion exploded "HOW COULD THAT EMPOWERED IMPOSTOR DO THIS!?"
"Do what?"
"I DIDN'T USE... I DON'T HAVE 'ICE ABILITIES'" he continued to scream.
"Woooah there, you still got the credit." his roommate reasoned.
Hyperion gave pause for thought. His eyes focused on the television, deciding whether to use his atomic vision to burn it to ash. He took a deep breath deciding that one fire was enough for one day.
"I suppose you are correct. It's just infuriating." The superhero sighed.
"What is?"
"This... This... man. He is always at a crisis, always there... taunting me. He is lucky the other humans haven't noticed or I would have found him months ago and showed him what *real* power is."
"Very lucky," agreed his roommate. "Anyway, I'm off to work, your heroics won't write themselves into the papers."
"Be sure to mention the number saved was fifty seven. They seemed to have miscounted my heroism."
"Of course," his roommate chuckled as he left for the Daily Planet. | 2016-03-23T21:15:02 | 2016-03-23T20:39:21 | 132 | 38 |
[WP] Sleep can be farmed up and sold, allowing buyers to go without sleep. Laziness is now a marketable attribute | I was always quick to jump on the bandwagon of new trends. When I saw that sleep was now a sellable thing, I knew exactly how to get rich with this. Two of peoples' favorite sins are greed and sloth, and selling sleep is a combination of the two, making it possibly one of lucrative businesses to get into. I only needed to know the bare minimum about it to get involved. My understanding is that the basic principle of it all is that once scientists realized we sleep because our brain needs to be washed with some hormone that only is produced during sleep, they realized that if you can get this hormone elsewhere then you can get all the benefits of sleep by just getting this sleep juice in you. I don't really know how the technology works, but you essentially just hook an IV into someone that extracts this hormone while they sleep and then put that in a vial and sell it for a lot of money.
Tons of people jumped onto the opportunity and bought everything they needed to sell their sleep from the comfort of their own bed, but I had a better idea. I rented a small warehouse, and made sleep chambers. They were almost completely sound proof with everything to maintain a perfect temperature and humidity. I advertised mainly to homeless people since they were happy to have somewhere nice to sleep and get paid for it. They also never complained that I was only paying them about fifteen percent of what I was making off of them. But hey, I was also giving them somewhere to live pretty much. The only problem was that they would only sleep for about eight hours at a time before needing to get up to eat, drink, or do any other normal human habits.
After a couple months of this, I was already was making a small fortune. I was skimming enough of the sleep juice off the top of our shipments that I never needed to sleep either, and unlike most people, I actually made good use of my time. I bought more sleep chambers, and made them more comfortable. I invested money into research to make the extraction more efficient. I even hired an employee to help with repairs and any other maintenance. I knew that some of my sleepers were using sleep enhancing drugs to make more money, mostly opiates like heroin. I never cared too much about this, it was just helping them make more money. It also gave me my next breakthrough idea. My next employee was an anesthesiologist.
We always made sure to give medical evaluations to our sleepers before putting them into a long chemical induced sleep. This is what really escalated my business. I was having sleepers that would be asleep for weeks at a time. I had sleep houses in every major city and hundreds of people working for me, many of which were sleep nurses that just checked on the sleepers to make sure their fluids and tube foods were still good. I hadn't slept in about a year at that point and couldn't even remember what sleep felt like. The only thing I missed was dreaming, but I was living the dream so that didn't both me too much. I ended up with the biggest sleep businesses and pretty much controlled the price of sleep juice. I would undercut freelance sleepers and other businesses that tried to copy me, but that's just smart business.
I think I was one of the safest and best businesses for sleepers too. Other sleep companies were careless and killed sleepers or kidnapped people and induced sleep. I used a lot of my money to push for regulations on the market and sleep houses like official sleep nurse certifications and safety protocols. It's insane to imagine that at one point you didn't even need a signature and paperwork from the sleeper saying they agree to selling their sleep. I was respected. People considered me to be the giver of time by giving people more hours to their days and lives. I was even giving discounts to college students that wanted to stay up all night studying for exams. I eventually expanded oversees and became a global phenomenon, stomping out other companies and giving anyone in the world more time if they needed it.
It was about five years since I started my first sleep house that things started falling apart. I didn't sleep a single time since then and felt no side effects. However, it was at this time that the studies were starting to come out. No one knew the effects of not sleeping for years, but they were figuring it out. The studies were done on rats first, then rabbits, and now on pigs in countries that still allow that sort of thing. There was no denying the evidence either. They were finding that all the animals that had an expected life span, actually had an expected amount of time awake. This was being shown true for every animal they tested with, the most comepelling being koalas. They normally slept for 22 hours a day and lived to be about sixteen. Now they were only living to be a little over a year old. These results immediately started to scare me, and I slept for this first time in five years when I saw the first study published. I was able to keep my good name by outright banning the sleep trade globally within a year too. It was a fun five years and made me the richest man in the world. I think it was worth only losing about two years of my life. | “You need to take it easy,” my therapist said. “When’s the last time you slept?”
I unlocked my iPhone and swiped through to the sleep wallet. The number made my stomach sink. If he knew the number of days I bought, I’d never get out of therapy.
“A few days,” I said.
“Days, as in one, two, or three?”
“Two.”
Ones too few and threes too much. Middle of the road is always the safe option.
“You wouldn’t hide the truth? Would you, Derrick?”
“I-“
. . .
The room disappeared, replaced by sandy dunes, the twang of ricochetteing bullets, and a never ending rumble in the ground.
Captain Mason stood a head taller and two steps away from me. The sun beat down on both of us, until my skin started feeling like dry leather.
“They catch you, you don’t say a word,” he said.
A rumble shook the ground. Dirt clouds spilled over like morning dew over clifftop dunes. Men screamed. Soil and debris rained down with the faint smell of burning flesh and blood.
“Hide the truth?” I said.
Captain spat at the ground. “They catch you, you hide whatever-“
Blood splattered my face. Captain thudded to the floor, head arched back, mouth wide open.
“Captain . . . Captain.” I shook his body. “Speak to me.”
“You speak to me.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me, Derrick,” the therapist said. “Speak your mind. Tell me what’s going on.”
I paused, taking in the fast returning room. “I can’t sleep.”
“Sell some, there are plenty of buyers.”
“That’s not it.” I cradled my head in my hands, fighting the visions. “I really can’t sleep.”
Wind howled against the room window pane. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge. I waited. There was no missile, only the wind.
“What can you do for me?” I asked.
The doctor smiled, in the way an old man gazed upon a child. “It’s not what I can do for you, it’s what you can do for yourself.”
Buy more, and more, and more, and more. No sleep, no fear, no demons.
“Can you up my meds?”
The therapist tapped the table with a pen. “That’s a last resort.”
The building seemed to shudder underneath us. I gritted my teeth and waited. The shuddering stopped and in the distance I heard the elevator doors ‘ding’.
“I’m desperate, doc.”
The therapist clicked his tongue. “You just need to take it easy.”
 
*Check out more at /r/TwistStories*
| 2018-01-25T04:51:32 | 2018-01-25T04:51:06 | 37 | 18 |
[WP] A superhero has a split personality, with neither his hero half nor his civilian half knowing that they are the same person. The rest of the city has figured it out, however, and is doing their best to keep his secret from himself. | At his desk, Cal scrolled through that morning’s headlines CAPTAIN COURAGEOUS SAVES CITY AGAIN! and FERVOR OVER MYSTERY HERO’S IDENTITY AT ALL TIME HIGH. Sighing deeply, he stirred the creamer in his steaming coffee mug more insistently. Why couldn’t he be someone like that? Instead, he spent the prime time of his life in an office cubicle, sitting on his ass all day, always late to meetings and wondering how he even managed to keep his job with the sheer amount of deadlines he always seemed to miss.
“Cal McCalvinson, you are the man I have been looking for all day!”
Cal swiveled around quickly, “Fred?” Black thick rimmed glasses threatened to slide off his nose, blurring the cubicles and people inside around him as he looked up at his colleague.
Fred held out his hand and Cal grasped it tentatively and was pulled up and out of his chair into a bone-crushing bro-hug. Three firm pats on his back served to send his glasses flying from their already precarious position into the aisle.
The hand on his back spun Cal and started propelling him through rows of cubicles to the main conference room. Slicing through Cal’s halfhearted, “but my glasses…,” The mouth belonging to said hand started propelling words in his direction, “Bossman wants you right away Cal, right away. Your latest proposal to capitalize on the popularity of Captain Courageous,” Fred paused here to make a very audible mwah! and Cal cringed. “Very good stuff my friend, very good-”
Fred’s arm twisted back painfully as Cal, just moments ago meekly allowing himself to be pushed along, abruptly stopped. Explosions were suddenly audible in the distance. Cal’s eyes began to glow softly as Fred brought his arm back to his side and in between one blink and the next, certainly much faster than Fred could mutter under his breath, “This shit again before 9 AM? Whatsit this time?” Cal’s body transformed, morphing from business casual to the iconic armored suit that Captain Courageous was known for. The entire office watched with a mixture of awe and indifference as the Captain phased through the tall glass windows that lined the office floor and walked across air 56 floors above the ground towards the commotion.
Reaching for his phone and walking slowly back to Cal’s cubicle, Fred bent down to scoop up Cal’s glasses and sighed as he dialed his boss. After three rings, she answered.
“We’re gonna have to cancel that meeting today, aren’t we?”
. . .
Two hours later Cal found himself slumped over his desk, glasses askew and his eyes aching and his body feeling on fire. He rubbed his eyes and straightened his glasses, glancing furtively around at his neighboring coworkers. What had happened to Fred and that meeting? Had he fallen asleep at his desk? Had anyone noticed?
A blinking notification drew his poor eyes to the corner of his computer screen; a message from Fred informed him the meeting had been canceled because of city-wide emergency. Evidently, the whole place had been on alert.
He clicked back over to the news tab and refreshed. A new headline greeted him: CAPTAIN COURAGEOUS DEFUSES ELABORATE BOMB SET TO DESTROY CITY HALL AND RESCUES MAYOR AND HER FAMILY FROM THEIR BURNING HOME IN CONNECTED PLOT.
Man...what a guy. Cal reached for his coffee mug and took a sip.
“Aw man, how is this cold already?”
_______________________
NOTES:
Always love reading these prompts and responses on this subreddit but this is the first time I was able to spur myself to attempt writing something myself. Please, please, please, any constructive criticism or tips are welcome. I've been meaning to write more and here's to hoping this is a start. | They call him "Mat", the hero who guards the city of Atlia, and saved it countless times.
For all these years he didn't know, he didn't know anything.
20 years ago there was a car accident on a bridge where a family of 3 almost drowned. Their life continued normally after that, their son not knowing exactly what happened that, but his parents parents did. Actually almost everyone in the city did. A young hero saved them. Their son saved them.
He was the first to lose conscientiousness, but after he did, he suddenly broke his car seat's door, swam to the front of the car and broke it's glass and dragged both of them out to safety. their memories of the accident was blurry, but they definitely remember him breaking his car seat's door.
When they came to, the first thing they did was to go to a hospital and there the doctors, and later the government discovered his astral projection ability. Few years later he was scouted to join a special police unit, and that's where his journey as a hero began.
For years to come, Mat has saved countless people, and helped in the arrest of multiple villains. but now he is facing his greatest enemy, the greatest villain he had be been constantly fighting for years, the one with the same abilities that he has. The kid he saved from drowning years ago.
Everyone in the city knew that, but everyone was scared of revealing the truth. That villain was their Mayor after all, and could at any moment ruin their city if he wishes to. Fortunately for them he doesn't, and just seems to be obsessed with defeating their hero.
------------------------------------------To Be Continued (Not)
This was first time writing (constructive criticism, and tips are welcomed), and i know it probably sucks, but i feel a waste to delete all of this after all the time spent since i g2g atm. i may continue it later, but most probably not. i hope at least some of you enjoyed it. | 2017-08-04T19:50:38 | 2017-08-04T19:03:51 | 129 | 12 |
[WP] Your daughter was foretold to become a mighty hero but you want her to take over the family bakery. So far, you have kept 2 magical swords and a sketchy looking ring from her but today your plan was foiled by the most innocent object imaginable. | The world was limping along, its people desperate for help, for a chance, for an inkling of hope. Everyday the people came in clothes mended many times past prime and the dust clinging to them as a bath was a luxury. They would count coins and grumble about the price of a loaf of bread, resentful of cost. They would resent the baker, who looked to the farmer who's grains barely grew despite how they labored in the field, who in turn resented the skies that only teased the crops with rain, never giving enough to grow an adequate crop. The whole world hunkered down hoping that this to would past, and hungered for hope.
On the day my daughter came into this world it poured. On her first birthday the sun was hidden by the moon, and the town cringed indoors until the darkness passed. Every subsequent year her birthday was marked by mother nature bringing a brief darkness, but only I was privy to the significance. I confided no one, as it had been generations since any one had held hope for the prophecy. I held the secret close, and my daughter closer, for I knew that no hero could save our planet. Droughts and famine would respect no sword, so I kneaded the dough and loved my child and my only hope was that it would be enough.
It wasn't unusual to barter for food, objects and magic meant little to an empty stomach. The twin blades humming with magic meant to the the man who brought them in and begged for the to be traded for twin loaves instead. Father to son, father to son they had passed in his family for generations, tracing their origin back to when the world was green. His son slowly starved, his wife unable to produce the nutrients the babe needed as she too suffered from malnutrition. So the swords left. I had no need for them either but thought my spouse could use them to guard the bakery. It worked well until the hum of magic started singing around my daughter, so they disappeared. The ring seemed inconspicuous at first, useless perhaps but the elderly lady who brought it in to barter with usually brought eggs instead, but her hens had just died fron the heatwave. So I accepted the ring despite its uselessness and hoped it's previous owner would survive. My daughter was 10 at the time, lean and lanky, her arms filled with wiry strength from kneading the dough alongside me. She tried the ring, which looked sized for a man, them laughed delighted when the metal glowed softly and shrank to fit her size. I tried it next but the metal stayed dull.
"What do you think that means mum?"
I laughed, "I doubt it means anything love, magic always sounds like a fickle thing in the stories."
Luckily she didn't question it, but I made that ring disappear and became more cautious.
My daughter became a young woman. She outgrew childhood slowly, then all at once. She was naturally beautiful, with eyes blue like the sky, long golden hair and a slender build. She was smart like a wip, picking up on much that others overlooked. She was kind, gentle, with an easy laugh. My only child and my whole world. At night I dreamed of her wielding twin blades, her hair chopped short and he eyes hard, scars tracing her arms. She fought her way across the dry and desolate country fighting bandits and desperate farmers to the edge of the world where its said that the magic originated. Or I dreamed of her becoming withdrawn from her father and I, retreating to her room studying ancient texts and manuscripts. Her face grew lined and her eyes dulled as she was consumed by the magic filled texts trying to learn those ancient and accursed arts. I would wake up sweating and shivering, then creep to her room and peek through the doorway to watch her peacefully sleeping form.
On her 19th birthday the sun didn't rise at all. Slowly people took to the streets, talking softly and nervously to eachother. "What do you think it means mum?" I looked to her, tucked under my husband's arm just like when she was a little girl. In the gloom it was hard to see her expression, but when her hand sought mine I knew she was nervous like everyone else.
"I don't know love, I wish I did but I dont."
We joined the people slowly streaming to the town center. Not knowing what else to do. In the town center their was a lamp post, one of the only remaining magical structures. It was said to have glowed previously at night, indicating tomorrow's weather. Green for rain, yellow for sun, blue for snow, with many other variations. It hadn't for generations but still marked the town center. We huddled in small groups, "is this finally the end?" people wispering. "Did we scrape by for years only to end in permanen darkness?". Some weeped openly, and I could imagine the moisture leaving tracks in the dust on their faces.
"Mum?" I squeezed my daughters hand at her voice, "what is it love?"
"I'm really sorry mum, I thought love was enough but it isn't." I could feel the hair raising along my arm, as apprehension and dread filled me.
"What are you talking about?" I tried asking, but she kept talking. "I've always known, the magic whispers that we took and took but begudged the giving. I know the world was filled with good and bad, and the magic let the good become great and the bad evil. That people were afraid and wanted to stop paying the price. That they thought the price was high but the didn't expect nothing to have a price. We stopped paying, and it we saved our brothers and sisters but we didn't know that our grandchildren would suffer."
"What are you talking about?" This time I forced firmness to my voice but my body felt weak.
"I love you and dad, I loved our neighbors and life. But this isn't life, this is everything turning to dust. I never knew what it all meant, what bringing magic back might mean. Right now though, right here, that magic is telling me what my life might mean" she pulled her hand from mine. "The magic is hungry just like us, everything turnrd to dust without it, just like we will." She walked away, her father started after her a moment later. He reached but she slipped through his grasp, and then ran. Ran to the light post. No one paid attention to her slim figure weaving through the crowd, or paid attention as she grasped it with both hands. My husband yelled after her but I didn't move. I wasn't sure if it was her voice that carried across the courtyard, or mine that whispered unconsciously, but the words came.
Darkness marks her
Magic needs her
Love borne her
Hope lives with her death
The inscription had been awakened on the twin blades in her presence; on the ring after she wore it, and now as she touched the lamp post the whole courtyard starting glowing, then blazing with light. The cobbles stones awakened, and I knew that encircled the lamppost would be those prophetic words. Voices rose in fear, shock, and awe. Then a crash that resounded in skies, the lamp post flared green then yellow shocking everyone to silence. Brighter than a lighting strike that lamp post blazed back to light, illuminating the slim figure of my daughter. Her hair stood on end as if electricity coursed through her, and for a moment time seemed suspended with her silhouette marking the center of it all. Then she screamed. A scream of pure unfiltered agony, her back arching and her head thrown back, the light no longer illuminating her but coming through her. The scream dragging on and on until more and more people fell to their knees covering their ears. Then it stopped, and all looked to my daughter. She crumbled lifeless to the ground , her still form still glowing softly before crumbling into dust.
The inscription in the cobble stones dimmed but still glowed, the lamp post subdued then settled on a soft green light. Then another cracked and the skies opened and released a torrential downpour. The people rejoiced for at the cost of one girl all knew that the magic had returned. They danced in the rain laughed and embracing, happy tears that were invisible for the rain washed all the dust away. Joy and hope borne at long last as my daughter was erased. The sun would rise, as my whole world fell apart. | “Hey! Bup bup bup, leave it, I’ll get it,” I put a foot on the top of the cellar hatch, pressing it closed, keeping most of my weight on it as she continued to try to pry it open. It took most of my strength.
*Good lord she’s getting strong.*
“Dad, seriously? I’m perfectly capable of getting chocolate chips, you’re being ridiculous.” She stood up, brushing a small strand of hair over her ear, she was almost taller than me now.
“You know the rules, you work the counter, I’ll handle the stock and ingredients. Remember what happened last time you went down there…”
“.. Dad for fuck’s sake that was eight years ago, 8 year old’s fall sometimes, I didn’t even get hurt that bad,” She looked visibly irritated, rolled her eyes and touched a small scar on her left arm.
“I know, I know I get it just, humor me ok, Pete is waiting over there,” I spoke to the back of her head as she walked off, throwing a visibly angry wave-off as she put her customer-face on and grabbed a small paper sleeve to put the cruller in.
“That all Pete? Or you want a black coffee or something to wash it down…”
Ok good, she’s engaged, now to grab the chocolate chips for tomorrow’s cookie batches. I bent over and pulled the old wooden hatch up, the well-worn iron hinges squeaked as I thumped the hatch lid against the wall and headed down the 8-foot ladder into the darkness. As my foot touched the worn wooden floorboards, I reached around in the dark for the pullcord for the single swinging bulb, the light buzzed as it clicked on. It illuminated the small room full of boxes on shelves filled with specialty flours, varieties of sugars, nuts, and toppings, all tightly packaged and sealed to keep rats and mice at bay – a constant battle. A battle I seemed to be on the losing side of today as I noticed a small pile of walnut shells next to what could be nothing other than rat shit.
*Goddamnit, how do they keep getting in here.*
I reached behind me for the broom and dust pan, knocking a small metal sifter onto the ground. The sifter bounced twice, knocking a tightly bound leather wrap to the ground, revealing a brightly polished blade. The blade instantly began to glow bright blue, runes exposed, and deep throaty voice began to roil.
*“MYTHOS, BOUND OF GLORY, DAUGHTER OF LIGH…”*
“Oh for fuck’s sake, yes I know, SHHH, be QUIET you stupid thing.” I whispered angrily, as I quickly rebound the sword, and placed it back next to its counterpart.
*Where do these things even keep coming from, maybe the rats are bringing them.*
“Dad,” the voice rang from the hatch, “What the heck are you doing? What was that noise?”
“Nothing, our *friends*, are back I just need to cleanup, be right up,” She new about the friends, the rats that is, not the talking swords.Sweeping up the last of the waste, I dumped it in the small wooden waste basket near the hatch ladder and rehung the broom back on its hook.
*Chocolate chips… chocolate chips, where are you… here we are.*
I grabbed the large paper sack, sealed with a clumsy fold, and headed back for the ladder when her voice broke the silence again.
“Baking powder,” she said.
“Huh?” I replied back.
“*BAKING. POWDER*.” She was in a *great* mood.
“Ah yes, yes sorry, I’ll grab some give me a sec.” I watched and waited for her silhouette to move, remembering how I had ditched something in the baking power bin quickly last time as she almost caught me, the silhouette remained.
“*Well?*” her hands moved to her hips.
“Can I get a frickin second?” I could visibly see the angry sigh leave her body, and then the silhouette stormed off, out of the frame of the small hatch. I placed the chocolate chips on the step of the ladder, and grabbed a small empty jar off a nearby shelf to fill with baking powder. Popping the lid to the baking powder tub, a blue light exploded forth.
*“MYTHOS, BOUND OF GLOR..”*
*Shut the fuck up good lord you stupid thing.*
Plunging my hand into the powder I grabbed the ugly brass ring tightly, desperately trying to choke out the light, looking around for the nearest thing I buried it deep in the pumpernickel flour. No one ordered pumpernickel this time of year anyhow.
*Foof, man, I really gotta get better at this I’m a mess.*
I dusted myself off, filled the jar with baking powder, grabbed the chocolate chips, and slowly ascended the ladder into the light of the late evening.
“For a second I thought you were going to sleep down there,” she prodded, brushing baking powder off of my shoulder and grabbing the sack of chocolate chips from my hand.
“I’d be lying if I didn’t consider it,” not too far from the truth, I could feel my age in my knees, I could feel my age in… well everything.
“You want to take the counter for a bit? I can handle the cookies if you’re feeling tired.” Her anger had softened, I could tell she was worried about me, about how hard the simpler tasks were becoming.
“Would I ever, you make them better anyhow, even Pete thinks so – right Pete?” Pete nodded, giving a wide, crumb filled smile from the window stool, half a cruller sticking out from the corner of his mouth.We split ways, and she headed into the kitchen in the back, I could hear various bowls and spatulas clanking on the cold steel of the work bench.
“Hey Dad...?”
“Yeah hun?”
“Do you know where the scoopers are?”
“Oh yeah, sorry, I was using it for some ice cream earlier one sec,” I pulled the scooper from the ice cream display case and gave it a quick rinse in the sink before heading back to the kitchen. I passed through the threshold as she slowly unrolled the crinkled paper sack and began to measure out the chocolate chips, as one, solitary chocolate chip bounced off rim of the measuring cup and sat perfectly upright on the workbench.
And began to glow bright blue.
*“MYTHOS, BOUND OF GLORY, DAUGHTER OF LIGHT…”* | 2022-05-18T11:29:22 | 2022-05-18T11:28:26 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] God forgot about Earth soon after Adam and Eve, fully expecting them to die. One of the Angels just informed him they survived, and the population is over 7 billion. | "You're saying I got one right? They survived?" God seemed more than excited.
"Well, yes sir, but-"
"This is amazing! I thought that world was lost. That's why I gave up on it."
The angel sheepishly pleaded, "But sir-"
"Do you know how many times it took for me to get the physics right? How many universes where life didn't last for more than a second before falling apart or expiring?" God sat back, grinning in disbelief. "I thought I had only made it work in the past few eons. I only made intelligent life in the past few millennia. This sounds impossible."
"Sir, it was impossible," the angel blurted out
"What are you saying? You just said there were 7 billion of them." God sat back up. More worried than before
"You didn't put those humans there. Don't you remember? The humans are less that a million years old. Th-"
"Of course they're less than a million, I made them to expire quickly."
The angel, growing more bold, continued, "No, sir, humans never existed in that universe until quite recently. They just showed up one day."
"But I am the sole creator! I make all life and matter in each and all universes!"
"I'm sorry, Lord, but I don't know how his could happen."
"Yahweh..."
~ ~
Yahweh, a greater demon, shifted slightly in the presence of his creator. He seemed uneasy, but tried to look relaxed. "You weren't using that one anymore. The other demons and I thought we'd have a little fun."
"So you took my creation and used it as your own?" God was fuming.
"Well, yes, it's not like I can go around and make things myself. So before one of your newer universes failed, I plucked little Adam and dear Eve and put them in a little garden I made."
"How dare you! I should smite you where you stand!"
"Now now now, let's not get too hasty. You haven't smote me down yet, so there must be something you want."
"How did you do it?"
"What?"
"How did you make it work? How are they still alive?" God's fingertips crackled with lightning.
"Frankly I don't know. We gave them a good start though. You seem to just leave worlds be afterwards and watch, but we had so much fun with these humans."
"Explain. Faster."
"Ok, I'm one of their gods."
"Blasphemy!"
"May I finish? So I acted as one of their creators, while Satan acted as my enemy. Two teams of us competed, trying to get the humans to join one side or the other. It was actually a pretty close competition."
"What do you mean was?"
"Well we got a little sidetracked. This one demon, Jesus, came down onto earth and claimed to be my son but human. I thought it was a great plan, but it actually split my followers in two. Some of them killed the others, some hated Jesus, some loved him. It was quite the event."
"I don't see where this is going."
Well some of the other demons wanted to be leaders too and made their own teams. There's one that basically claims the same as my followers, but with slightly different rules. Allah was never a very creative guy. Then there's the Hindu team, and they have some sort of one for all strategy with like thousands of demons as their gods, it's really interesting."
"What's happening now? Why are there 7 billion of them, Yahweh?"
"Wait, there's 7 billion now? By the time we left, we hadn't even cracked one billion!"
"You left?"
"Yeah, after everyone joined in, it got a lot less fun, so we all sorta just stopped messing with them. A lot of them are still expecting us to come back."
God remained silent for a while.
"If it's worth anything, we don't know how they survived either. We gave them a little head start, but with all of them killing each other or themselves, we don't know how it's working... God?"
God walked off, his wrath gone. In place of his anger came confusion and wonder. | "Father, you have *got* to stop these new things from invading my house!"
The Divine Nebula twisted around to the Morningstar, and performed its grin logarithm. "Now, Son, you know I only ran these simulations out of morbid curiosity. What seems to be the problem?"
I started, watching the oncoming storm rising through the galaxy. The Morningstar sighed, a distinctly mortal thing. "Father, that simulation you ran all those years ago. The one with the two four-base beings in the Aurora machine? They're still going." The Divine Nebula sparkled, Creation wandering across its starcloud. "More importantly, Father, they are....much more populous than we expected them to get. And they're stealing my things now.
"Apparently, I'm the ruler of their dark afterlife. And you cast me down, Father, in their minds." The Morningstar sneered, his tentacled limbs moving in a horrible parody of a shrug. "Still, Ithink you had best look in, Father. I thought you should know." The Morningstar turned to leave, and the Divine halted him with a gaseous emission.
"Son, bring the Auropra simulation to me, and let us take a look."
/ / / / / / / /
I looked out tot he stars, knowing that they weren't real. It's a hoprrible...**freeing**...thought.
"I know you're out there, God!" I yelled into the storm. "**I DARE YOU, STRIKE ME DOWN IF YOU HAVE THE COURAGE!**"
/ / / / / / / /
"hMMM..." the Divine Nebula hummed. "I like him, he's sparky. Let's grant him his wish."
The Divine struck him down by way of lightning. I watched on. The Divine turned to me.
"Well, there are plenty more where that one came from, so it's okay to grant his wish. And remember - if you do it right, people will wonder if you were ever involved at all." | 2016-03-07T06:19:52 | 2016-03-07T04:27:53 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] When you’re 28, science discovers a drug that stops all effects of aging, creating immortality. Your government decides to give the drug to all citizens under 26, but you and the rest of the “Lost Generations” are deemed too high-risk. When you’re 85, the side effects are finally discovered. | All I want to do is die.
You see, I know all about death, as I have killed myself in every way you can possibly imagine over the last 3,490 years. You heard me correctly...nearly 35 centuries have passed since Every time I do it, every cell of my body reassembles and I wake up...again.
I’m a bit of an oddball. You see, I was 28 years old when I was recruited by the Northern California Chronorium Distribution team. I know what you’re thinking. Yes, I broke the law; I let everyone down. I’ve suffered the consequences more times than I can count.
You can help me to make everything right. But first, let me explain what I did all of those centuries ago and why you are reading this now.
One day, my mother, Mary, was driving to work and she witnessed the aftermath of a horrible accident. Two cars had collided at high speed. One car had stopped burning, and the other was resting on its roof on the side of the embankment. The forest in this park of Oregon was thick, and both vehicles were hard to see from the road. Mom was an RN at the local hospital on her way in for the night shift.
She got out of the car and ran to the first car as fast as she could. The driver of that car was an elderly man who had massive lacerations and had likely died on impact. It was beginning to get dark, so she could barely make out the passenger: a young doe that had probably caused the accident.
My mother then heard something that would literally change the course of history: a small child crying out in the night.
Mary investigated the other car and immediately recognized the passengers as Marty and Marlene Zerkin. The Zerkins were career criminals that used to live next door. Marty had been arrested on suspicion of murder and had spent 5 years in prison for armed robbery. Marlene had also done time for elder abuse. After a young girl disappeared in town, so did the Zerkins, whom had met their fate this evening. Mary new immediately that the voice she heard was likely their son, Marty Jr....me.
I was two years old at the time. I don’t remember any of this, only what mom told me when I was 16: she had decide to raise me alone. She had an opportunity to divert the death report of a young man two years later while working an ER shift. She changed her name to match my new identity and moved to Phoenix.
Not only did I learn about all of this on my 16th birthday, I also learned that I was 18, not 16. I had always been a scrawny little guy. Marlene had nearly starved me to death and my growth had stunted. So much of it made sense: why I had always felt so different and why other kids seemed immature and stupid at times.
To her credit, mom was ready to come clean. She would have admitted her fraud knowing that her little boy had grown into a young man. She gave me the option to tell the truth. I chose to get my GED, drop out of high school and eventually go to med school. I protected mom and perpetuated the lie.
So when it came time to give patents the serum, I was offered a chance to be injected by a colleague. A good friend of mine worked at the FDA, and she told me that the age restriction data was fabricated, and that it was all an elaborate scheme to give the government time to figure out how to control the population. As you may have guessed, she lied.
Not only does the drug have unusual side effects for those over 26 at time of injection, it had a very unique effect on me. A rare genetic mutation combined with the drug to create an immune system and chronetic anomaly that made me immortal at 28. The LessThans died of “natural causes” at the ripe old age of 230. Some did make it to 250, and today colonists at Alpha Centauri live to 240 or more, on average.
I, on the other hand, have the curse of immortality. I was a fool. I have met four others like me. We all stay far away from each other because of the myths that follow ya from century to century.
I currently live on Io, one of Jupiters’ moons, in the year 5508. I am part of a research team that has made a breakthrough in time travel. I have been secretly working in this area for over 500 years, changing my appearance through black market nanosurgery. Anyway, my goal is simple: to alter my timeline so that I was never born.
I’ve tried going back in time to murder Marlene and Marty before I was conceived. I’ve even got back and murdered their ancestors. Nothing works. Oh, I’ve changed your history. You would be amazed how much. It hasn’t always been for the better but I’ve tried, I really have. But playing God is wrong. I’ve gone mad more times than I remember.
This is where you come in, dear reader. You see, I can alter the timeline of everyone but myself. It’s a discovery I will make nearly 32 centuries into your future. You have the power to stop my misery and keep your own timeline the same. In exchange I will provide you with a time travel device and the latest life extension technology available in my time. You must be 26 or under, that much has not changed.
You are reading this right now because I have made a device that allows me to connect to one of your ancient computing devices in a remote part of Earth known as Greenland...Ironically not very green? Anyway, converting my speech to your ancient language has been a chore...so crude! I digress.
The Remote Temporal Transmission device allows me to communicate with you. I am under immense scrutiny by the Martian Science Authority. I have to delay my communications with 2018 Earth by exactly one year. Next June 25th, Marty and Marlene will meet at a bar in downtown Portland, Oregon. All you have to do is prevent this. You have one year to prepare. On June 5th, 2019 I will send a second transmission with the exact time and location of their meeting.
I’m counting on you. Please help me find peace.
| "only $100 for a hospital stay over night? Healthcare prices aren't what they used to be"
"The world isn't what it used to be, dear." Jane said, looking past me and into the hallway.
"I never expected for it to be like this." she continued. "I always thought growing up that I'll grow old and retire to a farm, not working till I'm 84 then suddenly collapsing."
I leaned over and gave her a kiss on her forehead. Her forehead was clear of any wrinkles or blemishes but her eyes never lied about their age.
A knock breaks the silence behind us.
"Mrs. Doe, time for your medicine. Oh, am I disturbing anything?"
The nurse looked hesitant to come in.
"No, please come in."
"It's awfully sweet of you to come visit. Are you her grandfather or father?" she said nervously.
"husband, actually." Jane replied for me.
"Oh, I am so sorry. the awakening was before my time so I don't know what to expect when we see someone from the previous generation." the nurse stammered "but that is so sweet that you stuck with him all this time, I've seen people nowadays go through 10-15 divorces."
The Awakening. Hah. I still cant wrap up my feelings for what happened that year, especially now that there's new evidence of a "side effect" to the fountain of youth that was discovered recently. I'm not particularly vexed about my own demise, but I'm torn about the strain it put on my wife and marriage. My wife was a 25 at the time, I was 28. Years went by as my body crumbled and withered while my wife stayed beautiful and youthful. She said it made me sexier till I was around 50, in the past few years... Well, I caught her crying one night hunched over. She was muttering to her self 'why can't I just give some of my youth to him.' 'Why did the government have to condemn him to death.'
Extensive research continued on the fountain of youth for nearly a century. Everything seemed to go smoothly until recently when a wave of deaths from the earlier adopters of the drug started dying from one single cause: suicide.
This wasn't unheard of before, the few wealthy that were past the cut off line managed to buy fountain of youth pills to freeze their times, but when they hit age 85, they all started to commit suicide. CDC ruled it as a side effect of the lost generation taking the drug against strict recommendations, and it was promptly swept under the rug. This time around, it's from generation immortal.
"Thank you nurse, I feel a lot better now" Jane said,
The nurse smiled meekly, and after collecting her tray, quickly left the room. Jane eyed her as she left the room and waited until she was out of earshot from where we were.
"I don't like how everyone treats you like that, it's like they see you as a monster." she grunted.
"Well, not everyone was as accepting to their fate as I was. There were three huge rio--"
"I know that! I... know... It's just... I wish I could just tell them that you're not one of the people who caused those massacres. But all they see when they see white hair and wrinkles is a monster" her voice quivered as she said.
"do you see me as a monster?" I asked.
"no, you're my husband." she snapped.
"then, that's all I need." I said as I grasped her hand with my withered claw.
she ran her thumb across my knuckles while looking down. A silence ran through the room and even outside.
"I'm scared, John."
"We all are, sweetie."
"What if I go crazy like the others and just strangle myself with my own blankets?"
"I wont let that happen." I said sternly " but even if you do, It probably wont be long till I join you up there since I'm gen L"
Her punch on my arm wiped the crooked grin off my face.
"Hey, that smarts."
We both sighed at the same time and looked each other in the eyes. Her face grew red and her eyes watery.
"hey, hey, hey."
I put my hand on her cheek.
"Whatever happens, I'll always be with you. I promise." | 2018-06-04T23:59:27 | 2018-06-04T23:55:42 | 79 | 16 |
[WP] Oh snap, aliens are invading. Fret not, this is Cthulhu's turf and he'll stop at nothing to protect his humans. | The Imperial fleet had never encountered one of the Old Gods before. Conquering many planets, they had heard legend of many mythical and god-like beings that rested under the surface. These legends had always been found unfounded, the searches for powerful beings fruitless as the world was subjugated. It became a running joke among the ranks that perhaps the Old Gods were actually just another alien species that helped planets develop in the early millennia.
On intergalactic date 174567.123 the Imperial fleet traveled to the galaxy 2498 to planet 54B, dubbed affectionately the Milky Way galaxy and Earth by the primitive inhabitants. The fleet prepared their invasion strategy as usual. They would place their 10 largest battle cruisers, each the size of this planet's pathetic moon, over the 10 most populated areas on the planet. The scans showed that there were large amounts of unpopulated territory which made the invasion easier.
The smaller escort and personnel carriers would create insertion points and form the usual search and destroy grid. Any resistance was to be eliminated with great prejudice. Typically a planet the size of this 'Earth' would take 8 hours to conquer.
In the massive command vessel, alarms began to scream as the large battle cruisers began broadcasting distress messages. The communications became filled with incoherent screaming and odd chatter.
Finally, through the din, a singular deep and terrifying voice rang out.
"WHO DARES INTERRUPT MY SLUMBER?" The voice called, seemingly surrounding the crew.
As they watched, dark shadows coalesced in their midst. The dark, shifting waves formed a face.
"WHO AMONG YOU LEADS?" The voice rang out again, the crew stunned to silence. Gradually, their harsh and imposing commander stepped forward, his hard edges and tough bravado all but gone in this moment.
"I am High Inquisitive Commander Vor'Tak from the Imperial Acquisition Corps. We are here to bring this planet into the Imperial fold."
Deep and troubling laughter was the reply.
"Who might you be, Dark One?" The commander asked, a slight tremble to his voice.
The shadowy face seemed to show great displeasure.
"I AM THE LORD OF THE VOID, THE ONE WHO SLUMBERS IN THE DEEP. I AM THE WHISPER IN THE DARKNESS, CTHULHU."
Searches began immediately in the Imperial databases for references to this entity. Only one appeared. "Cthulhu, sic "Elder God" "Old One" "Dark Lord", is said to be one of the originator gods. Elemental affinity to water. Disappeared before record. Entity Source: Unknown. Entity Ranking: Cataclysmic. Information Reliability: Low to Unlikely"
"We seek to subjugate the weak and primitive inhabitants of this planet and mine it for specific resources. Should you remain staunchly in opposition to this, we will have no choice but to subjugate you as well. I think-" The commander was cut off abruptly by new alarms in the bridge.
"Breaches on the first 50 segments of hull being reported and steadily rising. Automatic response is sealing corridors as quickly as possible but we're not sure what caused the damage."
"YOU NEED NOT FEAR, LITTLE TRAVELERS. I WILL MAKE YOUR DEATHS SWIFT. YOUR EMPIRE MAY NOT HAVE THESE CREATURES OR MY PLACE OF SLUMBER."
At that, the shadowy face dissolved and the commander watched as chunks of his massive vessel were torn asunder. He could see the same happening to all his fleet.
"What have we awakened?" The commander asked as the bridge was ripped from the vessel, a large explosion ripping through the cabins. |
“Glorpon-B this is Taskforce Earth, there seems to be a slight complication.” The alien captain’s blood ran cold. He looked out over the ocean and watched a twisted figure rise from the depths. Already the captain was losing his mind. “Hold steady men!” He called to his fleet. It was too late one of his captains let out a blood-curdling scream and attempted to kamikaze the beast. It was vaporized before it got writhing a mile of the behemoth. More and more alien captains lost their minds.
In Washington the president is watching it all unfold. “What the hell is that thing?! Is it with us?” The president looked in horror as the invading force was torn apart.
“Mr President, I think it is a creature called the ‘Cthulhu.’”
“And what does it want?”
“It sees us as pets I’m afraid. Sometimes toys, but it seems right now, we’re his pets.”
The Cthulhu tore through more and more of the alien fleet. Cthulhu flapped His massive wings and launched Himself to meet the survivors. He stopped when only the captain remained. He looked deep into the captain’s soul. The captain immediately became corrupted with an ancient energy. The captain let out a final screech as he was torn apart from the inside.
Cthulhu turned His attention back to the mainland now. He let out His Great Call. Fear swept across millions’ minds. He destroyed half a city and took the people as servants. Then as quickly as He had appeared, He sunk back into the sea. He fell back into His slumber, happily knowing that chaos would now rule over the planet for sometime. | 2020-02-12T06:10:25 | 2020-02-12T04:48:06 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] All of the scientists said the meteor was going to hit. 100% chance. So what the hell happened? Christ, showing up at work tomorrow is going to be really awkward. | He took another swig from the bottle in his hand. Tried to anyway.
"Hard to keep off a hangover staying drunk if your fresh out..." he muttered, tossing the now empty bottle.
"Alas, my sweet sweet nectar, we are to soon parted." He sighed quietly and began putting himself into a state worthy of a trip to the office.
He took his coffee to go and shuffled through down the hallways and sidewalks to his parking spot.
Fliers, pamphlets, leaflets, newspapers, the littered news was a constant reminder of the utter horror today would be.
The End Is Here!
The BIG Bang!
The Last Day!
When Worlds Collide!
Apocalyptic Party at Freds!
He thought that last one seemed a bit off but lost his train of thought as he reached his parking spot.
A horse stood in his parking spot wearing his license plate as a necklace. It was not, however, wearing his parking pass. There was a parking ticket taped to its mane.
He sighed heavily, pondered, and climbed onto the horse.
"Your probably faster than the bus anyway, and I'm not gonna wait to see if they figure out how to load you on the tow truck." He said as he rubbed the horses neck and headed to work at a trot.
He reached the office safely and handed the horse over to a very confused and grumpy looking valet.
A pause at doors, a deep breath, and he pushed inside to greet the receptionist with his best smile.
"The bosses are waiting." Was the only reply, the tone bringing a fridgid edge to the air in the lobby.
He scurried silently into a blissfully empty elevator and took it all the way to the top.
The doors opened to chaos. After a week of relentless partying, it appeared more than a few egos had been bruised. Desks were being cleaned into boxes, silently, and figures were marching quietly into the stairwell exit with their life in their arms.
"Hi? Hey... Um... You..." He tried a few polite greetings as he crossed the room, but was met with only glares.
He dropped into silence as he realized they all knew the details of what he had done. This was it then. That rock was hitting something alright, 100% chance, just not the intended target.
He reached the bosses offices. Twin doors, though they led to the same room. The glare from the secretaries desk was all the hint he needed to go right in.
A few snippets poked through his hazed mind over the next hour.
"Disaster..." Was the word most frequently repeated over a long summary of the supposed final week. His actions, his accountability, his treatment of everyone when faced with the end.
Oh yes, he knew it was coming but it still hit his system as a shock. He couldn't work here after what he'd done this past week.
He turned and stared at the backs of the twin entry doors to clear his mind.
Twin doors, twin logos. Alpha on one, Omega on the other. He sighed for the hundredth time this hour and turned back to the bosses as the rant turned to his newest failures.
"Project Earth, destroyed! The dinosaurs dead or dying! The furry little mammals may be the only survivors! Alpha roared at him.
"Project mars going into emergency patch mode! We intended a clean end to the project, now we have to hope we can keep the damned thing going long enough to give our clients their end without a breach of contract!" Omega speed.
"The End! 100% guaranteed! How could you hit the wrong planet!" They screamed in unison.
Oh yes, this was a bad day to be in galactic IT at the office. You miss one decimal and you'd think it's the end of the world.
| I walked into the building with a headache, I almost didn't wake up because of my hangover. The first person I saw was Katy at the front desk. Man, that as awkward. I mean you kind of um, you know, do the thing, with whoever when you think you're gonna die. I did a lot of things that night. On a good note, I called friends and family to say goodbyes, and seeing them again would be the least awkward of it all. I walked into the office, there were obsceneties posted on the walls in spray paint, courtesy of yours truly. My desk was missing it's legs, as was my chair, so I sat down to begin work. I didn't do that one, I eyed the saw by Jim's desk. Obvious suspect. I noticed Edna wasn't in the office yet. "Hey has anyone seen Edna around?" I shouted so the office could hear. "Oh yeah, I stole her car and threw her scooter into the lake. I always wanted to do something like that. Edna was easy." Replied Carlos.
"Did you kill her?" Asked Clark, concerned.
"No! Of course not." The room was quiet for a bit. A few chatters about yesterdays doing.
"Somebody get Janet from accounting, this isn't making any sense." Jim ordered.
"Oh Janet died." I said bluntly. "Yeah, she went on this crazy kill streak and then a 50 year old biker ran her over."
"Well, the dude was doing what's right" I heard from Carlos.
"No um actually he was trying to escape from the police after an armed robbery."
"Wouldn't it have been pointless if the world was ending?"
"Eh, some cops."
...
"I really need Janet right now." | 2018-09-02T15:51:35 | 2018-09-02T15:00:34 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Adam and Eve decided they were better off as just friends. However, their friendship is constantly strained by the desperate attempts of God to get them to procreate.
First time trying one of these, let me know if I did anything wrong :).
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Woah! Woke up, did my exam, got out, checked Reddit and I see my post got a thousand plus up-votes! Thanks for contributing everybody, I seriously appreciate it. I've read through every one of them and I'm loving the variety. | "Well Eve, what do you make of this?"
Eve approached a small path leading into the forrest, untangling her hands from Adams, and squatted to the ground.
"Red leaves, from a flower," she observed, "fragrant and soft." She scanned the area, "so many!" She tasted one. She spit it out.
"Look here!" Adam was giddy. "Small fire lights, very nice to look at. Look Eve, look at me." He waited till she turned to him. He waved his finger through the flame. "Doesn't hurt". He smirked. He wanted her to be impressed. She wasn't.
"I do not understand," Eve said, walking along, gazing at the red petals along the forrest floor, the glowing lights, casting shadows along Adams body. His penis did not look nearly as repugnant in this lighting she noticed.
"Good God!" Adam said, skipping further along the path, "there is more!"
Eve followed him through a curtain of willow branches, to a room protected by the soft leaves. The small fire lights illuminated an opening that was lavishly decorated with all the beautiful flowers they had seen through their walk that day. Fire flies float in the canopy, and the flowers form a circle around a patch of luscious grass, cushioned to touch. Eve was in awe.
"And there's food!" Adam turned to her, his mouth stuffed with fruits, dripping down the corners of his lips. "I want you to-" he swallowed "I want you to look at these things".
She laid on the grassy bed and gazed at the assortments on a rock slab, within reach. The light danced on the fruits, bowls of a bubbling water, slimy clams in opened shells, and Adams finger, pointing down to a brown rock. His face is twisted, "it looks like a poop!"
Eve touched the things and licked her finger. The bubbling water was cold and sweet. The fish was smooth and salty. The brown thing was hard. "It is like sugar Adam. It is good". She smiled at him as he gobbled it down.
"Oh eve," Adam sighed, "but what is this?"
"Did you do this? Did dad?"
"I do not know" Eve says.
"Well what should we do?" Adam says. His eyes wander the curve of her reclined body, her lips sucking the sweetness of the fruit off her fingers. "You look very nice". He blushes. He pokes her breast, always fascinated by the jiggle. He chuckles, amused.
"I think we should sleep Adam. The day has been long"
"Ok. You know best." Adam lays on her stomach to rest.
Eve looks up, noticing the fire flies. She could sense there was a pattern, but didn't understand it. She closes her eyes.
The fire flies continue to spell out FUCK. | "I just don't feel like a man" Adam told Eve, "You're beautiful, but I hate that he is pushing me to be someone I'm not"
Eve didn't know what to say. They had almost had sex, but he had a weird fascination with her butt. It made every inch of her skin crawl, but he was the only option. God had given them until the end of the month.
"Look Adam, we just need to have children. We can close our eyes. You are a man, I am a woman. We have to."
"You're just like him! I do not want to be a man, God made me ugly, look at this" Adam said pointing to his lower body and ran in the other direction.
Eve felt defeated, and prayed to God to find another way. He wouldn't allow it though. | 2016-09-15T09:28:16 | 2016-09-15T07:41:23 | 39 | 12 |
[WP] Making a deal with a demon requires a soul. Usually this is a very bad idea, but you got a crazy idea. Earlier you traded your lunch money to the school bully in exchange for a piece of paper that says you own his soul. You're about to find out if demons consider this a valid contract. | "You want that, i mean you really want THAT?" The demon was dumbfounded. He stared at my 14 and a half page doccument that had elaborately closed every loophole, hidden clause, escape plan, and demonic play on words that could be possible. I spent years of my life with religous scholors, occultists and copyright lawyers making an airtight contract. I knew what i wanted.
The demons face contorted, parts phased away while others came into reality. The best i can describe it was confused. "You pledge that your soul shall be tormented by our choice of... contractors, for an extended eternity, and give consent for deep psychological inquiries to make the time more unpleasent?"
"Yep."
"You sure?"
"As it is written."
"Uhh so shall it be... i guess?" As the demon whos face was an ever shifting mass of insect legs and eyes looked over the papers one more time they shrugged and placed it into an obsidian cube. It whirred like a fax machine then spit a paper out covered in blood siglis and brimstone scented smoke. It was pleasently warm and dry though felt food on my hands.
"Thank you. Now shall we get going?" I asked gathering my things. "The doccuments clearly state that the demonic notary will personally escort me to the bottom ring of hell to await the arrangement."
As we walk through elegant hallways with portraits of different depicting various forms of torture my face segins to show a faint calm. There are scrarchmarks all along the carpet and walls, some othethe paintings have been torn or pulled in the direction they are headed.
Upon seeing this the demon becomes more uneasy. "You know, you are one of the first souls to walk down this path. Many are... coerced."
"Its not too bad when you know what to expect, whats your name by the way?"
"...Greg. But uh, you have to know that you picked the worst package? They are using you for the training dummy for lava-sodomy101." "Not me, my soul. My friends call me Benny by the way"
"Same difference, you feel the pain all the same. Its forever you know. And you did this all for $2.25." Greg shook his head, we had reached the end and a large door stood in front of us. As greg fiddles with his keys i stop him.
"We can just slip it through the door." I say rummaging through my wallet.
"It doesnt work like that the soul has to go through."
"Here it is." I hand him a piece of notebook paper torn out of the journal that has been laminated. In crayon and with several crossed out letters it read:
"i give my soul to you for your lunch. You are a booger face.
Signed,
Tommy Berkeley"
"I own the soul, but its not MY soul. Lets throw it in shall we?"
Greg was awestruck. He half expected me to regret my decision along the way the other half thought i was insane. Now all he can do is ask "do you want a job here?"
"No i want my $2.25 please." | Ok, so, this is technically a story. But it’s a true story.
I’ve had a lot of teachers over the years, from Ms. Imani who looked like she was in high school to Ms. Howard, who was on the brink of retirement for years. She had a lot of time to think about her mortality. This is a story about Ms. Howard.
She would buy students’ souls.
For real money.
She told us one day, out of the blue. Write “My Soul” on a scrap of paper. Sign your name to it. Ms. Howard will pay you $5.00 for it.
Matthew lost his soul that day. Janice soon followed.
She owns them, now. When they go, they will go not to the gates of pearl or of iron, but to the land of Howard. The ownership of more souls than her own gives her the power to contain them, and to grow her own little pocket of afterlife, in which reside the souls of the howed.
My soul is still my own, as I’m aware. But perhaps, once my body is not, I’ll spend some days in search of her third direction. | 2021-03-27T06:35:21 | 2021-03-27T03:58:13 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] There is something outside the door that will say anything or sound like anyone to get you to open the door.
Edit:I fell asleep after I posted this sorry for not replying they're all really good, thanks for taking the time to write. | "come here my soft baby boy"
The voice was as soft and sweet as he had always remembered it. He could imagine her beautiful, lovely face on the other side of the door. Her deep red lips wispering those words.
"Please don't make your mother cry, my baby boy. Open the door" the chilling voice wispered
A violent shiver traveled down his very being, a cold death seeping into his bones. His could hear his mother right outside his door. A soft rapping of knuckles agaisnt the wood, requesting entry. The mother who had fed him and looked after him his whole life. who Held him in his moments of sorrow and shared in his moments of joy. He loved his mother so deeply it hurt, tears now trickled down his cheeks.
"I love you dear. Your my little champ. Please dear let me in, its cold outside."
He held the gun between his knees to steady it against his shanking hands. Slowly he slotted the single bullet into the cartridge, clicking it into place. On the other side of the door he could hear the rapid turning of the doorknob, a frenzied effort to enter his room. He lifted the gun up against his temple and placed his hand between his jaw.
"Dont do it dear, please dont do it. DONT YOU LOVE ME" the voice now shreiked at him.
He could feel her..it's nails scratching franically against the wood. The tears stopped flowing now. He felt the adreniline run throughout his body, time began to slow. He bit down as hard as he could against his hand,blood now flowing into his mouth. He did love his mother, he never stopped loving her. His mother however had died 10 years ago, in a tragic murder. He remembered his mother locking him, a young boy at the time, into the very room in which he now resided. His father draging his mother outside. Her screaming the whole way. Not for her sake however, but for him to spare the children. His father threw her agaisnt to the ground, a loaded shotgun now held firmly in his hands. He watched from his bedroom window as his father held the shotgun to her face and without heisation pulling the tigger. Her face had exploded, a gruesom and ghastly sight which he so often recalled in his dreams...or rather nightmares. The blood pouring down her body as she lay dead and bloodied against the ground. It was the voice of that woman who now called on him from behind the door. But she had died and he had seen it. The gun now felt like a lead weight in his hand, the blood and pain in his hand and mouth trying to distract him from what he was about to do.
"see you soon mother" he sobbed
BANG! The gun smooldered in his hand, the scratching on the door began to fade as he hung limp and lifeless agaisnt the door like his mother had lain on the ground 10 years prior.
| ***Audio recording, begin***
My name is Jason Aritoza and I don't have a lot of time, so I'll make this brief. For the last couple of days I've been tracking a ... phenomenon, for lack of a better word. This ... phenomenon, it swallows people. They just end up missing without a trace. Now, I work for the missing person department and our reports have skyrocketed for the last month and, I believe, I know why. Some of the victims were livestreaming to a site called twitch.tv at the time of their kidnapping and I managed to get recordings of those for analysis.
*A distant knock can be heard*
God damnit, it's here. I'll make this very brief then. Before they vanish without a trace, someone knocks on their door and ...
*in the distance* It's the police, open up!
Shit! Hold on.
*Distant* Yes? What is... OH GOD! NO! PLEASE NO!
*A loud growl and a crash*
***Audio recording: End*** | 2015-03-11T02:35:00 | 2015-03-11T01:49:31 | 54 | 24 |
[WP] You steal the coat of a Selkie, not because you wanted a wife, because you needed someone to do your taxes. | It was about an hour ago that I took that selkie's seal hide. Most people back on the mainland would be surprised at their existence: women with beauty divine, shedding animal forms and behavior to rest on land and enjoy simplistic human pleasures. I've seen them chat, walk, and swim with the grace of a dog being thrown into a pool-- can't expect someone to immediately know how to swim in a different body.
But why *did* I take one of their coats? Well, this island is small. Takes about 30 minutes to walk a full circle. The only contact I have is with the supply ferry, bringing me groceries and taking whatever literary translations I churned out in the past two weeks to pay for said groceries.
It gets lonely, alright? I need someone. The ferryman couldn't possibly help with this need, and hiring someone to come all the way out here for a disappointing 20 minutes would cost me a fortune, more than I can afford.
I hear someone yelling outside. Ah, that must be her. I hang her coat over a chair by the fireplace to dry. Now she's walking up and down the shore, checking every loose rock for her coat, shouting a string of swears with every step. Frantically she looks around, right until she spots my house up on the hill. Panic turns to anger as she storms up the dune, tripping on a loose patch of sand, before angrily knocking on my door. I open.
"*You!* You human bastard! Give me my coat back or--"
"You can take your coat back in a second, it's right there," I gesture towards the fireplace, "but please put some clothes on first."
"Then... why... what?"
\- - -
I blow into my cup of tea, the stack of papers on the table waving back at me. The selkie is wolfing down a crudely roasted fish with her bare hands. Not what I imaged when I first heard those fairytales of mystical animal wives, beautiful and graceful should you keep their coats safe and sound. Hers is tied around her waist.
"Sho why did you shteal my coath then?" she asks, mouth still full of cod.
"I need to ask a favour of you." I take a sip of my tea.
"Well? I'm lishtening."
"Could you please..." God, I can feel myself blushing. How do you ask someone something stupid like this. It's silly, it's hopeless, but I just need to get this done. "Help me file my taxes?"
"What the fuck are taxes?" She asks, tilting her head.
"It's money you give to the government so they can function and run the country."
"But you live here by yourself?"
"Yes, but this land is still a part of--"
"But that's fucking stupid!" she yells, slamming the table. "You live here by yourself, a boat-- which *you*,"
"Which I pay for," I add.
"Exactly! Why the fuck do you owe them anything!"
"I don't know, but I need to pay them a certain amount or else I get fined."
"But how do they know what you owe them?"
"Oh, they already know. They just need me to figure it out as well."
"But if they already know it then why--" her deep, black eyes, which under any other circumstance would have been adorable, are seething with rage and fire (quite literally, bearing the reflection of the fireplace).
"I know, it's stupid. I should've learned this stuff in school and do it by myself."
"Nuh-uh, this pisses me off and now I want it done!"
Well, that's that problem solved.
She shoves her plate aside (somehow managing to not flinch because of the sound of ceramic shattering on the floor) and thoroughly inspects the stack of papers I dug out of an old storage box while she was getting dressed. Her expression is impossible to read for a solid minute, until she carefully puts the paper down and looks me in the eyes.
"I don't know how to read."
"God damnit." |
“Look, I’ll give your coat back!” I said. “I promise. I have absolutely no interest in keeping you here. Or sex.”
She gave me a sharp look at that and I held up my hands.
“Really, I don’t. I just… really need help with this.”
“So you took my Sealskin,” she said, her voice beautiful but flat. “And hid it.”
“I’m borrowing it,” a note of desperation crept into my voice as I tried to remember what exactly it was that my coworker had said she’d used last year to get the Sealkie she’d caught to help. “You help me with my taxes, I give it back, AND I’ll give you some fish.”
“How much fish?” she asked, settling on the couch. I really wished she’d put some non-seal clothes on.
“Uh….. 5?”
“Mmmm no.”
“6?”
“15% of your return in fish,” she said, then paused. “And sushi now.”
“Uh.. ok, yeah. What if I don’t get a return, though? I don’t know if--”
“You will, if I am doing your papers.“ Her dark eyes glittered. “I am very good at it. And at other things. Are you sure you don’t--”
“I’m sure,” I cut her off. it was hard enough telling my mother I was ace, I wasn't about to have that conversation with the pretty naked seal lady.
“Fine, then, if you’re sure you don’t want the tax benefits for next year. Tuna sashimi, please. And salmon. And if you get the shitty grocery store kind, the IRS will be auditing you for the next ten years." She smiled, sharp teeth. "And if you could, be a dear and stop by the printers for me? I was supposed to pick up my business cards when you caught me. " | 2021-11-10T08:19:09 | 2021-11-10T08:08:59 | 49 | 22 |
[WP]: There's a tiny predator in the human quarters that nobody is allowed to exterminate - under the threat of complete human riot. The humans willingly admit that yes, it DOES sometimes try to attack humans as well, but altogether, they are relaxed by the presence of the "cat". | "This crew-member has solved the mystery of our missing facilitators."
"Humans are bad enough," Zargaz the security facilitator's apprentice noted in its holo journal. "They are temperamental, dangerous, and extremely robust in their physiology. We would never have recruited them to this combat mission if we were not losing badly to the Garnooz."
"But they insist on travelling with their bizarre symbiotes. We have to devote precious cubic to the insane human need for separate socialization, ingestion, resting, defecation and ablution chambers, which alone is almost intolerable. But they also demand specific defecation and resting cubic for their symbiotes. We have never associated with any species that has so many bizarre needs." Zargaz burbled wetly to itself as it got going.
"This ship's security facilitator's apprentice - Designate CV-12398-\* (I) Zargaz must now unfortunately note a serious encounter with this guest species. The felidae bonded to the 'GSgt Sammy Norvis, USSMC' unit was encountered outside their containment area."
"Examination of the surveillance records for the Homo Sapien confinement cubic shows that the bonded felidae known as 'Trixie' was able to navigate a very small robot maintenance passage by leaping at least three times its body length vertically, and then swing open the cover to the robotic maintenance tunnel while clinging to the sound absorbing wall panel and then somehow compress itself longitudinally and enter the maintenance spaces.
"Some time later, the escaped symbiote exited the maintenance passages into species shared cubic and began what can only be described as a kind of aggressive prey seeking behavior.
"We were assured by the humans that their emotional support symbiotes were safe. The Augmented Council of Co-Prospering Species noted that these creatures assisted the humans in processing the mental damage associated with 'war fighting', and approved their use in isolated cubic on our troop ships.
"But, would they have approved if they had known what has just happened might even be a remote possibility?
"It is my sad duty to report that the Trixie entity has committed multiple category III inter-species welfare offenses. Trixie was recorded moving slowly with great patience whilst observing Computation Space Maintenance Technician 'PuffBall' of the HuffleGrr (Designate MT-987856-#) who was hovering over a maintenance cable space.
"Because the HuffleGrr are quite small and can fly in moderate gravity spaces, they are ideal for maintenance services. Apparently Trixie found PuffBall to be fascinating. The security AI thought that this observation was benign in nature, so it was not reported. This was unfortunately an incorrect assessment.
"It is with unremitting horror that I report the following observed facts from the record.
"Trixie has eaten a number of the HuffleGrr! It has also killed several additional of them and hidden their corpses in GSgt Norvis's ready bag, shoes, apparel storage are, and has even left their poor mangled corpses displayed on the GSgt's resting pod.
"The GSgt has responded to these murders by expressing what I believe to be mild annoyance and chastisement. The mangled corpses of our fellow sapients were then disposed of by being incinerated in the fecal reclamation appliance!
"The GSgt spent some time chastising Trixie for her behavior and then bizarrely thanked Trixie for the 'gifts'! I can only conclude that the Felidae symbiotes engage in some form of sacrificial worship of their bond-mates. Surely the Augmented Council could not have known of this?
"However, this is not the worst news. Trixie has disappeared! I have played the records multiple times, attempting to decipher a few strange interactions between the human and its symbiote. Their use of language is imprecise, and of course Trixie only interacted with those predator noises we all find so off-putting.
"After much analysis, I must inform you that GSgt Norvis's use of the human term 'brooding' seems to indicate that the Trixie symbiote is preparing to gestate new predators. Upon learning this, I alerted the security AI. But, it is too late. Trixie is h..hiding in the maintenance spaces! Trixie is delivering new murder symbiotes into unmonitored spaces.
"Soon she will want to feed her young! | It doesn't make sense to me.
I surveyed the condominium in front of me, its tall towers and many floors sure to hide many treasures. Even a cat, perhaps.
But no. I much preferred the box that I was currently in. But the condominium is mine, make no mistake.
I'm not sure why and how I ended up here, honestly. All I remembered was chasing my dinner, who was making far too serious of an effort to not be my dinner, and found myself in front of a wooden door and a pair of feet.
Humans. Large giants. I bit her, of course, but instead of wincing and recoiling in pain, in awe of my powerful bite, she laughed. A psychopath, I suppose. But I hung around, wary of her next move. I roared at her. Sure enough, my immense dominance sent her back through the door, mumbling something about "a cute little kitten."
Disappointed eyes and whiskers searched the area for a while, but my dinner was gone. The door creaked open again, and I turned, looking at her holding open a can of food. Whiff, whiff. A fishy smell? I trod warily, paw by paw, ready to unleash my sharp claws at any moment.
She put down the can, and squatted beside it expectantly, a goofy grin on her face. Definitely a psychopath. But there was food, and my dinner had just run away, and the scent was pleasing...
Perhaps, against my better judgement, I decided to trust the psychopath. After all, she was the one liable to get hurt, not me. I bent my head, tasting a little.
Wow. Just wow. Before I realized just how hungry I was, I was wolfing down the contents, periodically checking on the human being with my eyes. She very slowly and carefully pushed a hand towards me, gently scratching me on the head. It felt nice, so I continued to allow her to do it.
Who was this woman? How was she so calm around a ferocious predator like me? Psychopath.
But still, she's pretty nice. She readily became my subject the moment she let me into the house, anyway, and purchasing this cat condo for me.
I won't use it, of course. But take it away from me, and she'll understand just what the wrath of a predator means.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-01-24T12:45:05 | 2021-01-24T12:18:04 | 464 | 201 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | For the hundredth time, you glance at your computer screen, the bright bold number 23:50:58 flashing back at you. The button lies there innocuously, an entire section of the desk to itself, the words PRESS ME tauntingly painted on it. You edge your hand closer to the button, but that section of the desk might as well have a forcefield around it for how close you get. 23:51:23, and the day is that much closer to done, another day wasted.
You look back at your computer screen and this time you try to look past the time. You squint and pretend you can see the silhouette of the man who appeared there all those days ago, slight and dark with a voice that could not be his own. You remember his words as though he had uttered them but a moment ago, delivered with utter nonchalance yet seeming so cruel. His clasped hands, his calm demeanor, and your own bemusement before the button appeared just like that.
Everyone in the world had one, he said. At the very least, you know that your co-workers do, and that none of them would dare use it. But had anyone used it? Were people becoming rich and dying? You've scoured every last news outlet you can think of, checked any blog that might mention it, and nothing. Not a hint.
You start to sweat, your breath becomes short, and you wonder how much longer you can live this way. You shout at your screen, scream for the man to come back and explain, beg for more information, plead for an exception. He does not appear.
You sigh as the clock shifts to 23:57:00, and you start thinking of the next day, your next opportunity to press the button. Another day for her to suffer, you think, and it hurts you inside.
You hear her cough from the next room, and perhaps unconsciously, your hand brushes against the stack of letters and bills on your desk.
It is not your strength that fills you, animates you, moves your hand to the button and pushes it down. It is hers.
A moment later, the footsteps begin.
They are easy enough to ignore at first, but as they grow louder and louder behind you, at last you feel you must look. You swivel in your chair and there he is, black suit and black gloves, something in his hand.
A horrible death, was it? You relax, feeling a smile come to your face as you know you did what you could. You were blameless. You shut your eyes and await the inevitable.
A moment passes, and then another. Finally, you open your eyes, and he is gone. You see nothing but a scrap of paper on the ground, and you reach down to pick it up. You read it.
Your bank in all caps. The word "receipt". $40,000, it says.
What feels like enough air to inflate a zeppelin escapes your lungs as you hoist the receipt and hold it up high, laughing and grinning, calling for her. You made the right decision. Everything will be alright.
You don't even notice the white powder on it. | *Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.*
My eyes were glued to the green button, every night. At first, I loved the color. Green is healthy, and green is money. It made sense. What didn't make sense made it even more fascinating somehow. Hell, I even got the thing a black case. Suede.
*Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.*
After several months and payments and God knows how many moves, I hated the thing. It'd shown up one night, and everything had been so plain, so fucking boring without the money. And then the names came in. One after the other. Green is pestilence. Green is a plague.
*Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.*
And now, I wait. I flick the box open. I close it. I flick it open again.
Fuck, I need it.
*Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.*
I deserve this.
***Click.***
| 2016-07-16T17:25:16 | 2016-07-16T17:19:00 | 1,781 | 65 |
[WP] you were betrayed by the ones you called friends. they sacrificed you in a satanic ritual during an outing. however, you were taken by things older than you thought possible. empowered by them, you return as their agent in a war that scales eons and worlds beyond. but first, your revenge. | Six feet under isn't so deep when you've got friends like mine.
Asshole friends. The kind of friends who'll convince you you're just gonna go do some weird artsy Instagram shit in the woods: make bonfires, string up animal bones, get drunk while they do their weird chants.
*Come on, Roxie,* they said. *You'll have so much fun, Roxie.*
Sure they were weird. But I was weird too--maybe not their all-black, squirrel-skull-collecting kind of weird, but weird enough--and I was new in town. September was still young. The air still tasted like summer, and I was aching for the friends at my dad's house on the other side of the country. Eighteen years old, last year of high school, and I was starting all over again in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.
At least, I thought, I finally *had* friends.
I fight against the duct tape at my wrists and ankles. "Guys," I try to say, but they've shoved a bandana in my mouth. Sprinkled in some goddamn raven feathers and rat tails into this box with me.
"Guys," I say again, which sounds like *oyff*.
The whole forest smells like cheap wine and burnt sage. We went deep off road, up a logging trail, into the heart of the mountain. Into the places cops wouldn't check for a bunch of stupid teenagers, getting drunk and burning shit because what else is being a teenager for.
But now I'm here in a coffin rigged out of stripped-down wood pallets. Tied up and about to die in the stupidest way possible. I'm probably the only person in the twenty-first century to get murdered like it's goddamn 1300 AD.
They start muttering chants outside the box. Bastardized Latin. I'd tell them how bad their pronunciation is if I could 1) talk or 2) deal with them realizing just how huge of a nerd I really am.
Typical Roxie. Worrying about being uncool when I'm staring death in the eye.
Alistar taps his shovel against the side of the box. His real name is Baxter, but that wasn't unholy enough. "The Lord of Hell is hungry for your sacrifice," he tells me.
Something drips through the cracks of wood as they smear brush over the wood. It scritch-scritches across the boards.
Outside, Lilith (shockingly, her real name) and Ghoul (so clearly not his real name; it's Garth, really) dig away, their shovels *shicking* through the stony earth.
Liquid drips through the slats. I flinch away from it and wriggle and shriek as it lands on my face. Runs red down my cheek.
I manage to spit out the gag and shriek through the wood, "Is that fucking *blood?*"
"Theater blood," Alistar admits. "It was *supposed* to be real, right, Ghoul?"
Ghoul's voice shrinks at the accusation. "Look, man, it's not my fault my uncle didn't slaughter that pig like he said he would."
"You were going to put pig blood all over me?!"
"No, stupid. On the box," came Lilith's voice, scoffing, twisting with effort. Her shovel kept digging into the earth.
"We're delivering the pure to make whole the unpure," Alistar intoned.
I thrashed now, banging my shoulders into the sides of the coffin. It rocked, but Alistar's fell over the slats of the makeshift coffin as he held it in place.
"Easy, there. Don't want to knock yourself over."
"I'll scream! Let me out!"
"You didn't gag her that well, dude," Lilith muttered.
"Yeah, well. It's my first live sacrifice, alright? Cut me some slack. Besides, it's nailed shut already."
Panic thrums in my throat. I was tipsy enough by the time they took the rope out that I didn't even fight. Just stood there, dumbstruck, as the three of them tackled me to the ground.
"The real Church of Satanism preaches peace!"
"Don't explain my own religion to me," Alistar snaps.
"Is she right about that?" Ghoul says, quietly.
"You're killing me over a book you haven't read?"
"Not killing. Delivering you unto your next plane of existence. Serving Satan is the highest ascension any mortal can reach."
I start shrieking then. Belting out *help, help!* to the empty forest.
"You really should shut her up," Lilith says outside the box, her voice rising nervously.
"No need. That looks deep enough to me." Alistar leans off the wood, his shadow moving away. I twist to press my eye to the gap between two slats. The three of them stand on a staggered circle, appraising my grave. "She'll be shutting up forever in just a minute."
The three of them worked together to heave up the coffin. They lower me less-than-gently into the earth.
The earth falls in shovelful by shovelful. It drizzles into the coffin.
I've screamed myself hoarse by the time I can't see them anymore. Can't see the lights. Can't see anything.
Part of me prays the weight of it all will just crush me before I have to sit and wait for the oxygen to abandon me, molecule by molecule.
But the dark hand of death doesn't come.
My makeshift coffin burns with pale crimson light. It spreads as suddenly as the darkness, consuming everything.
The light at the end of the tunnel. Oh shit. Oh God. Oh--
*Oh, there you are,* a voice murmurs from within me, without me, from everywhere and nowhere. *We've been expecting you.*
The duct tape vanishes. I scramble against the floor, but the world has become light. Only light, in all directions.
"Is this Heaven?" I whisper.
*No, child,* the voice says. A huge taloned palm descends from the infinite bright sky. Right towards me. *But in our name, you shall raise Hell.*
***
/r/nickofstatic for stories by me and my best friend NickofNight :) | There are creatures in this universe, born in the most dreadful corners of reality. Things with hearts black as coal, with souls like ice, and minds burning with hatred. Those were the things I was sacrificed to. Those were the things, the hellish, satanic, things, that I was killed to appease. People I had considered friends, people who had been kind to me, binding me, breaking me, carving out my heart from my chest with dull knives.
But my soul did not go to those corners of reality, where the shadows hide monsters. Something else caught me. Something older. It is not alive in a way we understand, neither is it dead. And it wants in. It was cast out of our reality by the forces of evil and the forces of good, working in tandem. The only time the Demonic and the Divine stood side by side. And the creature, older than creation itself, born long before this universe was even considered an option, is powerful. And it chose me.
It rescued my soul, healed it, and empowered me. Spoke in a language that goes past the ears, and into the mind. Into the soul. And in a way, that thing, ancient and unknowable, is in a word, beautiful. It comes from nowhere, a place where mankind can never go. Too much light, too much power. And it chose me, as the champion of its cause for our reality. A champion in one reality, on one front of a war that covers the multiverse.
How could one say no? When its mere whisper could shatter stars? When the mere suggestion of a movement from my benefactor could unravel time and break space? And it saved me. Not because I am special, but because, in as much as it can feel like we can, it felt sorry for me. And because, it can use me. I can take its power where it can no longer go, bring war to the two sides of creation. Bring devastation to the divine and the demonic forces. It sees in me a liberator, a breaker of chains, and an unmaker of tyrants. To tear down the Pearly Gates of Heaven, and break through the blackened bronze gates of the citadels of Hell. To rally and recruit this universe to fight not for the static sides of Divine Good or Demonic Evil, but to fight for a deeper freedom, to fight for the liberation of reality from those constraints. With its torch of unending light, it bathes me in the flames of liberty, reforging me into a new man: the Champion of Freedom.
The power burns in me, not with the harsh light of the Divine, not with the cold flame of the Demonic, but with the power and purity of absolute FREE WILL. Through me, this power will LIBERATE creation itself. And I choose the first strike of my War of Liberation. I return to the dark shrine, hidden deep in the forest, I return to where the people I considered friends killed me for their own selfish desires. To gain power for their own lust and greed to flourish, growing like mold and fungi, in the darkness.
And there I take my revenge. Using the burning purity of my new powers, I remove the blockages in their heads, the ones that they have used to justify their evil actions, the excuses they have used to avoid feeling the guilt. I force them to experience every evil they have committed. I force them to know the horrors they have done, the last scared moments of the people they betrayed. I do not slay them, for with this power, I have forced them to experience something worse than death. They now know how weak, small, petty, and vile they are. How they have given away their humanity in exchange for golden leashes and better treatment from those who would keep them as slaves. I showed them the **FREEDOM** and *JUSTICE* that the universe will experience. And I showed them the mercy of our freedom. They will have a place in the free universe, they have been punished, and they will live to experience the triumph of FREE WILL over the tyrannies of the Divine and the Demonic.
I am the Champion. I will bring freedom to this universe. Freedom to chose without being forced, freedom to live without fear, and freedom to experience both joy and suffering. Through me burns the Light of Liberty, rejoice oh reality, for I have returned.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | 2020-04-26T02:09:51 | 2020-04-26T00:31:49 | 532 | 287 |
[WP] After hearing complaints countless times the hero just turns himself in and goes to prison. Now that the villains are destroying the city and running wild everyone is trying the convince the hero to come out and save the day. But the hero is not having any of this shit | “Is Nebula doing more harm to the city than good? Find out in this *shocking* new report, here on channel 3 news.”
Ned sighed. He was the one that saved the city from Mr. X countless times, yet everyone still wanted him locked away. He didn’t get it. Ned grabbed the remote and clicked the television off.
*Nebula is destroying the city! He needs to be locked up!* Even the mayor herself complained against him.
“No Nebula! No Nebula!” Chanted the mob outside his house.
“Great,” he mumbled as Ned drew the curtains shut. He had enough. Unlocking his door, he stepped onto his porch and stared into the mob.
“Fine! Take me to jail if that’s what you want,” He exclaimed into the crowd. The mob cheered. He let them surround him as he was washed away in the current of people.
The cell door closed with a sharp clang, and the hero that was Nebula was no more. He laid down onto the scratchy bed and sighed. *What now?* He thought to himself.
It was a month since Ned, AKA “Nebula,” was locked in. The shuffle of other prisoners was more than enough to wake him up from bed. Ned had some time for himself after breakfast, so he returned to his cell.
The lights flickered, startling him. He took his nose out of his book and glanced up. The whole building suddenly shook, earning him some frantic shouting from his fellow prisoners.
“Where’d your ‘hero’ go?” said a mocking voice. It was Mr. X: Nebula’s archnemesis. Ned groaned and tried to go back to sleep. He wasn’t supposed to be the hero now. Why should he save the city?
“Nebula! We need your help! Mr. X is destroying the city!” the mayor frantically said, appearing at the cell door.
Ned mumbled, “Just five more minutes.” He turned around and faced his back towards the door. A guard opened the door, and the mayor stepped in.
“Is there anything, *anything* you want?” she asked, trying her best to hide her nerves.
“Five more minutes,” Ned repeated, burrowing himself deeper into his covers.
“I’m coming to get you!” Taunted Mr. X as he rumbled around the city. The walls of the prison shook, and with a loud crash, the prison crumbled. The mayor and her accompanying guards were thrown back into the rubble. Ned was still trying to get some shut-eye, but Mr. X emerged out of the smoke.
“Woah! Is everything alright? Haven’t seen you in a hot minute,” He taunted, genuine concern seeping into his voice.
“No, not really,” Ned sighed, still drowsy. He sat up.
“Wait, like, actually not good?” He said, now concerned. Ned nodded in reply, and Mr. X sat down at the foot of his bed.
“Yeah, things aren’t going so well, as you can probably see,” Ned continued, “All I wanted was to save the city, and now they throw me in here.” He motioned to the remails of the prison around him. “It’s always just ‘Nebula destroyed this,’ or ‘Nebula didn’t save that.’ I don’t know if I should just stop or join you!”
“Shiiiit Nebula, that sucks,” The villain replied, turning to face Ned. “Do you wanna head over to my place for a bit?”
*What if this is a trap?* One side of Ned’s brain yelled, but the other side screamed back, *Who cares? At least death will be better than this hellhole!*
“Sure,” He finally replied, throwing his dusty covers off. Stepping out into the sunlight, Mr. X led him to his vehicle, a bright green hovercraft parked in the middle of the street. “If you don’t mind, could you stop by my place? These clothes are horrible,” Ned asked, climbing into Mr. X’s car.
They arrived at his house, a small suburban home away from the city's hustle and bustle. “I’ll be right ba-” Ned trailed off, stepping out of the vehicle.
The front window was spray painted, the door was smashed, and the inside was no better. Furniture strewn across the floor, cabinets ransacked, and no nook was left untouched. More hateful messages were spray-painted across the wall as Ned stepped into his bedroom. He tried to salvage whatever possessions he had left but ended up with a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and two mismatched socks.
"Woah, did drunk me really do that?" Mr. X joked. Ned playfully shoved him, earning himself more laughter from Mr. X. "I'm just joking Nebula," He said.
“Ohhhh, I remember why I hate you,” Ned replied, unable to hide his smirk. "Oh, by the way, just call me Ned."
“N-Oh, right. Call me Matt,” He said. They arrived at Matt’s lair, which was the complete opposite of Ned's house. High walls surrounding the area, a fountain at the entrance, and at the center of it all, a dark monolith that was the house.
“Welcome to my place!”
​
\--
frenemies are hard to write lmao
Thanks for reading! | Shine just stared blankly at the upper bed of their local prison's bunk bed, There were only a few prison cells and beds they could afford yet a homeless teenage hero like him was one of the chosen few to get a taste of prison life. His wide eyes blinked as he thought what was wrong with him when his morals were all correct, that is based on his mother that is. Even though it be biased, Shine still knew how "justice" and "human rights" work, if that is what lawyers call it. Until he realized that it may not be so bad here, it's been a long while since he's lied down in a comfy bed and the prison was quiet and peaceful, he had food, pretty chill prisoner friends, and some time to think for himself without the mayors or the governor calling out for him when trouble happens. Here, he's got all the time for himself. He doesn't need to work for food nor be called by his hero alias, "Shine", instead he gets to reminisce being called his actual name, Syth.
He smiled as he looked out the prison window, he finally notices small details like birds chirping and the raindrops falling from the trees. Until suddenly the prison's front desk was in chaos, the governor was there, yelling for his name.
"Shine! Shine!" The governor yelled as he trembled towards Syth's cell, Syth looks his direction and groans lightly.
"We need you, my boy!" The governor continued agitated. Syth only looked at him dreadfully, as if he longed for this moment in his life.
"What's wrong, my boy??" The ~~cliche~~ governor asked.
"Just look for a new one yourself..." Syth responded like a tired little boy being forced by his playmate to play a new game with him.
"Why, Sh-Shine!!" The governor said as he rattled the cell's metal bars. "Governor Aldrin, I have decided to stay in this prison for eternity, and I'll bet my living heart for it!" Syth exclaimed though he still sounded like a lazy little cinnamon roll.
"Syth Melbourne!" Aldrin demanded like he was Syth's only parent, technically, he is the only few close friends who knows of Syth's identity. Syth then sat up and looked at him seriously, lucky his head didn't hit the bed above him, he is small after all.
"Aldrin please... you know I've always longed for a life like this. A quiet life and sooome time to think..." Syth really just felt tired to Aldrin's eyes at this point, he's never done such a tone before but now, I guess he's like this all throughout their conversation. Syth looked very dazed as his eyes focus went everywhere as he spoke.
"But Syth- the town is in need of your assistance! All your fellow superpowered enemies-"
"Not a problem!" Syth cut him off, "Just a little bippity-boppity-boo and town cooperation can help you thrive!" He said cheerfully as he pointed up a finger.
"Syth!!!" Aldrin cried.
"Aldrinnn, my replacements are out there..." Syth said as he went back in bed to sleep, this conversation seemingly drained all his energy. Aldrin whimpered in ten different sounds before deciding to leave our lazy little hero.
"You're bloody insane!" | 2021-03-18T19:41:13 | 2021-03-18T15:37:21 | 36 | 22 |
[WP] The last think that you remember, is the pain of your broken bones and the feeling of void, filling your body. Now you wake up, dripping in slime and watching scientists and doctors checking on every single part of you. You're bacl to life! Except for your soul. The void didn't go away | Thomas gasps through his mouth.
His mouth, full of jelly or gel or thick, saline filled goop, impossible to close, and filled, filled, filled with tasteless undefined texture.
He attempts to cough but the pressure on his chest is great. Limbs senseless, he cannot move his legs, his head, his arms, his…
The shadows move above him, outlines in fluorescent spotlight, too vague to see. The world is so dim, so undefined.
Thomas tries to reach toward the nearest shadow, but his arm defies him and rests in a pool of dripping, congealed ointment.
A shadow presses against Thomas’s forehead.
“Heeaathguuuintoo,” the shadow remarks, Muffled and distant.
This was not where Thomas was. He was in the water, under the water, sliding on top of the water.
Where?
The reef found Thomas faster than he expected. The wave broke too soon and he could not come up for even the smallest breath of air. He should have waited.
should have waited.
Should have waited for the set to pass then paddled like hell to get to the outside.
The reef tore at him and he twisted under the wave; he knew out was up, and up was where his board tumbled on the sea foam.
Follow your leash. Yank. Pull.
He tried to find his way, but another set pushed him back into the sharp coral. Held him down. The water and rock worked in tandem to crush his bones, rip his skin, tear his muscles and snap his tendons.
Pull his insides.
Out.
He should have waited.
The shadows press at each of his limbs now. They prod relentlessly at every inch of his being. “Owbowdish?” They murmur. “Owbowdish?”
Thomas knows he is breathing. The jelly leaks from the corners of his mouth and he becomes aware of the tube, pulling and pushing air into his lungs.
“Dom?” The shadows ask. “Dom?”
The water churned dark over him as he sunk farther and deeper beneath the crashing surf.
He saw red mixing with the black green blue.
The light faded and dimmed and the rush of the sea pressed harshly against his ears.
He tumbled deeper and deeper and the void entered and surrounded him.
The nothingness reached down inside him, wrapped itself around his very soul, and tugged.
It forced itself into him under the sea. It’s still coiled inside him, expanding.
The shadows above him erupt into a roar, and pounce on him, one after the other, cutting and hitting and grasping for something that he had.
Something he had.
He screams but no sound comes.
He thrashes about but nothing moves.
He forces every fiber of his being to rebel against the shadows but they continue to dismantle him and murmur murmur murmur away.
And away he falls, back to darkness.
The void approaches again to envelope everything he is.
Beat.
The void uncoils.
Beat.
It engulfs him, wraps tight and cold and it pulls him far, far from himself.
Beat.
Beat.
His heart pounds, thumps through it all, and when the light again pours into his world, he breathes.
…
Dawn approaches, and Thomas sits in the sand. He holds his blanket tight against his body. The roar of the crashing waves rushes toward the shore.
Footsteps crunch over the dune.
“You going out, brah?”
“Nah,” says Thomas. “Too big. Have fun.”
The stranger throws a loose shaka and jogs to the water.
Thomas watches, wondering how he could ever do the same.
He trembles in the cold, and startles at the sound of the waves. He is not a person who could ever enjoy being at the mercy of the sea.
That part of him was taken.
It will never come back again. | "Hello, John."
"Good evening, Doctor. Are we having class again today?" She leaves the door open as her students pile in, taking seats on the couch, on its arms, anywhere they can find purchase. There are more today than last session.
"Yes. I hope it doesn't bother you. How are you feeling today? Or how are you not feeling?"
"Apathetic still. I feel as though I should recognize this as a downward spiral of some kind, but I don't have any immediate sense to change or rescue myself. I simply exist." The students in the back take notes. "Like that. I understand that I should feel annoyed by their recording anything I say. But I don't."
A student pauses, raising her hand. Doctor Richert tilts her head at me, signifying it is my choice to answer the question. I make eye contact with the student and nod my consent.
"What do you base that off of? If you *can't* feel annoyed about us being here, how do you know you're supposed to be?" She's got green eyes. Dark green, like a dense forest canopy.
"Memories. We had assessments like this before the satellite repair mission. I found the constant questions and note-taking aggravating. But I understood the necessity of it and moved towards patience. So I assume I am supposed to be annoyed by this."
"What about other emotions like happiness? Or sexual attraction?" Another student asks, raising his pen.
"I understand that I should have them, but I do not. For example, I've dated a number of women with green eyes like your classmate, and recognize that I should feel attracted to her based on her physical appearance." Silence. Some had grown wide-eyed or were exchanging glances. Awkward, then, for those not filled by the Void.
"And *that* is why John is such an interesting patient!" Doctor Richert laughs, slapping her palm across her knee. | 2022-10-06T01:52:23 | 2022-10-06T00:48:08 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] First, she summons a demon for magical powers. The price? To bear the demons child. Soon after she makes a deal with a witch for riches and power in exchange for her first born child. After the child is born the demon and the witch are in a custody battle for the child. | Being a contract lawyer could be rough. Navigating endless lines of legalese was exhausting at best, and infuriating at worst. Plus, it was not a job that lent itself well to making friends. And yet, Linda loved her job. Especially at times like these.
"The child is mine!" Roared the large creature. It stood eight feet tall, and was a mass of muscle, teeth and claws bound in skin the color of dried blood. "I fathered it! Therefore, I have the right to claim it!"
Linda almost resented the demon calling their child an it. The baby was clearly a boy. Not that it mattered much. The baby's gender was irrelevant to the case anyway.
"Bah." Spat the old woman. She was a wrinkled, short thing with skin like old leather and eyes like hawks. Literally. "Everyone knows paternity is the weakest of claims. The baby was promised to me. It's all written down, in black and white."
The old witch brandished the contract like a sword. Linda almost laughed. The woman hand clearly not read the fine print.
"You think a contract matters? Mere papers printed by a mortal? Such things make no difference to me!" He puffed out its chest as he spoke. Then the demon seemed to deflate a bit. "Besides, I have one too." He pulled out the papers much more reluctantly. Linda's smile grew wider. The demon had neglected the fine print as well. It was beautiful.
The witch opened the pages to the front. "It says right here, the the woman in question, one Linda Malloy promises the life of her first born child to me, Maltea of the Old Wood, in exchange for services rendered in the form of vast riches. Which I provided, did I not?"
"Indeed you did." Linda said.
After the witch's spell, Linda had "mysteriously" acquired several mines with high value materials. She was now the proud owner of three diamond mines, two gemstone mines, and one very lucrative gold mine. And best of all, she did not have any actual duties regarding their operations. She just sat there and watched her bank account grow.
"Mortal wealth? Pathetic. I offered her power in order to bare my child. Power which she now has, don't you."
"Of course." Linda said.
She did enjoy that. Being able to control fire was handy, but she really liked the ability to drain the life force of living creatures to keep herself young. Plus, the choice enhancements she had made to her appearance had been quite welcome.
"There, you see?" The demon shouted. "I provided a far greater service in exchange for a far greater reward. And, my contract was written first, and therefore has the greater weight."
"It doesn't work like that, you fool!" the witch shouted. "All that matters is what's written. Your doesn't say anything about you getting control of the baby."
"Yes it does." The demon said, flipping to the page. "See? Right here. Fatherhood is a form of control of the child's life. That means I get it."
"And mine says I get it on page one!"
The demon began glowing. "I will destroy you, witch! The child is mine and mine alone."
The old woman did not seem intimidated. "Oh stop with the peacocking. I've bested demons greater than you'll ever be in my sleep."
"If I may," Linda said before anything dangerous could happen. "I do believe this is why we have a moderator, yes." She gestured to the thin, balding man who was currently doing his best to not be seen by the powerful supernatural entities. "Why don't we let him take a look at those contracts and see which one is more valid?"
Both witch and demon stared at each other for a moment, but agreed. The trembling man, suddenly finding himself the center of attention, gathered up the two contracts and began reading. The two magical beings glaired at each other the entire time. Linda had chosen this man as the moderator for a reason. He was, like her, a contract lawyer that she new by reputation. He was weak willed, but he had a keen mind, a sharp eye and impeccable attention to detail. He would find exactly what she wanted him to.
Sure enough, after an hour of reading, he did. His brow furrowed and he hunched over the contract, reading and re-reading the small section of the witch's contract. He then did the same to an identical section of the demon's. Then he spoke.
"I, uh, I found something." He said. "Something to settle this dispute."
"Excellent." The demon said proudly. "Who is it that gets the child?"
"Well, uh, you see, the thing is, right now? Neither of you."
"WHAT?" Both roared at the same time. Linda smirked. This was her crowning achievement as a contract lawyer and she wanted to savor the moment.
Her colleague pointed to the two contracts. "It's all spelled out right here. There's a sub-section on conflict. I'll just summarize it for simplicity. It roughly says that should a conflict about the ownership of the baby exists, ownership shall be retained by the mother."
"So...what you're saying is that unless one of us agrees to let the other have the baby..." The witch began.
"Neither get it." The demon finished.
"Correct." The lawyer said. Sweat was beginning to run down his forehead, and he was glancing to the door. "It's all right here, in both of your contracts."
Linda sat there for a moment, savoring the looks on both of her victims. They slowly turned to look at her, mixed emotions flashing across their faces.
"Well then, it looks like we're done here." Linda said. "Unless you two can come to an agreement right now, I think I'll be going. I left my son in a daycare, and I would love to pick him up early."
She stood and, not waiting for a response, headed for the door. She head the enraged bellows of both demon and witch through the door. They could shout and scream all they wanted. The contracts were binding, and they could do nothing about it.
It was times like these that Linda really loved her job. | "This is ridiculous!" Lillian clenched her fist, a darkly-manicured finger pointed towards the demon across the ornate table from her. "That child is mine!" Tyranis simply shook his head, a look of anger plastered on the creature's face as well. "Yours? I helped to create them in the first place! If the child belonged to anyone, it would be me, not you!"
Morgana smirked as she watched the witch and demon's heated argument, the two completely oblivious to her presence, despite the child developing in her womb being the topic of such a discussion. Two small piles of papers were in front of her at the table they all sat at, each group of documents providing the reasons as to why either being should be the legal guardian of her baby. Of course, the reason she'd already known this would happen; her older brother was a famous lawyer in Derkin County.
Eventually, however, the young woman realized she would have to speak up. She cleared her throat, interrupting both Lillian and Tyranis in their heated debate.
"You both make excellent points. But niether of you have discussed how you would take care of the child, should you be given custody. I'm not giving my baby up for them to just be treated poorly."
The demon grunted, while the witch rolled her eyes, her arms crossed.
"This isn't the first time I've been given someone's first-born." A snicker was heard across the table.
"And how many of those children have you eaten or killed for a spell?"
Lillian let out a roar, her hand beginning to glow with magic.
"Why you-"
Morgana slammed her hands onto the table.
"Lord Tyranis, you have no proof of such accusations. Now let Miss Lillian finish."
The demon muttered something under his breath, but otherwise stayed quiet.
"As I was saying before being rudely interrupted, I've raised 4 other children before, and each would testify they were very well-treated under my care. I would NEVER poorly raise a child, no matter their supposed origin."
Lillian momentarily paused, holding out her hands as she began to count on her fingers.
"3 full meals a day. Great education in both human knowledge, knowledge from their parents' lineage, and magic study. I live deep in the forest, which the child is more than welcome to explore. And most importantly, I allow the child to visit their birth parents whenever they wish, and vice-versa. In other words, Tyranis, if this child IS yours as you claim, you would still be a part of their life."
She then turned her head towards Morgana, flashing her a sweet smile. "All of this is mentioned in the papers."
The young woman smiled back at the witch, before directing her attention towards the demon.
"How will you take care of my child if you were given custody?"
Tyranis leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head in a laid-back manner.
"My son or daughter would be given anything they desired. As a demon lord, I rank higher than other creatures of Hell, which isn't nearly as terrible as those filthy cults tell their underlings, which I will not get into. The child will live alongside me in my manor, my servants at their beck and call. Their mother would be allowed to stay with us as well, of she so wishes to."
The demon gave a flirtatious wink towards Morgana, before he continued.
"My child will also be given the best education Hell has to offer, the same permissions as any high-ranking demon--which includes access to Earth--, and anything else they wish to have."
Morgana pretended to think after both witch and demon gave their reasons for having custody, as she had already come to a decision before the meeting even started.
"Before I announce my choice, may I offer a quick suggestion?"
The two nodded.
"Each of you seem to care for my child deeply, despite knowing virtually nothing about them, nor myself for that matter."
She paused for a small moment, noticing the looks of both individuals sadden.
"Which I find to be a good thing, if that was misunderstood. My point is, since you care for my child so much, would it be possible for the both of you to share custody?"
{Part 2 is being written, didnt want to make this comment too long :3} | 2021-08-04T07:25:34 | 2021-08-04T07:18:52 | 76 | 26 |
[WP] You've never felt the same after learning Morse Code. The rain keeps telling you to run. | Your eyes have never changed. Ever since you were a little girl, your eyes have been the color of a thoughtful ocean: churning, stormy, one weather system away from order or chaos.
Even now, your eyes look the same. You're 27 years old, and I've been dead for 15 of those years. And even with the distance of death and time—even with that purple bruise blackening your eye—your eyes look the same.
Now, the sea is full of storms.
My wild girl. My mermaid child.
You stand on the back porch and smoke a cigarette. The rain plinks down, and you watch it. Your cheek is hot and red.
I'm only a ghost, but I still reach out to cup your face in my palm, like any good mother would.
Perhaps you feel it. Perhaps you don't. You smear that cheek against your shoulder and pull again on the cigarette.
When he hit you, I reached out then too. I moved to cover you with my body. But he punched through me like mist, and I could only stand there, a shadow of myself, and watch the man you call husband toss you like a child throwing a toy.
If the dead could kill, I would do it myself.
A door slams in the house. You jolt and look toward it. Your fingers shudder as you inhale your slow death.
Do you remember the game we used to play?
We would build a blanket fort in the living room and, on weekends, stay up watching movies or telling scary stories. And sometimes, we would close our eyes, and we would take turns tap-tapping secret messages on each other's arms. I taught you each letter, one by one, until we could pass words back and forth.
On your first day of middle school, when you were fighting so hard to be brave, you gripped my arm and finger-tapped *SCARED*.
And I tapped back, *BE STRONG*.
Now I cannot touch you, not exactly. Not enough. But I can do this.
I can gather water in my palms. I can bring it to you and let it drip, slow, careful. So careful.
You turn your stormy eyes down in mute shock, watching the water fall from nowhere onto you.
I say, *RUN.*
You shiver, but you don't wipe the water away. You look at the porch roof overhead, then at your skin, and somewhere in the distance. Like you're scanning the sky.
I do it again. *RUN.*
Your cigarette slips from your fingers. The oceans in your eyes draw inward, the breath before a tsunami.
"Mom?"
I turn away from you to gather more rainwater. I cannot touch the living, but if I focus the core of my unbeing into my palms, I can manage this.
"I can't. I can't do any of this."
You can. Every time I have seen that doubt and fear in your eyes, you have braved the next wave. You've kept going, on toward the horizon.
I do the only thing I can.
I drip-drop onto your arm: *BE STRONG.*
Your eyes lift to stare into mine, as if you can sense my face without seeing it. You crush the cigarette beneath your boot and leave it there.
Your husband is inside. Your wallet, your keys. But you have your phone and your heart and your will to live and you must run while you can, run like hell, run like the next time you walk through that door he really will go too far and hold you under that ocean until you're gone.
Run like you still have a mother to run back to.
You look back over your shoulder, at the door. It's a cold, dark night, and you only have on your jeans, your shoes, a hoodie.
But you venture out into the backyard anyway, moving like a convict in your own house.
You reach the fence. You climb over.
The rain is falling heavy on both of us now, as if the sky is tapping out on us *live live live*.
But you go, and I follow.
Like I always have. Like I always will.
Any good mother would. | It only happens when it rains.
It only happens, once or twice every couple of weeks. Once or twice every few hours on a bad week. Three or more times on a bad day.
I remember last year, no this year, when it stormed for 24 hours straight. It wasn't a hurricane if that's what you think. No. Just twelve inches of hard rain. Lightning coming to the ground. Funnel clouds dropping low a couple of counties over.
It felt apocalyptic to put it lightly. And yet, for once, while fighting the water, I felt at peace. Resigned to my fate. To death, if it came.
The pattern keeps telling me the same thing every time. To "Run".
It could just be another delusion. We all lie to ourselves. Right? Just your brain playing tricks on you? Granted, I know disorders are more common than we think. And it's something to consider. I could have anything wrong with me. And I wouldn't know. Because to me; it was always like that.
But ever since I learned Morse code, it comes back. It's not possible, you see? Rain doesn't have a pattern. You don't turn the faucet on full blast, and get a message. Do you learn crucial information from the showerhead? Other than basic hygiene, me neither.
But when it rains, it happens. "Run." I can hear it as it hits the ground. As it hits the plants. The same thrumming on the glass as you drive to work.
"Run."
And you know it doesn't make sense. *I* know it doesn't make sense.
I can't sleep on those nights. And I have problems from it during the day. Something is wrong here. I've been to doctors. Psychologists. I take medicine, just to be sure.
I can still hear it. Whenever it rains.
So it's settled. I've made up my mind. A friend of mine chases storms for a living. And it seems like decent work. The forecast says there's a front coming this weekend. It's supposed to be a really bad storm.
I'm going with them. I'm going for a walk. See what I've been running from.
---
A little unknown horror for this one. Tis the season. r/Jamaican_Dynamite | 2021-09-28T09:13:08 | 2021-09-28T09:01:14 | 2,222 | 88 |
[WP] In the afterlife each religion has its own walled city in which their god or pantheon protects the believers within from the soul-gnawing horrors outside, while atheists are left on their own
Shoutout to u/Tonkarz who had the [idea](https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/7eao4f/exreligious_people_of_reddit_what_was_the_tipping/dq4b4y6/). | A large shadow swept across, dimming the already sparse light.
"What the fuck was that?"
I pushed the noob to the ground, swearing as we ducked into one of the thousands of muddy trenches that criss-crossed hell. I swept my cloak over the two of us, huddling against the wall, while golf ball sized hailstones strafed the plains, biting painfully into my shielding arm even through the armoured cloak. Finally the storm relented after a few minutes, the kids fast heartbeat hammering against my side as he curled up against me.
*If he's staring at my tits...*
"Alright, let's move." I haul him to his feet, pulling him out of the trench and sprinting across the muddy field towards the relative safety of the forest, my axe handle slapping my thigh with every step, backpack bouncing.
"What - gasp - was that?"
*Great, the kid's already out of breath. He's going to die. Again.*
"Thunderbird. We're near one of the North American forts."
I stop by a pulverized mass of goo. Quickly, I sort through it with my axe, freeing a pair of long, yellowed stingers. The new guy reaches me, catching his breath while I wrap my prize in a strip of hellhound hide to keep the tips safe.
I took a moment to examine my charge. Sure, he wasn't cut out for the physical effort, but honestly, he was handling it pretty well for a fresh corpse. He was Japanese, or East Asian at least by my guess, about 20. He had short black hair, and wore a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of now thoroughly muddied sneakers, a significant contrast from my carefully crafted leather. The diviner had sent me to his drop location. The irony of athiests relying on an oracle was not lost on me.
"What did you say your name was again?"
"Hiroji."
"Mia. Welcome to hell, Heroguy."
He laughed. It was a shock, given the circumstances.
"Shhh! Something will hear you!"
He wiped a tear from his eye. "Sorry. It's Hero - Gee. Not 'Heroguy'. That sounds like a Superman knockoff."
I smiled despite myself. What kind of person gets to Hell and worries about a syllable? I shook my head.
"C'mon. If we can avoid the spiders and the odd cat diety, home is just through that forest. You dropped on our front door, I think you'll make it out." | My thoughts were certain,
All Gods were fiction,
I didn't foresee,
The true benediction
Walled within,
Their utopian setting,
The dwellers rejoice,
While I'm left regretting
I'm surrounded by fools,
Oh how simple we were,
Not an ounce of faith,
We believed it was slur
All I wish is for,
All I demand,
Is one more chance,
On that beautiful land
I'd give all to thee,
I'd do so much more,
For now I can see,
What was always in store
| 2017-11-21T07:22:23 | 2017-11-21T06:54:46 | 87 | 53 |
[WP]: No other intelligent, spacefaring life form knows the concept of sunk cost fallacy. For most of them, wars can be ended simply by presenting their capability for further war, and the weaker one yields. Humans, however, will take anyone on out of pure spite. | The white room stung at his eyes. Each wall radiating a pale light that both illuminated and silhouetted each dignitary within the chambers. He squinted at each, taking in their features before settling upon the near hairless biped before him. He stood as he gazed down at the human with disdain, the device at his neck humming faintly as it translated his words.
"The human race has been allowed passage through our quadrants with impunity. The Lattice will not stand as this fledgling race is given preferential treatment by the Federation."
A faint thrum of dissent and agreement broke out amongst those gathered before the insectoid being stood and cast a finger upon the human at the center of the room.
"Dulkar agrees with the Lattice and we are willing to sanction a hold on all trade with any Federation aligned system if these primates are not sent back from whence they came and Federation status revoked."
The pair looked to eachother with what compared to a smirk as the chamber rose in volume. More and more of the quorum began to show their support of the motion. Slowly the human began to rise from his seat at the center, as a quiet fell upon them all. They waited, patiently, for complete silence before speaking in an even tone.
"What would the Lattice or any of the Federation do if Humanity continued, despite any actions you might decide to take against us today?"
There was an uproar as the various translators struggled to convert the various cries, shouts, snarls and growls that filled the room.
"-ou dare defy th-""Not worth the expeditions into th-""-ake a look at this as-"
It became clear to those present that Humanity was quickly becoming the ire of the collective present as the speaker of the Lattice called out over the din.
"Quiet now, quiet now. The human is simply showing us what it means to truly unworthy of the Federation. Motion to remove humanity from the Federation and bar all trade with their system until they have achieved Federation qualifications [5.6.3.4](https://5.6.3.4) subsection @#&\*@#&."
Green and red lights filled the chamber as votes appeared before each dignitary. Slowly each of them cast their votes. Soon the room was almost completely cast in green, with only a few of the chairs in the negative.
"Motion passed. Humanity has been stripped of its Federation statu-"
The human laughed. A slight chortle that grew in volume.
"What is so funny. . . human?" The last word was spat out of the Lattice dignitary's maw. Spittle splashing across the desk below to a hiss and sizzle as smoke rose from the small puddle.
"Oh, nothing is funny. Not at all." Said the pale being before them. Their even tone now almost playful as they looked up at the Lattice dignitary, holding his gaze. "Humanity intends to continue their voyage and passage through Federation systems. . . Unabated."
The uproar began once more.
"Preposterous!""Shoot them out of th-""ENOUGH!"
Silence fell once more as the Lattice spoke once more.
"If Humanity persists through Lattice systems, we will be forced to open fire upon all ships and will move to imprison every Human present in all Federation systems, including all Human embassies."
The human continued to stare up at him, unflinching but for a smile slowly creeping at the corners of their mouth.
"War, then?"
There was a communal gasp across the chamber as hushed yet frantic whispers echoed throughout. The Lattice Dignitary gave gave what could be called a smile, as small acidic spittle now dripped from their maw onto the table below.
"Pitiful. Humanity would not survive a war with the Lattice. We have the most advanced weaponry in the Federation and an armada that would dwarf the Human systems tenfold. You really wish to declare war with us, and all the Federation?" He gestures to all those present as nods and agreements swept across the now glaring assembly.
The human laughed once more. "You *aliens-*"A gasp swept the assembly at the slur."-cleary do not know the history of Humanity." They stated, their tone now even and calm once more.
"We do not care for your short and violent history, Human. You have proven to be unwor-""I wasn't finished." They interrupted.
The Lattice glowered before waving a hand at the human. "Fine, as your last act in the Federation, proceed. Fillibuster to your hearts co-"
"Humanity," They interrupted once more, to the chagrin and bemusement of the assembly. "has made an art of war amongst ourselves. You see we are petty, selfish, violent, and stupid as individuals, let alone as a collective. Ever since the Division of 2016, our politics grew more. . . primitive; based upon a foundation of mutually assured destruction. Humanity barely survived itself."
"Then why should the Federation have ever bothered with your ra-"*"I wasn't finished. . ."* This time, the words left the Human's mouth, laced with such venom that threatened to make the sizzling puddle on the desk seem like spilt milk on a tiled floor.
Silence.
"As I was saying. We perfected our *'Diplomacy'.* We got better and better at it each year. We never used it though, the weapons that is. They just sat there. Waiting."
Silence hung in the air as those who had voted against the motion slowly sunk in their chairs and realisation began to dawn on the faces of others.
"Until we joined the federation. Then we transported them to every Embassy, every transport, every port, station, system and home planet we could."
The Lattice's maw dripped anew as the human smiled up at them. Dulkar looked between the two, unsure. "Your race would not survive such an act. The entire Federation would wipe out your entire exis-"
*"Then go ahead"*
Silence.
The Lattice stood in shock as the puddle finally breached the desk and a wet splatter echoed out before more smoke began to rise from the newly formed hole.
"W-what?"
The human stared back. Unblinking. "Go. Ahead."
Silence. . . and then. . .
"Dulkar would like to recant their vote on the motion." The light on their desk switched to red.
"Uniting worlds would like to recant their vote."
Red.
"Hassar recants their vote."
Red.
"-ille recants th-""-oury recants -""-ar recan-""- recants."
Red. Red. Red. Red.
The room was suddenly bathed in a red glow as the Dignitary from the Lattice looked down at their ruined desk. The green glow still blaring through at them as the screen glitched. With a shaky hand, they pressed the red button, but the screen remained green.
"Umm. . ." All eyes turned to the Lattice. "The button doesn't seem to be working. I- Uh. . ."
Silence.
"Humanity recognises The Lattice's opposition to their membership in the Federation and desire to strip Humanity of all privileges and protections they have to offer. As such, Humanity would like to put forward a motion, against The Lattice."
With a shaky hand, he thumbs at the translator at his neck. "O-oh? W-what would that be?"
Even the translator betrayed the waver in the Lattice's voice before the human spoke.
"Motion submitted for a trade embargo to be placed upon the Lattice and all goods coming to and from their ports to be seized, effective immediately."
The Human smiled, as their face was slowly illuminated by the green glow from the desks surrounding them. | After everything that happened this year, it honestly didn't surprise me when the ships appeared. Thousands of them cast shadows upon our cities, but that wasn't what terrified us. Their Mother-Ship hovered above the planet, it's sheer size large enough to cut a hole through our atmosphere if it were to land! Their arrival was abrupt, as was their demand for our surrender. The message was difficult to decipher even for our most advanced AI, but the intent was clear with what little we had.
"Your world...Destroyed... No chance of survival... You must (...)"
By the time we sent our progress report the alien ships had landing parties in every major city. Our soldiers were hesitant to fire at first, hoping the aliens came in peace. That was until they started taking people. The aliens firearms would render victims unconscious as floating metallic discs began whisking them away to the landing ships. Each disc was protected by a sophisticated, invisible barrier that prevented the soldiers from intervening. Our soldiers retreated, unwilling to fire without the command.
"Sir, I've got a progress report on the alien message!" I exclaimed to the president only one day before he was to leave office. "There is only a few words missing from the translation, what should we do?"
"Your world destroyed? No chance of survival? You must...?" The president exclaimed. "You must surrender, obviously! Trust me, I know aliens, believe me! This says YOU MUST SURRENDER!" the president said giddy with excitement. "Looks like I'm getting my martial law!"
Once the orders were out, the soldiers began firing with the full force of the United States military! ... Only... Nothing happened. The same barriers that protected their floating discs protected their ships and their soldiers. Even our most advanced weapons were incapable of penetrating their barriers. We caused more damage to ourselves as the exploded missiles sent uncontrolled shrapnel across the landscape and bullets deflected haphazardly.
The aliens sent another message before we could decode the first one, and it became the priority.
" resistance...futile...must comply... Your world will be destroyed. You must (...)"
"These aliens think we're going to give up that easily? I don't give up, believe me! " The president boasts. "I never give up even when I know I've lost, never in my life! I always win, you know they call me a winner! Never lost a war. Now, generals, whadda we got?"
The newly appointed Space Force general approaches. " Sir, We've got intel that some of the landing ships have begun ferrying the captured citizens to the mother-ship. Apparently they are being held in various containment rooms throughout the vessel. The aliens do not appear to be searching the civilians they bring onto the ship, leading me to believe an asset could be planted with a Portable-Nuclear-Device, perhaps concealed in a suitcase or backpack. We would have to pick the least suspicious candidate, likely a child. The blast would assuredly obliterate the thousands of people within the containment room, but perhaps the damage to the mother-ship and the message that we are willing to sacrifice our own would end their assault."
"So you are saying many of them may die?" the president asks, as if he had only heard bits and pieces of the generals intel.
"Yes, sir, many of our civilians will die," the general replies.
"Many of my supporters may die... but that is a sacrifice I am willing to make!" The president exclaims.
The tension was high as we monitored the progress from the safety of the presidential bunker. The president said I had good looks, so they allowed me to step away from my duties deciphering until the all clear.
"Asset Billy is in place, awaiting presidential orders," the general says.
"Do I need the football? Wheres the football? Oh, I don't. I just uh, say, what? " the president asks frantically.
"We just need a confirmation, sir..." the general replied.
The president stands up and begins to boast. "This explosion is going to be big, huge some would say. I'm going to be a hero!... and Billy of course, but me! No other president would handle this so brilliantly! Blow it up!"
It worked! It actually worked! The mother-ship was still intact, but it did enough damage for the aliens to retreat! Gone as quick as they came using some sort of warping technology! I was hopeful once I returned to my station that I could decipher useful intelligence in case they returned. I knew the president was starting an emergency broadcast from the Rose Garden, so I tuned in while I worked. I knew his boasting might be cringey, but I wanted to bask in the victory myself.
"I, your most beautiful, gracious, caring, wonderful, powerful, humble... president have saved the world! The aliens tried to take you beautiful people away from me, but I stopped them! Sadly some of our own had to be sacrificed in the blast, but they were from crime-ridden democrat cities anyway! Believe me, it was the only way, I would know, believe me. " The presidents tangent continues for many minutes, until it is abruptly interrupted. " Wait, whats that, the big thing in the sky!" the president shrieks as he begins running towards his bunker.
"I don't know sir! It's some kind of massive anomaly! I don't understand how our sensors didn't see it coming! It is asteroid sized... perhaps made of... antimatter? Maybe it's shrouded in Dark Matter... I don't... OH GOD! " an unknown scientist screams.
I had become distracted by the terrible broadcast. Steadfast, I returned to my station to determine if the deciphered text could save us from whatever was out there! As I looked upon the monitor my heart sank to the floor.
"Your world will be destroyed. You have no chance of survival... You must (evacuate)!" | 2021-01-19T01:44:24 | 2021-01-19T00:16:37 | 45 | 22 |
[WP] Evidence of ancient ruins have been found on a distant planet. You have been tasked to investigate the ruins. The first thing you find is a large chamber with a stone slab in the center. Engraved in the slab are the words "Welcome back". At the bottom of it is your signature. | There was no denying that the words etched onto the stone slab were hers. And even if she could've convinced herself that the extra loopy "e's" and slanted "t's" were common enough to be coincidence, the name written in elegant script was no one's but her own.
She pondered what was more worrying; seeing her name written in a place she'd never been or the message that her signature confirmed was hers.
*Welcome Back*
There was little she could tell herself that would quiet her mind. It swirled with every possible reason to explain what she saw written on that stone. It was dizzying.
"Basker?"
She jumped as her ear piece came online. "I'm here."
The woman on the other end sighed. "Good. You went dark for a second there."
"Sorry. I was just thinking." Natalie Basker ran her hand along the slab. The words had been carved into stone, like you would see on grave-markers. Even if she *had* been the one to write it, how in the world had she done it?
"About how to open a door, I hope?"
There weren't really any doors to speak of, save for the one Natalie had entered through. The only other thing of note in the room was the stone slab in the center. "I don't know if there's anything to open."
"Nonsense."
*I don't know if this place was even ever meant to* be *opened.* Natalie debated making it clear to HQ that there was no where else to go. Or that there was no where else she wanted to go.
"You got the main door open. Surely you can do a little Mac Gyvering here, too?"
*That was before I saw my name carved into the fucking floor.* Natalie glanced around the main chamber, partly hoping she'd see something familiar to at least try and explain the message. Or her signature.
But the more she observed, the more her panic grew. There wasn't even an ounce of familiarity. Not even the ghost of Deja Vu. The shapes, the colors, the architecture all looked so foreign and so... old.
The rock and stone on the walls were worn like the sand storms of the planet had somehow gotten inside the sealed chamber. But that couldn't be the case... Natalie couldn't even hear the howling winds from where she was. Only the slight *plap* of water dripping somewhere too far for her to discern a direction.
"Well?"
This was the second time her headset had made her jump. "I don't really know, Amanda. It's a big round room with only one entrance. I don't know what to tell you."
Amanda humphed. "Every mapping attempt we did of that place shows a number of passages branching off from your location. Are you sure there's nothing?"
Natalie spun around, as if Amanda could somehow see her desperation. Nothing in this place lent towards it being a central "hub". There was only the door she'd come in through.
And this damn slab.
Tired and frustrated, Natalie plopped herself atop the raised slab and was more than surprised when it shifted under her weight.
In a single moment, the uneasy silence of the chamber gave way to a worryingly loud grinding noise. The walls shook and shifted, spraying dust and sand into the air and onto the ground.
"What was that?"
Natalie had no answer. As the room settled into silence once more, it became clear the room Natalie had just been in no longer existed. The worn-smooth walls of the previous chamber had given way to archways of ornate design, delicately detailed statues and other stone carvings. Black tunnels where solid wall had just been extended far beyond the limits of Natalie's vision.
"I think I found those passages."
"Gr....at! ....us....tinue....eep in t....."
Natalie pressed the earpiece further into her ear. "Say again?"
Static.
"Amanda?"
The static rose in intensity until a sharp beep cut all the noise from the earpiece at once.
Natalie knew she had just put new batteries in the damn thing. There was no way it was dead now. She figured she'd just have to walk back to ship to restore communication. Surely HQ would understand.
Natalie spun around and started towards the exit when she noticed she was walking towards a wall. *The exit was behind me, wasn't it?*
A second spin around the room revealed the tunnels she'd seen before... but no exit. She looked down at the slab.
"Fuck."
Fumbling with her helmet's built-in light, she walked towards the middle-most tunnel. Each of the four were nearly identical in appearance. The preliminary mappings only showed a fraction of the place, most of the ruin having been buried underneath thousands of years of sand storms. But those mappings had made it clear that, at least on the portions they could see, the ruin repeated itself. It was a similar pattern of circular 'hubs' with tunnels branching off in various directions.
Natalie took a step into the tunnel. As long as she kept her wits about her and stayed in one direction, she should be able to find her way. Hopefully.
With a deep breath and a surge of false confidence, Natalie set out down the tunnel. | "Welcome back Jax Fulton?" Jax said, half believing what he was reading.
It had been on the fourth day of the Spartan Mission that they found it. After waking from their 4 year suspended animation Jax and his crew had stumbled upon these strange ruins. None of the surveillance tech they had with them seemed to want to cooperate near the ruins. They gave off a strange signal that made everything but their stasis suits malfunction.
"Slag! Nothing is working. We have been able to catalog this entire sector save for this useless chamber." - Dr. Fredrick snorted. He was a little cranky after waking from his induced 4 year nap. He had wanted to stay awake and conduct his research. But mission protocol was very direct on the issue.
Jax shook his head at the doctor. " Wes! Janet! Is your equipment working?"
There was no answer. Jax scanned over to where Wes and Janet and to Jax's horror they where both collapsed. He hurried over to them, feeling very tired and achy.
"Janet! Janet! Wake up." - he pleaded as he ran towards his Communications officer first.
Janet was passed out. Jax reeled in surprise. She was over 60 years old now. At the beginning of the mission she had been the youngest at 29.
Scuttling back he found Wes in a similar predicament. Slowly Jax pulled up his personal face camera and observed that he was an now looking into the eyes of an old man.
Suddenly the stone slab began to glow an eerie hue of green. FLASH!
"Welcome back Jax Fulton?" Jax said, half believing what he was reading.
It had been on the fourth day of the Spartan Mission that they found it. After waking from their 4 year suspended animation Jax and his crew had stumbled upon these strange ruins. None of the surveillance tech they had with them seemed to want to cooperate near the ruins. They gave off a strange signal that made everything but their stasis suits malfunction.
Jax noticed the doctor wasn't complaining on his comm channel which was a pleasant surprise. He was always cranky.
"Doctor can we fix the malfunctions?" - cheerfully asked Jax
No response.
"Hmmmm... He must be busy"
"Janet! Wes! Report!"
There was no answer. Jax scanned over to where Wes and Janet and to Jax's horror they where both collapsed. He hurried over to them, feeling very tired and achy.
"Janet! Janet! Wake up." - he pleaded as he ran towards his Communications officer first.
Janet was passed out. Jax reeled in surprise. She was over 60 years old now and dead. At the beginning of the mission she had been the youngest at 29.
Scuttling back he found Wes in the same condition. Slowly Jax pulled up his personal face camera and observed that he was an now looking into the eyes of an old man.
Jax was more tired than he had ever been. He now understood the message as he laughed to himself quietly and closed his eyes for the last time
Suddenly the stone slab began to glow an eerie hue of green. FLASH! | 2016-03-18T14:45:59 | 2016-03-18T14:39:20 | 493 | 69 |
[WP] You sit with him in his final moments. His paw in your hand. Such a good boy. As he leaves you witness his life flash before your eyes. To him, you were a glorious king and he, your most noble of knights. Many adventures you had together. You decide to share some with the world and so you write | Oh, Master, I am so sorry you are leaving me. I always thought I will be the one who will die first, as dogs lives are shorter than human's. Who would have thought that the man who adopted me, fed me, welcomed me into his life house will desert me so soon?
I noticed you changed so much a couple of months ago, when you had to go to the hospital. You came back thinner, looking pale and tired. You stared into my eyes, weeping:
"Lord, what I am going to do with you? Who will take care of you after I'm gone? Who will take you hunting, who will take you to the vet?"
Although he suffered, he was thinking about my faith. I remember the day he found me in the forest. I was a puppy back then and I was deserted by an evil woman. A tall, solid man approached me after a couple of days of complete loneliness. He had a hunting rifle in his hands.
"Oh, dear Lord, who are you? And what are you doing alone in this big forest? I am Luke, a retired teacher and a passionate hunter. And you look exactly like a hunting dog."
I smelled his hands and immediately knew he was my Master. He shot a bird that day and I runned to bring the corpse into his hands.
"Good Lord! You are a real hunter, aren't you?"
And then we went to his house, together, like old friends. He lived alone in a house and I became his best friend. I defended him and his property, I welcomed his grandchildren, I brought his birds to his feet. We ate together, walked together and played together. When he slept, I silently watched him. My Master was safe, always.
He treated me like I was the human and he was my servant.
"You have such big hands now, Lord, that mine seem just like little paws. You will grow up big and strong, as I am beginning to shrink as years pass by", he told me one day.
And now, after all these years of friendship, you look like you will leave me forever, Master. They are all here, your human family. When your breathing stops, I cannot restrain my pain and I mourn in a way only a hound could grieve his Master. When they bury you into the ground, I just stay there for days, waiting for you to come back.
Years pass by and I never saw you again, Master. Strangers live into your house now. The forest seems empty without you. And me, Lord, I hunt to survive and remember your kindness. | There on his bed he lay,
He looks towards me.
His eyes speak out,
"My lord,
I am here.
Though the fire of your kingdom rages,
I see the final beacon of my watch fading.
Will there be times when we breathe the memories of each other?
Who will guide me when I leave you?
I will wait there for you.
I cannot go on without you. | 2018-11-01T23:19:01 | 2018-11-01T22:12:58 | 76 | 43 |
[WP] At birth, each child is given 5 objects that they must carry with them, or have near at hand, for the rest of their lives. These objects have seemingly prophetic significance on the lives of their owners. | I swear, the program was playing a massive joke on me. Do programs have a sense of humor? This one must. It isn't too crazy to think that a program that had the ability to vaguely make out the strings that pulled the limbs of the universe could make a joke. A joke like making a man carry around a bible, full sized print with references, a complete copy of the works of Shakespeare, also full size print with annotations, references, and analysis from modern day great minds in literature, a bowling ball, twelve pound, and a cement block, a goddamn cement fucking block, and a backpack for twenty four years. I haven't used a single one of my items. I am part of an illustrious point oh-one percent of people who haven't used a single item before my eighteenth birthday. About half of all human beings used one of their items before they turned ten. Nearly everyone else used one before they turned eighteen. Me? Twenty four and lugging around a backpack full of dead weight. I've read the bible more than most priests and could teach my English professor a thing or two about Shakespeare when I got to college. I got wicked good at bowling and... I still don't know what to do with the cement block. That is still the part that makes me think this is all a joke. One day I'm going to die and a rope or a bouncy ball would have saved my life and on that day the program will go “Ha!” and no one will know why.
So here I am, lugging like fifty pounds of random crap on my back while walking over a bridge and generally contemplating my life. Sure would be easier to walk across this bridge if I wasn't carrying all this. Some days I don't even notice since I guess I've gotten pretty strong carrying this all the time, but today is not one of those days. I'm so tired and this thing feels like it weighs a ton. I barely even hear the scream until I focus on the space in front of me and see a man sprinting in my direction as fast as he can, carrying a messenger bag. There is a woman screaming at him in unintelligible rage and fear. A thought flashes through my mind. What if those are her items? What if that is literally the most important thing in the world to her and she will actually need them, unlike me?
I react more on reflex than thought. My backpack slides to my right arm where I grip it, twist back and fling the make-shift projectile in front of me as hard as I can, which is pretty damn hard. The robber never had anything resembling a chance. The bag hits him, he came to a full stop and crashed to the ground, groaning in pain. The woman catches up to him and grabs at the bag in his hand, kicking and screaming as she yanks it from his now limp hand. I walk briskly toward them and pick up my own backpack, slinging it over my shoulder, the familiar weight resting on me once again.
The robber is stirring and I keep an eye on him, but I am mainly focused on the girl as she frantically looks through her bag. She visibly relaxes, and I assume that everything is present. Then she looks up at me and smiles, and I smile back, “Thanks so much,” she says and it suddenly registers with me just how pretty she is. More than pretty, beautiful really, “What do you have in that bag?”
I sigh. I wonder what my items will say about me. Most people are just puzzled. “Two giant books, a bowling ball, and a cement block,” I say.
She blinks, “A cement block?”
“Yeah, just ask that guy,” I say, hooking my thumb over at the would be robber who probably wished I had been given lighter items.
“No wonder you're so strong,” she said, tilting her head and smiling more with her eyes than her mouth, “Thanks for the help. I don't know what I would have done if I had lost this,” she said, patting her messenger bag.
“Oh, what were you given?”
“Hm?” she said, momentarily confused, “Oh, no this has my thesis. A comparative analysis of the effect of Protestant-Catholic struggle on the works of Shakespeare. The stuff I have left is in here,” she said, patting a fanny pack on her hip.
I couldn't suppress a big grin, “So, the effect of the bible on the works of Shakespeare, huh?”
“Yeah, I suppose. Why?”
-
Somewhere in a giant underground bunker, the screens that ordinarily showed the streaming text of the all-knowing programmed, puzzled all the highly trained observers by simply displaying the word “Booya” for five seconds and then going back to regular programming. | My blanket. My crystal shard. My teddy bear. My hat. My toy hammer.
When I was born a small, insignificant child, to insignificant parents, who would have thought I would need those items? I grew slowly. I was a very curious child. I clutched my items close. My parents always left me with a bag of these items, no matter what my age was, or what was happening, I was expected to carry my items. When I was little, I was left by a lake. Just me, and my bag.
My parents, for all I knew ceased to exist. I grew up with little to no knowledge of them. I grew up with no human contact. If it wasn't for the wildlife, and my bag of items, I don't know where I would be now.
The crystal shard, for a start. I had to move on from berries and plants at some point. I mastered fire at just 6 years old. It reflected the light perfectly. I honestly thought I was a wizard when I learnt how to light tinder with my shard.
My blanket. The blanket I cuddled up to at night, the last sign of my parents. The blanket I would use to escape reality when I panicked. Where I cooked. Where I helped other animals. Its slightly stained, from when I helped a fox that got into a fight. It had a deep wound. I pressed the blanket against it. I nursed the fox, helped it get food, helped it get back to normal life. We grew closer, and we became partners in crime, for finding food and to survive together.
On one night, the fox disappeared, leaving a blood trail. I still don't know what happened. A piece of me, just gone. It's not a good replacement, but my teddy has been my only other companion since then. Its similar feeling fur, its similar scent.
My toy hammer. The last item that I remember that aided me in surviving in this vast wilderness. I was chasing after an injured rabbit, using the skills the fox taught me, and i fell into a deep pit, slicing my leg badly. I couldn't get up. I was losing blood. My screams barely audible. I was there for a long time, my throat dry from shouting, until I remember my toy hammer which I thought was somewhat useless. It had a squeaker in! I hit it against the wall, the squeaker was loud and annoying, but it attracted attention. Just enough for a passerby to hear.
I miss the wilderness a little bit. But my lifesaving items remind me of it so much that I don't think I need to go back.
*Thanks for reading! Its not the greatest but I hope you enjoyed it*
| 2014-12-26T12:02:40 | 2014-12-26T09:19:22 | 40 | 30 |
[WP] While driving you hit and kill a boy. You feel terrible, and at the funeral you tell the family you wish you had died instead of him. 3 weeks later, a new surgery comes out that can bring someone back from the dead at the cost of another's life. You hear a knock at your door. It's the family. | "Mr. Quinn, we know you're in there!" Hollered the voice on the other side of the door. There was more pounding.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I'm not doing it."
More pounding. "Mr. Quinn, you killed our daughter, just make it right!" A second voice, a woman's voice yelled.
"No. Fuck off before I call the police!" I yell. "I did my time already." Indeed, five years ago, I had swerved to avoid hitting a deer, and wound up hitting Susie Smith instead. Three weeks later, the first body transplants had become a thing: you get a donor body, then move the brain of the patient into the new body. Obviously, the donor dies in the process. Needless to say, the Smith family had been hounding me ever since I got out of prison.
"We've given you plenty of chances to make this easy. If we have to do the hard way, we will." Said the first voice, most likely Mr. Smith.
I looked at the meat cleaver I keep in the kitchen.
"I swear to god, if you come in here, I *will* add you two to the list of people I killed!" I warn them, brandishing the cleaver.
**THREE WEEKS LATER**
"Mr. Quinn, please open up the door!" Says Mrs. Smith.
"Just leave me alone" I growl as I walk over. "What is it this time?"
She pushes a piece of paper in my direction. "We have a court order demanding that you submit yourself to be a body donor for our daughter.
I snatch the paper from her hands and look it over. Blahdy blah, a bunch of legalese. "I see your court order" I say as I tear it in half. "And I say" I tear it into quarters. "Fuck." Eighths. "You" I scatter the pieces all over, and they blow away. "Without my explicit consent, you and your asshole husband can't do anything!" I grin at her. "I knew this day would come soon as they started body transplants,so I studied up on ethics and medical law. Have a good day!"
She doesn't budge.
"Look, if you don't leave, I'm calling the cops."
She's reaching inside her purse.
"Leave me alone!"
She has a pistol.
"Fuck." | I took a long breath, tentatively laying my fingers on the knob. I pushed until I heard it unlatch. A few eager morning rays pierced the crack between the door and the frame, and after what felt like an eternity, I found myself eye to eye with the boy's family — his weeping mother, somber father, and bitter grandparents.
"I've changed my mind."
\*WHONK!\* | 2018-09-16T18:47:29 | 2018-09-16T18:01:16 | 36 | 23 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | "Unclean!" the disembodied voice bellowed waking me up for the third fucking time that night. That's it. I'd had enough. I slip out of bed and got dressed. I was thirsty anyway. Walking toward the door I looked at the wall dripping with blood and puss.
"Unfucking real..." I muttered. Pulling my phone from my pocket I snapped a quick photo. Walking into the hallway I headed to the elevator. Damn thing was taking forever. When the doors finally opened I looked down to see a woman, wet and smelling like a swamp dragging herself along the floor leaving a trail of blood and God-knows-what.
"Fuck this," I said walking away just before her hand reached my ankle. I stopped and snapped another picture of the woman on the floor. Walking down the stairs I was getting pretty pissed off at all of these interruptions. I was just passing the pool when I stopped. The water had turned to blood.
I snapped another picture.
As I walked down the corridor to the lobby, a man with a chainsaw sprung out of the vending area, he pulled the rip cord and started flailing the chainsaw in my general direction.
"Hey...HEY!" I yelled. He killed the motor. "It is three o'clock in the goddamn morning, asshole. This is a hotel. Do you honestly feel like that shit can't wait until morning?"
"Uhh...sorry I just..."
"You just what? You're standing in a hotel jumping out with a chainsaw at random strangers at three o'clock in the morning? Does that fucking sound normal to you? Go the fuck to sleep." I snapped a picture as I walked away. The stranger seemed confused and a little embarrassed.
Walking to the front lobby I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Slapping my rewards card on the counter I looked at the woman doing the night audit.
"I'm a damn Diamond member. And I can't sleep in this place with all of this bullshit..."
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. What seems to be the problem?"
Swiping the screen on my phone I turn it to her.
"Oozing walls, swamp chicks, pools of blood and some asshole with a chainsaw? Are you fucking kidding me? Is this Detroit?"
"Well, I'm sorry sir, it is our desire to ensure you have the most comfortable stay possible..." her voice was somewhat ominous. I gave zero fucks.
"I want my room comped, I want an upgrade, I want another complimentary bottled water and I want some fucking quiet for the rest of the night. Can you do that or do I have to call member services?"
"Oh, yes sir, we would be happy to make all of your dreams come true..."
Swiping the phone again I called the member services number.
"Yeah, I'm at one of your hotels and there is an obnoxious amount of creepy shit going on. Pool is filled with blood, there's a dude with a chainsaw, my wall is oozing blood and this lady at the front desk is talking in a weird ass tone that seems to imply pending doom...yeah, how'd you guess where...hold on..."
I handed the front desk clerk the phone. "They want to talk to you."
Suddenly the sullen woman's eyes softened and she gulped a bit as she took the phone.
"...Hello? Well, yes, uhh, Julia. No but I...right but...okay." She handed the phone back to me and looked contrite.
"I apologize for any inconvenience, sir. I'm upgrading you to a suite for the remainder of your stay, at no charge of course. And I guarantee that there will be no disturbances from here on out. I'll have your complimentary water brought up to the room and I'll be giving you double rewards points for your stay."
"Well, thanks, what the hell did member services say you to?"
She looked uneasy and then finally spoke. "They said to cut the theatrical bullshit or they'd cut our franchise..."
| "Just get out of there, fuck off..."
The shadow slowly trickled down on the floor from the closet and slowly crawled towards the bedroom door. Alex threw himself down on the bed and turned off the lights.
Soon the thumping in the stairs started, Alex slowly turned over and looked at his door, contemplating if she would even care to go and open it.
"Can't you just get over with it and leave? I have a test for tomorrow and I'm not in the mood for your silly games."
The thumping slowed down and stopped, the lights outside the door flickering. Alex sighed as she turned over and faced the wall.
"Not again...."
Alex felt the surge in her stomach as she started falling into the abyss, feeling how her face relaxed while she fell and her teeth falling out from her mouth.
She closed her eyes as she landed on a large green, sunny plain. Dreams always were her favorites, since she at least could get it over with quickly.
She ran around for a while, waiting for her alarm to wake her up in the morning. She smiled and closed her eyes as she turned her face to the sun in the sky, then she heard beeping from the distance.
She opened her eyes and looked around, she frowned as she noticed the lack of light flowing through her curtains. She stood up from the bed and looked around in the house.
Nothing.
Not a single monster in sight. Where could they be? She smiled at the thought of them finally leaving, they could not scare her anyways, there's nothing special about them, just shadows and sounds, never anything that can actually hurt her.
She felt a breath behind her neck and she just walked slowly away. The footsteps followed her to the kitchen where she turned on the lights, there the shadows would go away.
The light flickered for a second before it finally shone up the kitchen.
What did she really notice first? The broken window? The presence which did not leave?
Or the hands around her neck? | 2017-05-05T07:31:12 | 2017-05-05T07:21:53 | 627 | 12 |
[WP]People have powers based on their strongest emotion, and become stronger as they embrace it. Healers might draw power from love or empathy, warriors; anger or self preservation, etc. You draw power from being incredibly sassy.
Or other emotions, like being passive aggressive, or overly dramatic. | I couldn't help it. It's all my fault. No, I can't start thinking like this again, it only makes me stronger. It isn't me, it's *it.* It is not me, right? Of course not. I myself am weak and useless. But *it* might stop me. The healers know happiness, and they are never lonely like I am. The warriors feel *something* at least. I feel nothing anymore. At first I thought this apathy came with nothing. I must be defective, or just some sort of fluke. No powers at all? I'm such a shame. I wish I could think that again. Having no powers would be infinitely better than this monster inside of me. I stupidly tried to ask someone. "Maybe a healer could help?" I thought. He agreed and thought of something happy. That's how he focuses, he says. I wish I could think of anything. My mind is so clouded. As soon as he touches me, he seemed to start sweating. I felt a small spark of an unknown feeling, but it was quickly drowned out by the nothingness. Wait, that's not right. He should just snap his fingers and it should be done. A look of anguish washed over his face. I felt the spark again, but this time it was weaker. It persisted slightly longer though. The man let go and fell back once the spark disappeared again. "Wh-what did you do to me?" He asked. He seemed completely drained. A cold drop of sweat beaded from his forehead. "What do you mean? Did you heal me?" Healers are normally passive, joyous people. This healer was no longer. "Get away from me, now! I'm calling the cops!" No, I didn't do anything! What is wrong? Why must this happen to me? I reached out to touch him as he grabbed his phone. I held to his forearm trying to get through to him. "Stop!" He screamed. I couldn't let go now. My hand was paralyzed. No, it was more like something took over. My grip tightened against my will. The healer became still. Somehow I began to feel something. The spark was bright hot, a loud noise rang in my ear. The feeling faded, but the ringing remained. A reminder of what it felt like to feel again? I snapped out of it. Something *is* terribly wrong with me. His pulse from his wrist warmed my hand, so he wasn't dead. He just sat there silent. I could control my hand now, but I wanted more. I squeezed him tighter, and more of the sparks came. This was wrong, but it felt so right. I gripped his hand for a good 3 minutes until the sparks stopped. The healer was unconcious at this point. I could see that something dark stood over me. It had no form, it was only a gaseous ball. It cried out, in a voice too similar to mine. **"I want more. Give me more."** My power spreads quickly. My entire neighborhood is nothing but a lifeless pit of zombies. I can't bring this monster upon the world. I don't belong here, I never did. If you find this note next to my body I am already dead, as you can see. If you find it anywhere else, then it has taken over me, and I may as well be dead. Stay away from me at all costs. | "Why?" I asked him again.
"I don't understand sir, they're demolishing our forces, you're the only one who can stop them!" The lieutenant said again.
"Yes, but why me? Don't I do enough around here? Can't I just rest for a while? I'll help out later."
I was so tired of work, but there was always someone else demanding I do something else. It's not easy being the most powerful telekinetic talent on Earth. All I want to do is relax, have a beer, and maybe read a good book. But ever since they found out about my ability it's been, "Move this! Defend that! Thwart the evil plan! Protect the innocent!"
The lieutenant was still standing there, just staring at me as I lay on my beanbag chair.
"Fine!" I shouted, "I'll save the world or whatever! God, there are other heroes, you know."
The lieutenant just nodded and waxed back through the unwashed clothes and discarded food packaging to lead the way out of my latest hotel room. Looking around, I decided it was probably about time I moved anyway. This latest place was starting to get bad as well. Just one more thing I'd rather not have to deal with. Wish they'd all just leave me alone. | 2017-01-19T07:43:12 | 2017-01-19T06:33:04 | 34 | 19 |
[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. | After the day had been won, the two heroes left their capes at the door of the pub. They pulled up two stools at the bar and ordered the usual. One of the two, Marty “Cinder” Rhodes, sat uneasily. His face spelled a mix between disgust and horror. The career of bully-busting was not for the faint of heart and Cinder was not one to show fear. Theodore McCarthy (or “McThunder”) asked him, “What’s up with you today, seem—off,” pausing mid-sentence to take a drink.
“It’s nothing,” Cinder responded. His eyes shifted downwards, clearly lying, and clearly prompting his comrade to ask again. The burly Irishman gave a short cough, enough to get the message across.
“You know Steve?” he says expecting the answer to be yes.
“Yeah, the nice guy?”
“Yeah, sure.” Cinder continued, “well I went to work with him today. He asked for my help on this job that corporate gave to him.”
“How’d it go?” McThunder asked.
“Well…”
⧫⧫⧫
“Hey! Cinder, how are you, my friend?” Steve asked, walking down the street towards Cinder. His stride was that of the most jolly, animated man alive. Mickey Mouse cartoons had nothing on this guy. His arms swung free as his spirit and his smile shone brighter than the fire Cinder spit.
“Hi Steve, I’m good.”
“That’s great to hear, honestly, it is. I know that you must be busy with all the work of a hero in your division, but do you think you could lend me a hand with one little thing? I swear it won’t take a long time. If you don’t feel like it, I get it, that’s totally fine. If you have better things to do that’s fine too—”
“I’ll help you.” Cinder interrupts. The overwhelming concessions that Steve made could go on for hours.
“Fantastic! I’ll pay you back sometime, yeah?” He adds as they wave down a cab. The car drove them across town to a warehouse. Steve, taking the lead, walked in and over towards a wall of concrete.
“I need your help to get through this wall. A villain is hid—” but before he could even explain the reasoning, the wall had a gaping hole in it with molten concrete cooling in a puddle in front of the two heroes.
“Well, thanks! I’ll take it from here, corporate said it should be an easy takedown for me. Thanks again for your help!” Steve walked through the hole and into the darkness. Cinder had nothing left for the day, so he might as well have gone and helped him should he need it. Steve was not experienced, and a kind soul like his might’ve needed backup.
As Cinder walked ever closer to the light that appeared in the dark tunnel, he heard a voice. A loud, mechanical shout. No doubt the “villain” was scrambling to prepare to fight and round up his goonies to do the same. The body count seemed to grow with every step closer to the light, and Cinder’s saunter to give Steve back up slowly morphed into a sprint to save his life. The villain’s mechanic demands and the rush of feet grew louder as Cinder moved closer to the opening. Then he saw Steve, surrounded by bodyguards with the head honcho standing on an elevated platform beyond the crowd, overlooking them all.
Before Cinder could rush in to help, Steve spoke to the man standing above him, “Honey, honey is that you?”
Steve's voice was not that of the man he knew but of an old lady. It cracked and struggled for air. It spat words unlike any Cinder had ever heard from the amateur hero.
“It’s me. It's Ma” Steve pleaded to the villain. The platform that elevated him moved down and allowed for the mysterious man to walk towards Steve. The man’s eyes had tears in them and surely, below his bandana, there was a smile. It was as if, the voice coming from Steve had evoked to greatest memory in all of history into this man’s head. It was inspiring. To watch a man become completely defeated at a few emotional words.
“Why did you leave me?” the woman’s voice asked. The bandana on the man’s face fell, revealing not a smile, but a face of absolute horror. His mouth gasped for air as if the ghost voice had taken his soul from out of his throat.
“Why did you leave me?” it continued. “Why? Why? Why? You left me, you left me to die!”
The once horrified man now broke down to his knees. His face couldn’t be seen, hidden in his shaking hands. The voice continued–*why–*and the man continued to fall–*why–*farther down and closer–*why*–to the ground. Before long, the voice had reduced the man to a shell. It curled up on the ground, whispering, pleading to itself as it shrunk further inward.
The guards around stood stunned. Cinder stood stunned. Steve stood above the hollow shell as it quivered. He was holding a gun. He held it out to the thing on the floor, “here.” Steve’s voice was back.
⧫⧫⧫
“Was this your first encounter with Steve?” McThunder asked.
“Yup,” Cinder said as he took down a large pull of fireball. | "Doc, we need your help!" Said Corporal Paine through his handy dandy communicator. "The Dreamcatcher has us on the retreat! Our numbers are dwindling! Hurry!"
"I'm afraid our time's up, Serena." said the Doctor, trying to hyde his earpiece.
"Already? I could have sworn it had only been 30 minutes." The patient replied.
"Time flies when you're having breakthroughs." The Doctor said. "Just think about what we talked about today, and remember the story of the Rabbit and the Snake"
"Thank you, Doctor. I will." Said Serana, heading towards the door. "Next week, same time?" He asked. She nodded with a smile. "See you then. Goodbye, Dr. Jekyll!"
Meanwhile Corporal Paine and his cohorts had been backed into a corner when suddenly, a Cadillac nonchalantly pulled up in front of the giant spider mech. The door opened, and out stepped a man in his late 50s, cane in hand, with a sickle attached to the top, tuxedo, top hat, and round goggles.
"Dr. Jekyll! What a pleasure!" Said the Dreamcatcher. "For you, I'm sure." said the vessel. "But I am not Dr. Jekyll...not today."
"Well whoever you are, you'd best step aside before my Arachnomech crushes *you*!"
The Vessel, now known as Mr. Hyde, took a deep breathe. "Look Stumpy, I had to cancel and appointment because your limp dick decided to cry because it's too small. So let's not waste anymore of my precious time. I get you're mad because your mother was a tyrannical bitch, and your father was persona non grata by his own choice. But, let's not blame *them* for *your* insecurities and failures, and let's not take it out on the whole fucking world because *you're* a cuntfuck, alright?"
The Dreamcatcher screamed in rage, and commanded his monstrosity to crush The Vessel. He rolled out of the way, and threw a handful of EMPs at the creature, which exploded on impact, "killing" the Arachnomech. Hyde hopped up on the fallen mechademon and broke the glass dome with his scythe. The cowering Dreamcatcher was lifted by his neck, and tossed 25 feet from the droid to the ground.
"Doctor! Enough!" Yelled The Corporal. Hyde jumps down, slicing the side of the mech with his scythe, slowing his decent to a comfortable speed, whilst unleashing an uncomfortable screech from splitting the steel. "The Doc ain't in today, Paine." Hyde replied as his feet hit the ground. "You asked for The Doc, but *I* get shit done." He takes a sip of his canteen that's been around his waist. "I thought you quit." Paine remarked. "I'll quit when you shtop beig so fuckin useless." Slurred Hyde. "Thank God your car is self-driving." Sighed Paine, his hand on Hyde's shoulder, walking him back to his car, as he rambled about his magic potion. "See you at home, Dad." Said Paine, finally. "I love you." | 2020-02-25T16:13:30 | 2020-02-25T16:06:39 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] “So how did you get Dragon blood in your veins?” “Ah well, long ago my family was cur-“ “Didn’t you say your family was never cursed?” “Oh uh, yeah um… so uh, there was a witch-“ “Im not buying it.” “*sigh*… so my great grandpa was a bard…” | Scales the color of freshly spilled blood glimmered in sunlight. Proud horns, jagged and razor-sharp, adorned the head of the newly crowned Arena Champion. Smoke billowed from his nostrils, and his triumph was cemented into the Arena's history forever.
The Champion immediately went to the Arena's private bath house. He was covered in sweat and grime...and he was hoping no one would be admitted entrance, even for an interview.
Cautiously, the Champion went about a lengthy bathing routine. Any time someone entered, he dove beneath the hotspring's surface. The Champion knew that if news broke about his ancestry, it would overshadow his accomplishment.
After a few hours, the Champion began to relax. Each scale had been scrubbed clean, and his horns were gleaming. His last step was the sauna- just to sweat out anything that may have gotten inside his pores. As much as he loved Arena life, he had always had this mental image of the blood of his fallen foes wriggling into his body, enacting a sort of necromantic revenge.
Just as he settled into his seat in the sauna, the door cracked open, and in stepped...Artha.
"Artha, are you sure you want to be in here? This is the sauna of dragonkin. It will reach temperatures that you cannot withstand." To prove his point, the Champion exhaled a dark smoke from his nose, the smell of ozone chasing away the eucalyptus.
"Just need a few minutes, O Champion." The man said, closing the door behind him. He was dressed in full daily attire.
"Your clothes will be ruined, but if that is what you wish." The Champion tried to sound nonchalant, but in truth he was now flexing the muscles that lined his solar plexus, activating his internal fire and preparing to make the experience truly uncomfortable for the writer.
"I have questions regarding your win today."
"The win speaks for itself. Maloch was a vicious opponent, but he chose the wrong weapons to confront someone like me. His mace is slow, and my hide is strong. Plus, there is only so much an Orc can do against a Dragon. We were born as their rulers, even after a thousand years since the Orcs seceded, they cannot dare to rise up against us."
"Mmm. I'm sure these words will stir up quite a bit of controversy amongst Maloch's fans."
"You have your headline. Now go." From behind his scales, the Champion's heat began to make his very body glow like molten rock.
"I have...a few remaining questions." Why wasn't the human suffering under the extreme heat?
"I may or may not bother to respond."
"How did the Dragon blood join into your family line?"
The Champion scowled. "I do not wish to speak of it."
"It wasn't a curse."
"How would you know?"
"There wasn't a magic potion either, was there?"
"You're trying my patience, Artha."
"Your great grandfather was a bard, wasn't he? Back when the draconic empire had shattered, and the dragons turned to mercenaries to reestablish wealth?"
"It seems," The Champion growled, "that you already have your answers. Why bother asking?"
"I need it from your mouth, Champion."
The Champion's hand curled into a fist. "I will not have my crowning achievement overshadowed by talk of my ancestors and their...misdeeds. Today is *my* day. I have worked too long for this, Artha."
"It's *Arthur,* good Champion...and I don't intend to publish this information just yet."
The Champion arced his eyebrow.
"It's been a very long time, Moigne."
...*'Moigne. Yes, that was my name.'*
"Moigne Pendragon, born from the family line that united a bard and the heir-apparent of the Draconic Empire." Arthur said.
"And Arthur Pendragon, the brother lost at infancy."
"I have the means to prove it." Arthur said, exhaling blackened smoke from his mouth.
"Seems the lion's share of dragon blood went to me, then." Champion Moigne grinned.
"Get bent, brother dear. I could still kick your ass." Arthur laughed, and the two estranged brothers hugged. | "Tiddle flute, herald of the long reaching..." the host said, holding up a scroll and adjusting his monocle.
The flowery dressed man sweated nervously, adjusting his sagging mushroom hat.
The crowd leaned in to see over the tapestry maker hauling ass depicting the scene. The great golden dragon towered over the others in the studio, tapping a back leg as she looked down.
The dragon shook her head, cone hat tilted forward. She bopped the clearly human baby on her lap, hardly six months old and already with a defined six pack and head full of deep golden hair.
"You..." the host continued, making eye contact with each on stage, "are the father."
The crowd erupted with cheers and boos as the bard got up and began shuffling past security off stage.
The tapestry maker focused on the child who clutched a singed blanket, watching the crowd and sniffling.
***
"No, no," Gresal said, shaking his head and pulling back his long golden hair. "I misspoke. It was a potion, one of great power. That's what gave me my dragon's blood. My grandfather is wholly irrelevant."
"I heard of your grandfather," Dema said, chuckling as she spurred her horse. "The fact they called him herald of the long reaching is irrelevant, too eh?"
"Wholly, he had a very long harp. He needed to stretch very far to reach the deepest notes on it," Gresal retorted, shielding the sun with a hand as he tried to make out the settlement ahead. "We should focus on our mission to take out these bandits, not my ancestry."
"You're not helping," Dema said, laughing harder now. A bellowing trumpet of a roar came from ahead.
"What bandits have a bloody dragon?" Gresal drew his short sword.
"I don't know, but I think you should lead on this one. We may just have to see if you take after your grandfather." Dema wiped a bit of mud off Gresal's cheek and slapped it playfully twice. "Go get em tiger. Though," she looked down at his blade. "You may need something longer than that."
/r/surinical | 2022-10-11T08:29:22 | 2022-10-11T06:11:14 | 787 | 36 |
[WP] A world where super heroes exist but act as mercenaries for hire instead of doing it out of the goodness of their hearts
Someone made a comment in another thread that made me want to see this sort of thing and some people replied saying I should submit it here. Here's a link to my [original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/62wgey/tifu_by_bricking_a_computer_with_rick_astley/dfq195a/) which has a little more detail about the sort of thing I was thinking of specifically, but feel free to run with the basic idea however you want. | Seconds before the decaying support beams running through the apartment building finally snapped, Chronotron strolled casually into unit 8B, the last on his checklist.
Mere seconds remained before the aging architecture would be reduced to rubble, but that was more than enough time for Chronotron. As one gifted with the ability to manipulate the passage of time, Chronotron rarely felt pressured when he worked – the concept of urgency, after all, had no relevance in a world which only moved when he allowed it to.
He checked the apartment methodically, starting with the hall first, then the attached kitchen, the balcony, then the bedrooms.
Which was where he found the kid, crying as she tugged on her friends in vain, pulling them towards the door. Shit, he thought, there’s three of them.
“Hey, kid, you need to weave your chrono-filaments around your friends, or they are never going to be move. They’ll just be frozen there, forever.”
The kid swung to face him, tears streaking down her cheeks, oblivious to the badge which Chronotron was holding out, which marked him as an Enhanced contractor attached to the police force. “Mister, please! We were just talking when suddenly, everything froze! I’ve been trying to move them, but they are not responding!”
Chronotron could have explained to the girl that her latent powers had probably been awoken by the mortal danger she was in, and that it was more than likely that they shared an ancestor in common. He could also have demonstrated then how to manipulate a chrono-filament, or even just walked out of there with all three children.
But none of those things fell under the insurance cover for the building, so Chronotron did none of that. After all, it wasn’t his fault that the owners didn’t spring for more coverage, or that whatever funds remained only allowed him to save one more person today.
“Kid, come on,” Chronotron beckoned, holding out his hand, “time’s money, you know. I came to rescue you, so we’ve got to get a move on.”
“And leave Sara and Bianca here? I can’t do that!”
“You look like, what, 12 this year?”
“What does that even matter in a situation like this?”
Chronotron sighed. “You look like you’re old enough to understand the way things are. There’s only enough budget to save one of you, you know how we work. So count yourself lucky I’ve decided to rescue you.”
“Can’t you just save them instead? I can get out on my own!”
Chronotron scoffed. “As I said, I can only save one. Plus, without knowing how to use your powers, you couldn’t even get this door open. As I said, until you’ve learned how to weave your chrono-filaments, you can’t interact with the world at all. And this time pocket you carved, it’s sweet, for a first-timer, but it’s already cracking. I leave this room, and you’ll only experience a couple of minutes more before you’re wrenched back to the common timestream. So no, you can’t get out of your own.”
A bulb seemed to go off in the girl’s head. “You’re an Enhanced policeman, aren’t you? You’re the special forces on retainer for the city?”
“Correction, I’m Enhanced, but I am not a policeman. We’re paid per job. It’s very different.”
“But that’s my point! I can hire you too, right? I can pay you to save us all!”
“You couldn’t afford my fees.”
“My parents have money! They will certainly pay you!”
Chronotron shook his head resolutely. “Sorry kid, rules are rules. All services rendered only after payment is made. No credit, no exceptions.”
His words were cold, but his conscience remained unpricked. After all, these weren’t his rules. The Enhanced Division was the one in charge of drafting policy, and they were the ones who had firmly decided on the upfront payment policy. And if he broke the rules, his license would be taken away, and his powers Stemmed. No one wanted that.
“Please, you have to save them. They’re my best friends, and I would do anything just to save them!” the girl cried, as she sank to her knees. “Or how about the things I have in my room! Everything here is mine! Just take it!”
Chronotron started to protest again, but the words died in his throat. There was one thing of value in that room.
“Anything at all, I can take as payment?”
“Yes! Please, anything!”
---
Chronotron’s supervisor, Elendra, was waiting at the bottom of the building, clipboard in hand. As the complex finally collapsed inwards on itself, as Chronotron laid the two girls on the sidewalk along with all the other survivors he had rescued, Elendra’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“That’s one over budget. Please don’t tell me you messed up, the paperwork’s going to be a bitch.”
“Calm down, Elendra, I got paid for the extra one. It’s not going to cause any accounting problems.”
“Paid? By whom? Did you already collect payment?”
Chronotron chuckled, then pointed with his chin towards the settling dust of the ruined building. “Payment in kind. The Institute’s still as hungry as ever to discover the origins of our powers, right? Well, there’s an Enhanced girl in there, she’s assigned me full rights to her remains.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny | The dark alley echoed with the footsteps of the villain and I knew that I had her right where I wanted them.
"I'll go get the purse if you let me keep half of the money."
They had seen what Dev could do first hand, when he had been stealing their purse, so there was no way that they were going to do it themselves. He had punched through a brick wall before snatching their purses. If they only knew some of Dev's other talents.... The purse snatchee had been making self deliberation faces for almost half a minute.
"Fine.", she said, in a voice that she hoped would indicate that it was very much not fine. I thought I heard her mutter something about "Damn heroes" and "Filthy crooks", but I was already rushing into the darkness.
About halfway through the alley I turned at the first corner I saw. I almost ran into Dev.
"Jesus Christ man. A little warning next time."
"I'm still mad at you."
"Why would you possibly be mad at me?"
"Because this plan doesn't make any fucking sense! Why are we giving the purse back? We already had the damn thing."
"That attitude right there is why you get to play the villain. You're just so naturally villainous."
"I get to play the villain because I can actually scare people. What are you going to do, shout at them that you can hear them extremely well as your robbing them?"
"Ha Ha asshole. Just give me the purse."
"What are you going to tell them, anyway? What if they want a demonstration of how you overcame me?"
"I'll say that I used my otherworldly wits to convince you to hand over the purse. I wouldn't even have to lie."
"Oh, shut up. Here - take the stupid thing."
I grabbed the purse from Dev's hand and turned back. If it wasn't dark in the alleyway I don't think I could have resisted the temptation to count the money before I gave it back. I tried to appear disheveled by messing up my hair a bit. It would have to do. I came around a corner and could see the woman still waiting.
I approached her.
"Thank you so much!" She said as she saw that I was holding her purse. I actually felt a twinge of guilt. I had justified this to myself as being some sort of lesson, like an anti purse snatching tax or something, but I knew that this part was going to suck.
"You're are very welcome." I handed her the purse. She pilfered through it. I saw some prescription medicine and reading glasses suddenly felt even worse. It felt like I was robbing my Grandma. She got to her wallet and started going through the money.
"Here is ... $30."
I was almost tempted to tell her to keep it, but my stomach rumbled at that exact moment. I remembered that there was a reason that I had to do this, and it wasn't like we stole her purse or anything.
"Thank you very much." I began walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction as her. I would meet Dev back at the house. He wouldn't be happy with $30, and I didn't think I could hold him back much longer. If he had his way, we were about to get into serious trouble, soon.
___
/r/Periapoapsis | 2017-04-02T08:24:03 | 2017-04-02T08:22:39 | 142 | 32 |
[WP] Once a name is written in a Book of the Dead, it cannot be edited. Apparently your name was erroneously submitted, despite the fact that you're very much alive. This is the 4th time today that yet another Reaper is checking up on you to see if you died yet. | I settled back into my comfortable recliner, the green and sorta orange one that was worn in just the right way. On the tele Arsenal were up a commanding three nil. I cursed the distraction that had drug me away from the best part of the match Using my crumbled napkin from lunch I mopped the sweat from my brow.
From the kitchen I could hear Margie’s rhythmic chopping of vegetables cease, “Bob, who was that at the door?”
My face screwed up as I pondered a convincing lie. If I told Margie that Reapers were flittering about our quiet street she might really drop dead.
“Oh, it was just the neighbor kid hun. Must have lost his puppy.” I smiled. That would hold, Margie rarely talked to the neighbors. Not her sort of people she’d say.
“Again?” she called back.
I spit. I had already told that lie. “I guess, I guess he’s a bit thick then? Keeps coming around.”
Her almost silent “Oh” seemed to have settled the matter.
Finally, a moment of peace. I leaned back into the old chair, popping my joints. The nonsense of it all, harassing a good working man on his day off. Coming around claiming I’m dead. What kind of office are they running over there? With a loud “Harrumph!” I reached for the paper and started flipping to the locals.
A knock boomed on the front door.
With a curse I half jumped from my chair, knocking my crumby plate to the floor with a clatter.
“I’ve had about enough of this!” I thundered as I marched for the door.
As I reached for the handle my feet tangled on Margie’s damnable rug which sent me falling into the door and tossing it open with such force that the figure loitering on my front porch had to dodge to one side. The door’s glass vibrated ominously.
“I’ve already told your sort to bugger off!”
The figure that loomed before me was different than the prior three. Freakishly tall and terribly pale, especially for this time of the year. At least this one was impeccably dressed in a sharp black suit and tie.
Already the stifling heat and stress had me sweating like a condemned hog.
“Didn’t your mates pass along the message? You’ve got the wrong bloody man at the wrong bloody address!”
“Mister Johnson?” his voice was barely above a whisper and with a strange undertone, like two pieces of slate being rubbed together. Despite the heat that voice sent a chill up my spine.
“Of course, I’m Mister Johnson. It says it right there on the box. You do have working eyes don’t you!” I wouldn’t stop yelling. This had gotten beyond the pale. Margie and half the damned neighbors could probably hear. Screw the bloody lot of them.
“Of course,” he whispered back with the slightest hint of a conciliatory smile. Like he could manage me into this nonsense. “It’s just that we have this paperwork, it is all very official. It appears that it is your time. Or more accurately it was your time in the twilight hours of this morning. I’m sure if you’d just look over the documents you would see it is all very much in order.”
“Rubbish,” I sunk my fists into hips. “I have half a mind to come down to your place of work and sort you all out! What kind of slip shod operation do you have running over!” I demanded, channeling the same energy I had reserved is business for inattentive clerks.
From behind I could hear the clicks of Margie’s approach. Damned, I had hoped to spare her from this rubbish. She turned the corner in her shoddy pink Sunday dress, her chopping knife still in hand.
“Bob, is it the neighbor boy again?” she asked, almost absent mindedly approaching.
I watched in frozen fascination as her heel caught in the damnable rug. She reached out to brace herself against my chest.
The knife felt almost refreshingly cool in the summer’s heat.
“Now, see here,” I managed to slur as I sank to my knees.
Above me the tall ghoul smirked. “ Ah, clerical error after all. Sometimes the new hires struggle with the 24-hour clock.” | “So, uh…you feel like dying yet or nah?”
“Nah, not really.”
“Oh, okay. That’s cool.”
Sam cleared his throat and stared off somewhere to his right, the hooded figure in front of him doing the same as a heavy silence hung in the air between them. Several seconds passed before the latter spoke, “But like, are you really sure you don’t want to die yet?”
“Positive.”
“I could hook you up with some fine succubi, you know. Or incubi if that’s how you roll.”
“I’m asexual, so I’m good.”
“Got a buddy who can set you up in a crib right by the River Styx. Prime real estate, nice beachfront view, the works.”
“My studio’s easier to clean. Cozier too.”
“I could get you some imps to clean up after you then.”
“I prefer living by myself, thanks.”
More silence. The two figures looked all around at their surroundings for several more seconds, turning their gaze at anywhere except each other. Finally, the ethereal Reaper said, “You know, you’d really be helping me out here if you came with me.”
“I prefer being alive.”
“You come with me to the Underworld, you’d pretty much be alive for eternity. No need to worry about hunger or exhaustion or any of those other mortal concerns.”
“I’ve read enough stories involving immortality to know that’s a terrible idea.”
“Look, man, I’m already in pretty hot water with the Head Reaper for some other thing I screwed up on a few years back. If I don’t take you back soon, I might get demoted back to a lemure or some shit, scrubbing hellfire stains off people’s homes until the end of time. Be a pal and help me out here, yeah? I’ll set you up with anything a soul could possibly want in the Underworld, I swear.”
“I’m good.”
The Reaper sighed before replying, “Fine. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Guess so.”
The Reaper dissipated into the air in front of Sam, eliciting a deep sigh of relief from the latter. He quickly set off for the nearest bar, a soothing pint of Guinness now the only thing on his mind.
r/williamk9949 | 2020-09-06T13:30:32 | 2020-09-06T12:26:28 | 146 | 71 |
[WP] You pick up painting to impress a crush, but secretly hate it. Two years later you’re engaged to your crush and you have to keep up the facade- and a popular art gallery now wants to feature your work. Suddenly you’re very famous for your work and you still. hate. painting.
Inspired by https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/87kajr/women_of_reddit_guys_do_stupid_things_to_impress/dwdpuj8/ | "Welcome, and thanks for attending the audio tour of our Al Wenders' exhibit. As you can see, Al Wenders was a late bloomer at 24; with little to no formal training he was able to come to a masterful understanding of composition, shape, and colour. This was known as the Bright period. The paintings you are viewing are full of intense and somewhat haphazard brushstrokes that would become his trademark. The subjects were often flowers or landscapes. There were hundreds of attempts at portraits, none of which seemed to satisfy him or leave his personal studio. The colours are on the light side, with shadows and darkness typically muted and in the background. Take notice of how dominant the bright colours are, as well as a refusal to leave white space - this was an intentional choice. It was around this time that he met his eventual wife.
"Now we move on to the Bliss period. Red to orange hues tend to dominate this period, taking on deeper, less pastel-bright colours. Critics noted the more substantial feel to these paintings, the increase in depth coming from the combination of the deep colours with bright accents. Much of the subject matter includes his then fiancee. At the beginning of this period he quit his job to pursue painting full time. By the end, he was featuring in prominent galleries.
"Take a look at this first picture. A bright smiling figure, standing among ribbons of white nearly covered in black kanji, that stretches off of the ribbons. Again, emphatic, bright brushstrokes and it is here we first see the entrance of the ribbons as shadow taking a more prominent role. The Kanji translates to 'We choose what consumes us.' Some early critics suggest that this be included in the bliss period but its lack of orange hues and its greater similarities with the following work put it more in the Shadows period. Now, instead of muted shadows displaced by the intense bright brushstrokes, we can see that it is the blacks, and deep purples and blues that are given strong, rapid strokes, smearing large amounts of pigment over the canvas.
"This painting was completed shortly after the death of his brother to lung cancer. It marks perhaps a moment of distinct personal honesty in his painting. Though he had a bright studio, a child on the way, he chose to put more dark colours. The other works, as you can observe, gradually giving way to a disassociation with the bright colours, coming to find that his no-white-space habit became a no-bright-space habit so that the oranges and other bright colours took on increasingly subtle roles. There was a tension in his work that even made viewers uncomfortable to look on the pieces.
"It is no coincidence that this period is said to have lasted eight months. In fact, we know that Al Wenders abandoned what would have been his last piece of the period as his wife gave birth. It remained half-finished in his studio. Shortly after we see the disappearance of his intense choppy brush strokes and notice the entrance of blending. It was here that many of his early supporters took issue with the change in structure noting that his work had lost its vitality, its vigour, and had become innocuous, fit for secondary positions in the homes of the middle-class.
"All the same, the Blending period for others gave a very real sense of tranquility, of patience. In fact, the brush strokes have a tell-tale smear at the edges. It shows that he may have used his initial strong brush strokes but then took the accumulated paint on the edges of the stroke and mixed it in. As such, the contrast and definition of the strokes vanished. The conflict in his paintings went with it. Not long after; Al Wenders said he had done in art what he had set out to do. Since then he has not published another painting, though according to close friends, he has not stopped creating them. Nobody has seen his work since then, and if you had the opportunity to visit his home, you would find the walls covered in the scrawling paintings of his daughter. | It was a spur-of-the-moment, god-spoke-to-me kind of art piece.
All I wanted was to impress her. Her name was Violet and she was more beautiful than any flower on earth.
All I wanted was to capture that beauty.
All I wanted was to show her how much she meant to me, because there were no words. No words that I could say to show her how much I loved her.
And so, I picked up the brush, for the first time in my life. I bought one-hundred shades of violet because I couldn't afford a thousand.
I locked the doors, put on my headphones and played love songs. You'd be surprised by how many there were.
Then I waited.
Waited for that moment, because it wasn't that moment yet. Because It didn't *feel* right yet.
Then I farted.
*Then* I painted.
I had never expected it to blow up as it did. It was unreal.
"Honey! Look at all the people lining up to see your artwork!" my fiance exclaimed excitedly.
I was too busy staring at my hands. I still couldn't believe what I had accomplished.
You have to understand, I was the kind of guy that saw masterpieces of art, and thought - *what a load of shit.*
Yes. I was that kind of guy. If you put me in a room with a bunch of art critics and a grand piece of artwork, I would be that guy who would disagree with them and say that it looked like the turd I unloaded the previous night.
So when my wife asked me, "Honey? When's your next painting?"
I said to her, "You know I'm still in love with you right? So probably when I fall in love with someone else."
She never asked me again.
----------
/r/em_pathy
| 2018-03-27T19:49:21 | 2018-03-27T19:06:13 | 281 | 57 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | It's hardly a surprise. Although the smell, oh the smell. Quite a smell. Like death running in my veins. I quite like the scent. The blood sticks between my fingertips. All cushy.
It's sad, really. I've always tried to do what's right. Sure, the homeless could have continued to trawl through my fields but then I wouldn't be able to spin a coin or bury a penny.
The greater good dictates that I set my priorities for the millions of people, not the impoverished little.
I deem it unlikely that their removable will be missed. They are a stain on society. Beggars disgust me for getting themselves into such a place. And they choose to break the law and steal and call it their right to live! Pah, wrong. Rights come to those who follow the laws of society. And the homeless don't have that right. They gave it up when they made poor decisions.
These hats will sit on their heads when I bury them in the dirt. The rats will be attracted to the scent and they'll bite them and die. It's a win-win situation. The vermin and the scum get washed away to death. Pretty.
I knew that morals would be too double sided. Sure, I'm saving millions of lives while destroying hundreds for the sake of it. A bit cutthroat, isn't it. I knew that to sacrifice my personal morality, I'd pay with my blood. And I have. Look at it, it's frozen solid. I wonder how it'll be when I try to wash it off. So strange that I haven't bled in a long time, isn't it? Black blood. Very strange.
But I'm afraid no one can know, my dear. I have a reputation to uphold. Millions of people look up to me and I am their hope. Their salvation. A queen in all but blood.
That's why you've got to die. Now don't bother screaming, there's no one here. I'll do it nice and quick just like I do it to the homeless. But you won't be getting a burial, dear. No, I'm afraid the pups will be eating fresh meat tonight! They'll be ever so grateful. Oh no, don't cry! This is for the greater good. Now tilt your head back just a little and I'll-- oh, now you calm down young lady! Can't be having a squealer. The pups might get upset and I trust you know that a quick death is better than being eaten alive? Oh the sounds that old man made when he just wouldn't... sit... still!
Ah!
Wonderful.
Clear as water. Bye bye sweetie. You have a lovely trip to Heaven! | It's not like they can say no. Free is free. There not a single soul out there that can refuse what's free.
And it's not like they can refuse. These homeless can't afford to corrupt their blood any further. It's about the only thing they can sell. The lowest rung on the social ladder. Stuck being nice.
So here I am handing out beanies. In the middle of summer. With a high of 110 F. And these dumb hobos are putting them on. Awfully nice of them. After all, no one wants to be caught with bad blood.
They say evil starts with good intentions. Heh. Then I wonder what starts with evil intentions. | 2018-08-04T10:09:44 | 2018-08-04T10:09:04 | 77 | 28 |
[WP] When everyone turns 18, they receive a pet which is figurative of their personality. You're the first person to receive a dragon... | My friend Sonia got an owl when she turned eighteen. Someone had chosen well - not only was it quiet and watchful like her, its trick of raising some sort of tufts on its head mirrored her eyebrows by which you could tell her mood. And it helped that both of them were dark brown and petite.
I wondered what I'd be given. When I thought about it, I realised I really hadn't given people much to go on up to now. Even my parents couldn't have picked much up. I was naturally undemonstrative anyway, and being stuck next to a kid who varied between stupid and maliciously disruptive had knocked any instinct to show emotions out of me. (Paniotis had a chimpanzee at a local zoo, and I sometimes suspected life would be better if they let the chimp out and put Panno in the cage.)
The months ran round to April. The two parrots of the two class jokers had just learnt their first rude words, and the most popular girl in class was beginning to suspect that its beautiful plumage wasn't the only reason she'd been given a golden eagle. My parents started to make furtive phone calls, and one afternoon I came back from school early and found them talking to Sonia. They all looked embarrassed when they saw me. Finally April and my seventeenth year were finished, and my parents went to the school for the ceremony.
"As I'm sure you all know," our form tutor said, "Conrad is eighteen today, and his parents are here to present him with his pet. I must say, we've rarely had a more appropriate choice. So if you will, Conrad..."
I stepped forward and took the small box. I opened the flap at the side and looked in. A pointy snout poked out, and the animal scurried onto my arm. Aquamarine scales, two big nostrils, and eyes as sharp as the teeth that peeped out from the side of its jaw. Unmistakably a dragon.
"Most animals are laden with stereotypes and received ideas," Mr Harris continued. "But dragons are a mystery. There isn't even enough known about them to make a consistent myth. Your dragon could turn out to be anything, Conrad, and so could you. And that's a rare gift - according to the animal dealers this is the first dragon they've ever supplied for a pet."
The dragon gripped my upper arm, claws pricking my skin. I could see it looking at the surroundings, twisting its neck lithely. I looked across to my mum and dad. It was so beautiful, and they'd chosen it for me. They must have seen something of my happiness in my expression, for they smiled and started to walk towards me.
Before they could get there, I heard a soft sound from the other side, and felt something land gently on my shoulder. It was Sonia's owl, and behind him Sonia was coming. She went round to the other side from her owl, and the dragon climbed onto her, sniffing at her ear-ring.
"I don't know much about dragons, Conrad," she said, "but I know they're wonderful, rare creatures, and so are you. I'd like to be with you, to see both of you grow up. May I?"
She stretched her head up to me, her dark eyes wide, and it seemed so right to lean down and kiss her. For once Panno's hoot elicited no allies' shouts.
"Aren't you worried what he might turn into?" I asked as our dragon yawned toothily and stretched his wings.
"If he turns out like you, I'll love him."
| My 18th birthday had finally come. The step to adulthood, the leap towards life.
I looked around, and all of my friends who were older then me brought theirs, wondering what I would get while the rest were wondering what they would get soon.
The cake was beautiful, with animal figurines all over it, each animal hoping to be chosen. One was missing though.. you could see the spot of which it used to stand.
"THREE! TWO! ONE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" everyone chanted as the clock struck noon, the exact time of my birth.
I looked outside the window. The "18th birthday animal service" had come with an unusually big package, the size of a mountain.
We all went outside to see what it was. My mom put her hand on my shoulder and said these exact words,
"Hope for the best, for only the lord knows what this could be. Strive to keep your animal healthy and come to us for any help. We know what your going through.. now get ready and open light to whatever is inside."
I nodded with tears in my eyes. What did she mean by that? I passed it to the back of my mind and looked up at the mountain of cardboard and tape.
"We now give you... a..."
Everyone froze. I gasped. A dragon? No one had ever gotten one before.
I looked up at it and it looked down at me. Smoke came out of his nostrils and it grunted with pleasure.
The news team was just down the block when I mounted the fiery beast. It was time, no one could deny it.
Time to be free of childhood and fear.
| 2014-09-28T09:30:56 | 2014-09-28T08:35:49 | 57 | 12 |
[WP] “There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”
A Quote from the Kingkiller Chronicles by Patrick Rothfuss | "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"
Everyone paused. "What? Thomas? What's wrong?"
"THERE'S NO MOON! THERE'S NO FUCKING MOON!" Thomas stood staring at the sky.
Everyone shook their heads. Brian took the lead. "So what, Thomas? Come on, we're gonna be late for the party."
"NO, FOR GOD'S SAKES MAN, CAN YOU NOT SEE? THERE IS NO MOON! OH, DEAR LORD, THE HUMANITY!"
The other ones exchanged looks. *Thomas being Thomas again…*
"Thomas, who cares if there's no moon? Come on, the open bar ends at one, we're late already."
"OH DEAR GOD WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE WHERE'S THE MOON!?" Thomas took Angela by the collar of her shirt.
"WHERE IS THE MOON, WOMAN, WHERE IS IT!?" He started shaking.
"Bro, get your shit together."
Finally, they drove off. Thomas shivered and mumbled to himself the whole way, eyes out the car window at the sky, searching.
They arrived at the party. It was a luau. Thomas managed to calm down when Jerry pointed him the moon behind
some clouds.
"Oh, there she is, cool," he said. He took a red cup and sipped. "Man, this party is awesome. I wish I –" he paused.
"Thomas? What's wrong?"
His eyes were locked behind Jerry's shoulders. Jerry turned, then turned back. "Thomas?"
"The ocean, Jerry," Thomas said. "There's a storm."
"Yeah. Probably gonna be good for surfing tomorrow, right? I think –"
"JERRY FOR GOD'S SAKES THERE'S A STORM IN THE OCEAN OH DEAR JESUS WE'RE DOOMED!"
Everyone turned. Thomas was on his knees, sand dripping from between his fingers onto the ground, pleading eyes to the sky. "OH MERCIFUL GODS, PLEASE SPARE US!"
"The fuck is wrong with that dude?" someone asked.
"shrooms, probably," another replied.
"THE SEA IS IN STORM, YOU FOOLS!" Thomas bellowed. "THE SEA IS IN STORM! RUN!"
Brian shook his head. "Why do we keep bringing Thomas to these things?"
"OH THE PAIN AND THE MISERY AND THE HORROR! THE ABSOLUTE HORROR!"
"And now the girls are leaving. Nice going, Thomas."
"DEATH AND DESPAIR AND BEYOND!"
"And the police is coming."
"Let's get out of here."
They left. Thomas stayed behind, kneeling on the sand. A police officer approached.
"Hey, buddy, you all right?"
Thomas looked up, eyes red with tears. "Officer… I'm sorry… I'm just… so afraid."
"It's okay, buddy. Come on, let's get you to the station and you can sober up."
The officer helped Thomas off of his feat. Thomas was shaking and very agitated.
"I just need you to stop screaming, okay? Can you do that? Can we go quietly?"
"Yeah, no, I'm okay," Thomas said, still avoiding looking at the sea and the sky. "I'm fine. I'll be gentle. I'm a bit angry but I'll be gentle."
The officer stopped on his feet. "What?"
"I said I'll be gentle."
A second went by in silence. The abandoned bonfire hissed. The wind flapped the flames. The sky shifted and shuffled its clouds.
"OH DEAR LORD AN ANGRY GENTLE MAN!" The police officer bellowed, because he too was wise like Thomas and also because I didn't know how else to end this story.
_____
/r/psycho_alpaca for more stories that end disappointingly. | The man, about 30 years of age, stood in the midst of the group, a young girl at his side, attempting to hide from the arc of people jeering and laughing at her appearance.
"Please, everybody, this is not right," the man said calmly, "There is no need to treat a young girl like this!"
"You call that a girl with that horror of a face?" A voice called, followed by the laughter of the other 20 or so.
Ignoring the taunt, the man knelt down beside the girl, asking if she was okay. She shook her head, tears flowing down her eye.
The crowd now surrounded them, leaving no gap for an easy exit.
Words came from all directions, taunts that were all directed to the lonely pair in the middle.
The man kept talking, attempting in vain to defuse the situation.
Then somebody in the crowd threw a rock at the girl, just barely missing her head.
And the man became mad.
From the depths of his coat came a dagger, and with beast-like speed and ferocity, he launched himself at the crowd, mercilessly slaughtering the people who had done that small girl harm. Within a few seconds only one remained, the one who threw the stone. He tried to escape the massacre, but was easily jumped on by the man, who plunged the knife into the man's chest, and began repeatedly stabbing him, the fire in his eyes burning.
And then, it all stopped.
The man froze, the knife dropping from his hand onto the freshly stained floor.
He observed the aftermath, his eyes going from each body until they rested on the girl, frozen in what looked like fear and horror.
And the man wept. | 2017-04-13T23:48:35 | 2017-04-13T23:33:18 | 143 | 38 |
[WP] You are a mutant in Xavier's school for gifted youngsters with the power to teleport, well that's what you tell everyone. In reality you can pause time and you're not ready to be an omega class mutant. | I got to my room, lungs burning as I ran the first floor. "It's all right Jack, you don't have to be afraid, you have done nothing wrong, everything will be all right." Said the calm voice of Professor X. Part of me immediately started to relax, but I could not slow down the heavy rapid breathing. I messed up, and people are hurt, dying, or dead. What is going to happen to me? Will they sedate me for the rest of my life or will they just get rid of me to stop others from getting hurt. Nothing can be done now, I need to get out.
I cannot safely chronolock the entire building. I might miss some parts, and get myself into further problems. No, only the professor knows, I will take him out of the time, escape and resume his time once I am safely away. I expand my mind and find his timeline and the tethers that bind him to it, I need to focus, to grab them all.
"Jack you need to stop right now, I want to help you." I hear again almost a pleading voice. "You are not a..." I will never find out, what I am not, at that point, I separated all of his tethers from his timeline. In the back of my mind, I can feel lit like a pull at one of my hairs. Good, now I just need to... A terrible scream cut through the house. I need to move NOW. I run out of my room into the hallways of the mansion, damn, DAMN, they were all so nice to me and I am hurting them. Tears are running down my face, I can barely see. All the other kids are leaving their rooms to see what is happening. I race down the stairs and see the screaming girl. Standing in front of the frozen professor and two halves of a body. One half, a midstep into the room I chronolocked. The other half cleanly separated, frozen mid-fall, where I locked it once I realized what I have done, the blood and organs already in a position that does not seem quite right. I feel nausea overwhelming me. I quickly consider locking the girl in time, but quickly reject it, rushing like this, I might hurt her, and the alarm has been raised anyway.
"You, stop right there!" I hear the rough voice aimed at me, Logan. "I am sorry" I cry as I keep running. I hear the heavy footsteps right behind me. Oh god, I need to stop him. I look around and focus on his tethers, as I do, I collide with someone in front of me, I panic and lock the tethers I got. "Fucking hell, what did you do." I fall to the ground and look in horror at Wolverine, claws extended as he tumbles around into the furniture, leaving his two legs locked in time behind him. He is bleeding and swearing. I concentrate again and the screaming stops. The pull at the back of my mind is becoming stronger.
I try to scramble up, but the man I collided with places a heavy furry blue hand on me. "Calm down boy, you need to calm down before you hurt yourself." Through tears and snot, I bark a laugh. People are dying he is worried about me? I need to get out NOW. I struggle to release myself off him. He holds me for a second but then let's go, perhaps a little worried as well.
I get to my feet and start running again. But halls are already full of people trying to see what is happening. I am pushing through, but feel hands trying to stop me. I concentrate, "no mistakes this time", I repeat like a mantra, and just keep locking people in around me. The pressure in my mind is becoming unbearable, I feel blood running out of my nose and ears. But I finally see the light of outside.
I exit the mansion. I am dizzy. I fall to my knees. I feel every single timelock as a nail being hammered into my brain. A gentle voice speaks behind me, it sounds sad "Jack please stop". I concentrate one last time. I know what I must do. I focus on one last timeline and with a jank snap it in half.
/\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*/
"Jean I am worried that this young man, might hurt himself if not handled carefully. He is so full of fear. Fear of rejection of himself and at this time of me as well. I hoped you could talk to him, perhaps he will respond better to you."
"Of course professor. But perhaps it is not going to be such a problem, he went to class today, and Kurt will certainly make him feel at home."
Having said this, Jean opened the doors. Professor saw the young troubled student standing in the middle of the room. The student looked at him, smiled for a moment and disappeared just as Jean crossed the threshold. And while the class applauded the newest student his successful teleportation. Professor's heart broke. | Being the best of the best at school usually comes with its perks and advantages but this school was a little bit different. Being at the top of the class here means danger, and a whole lot of it and that’s something Deshaun wasn’t ready for just yet. Everyone had a specific power here and ever since the debacle with Phoenix and the outside world warming up to mutants a little it was important that those with incredible ability be labeled “ Omega Class Mutants”. So him lying about his powers made more sense when he explained it like that to professor xavier.
Deshaun was at the back of the classroom listening to the lecture on human/mutant relations and jotting down notes when he looked up and the slide was changing and he needed this information. So he snapped his finger and time froze, allowing him to write down everything he wanted and to look at the girls paper next to him and copy her notes too. He snapped again and everything went back to normal as it usually does. He had done this in class only once or twice before as he didn’t want a teacher or the professor to find out the truth. Deshaun knew he was a omega level mutant and it scared him to death. He heard the stories of the persecution, the missions, the stress it can take on those that are as strong as him and he didn’t want that. He knew he couldn’t handle it
Class continued for a little while longer as Deshaun began to look out the window and saw the array of students in the pavilion. Different color skin, hair color, texture, some had different body parts as well, it was a odd and lovely ecosystem at the school. As the professor dismissed class he asked for a girl to stay behind while everyone else went back to the dorms. Deshaun suspected that she was a omega level mutant herself and that she would be brought into the new team. Once the school got renamed the jean gray institute various members of the old team either became instructors or in the case of kitty pride decided to head the next generation of the x men. You could find old members around campus but it was best for Deshaun to go about his day as normal as possible. One wrong move and he’s swept up in this storm of missions and coordinated suits.
He returned to his dorm hi fived his roommate Tyler and did his homework. Tyler could mess with electrical circuits and disable stuff all day long and he was the only person that knew about Deshaun’s actual power. Tyler asked him if he still had to slow down time to copy notes when a knock came on the door and it was The professor alongside kitty pride and the girl from his earlier class. Kitty pride pointed at him telling the professor “ I’ve been telling you for weeks Charles” while the girl stood there visibly shaken up. The professor said hello to Tyler and looked Deshaun in the eyes and said “ Deshaun me and Ms Pride have to speak with you and Amber in my quarters if that’s okay with you” Deshaun wanted to snap so badly and try to find a way of escaping the inevitable but even he can run out of time. | 2020-07-15T05:54:34 | 2020-07-15T05:11:36 | 137 | 94 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | Secretary Rosen sat contemplating silently while the Roni Ambassador dictated to him the terms of peace that Humanity was expected to accept following their defeat in battle yesterday.
Intergalactic Warfare wasn't so different from that practiced on Earth for millennia. They fought just as ferociously as soldiers sailors and airmen had fought in the innumerable wars humanity had subjected itself to during it's brief existence as a sentient species. There was one difference however. War had stopped being politics by other means for the most part on Earth. It was obviously still the way of it out here.
The Roni Ambasador had stopped speaking and was pointing at a treaty. "You must sign here, Mr. Secretary."
Finally Rosen stood up from his chair, straightened his suit, and began to speak. "Forgive me Ambassador, but allow me to clarify a few things. Firstly, the battle yesterday was a surprise attack, completely unwarranted and unjustified. We were at peace. Now we are at war."
"We have defeated you, you are now surrendering."
"Oh, you defeated that fleet it's true. But you will find once your forces are debriefed that it wasn't such an overwhelming defeat, despite you attacking us by surprise with a fleet five times the size of our own."
The Ambassador was puzzled. This was not how surrender ceremonies were supposed to go.
Rosen continued. "You see Ambassador, if you would do me a favor and look outside my window. What do you see."
"I see the newest addition to the Roni Empire."
"Ah, but you're still not understanding. I see a planet of my fellow humans who are girding themselves for war. You have broken the peace we had, you have attacked without warning and you did so callously, in the belief that just because the rest of the galaxy fights with kid gloves we will too."
"What are kid gloves, I do not know this expression."
"Kid gloves, Ambassador, are what we're now taking off." Rosen reached down to his desk and pressed the intercom button. "Admiral, you may proceed with the mission. As of now, Ambassador, any Roni we find is dead. Any settlement we find is dead. Any fleet we find is dead. Bring this back to your leadership. While you can. We tried to deal with you fairly and you took advantage. We tried to negotiate when things got out of hand and you took advantage. Well no more. Humanity is not your punching bag."
"This is absurd. We have beaten you, your world is ours."
"Is everyone in your government as slow as you. We do not fight one battle and call it a war, as you apparently do. We sometimes fight to a stalemate. You killed 10,000 humans yesterday. At a cost of 40,000 of your own. This building alone has more humans than that. You have beaten nothing. Nothing except yourselves. Please turn your attention to the view screen."
The view screens, which were displaying prominent Roni landmarks as a sign of supplication and respect, or so the Ambassador had thought, suddenly flashed white. The shipyards of Kontak. The weapons factories of Girt. The great city of Ron. All contact lost, seemingly obliterated.
"How...what..."
"That was just the beginning. We have a saying. If you want peace prepare for war. We wanted peace, we tried peace your way, and you still could not contain yourselves. So we will contain you. You have exactly 2 minutes to get out of my sight, and a further 28 to get off my planet. If you are still lingering in that time, your worthless life is forfeit." | "A wise man once said that the objective of war was to offend your opponent so badly that they take their dollies and go home. But it takes politicians to truly make a mess of things, do you agree?" the human commander gestured his cigar at his...
.. esteemed guests?
They weren't exactly prisoners yet, the fighting outside was still raging.
But for the two beings before him, the war was over.
"Our people will rise up against you!" sneered B'rognaard Goa trbrtger.
"Oh, I highly doubt that they will be in any economic position to try that for quite some time, Supreme Commander.. you know what, I can't pronounce your name. So from now on you will be Bognar Goat Buggerer. And, we will be certain to target every transport off this rock that has any names remotely close to yours onboard." the cigar flared as he took a pull.
The other being suddenly came to apparent life, "No! That's..wrong!"
"Is it now? Tell me, was it wrong for your people to murder mine? Even entire families? We tried peace. You didn't want that. So now.. we have a saying. Mess with the bull, you get the horns. You're getting the horns." outside, the brilliant explosion of several transports punctuated the pronouncement.
"We thought..we thought you were weak since you started peace negotiations first."
"You mistook kindness for weakness." the human puffed his cigar again.
"Please, just let our children go. I beg you."
"No. Your proclamation of destruction for my people was 'total war', we will show you what that means. You will burn. Your cities will be ash, your people dust." | 2019-11-24T14:03:48 | 2019-11-24T10:43:18 | 572 | 350 |
[WP] In a world of incredible heroes and villains, you have the most dangerous power of all: forcing actual, real world logic and physics to take place
2/19/19: Woah! I look away for a few minutes and suddenly 1000 likes! Thanks you guys!
2/19/19: Holy God! 6.5k likes?! Awesome! | It began with a loud screech from outside the coffee shop. A contagious one too, for it soon grew into a sea of wails. Then something actually intelligible breached the surface. "Oh dear Lord have mercy, it's Teleportino!!"
I could barely supress a groan. Tightening my hold on my coffee cup, I chanced a look outside. And there he was, adorned in obnoxiously-colored spandex, a massive letter T spanning his torso. Then he appeared to the left in a explosion of smoke. Then farther away. Then right next to the coffee shop window. It hurt my eyes to look at.
A flurry of smoke then entered the shop, sending the nearby patrons who hadn't already began screaming into coughing fits. And who was in the center of it other than this pathetic excuse for a criminal.
"Yes, quake in my prescence, civilians!!! Before your very eyes, I shall appear behind the cast register," -- and he did just that, shoving a poor, scrawny-looking employee out of the way in the process -- "and plunder out these bountiful riches of..........35 dollars and 50 cents!!!" A meager amount of cash was seized in his grip, yet he seemed very satisfied anyway.
"Ha*ha*! I'd like to see you civilians have your coffee now once this establishment files for bankruptcy!! First, your morning pick-me-ups, next, the world!!"
He was a C-list villian at best, barely even worth my time. But I begrudingly slid out of my seat. "Hey, teleportation doesn't work y'know."
He whipped his head around to face me. "And how would you know, pitiful civilian??"
I grin couldn't help itself but crawl onto my face. This guy was putty in my hands. "Well, the earth turns at 1000 miles an hour or so, right?"
The colour was already drainning from his face. "I-I don't know what you--"
"Not only that, but it orbits around the sun at 67,000 miles per hour. So if you were to teleport from on point on the earth to another, you would just end up where that place was a few seconds ago, which is now thousands of miles away from earth. You would just be floating in space and you would die."
Teleportino opened his mouth to speak, but before he had a chance, he vanished into thin air again. I had pretty good hunch I wouldn't be seeing him around anymore. Maybe someone from NASA would find him, who knows.
The patrons who had just been cowering beneath tables stood up, and began cheering. Another job well done, I suppose. I quickly accepted my congratulations, before making my way out the door.
"Wait, sir, I have a question." It was the cashier, who had only just begun to regain his composure.
"Uh, yes?" My hand had already rested on the cold doorhandle.
"How do you do it?"
I assumed he was giving me praise at first, and slightly bowed my head. "Well, it's all in a day's work."
"No, no, I mean, *how* do you do it. Doesn't your ability to make logic apply make just as little sense as these people being able to bend logic in the first place? If their abilities shouldn't exist, doesn't that mean your ability to prevent them from existing shouldn't either?"
It was a mouthful of words I hardly expected to come from anyone, let alone a minimum-wage employee. And it was my worst nightmare. I desperately tried to backtrack. "No, you see.. If, uh, if I am.. W-wait, no..." But it was too late. The idea was already in my head. It was my only weakness.
A paradox.
| *Snap*
A scream more iconic than Wilhelm's can be heard from something akin to a meteor flying directly to the city. "You're not as dashing when you're on fire" you say to the burning, falling Clark Kent. "Didn't you know? Your home planet doesn't exist anymore. I deleted it".
The Flash stares in fear, then disappears. "Not so fast..!" *Snap.* A tsunami of flames erupts, burning everything where the poor Scarlet Speedster once stood. When he stops, only his naked, burnt body remains. "The speed force aura is physically impossible, genius".
Cyclops and the X-men arrive at the scene of the crime. You smirk, knowing full well the outcome of this battle. *Snap* Professor X's head implodes, *Snap* Cyclops fries his brains, *Snap* Iceman dies from lack of blood circulation, *Snap* Angel collapses to the sound of broken bones, on and on the slaughter continues.
A curious Thanos watches from afar. He notices your powers, the way you singlehandedly defeat every superhero thrown your way. He begins to worry, perhaps you are more powerful than him? With this thought in mind, he travels to Earth but dies from stretching his physical form through different dimensions in an attempt to break the space time continuum, forgetting that you had fixed the broken physics when fighting the Flash.
"IS THERE NO-ONE WHO CAN DEFEAT ME?!" you scream, laughing as the world burns around you. ***BANG***
You fall to the floor, a wound in your chest.. a gunshot wound! You look up to see a tall, broad shouldered.. bat? man? Batman?! He smirks and stares you down before placing the gun to your head. "Nice try, kid.." ***BANG.*** | 2019-02-19T11:13:37 | 2019-02-19T10:20:49 | 587 | 48 |
[WP] You have just begun your fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are surprised to have made it this far, after all, you aren't even a wizard, just really good at special effects. | Because of my innate lack of ability, the Sorting Hat simply assumed I was a late-blooming Hufflepuff, and I was in.
I deserved to be in Ravenclaw, I thought, just because I was clever enough to fool them all for so long. Some slight of hand, and they stood amazed that all my matches turned to needles the first time I tried it. In duels, they assumed I'd mastered the spells to make people choke on foul smells or make them burst out laughing. A little basic chemistry knowledge can carry you quite a long way, in Hogwarts. And for everything else, well...Hufflepuffs can get away with quite a lot of mistakes, it turns out.
And while I'm sure I could probably have made a killing with my increasingly complex tricks in the Muggle world, I liked Hogwarts too much to drop out. Besides, some of my best, most loyal friends were here. I couldn't stop now. Stubbornly, I set my sights and ambitions higher.
When I heard about the Triwizard Tournament, I knew it was my time to shine. It was perfect. I could probably win this, or at least show off my skills to a greater audience than ever before.
It didn't quite work out as well as I'd hoped it would, in the end.
"Kill the spare," I heard Voldemort hiss somewhere in the graveyard.
Thank god he gave the order to Wormtail. His hand trembled so much that the spell missed me by an inch. After that, it was a simple matter of pretending to be dead. Wizards have a shockingly poor track record in checking for any kind of pulse. Not even Madam Pomfrey thought of trying that - she just shoved chocolate at my parents, hoping it would cheer them up. If you hear Avada Kadavra and see someone keel over, no further investigation necessary, apparently.
But I didn't want Voldemort to hunt me down after hearing of my survival. I'm not crazy. It was time to leave Hogwarts while the going was good.
It was a bit depressing, having to avoid my parents and slip back to the Muggle world. I thought about becoming the next David Blaine, but was drawn to the movies instead. The wizards would never even notice, they took no interest in muggle pop culture. And I'd had some experience acting for some years now, might as well make some use of it.
Besides, I had this great idea for a sparkling skin special effect that I was absolutely dying to try out.
-----
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | I'm suprised I lasted this long. It only began because I didn't want them to obliviate me like they were doing all the other muggle one after the other. Now i'm a fourth year student at Hogwart.
"Is this your card?" I said.
"Impressive! continue and you might become a great seer one day!"
It's not the first time by far that wizards and witches are impressed by mere muggle tricks. Simple sleight of hand and diversion for simple transfiguration and most of everything else. Broom was really my only problem but no one is perfect.
| 2016-11-24T02:56:00 | 2016-11-24T02:30:38 | 245 | 29 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun! | "IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer. | 2017-07-14T14:46:36 | 2017-07-14T10:00:33 | 54 | 21 |
[WP] You've died and despite living a fairly honest life, you've been sent to hell for all the terrible things you've done in video games. You're offered one way out. Prove you wouldn't do any of those things in real life by clearing the nine circles of hell like a dungeon, without being terrible. | I can't believe I had made it this far. I carried that stupid penguin all the way back to it's mother even as the void called to me. I stuck around for those god forsaken turret sections to cover my allies. I limped my way across the map as my escort mission target shambled along and collided into every object on the floor and every door way. I had made it to the final circle.
"Well you've managed all the challenges until now." St. Peter said. "I was sure the pointless fetch quest through the water level would have lead to a mass murder when you got back to town and didn't get a reward."
He stroked his beard contemplatively.
"Oh yeah piece of cake! Hahaha..." I shoved the headless shop keeper voodoo doll further into my pack.
"Hmm maybe we need to recalibrate these. More and more people are making it to the final stage." He mused.
"Well it's time to breeze through the last challenge and get the hell out of here. What have you got lined up for me Pete?" I couldn't wait. I had been stuck on this stupid redemption arc for months.
"Don't get cocky kid." Peter said with a surprisingly evil smile on his saintly face. "I can count on one hand the number of people who have cleared the final stage."
I gulped nervously. He seemed pretty confident. And I had been so close to falling off the goody-two-shoes wagon near the end.
"If you're ready, I'll send you in. You can start at my last save file to save time." He stated storing at his tablet as he adjusted setting. "That way you can skip the character creation and almost being executed as a horse thief."
The portal swirled at my feet. I could see a nordic town materialize on a bleak plain. Might as well jump in an get this over with.
"Sounds good Petey. Can't wait to be neighbors once I polish this off." I flashed him a cheeky smile before leaping into the swirling abyss before me.
-----------------------------------------------------------
I awoke with a start. I was sitting in a town square. People in drab clothing milled around inspecting street stalls. A preacher prattled on about some ancient gods as people did their best to avoid eye contact. I'd played my share of these adventure games. They actually reward you for pacifist decisions. Looking up I saw a familiar castle on a hill.
"Guess that's a good place to start." I muttered to myself.
Peter never gave me any indication of what I needed to do on each stage. I could aimlessly wander around looking for that one key quest that let me pass that level. I remember wasting weeks of time running back and forth across a huge map before realizing the key quest was getting rocks for hungry rock people. Their entire village was made of rocks...
I shook that aggravating memory away as I felt my blood pressure begin to rise. Thinking back I could swear this level felt familiar. Glancing around the square, I couldn't quite place where I had seen this town before.
"Dammit if I could remember the game, I might be able to find my quest easier.". I mumbled to myself as headed for the stone steps to the castle. Just before them I was stopped by a man with a condescending smile on his face. He gave my rustic adventurer armor a slow once-over before speaking.
"Do you get to the Cloud District very often? Oh, what am I saying - of course you don't."
With that a surge of memories came flooding back.
"You're pretty evil for a Saint, Pete." I mumbled and then smiled sadly as felt my hand gripping my sword with murderous intent. Oh well, hell can't be that bad right? | "Shit" I said as I see the star appear in the corner of my eye. I am confused, looking down on my computer as I install ten more mods to skyrim.
A second star appears as my game loads, and a courier arrives, "got a letter for you, your eyes only."
I open the letter and read what it said. I was expecting a threat, maybe another hand, or some inheritance. I mean, that's the usual gist of Skyrim.
"Dragonborn,
You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people, but you are dead and cannot pay the court a fine. So you must serve your sentence.
Also your crimes from GTA were taken into account. Wow man. You're the reason why GTA online sucks. Burn in hell, doinyomom6969."
Well that was a lot to handle. I panic and see that there are five stars in my eye now, and my laptop disappeared. That's when I realize I don't remember how I got here. This isn't my home.
Fuck I am actually dead.
I look up and realize my home is a standard Skyrim house model, the textures turned up. An armored figure bursts into my home and goes straight for my closet and begins taking things.
"Hey!" I yell. The figure ignores me and runs away. I realize that was the dragonborn. I'm fucked.
I walk outside and try to find swords, armor, anything. I have no weapons. There are guards everywhere. But I somehow can still pickpocket. I look at a passerby and instantly see what they have on them. Some gold and a dagger. I need that.
I look around and crouch. And just like Skyrim I see the detection meter. I follow until we are alone. I prepare to strike. Then it all fades to black.
"Hey you, you're finally awake." | 2021-03-07T15:56:53 | 2021-03-07T15:17:18 | 117 | 81 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | "I understand why you fear for my safety," Euphemia spoke gently as she approached the knight. "And why you fear for my kingdom," pressing her hands to her chest in mild gesture, her wide eyes emphasized her understanding. "But I cannot allow you to kill Rosa."
Slakter stared dumbly at the long forgotten princess, the seventh daughter of the seventh son, and sputtered a confused reply that was met with a slow, patient smile. "I do not understand, Your Highness. A dragon is a monster, a scourge on the land, and this one has guarded your palace for over forty-thousand years."
Euphemia nodded sagely, pacing quietly in her long, silk skirts. "I believed the same as you some time ago," she said clearly, and her voice was as the mistrals described. Clearer than water. Gentler than spring. "I feared dragons as I was taught to, raised to slaughter and destroy, but...my grandfather, Grandfather Abelard," she chuckled, "I'm sure you've heard of him...thought differently."
"Abelard?" He raised his head, "Abelard to Wise...patron of artists...master of peace...lover to..."
"Yes, Heloise the Divine," she answered. "She bestowed him a gift before she entered the convent, a dragon egg, and he kept that dragon egg. Oh, its beauty was glorious," she sighed, returning to that lovely memory the day she was introduced to the egg that had not hatched in over two-hundred years. "It's outer shell was made of rose quartz, so beautiful, so pink," she smiled. "And when she hatched? My parents were furious! They wanted it dead! But I couldn't...I wouldn't...and luckily for us, Grandfather Bernard felt the same."
The knight shook his head. Confusion draped over his pale features, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "No, no, no, we are taught in school Abelard loathed dragons," he recited. "He hated them and was responsible for their extinction?"
"Was he?" Her long skirts whirled and faced him, "Was Abelard as cruel as history taught you? Perhaps, perhaps not, Grandfather had many faults, but I will correct you on this, dragons are not extinct, dear knight."
"But he -," he stammered. "He killed the Dragon Mage!"
"Or maybe the Dragon Mage died of old age," she replied, flatly. "It was over 1.5 million years old, rumored to be older."
"And what of the others?"
"Relocated," she shrugged. "But with a thin enough tether to connect our worlds."
No. No. He shook his head, shock after shock destroying his world. None of this makes sense.
"But why," he rasped. "Why would he do such a thing?"
She started to walk away, and her thick, heavy skirts swirled with her, when her dark features faced him. "Do you want to know, dear knight," she asked, tentatively. This was a privilege, he realized. A privilege she was willing to revoke at any moment.
He swallowed, "I do."
"Well," her chin tilted. "How old are you?"
"What?"
"Answer the question."
"I saw my seventh hundred year this August, Your Highness."
"And how old am I?"
"Um...I..."
Something harsh and cruel deepened her features. Her dark eyes and skin glistened under the pale moonlight's glow, and she approached him until only a two inch distance was shared between them.
"I celebrated my 47,650 birthday this past December," she said. "Our neighbors life expectancy is 200."
He stood there, stunned.
"Now, I shall leave you with this," she pointed to the air. "Why is that so?"
No. His jaw flexed tightly. *No.* He kept his mouth shut, glaring denial into her back's center. She paused at the dungeon's entrance, soft smile playing on her lips. The door closed quietly, and above a dragon's roar thundered throughout the skies, shattering rose tinted flames into its clouds. | Sitting quietly in her beautiful court yard Rae sat looking out over her kingdom. She watched the many marvels that happened there. The beauty of nature and woods surrounded her. A crystal water fell rushed to the forest floor not far off from her.
Rae shook her head as she saw the bright gleam of armor speeding her way.
Another of the kingdoms enemies racing my way to rescue me, she mused.
She turned and headed toward the humungous gaping hole in the side of her mountain. It was made to look like a cave but make no mistake it was a castle of the most beautiful design. As she walked through the golden hall she carefully put out each and ever torch preparing for her visitor.
When Rae reached the end of the long hallway she sat in wait watching the entrance for her rescuer.
She did not have to wait long before she heard the thundering of hooves and the click clack of armor. Soon the metal man was 'stealthily' stalking towards her.
Rae rose up, "who goes there!" She demanded.
It was silent for a long moment before the man answered in a raspy voice, "Arthur of the city of Frei, knight of graylandolf."
"And what is your buisness here?"Rae boomed back.
"To slay the dragon and rescue the princess!" Arthur said.
" And what if you find the dragon and the princess are one and the same?" She asked.
Arthur stopped frozen in shock at the question. He began mumbling out an answer but Rae interrupted him with a blast of fire.
The knight dodged, and Rae allowed a small smile to curl up her lips. Feeling the adrenalin rush through her she forces herself to be hard even down to her heart beat as the ground shook around her golden dust clouded the air. Without thought Rae turned the stone to Ice and in so doing froze Arthur eternally, still.
Lighting a torch she walked over to inspect her prize, "Oh, and Arthur," Rae spat, "I'm not the princess I'm the king. Perhaps, if you had known you wouldn't have an eternal place in my trophy room." | 2019-01-09T08:16:32 | 2019-01-09T07:32:29 | 172 | 14 |
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