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] It worked! You travelled back in time to Renaissance Age. Jokingly, you turn on your Wi-Fi, only to find a password protected network named "iɔniV ɒᗡ" | "It's ready," said the man, whom I really didn't know.
"What is?" I replied.
"It, now get in!"
Those were the last words I heard before I was pushed in an unknown machine and fell down hundreds of meters from the sky, miraculously landing in safety on a pile of dirt in the middle of what I could see was nowhere. With a gust of wind blowing my hair back as I struggled to look for signs that could tell me I was, I started brushing my clothing to get rid of the dirt that I had fell on.
I zipped open my backpack and found several things: a Macbook Air laptop, an iPhone, and a note. In a case of desperation, I immediately grabbed my phone. I turned it on, and to no avail, found that I had no signal what-so-ever. I looked at the date... and fuck.
I let out a deep sigh, before seeing a city nearby. I placed my items in my backpack, put my phone in my pocket, and started walking to the city.
Not long after, I had reached the city. Without any doubts, I immediately noticed that I was in Italy.. It wasn't a question. The architecture, the clothing.. it was all beautiful. I took out my phone in a final attempt to get any signal or any hope. None. I decided to check the Wi-Fi, because why not. And what do you know.. I found a Wi-Fi network, named "icniV aD". Icniv Da? What's that? Immediately, I realized. Oh. So, I tried to get in it. But rats, it's protected, so I proceeded to move along the city.
I saw beautiful women, handsome men. Everything. It was a history teacher's dream. I found a building marked "City Hall", and entered. Then again, I started to get a little suspicious.. Why are the signs and people all in English? I just brushed it off without thinking of it, continuing my journey.
I then went to fill an identification form... Age, 29. Gender, Male. Relationship Status... you know what, Single. Whatever. Maybe I'll score me a hot vintage chic. And then it all ended.
"IT'S JUST A PRANK BRO! YOU'RE ON CAMERA SMILE!"
All I could think was.. What the fuck.
"IT WAS A TEST, YOU DIRTY CHEATER! YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS RIGHT THERE!"
She was there. Crying. Asking me why.
Fuck.
| I traveled back in time
I don't know how to rhyme
My phone doth on me
Hmmm now let us see
Is there any Wi-Fi?
How silly...Oh My
Who is this Da Vinci Fellow?
I hope his temperament be mellow
Let us go and explore
This genius I will implore
How is it that he created
A way for us to Reddit Bejaded
| 2016-11-15T02:09:33 | 2016-11-15T01:57:04 | 380 | 66 |
[WP] You are an incredibly powerful supervillain. Your nemesis is an ageing superhero that you string along out of pity. You do just enough villainy to get what you want but let your nemesis win every now and then. Things change when a truly evil supervillain enters the city and kills your rival. | There. Are. Rules. Every villian, Every hero if you take up this power you agree to not cross the line. I stared at the monitor in disbelief. I wasn't going to do it. Decades pass and noone crosses that line.
Disbelief
Pro Tip: Monologs
Yes, they give the hero a chance to regroup. Yes it takes a lot of practice to do one properly. But if you dont. Well, maybe the hero doesn't survive your latest death trap. And the next set of heroes hound you forever.
Arctic Saber lay bleeding on camera for a good five seconds. Nobody wanted to cut away, but noone should have to have seen that. Eventually the world dawned on the idea that the mighty Artctic wouldn't be getting up any more. The shot cut away to a News anchor as she wept silently on camera. The technical difficulties tag popped up quickly after that.
Shock
I digested it quickly. I knew he had gotten old, lost a step. Unlike me, he aged. But I had always played along.
He was a buffoon. But he was MY buffoon! How could this happen?
Pro Tip Families
Leave 'em alone. Nothing destroys a hero faster than taking away his reason to be a boy scout.
I knew Patty Jo Murphy was his wife. I'd have to be a fool to not know how much faster he responded when the threat was in her area of town. Little Jamie was balanced on his shoulders at the age of 4 on a picture I had hidden away on my mantle somewhere. I even blew up an abandoned building on his block last time he tried to 'retire' now all Jaime had was grief and a check I could arrange through a shell insurance company. Like her dad she was good people. Give her too much and she'll just donate it away. I've seen her do stuff like that already. Why did this have to happen?
Anger
Who even IS Bloodwolf? Another petty upstart. A snotnosed juvenile delinquent that aged out of juvie with a mutation and a black heart. This is MY town and he violated the most important rule of villiany.
Never steal another man's hero.
_____
He never knew what hit him. For Sabre I would pretend that his frost blade slowed me down. Fair match right?
Blood wolf got none of that. I move far faster than animal instincts can drive you.
Blackened claws with dried blood from my nemesis still on them raked at me to no effect. My skin is far tougher than that. Two punches had him doubled over coughing his own blood. I broke finger after finger letting his howls drown out the sobs I didn't know I was making. His bounding leap only got him as far as the end of my grasp as I snatched him out of the air. My grip snapped his femur in three spots and turned the leg at a bad angle.
His eyes focused on me, but now the wild look was no longer predatory it was the spark of fear. Its been a long time since I tasted that. That and the smell of urine filled the air when I backhanded him at a wall. He . Barely slid to the floor before i caught him again.
'P-p-please' he whined out
I was beyond mercy. I was well past justice. I was Rage. I would do what no hero could, or should do.
'Dont do it, Justin.'
Jamies' voice reached me where none other could. She was behind me. At the doorway.
'He deserves this' I growled more feral than the pulpy wretch still caught in my iron grasp.
'He does, but you dont.' I could hear the tears in her voice.
'Father said you were worth fighting for because you never broke the rules, even when you could'
'He has to pay.' I sobbed. 'He broke the rules.' | (Poem?) To the tune of “Losing My Religion” my REM
Oh, Captain Clobber
(Sigh) there’s slobber
on the bottom of your lip.
I’m ‘bout to aim the laser.
Be careful of your hip.
Oh No, you’ve fallen over.
I’ve pushed too far.
 
That’s me in the Cowl.
That’s me with the spiked boots,
Trying to defeat you.
And trying to keep you from dying.
And I don’t think that you will make it.
Oh No, you’ve broke your hip,
because you slipped.
 
Once we were mortal rivals
Once we went toe to toe.
I used to think you’d never die
 
Every encounter.
Every epic battle
We’d trade bold proclamations.
And sometimes I would lose.
Our rivalry was bold, bold.
But now you’ve fallen over,
I’ve pushed too far.
 
I let you win.
I made you win,
‘Cuz you couldn’t on your own.
I pushed your hand, and planned,
And you stood proud and noble. Hopeful.
But what if all these fantasies come
crashing down.
Because I think, I’ve pushed too far.
 
Once we were mortal rivals
Once we went toe to toe.
I used to think you’d never die
 
But time has other plans.
Time has other plans.
 
What’s on the horizon?
Who’s landing her mech-suit
in the city center?
She’s murdered Captain Clobber.
Now i’ll calibrate my lasers.
This villain's gone too far,
Pushed me too far.
 
You’ve just made a mortal rival.
And now we’ll go toe to toe.
I think i’m going to make you die.
 
I fire off my lasers.
tasers, phasers
mega-quasars
To honor Captain Clobber, Captain Clobber
Captain Clobber, Clobber. | 2020-08-31T13:26:38 | 2020-08-31T10:11:40 | 61 | 19 |
[WP] Today you found out that your girlfriend is a murderous psychopath as she cuts you into pieces and hugs your severed head while she slept, only for her to found out your secret, that you're an immortal who can survives anything. Describe the morning after that. [Possibly NSFW?]
Yandere girlfriend and immortal guy! | "Good morning, dear."
They said Monday morning couldn't get any worse. So what in the world is any good in today, of all time?
"Can't breathe..." I mumbled in-between her clothed bosom. At least I was thankful to have a girlfriend this well-endowed. If only her mind were as developed as her body.
"Then, don't hug me so tight or I'll get excited again."
"My body is over there, actually."
She glanced at my lower half, or more like, 6/7 portion of my entire body walking about on the room trying to find my missing socks. Years of being immortal made me capable of doing various things. It wasn't the first time someone tried to kill me this way, the last time was in England. Still, it's the first time my head being embraced this much.
"So, an immortal..." She raised my head into the air, just like a baby. "First time I've seen one."
"First time I meet a serial killer as well. What do they say it in Chinese... 'young-there'?"
She chuckled. "It's 'yandere', dear, and it's in Japanese." Suddenly, she became all gloomy.
"What's wrong?"
"So, after this we'll break up, right? I guess it's the last time I could call you 'dear' like this. I'll miss it."
I decided to be blunt. "Do you still love me or what?"
"I should be the one to ask." Tears starting to build up. "It's the first time my victim ever talked to me after I killed them. I don't know what to do."
"So you still love me."
It finally rivers through her cheeks. She hugged me again, tighter than before. "...yes."
Damn it. This is why I love her so much. It's probably the first time someone ever loved me this much. Well, I've always tried to avoid any emotional contacts with another human, considering how I would outlive them. It was the first time I ever had a girlfriend either.
Well, sucks to be her. She'll be the one to cry when she dies before me.
"Say, could you put my head where it was? I wanna make some coffee."
She asked, "Is that mean 'yes'?"
"That I still love you? Yes, yes of course. Now, if you mind?"
Her gloom earlier was gone, replaced by one of the most joyful smile I've ever seen throughout my entire 5 thousand years of life. Or is it 6? I've lost count.
"I'll make it for you. No sugar?"
"You just want to hold my head, huh?"
She gave a nod. | "Hey babe"
Your girlfriend jumps what seems to be 10 feet in the air.
"You're..alive?!"
"Yeah, turns out I'm immortal. I figured I'd let you have your way with me since that's the only thing that seems to get you off anymore. Besides, this way you can at least stay out of prison."
She's still struggling to get much of anything out as her jaw hangs to the ground.
"I've never failed to murder one of my victims before. This is humiliating!" She says as she bursts into tears for the very first time.
"Does that mean you're breaking up with me?" | 2017-07-04T16:21:30 | 2017-07-04T13:44:31 | 168 | 24 |
[WP] There are many types of Mages in the world. Fire, Ice, Wind, Water, Death, Darkness, to name a few. But in this world, every type of mage is treated as equal. Everyone can be a good guy, no matter how dark your power. And anyone could be a bad guy, no matter how beautiful their ability...
Edit: Wow
I'm not even sure, this is not the prompt I expected to more than double my other highest, or get gold! Thank you so much! | "Thank you for coming," Bette said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I know it's a lot to ask of you, but.."
Alex waved away the gesture. "I understand completely. If I was in your position, I'd do the same thing."
Inbetween the two mages lay a woman, sustained by a maze of tubes and IVs. Machines hissed as they struggled to keep her cancer-riddled body alive. Bette held her mother's hand, while Alex took the other.
"Mrs. Schumacher? My name is Alex," he said gently. "I'm a friend of Bette's. She told me about how you were suffering, and asked for my help." Mrs. Schumacher's eyelids fluttered slightly, but other than that, she did not stir. On the other side of the bed, Bette sniffled, but held on bravely.
"Mrs. Schumacher, we want to end your suffering. You made your wishes clear, so I am here to aid you on your journey to the afterlife." Alex pulled a large tome out of his backpack, and spread it across the hospital bed. Placing his hand over Bette's mother's forehead, he closed his eyes and began to chant.
Suddenly, it seemed like a shadow was cast over the room, and the temperature dropped a few degrees. The shadows cast by Alex's hand elongated and darkened as he reached the climax of the spell. Mrs. Schumacher gasped softly, her hand using its last ounces of strength to grasp her daughter's. Her head lolled back, and she let out her last breath with a rattle. The machines began their frenzied beeping, but a nurse unplugged them without a word.
The only sound that could be heard was Bette's quiet sniffling, the young woman still at her mother's side as she held her lifeless hands. Alex packed his tome away somberly.
"They welcomed her with open arms," he said quietly. "She's done being in pain."
"Thank you," whispered Bette. "I don't know if I can ever-"
Alex waved away her words. "If I ever need your help, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, be with your family."
Bette nodded, watching as the death mage exited the room. She wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and squeezed her mother's hand one last time before standing up. However, her phone rang, and she pulled it out in irritation.
"I told you I wasn't coming in today," she said angrily.
"I know, but I wouldn't have called you if I had any other choice," her superior replied. "This is an all-hands-on-deck situation, Sergeant. The Light killed another person, and we need a dark-mage task force ASAP."
Bette's stomach dropped. "I'll be on my way," she managed. Sprinting out of the hospital, she spread her hands and began an incantation. Dark clouds of what looked like living smoke began pouring from her mouth and nostrils, and with a snap of her fingers, they cloaked her entire body. When they dissipated, Bette was gone. | "Why? Why are you doing this?"
"So that all may benefit."
"Please, it hurts, it hurts so much."
"Now, now. Relax, let fingers massaging into your arms and shoulders bring the warmth your body craves. You're freezing, your practically a cadaver."
"But it's so warm there, just let me go!"
"Hush, no more of that. Let *MY* warmth take over. You can feel it keep you breathing; keep your heart pumping; your mind working. Otherwise you'd die and then what?"
"Yes! Yes! Please just let me die you damn white devil!"
"But you're no good to me dead. I can't observe life in a corpse. I can't see the very magic of life itself if I let you die. But! In the transition that's where it must lie. To observe the moment when what is becomes what is not. Therein lies the secret. And I will find the secret. I will know it. I will have it. No matter how many times I must heal you and bring you back."
"But it's been centuries! I'm as the living dead!"
"Oh, but time won't matter if we have eternity..."
| 2016-11-12T10:29:07 | 2016-11-12T09:05:54 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] You realize you're a character in a poorly written story when your best friend turns out to be the protagonist and you're expected to blindly support them.
Bonus if it's a sci-fi/fantasy story. | If you want to speak to somebody who’s got it all figured out, speak to Barclay Lantern. I hope you’re thinking ‘What the bloody hell kind of name is that?! Barclay-bloody-Lantern..’ But nobody seems to give him a bad time about it. In fact, whenever anybody says his name they stare off into space like they’re remembering an orgasm. There’s been some weird shit going on around here lately.
I’m John by the way. In our party of four, I’m the lanky one with the biggest gun (CiderTecc 80mm ’33 model with one hell of a fire rate) Despite spending my adolescence as a member of the 2nd Location’s firing squad I never seem to make a kill shot when it counts. My rounds seem to disappear in to thin air, leaving Barclay-bloody-Lantern to take my glory with his shitty cell pistol his grandfather gave him. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him re-load or maintain his weapon but it’s always there in his hand near the end of a battle, ready to kill a beast with a single shot. As I said…Weird shit.
On a side note, I’ve had this bloody head scarf wrapped around my face for as long as I can remember… It doesn’t actually come off so I have no idea what’s going on under there. Nobody seems to acknowledge that there might be a hygiene issue. The problem is, I can’t say any of this out loud. Before you typecast me as a reserved, anxious, flower let me set you straight. I’m not afraid of nothing. The problem is, I have zero control over what comes out of my mouth. I’ll speak and immediately think ‘Where the fuck did that come from?’. It’s usually a load of bullshit about working together and how impressed I am with Barclay-bloody-Lantern’s paralysing wisdom and adventurous spirit. It’s always about him. Twat.
He’s got a girl, and that’s who we’ve been searching for these last 3 years because the clueless bitch was taken by one of the spore advancement cults somewhere near the treble locations (1,3 and 9) If you don’t know anything about Earth History I should mention here that she’s not one of us. I won’t bore you with details but she’s part of some shitty council from the other side of the galaxy. I have a hard time believing half of the shit they tell me. I’ve never actually left the planet so I’m a mix of cynicism and ignorance. All I know is that this place is in a bad way and I’m supposed to help save the humans that are left (and a shitty council member).
There are these fucked-up looking craters appearing all over this place. It takes 12 hours for them to fully form and then the middle bit crusts up and cracks, releasing spores that cover about a 1/4 mile radius. Fuckwit creeps have been worshiping the spores and inhaling them (human stupidity is infinite and all that). It wasn’t so bad at first. The side affects meant they sounded like asthmatics, their eyes sank deep into their skull, their teeth and nails got a lot longer, their skin cracked like the earth and their hair fell out. It wasn’t long before the continental locations were groaning along like a nation of grandma and grandpas.
But then an idiot came along to make it worse (like always). They learnt that if you compress the spores and expose them to intense heat they mutate into these fucking giant abominations. Beasts. The biggest one I’ve seen was the size of a two story building.
The biggest crater appeared not too long ago in Location 76, we haven’t seen it, but apparently it’s pretty big. Thing is though, it cracked at the bottom of a man-made volcano (Part of an ancient pilot scheme to promote the formation of new land for the endangered canine species) You see the problem here.
I was called in to join the party after graduating from the firing squad. My time there is a bit of a blur. It’s the inconsistency I can’t deal with, you know? Sometimes the world comes to life and there are battles, arguments, discoveries and death and I can smell, taste, see and feel. Other times, things are void. When Barclay Lantern isn’t around, it’s like I disappear.
I think that’s what makes me a good soldier. I’m there when I need to be, I do what I’m told to do and it’s never about me, it’s about following the cause. Whatever cause Barclay-bloody-Lantern thinks is important at the time. Even though I’m complaining, I’ll admit that I’m grateful to the guy. As much as I envy him, I could never see him fail. We’re in this together, because if we aren’t then I’m not in it at all.
| Jake descended from Mt. Bad, clad in badass black armor, carrying an enormous flaming sword. I looked at him and burst out laughing. "Is that really what you're wearing?" I said, bent over. Jake brandished his sword at me, saying "Don't question, just follow along!" in a voice that sounded like a high-pitched tea kettle, nothing like the deep, soothing voice I knew him for. I wondered where this new voice came from. "Show yourself, trickster!" I shouted at the nearby bushes. "It's not a trick, it's me, the author!" the voice squeaked. "You're ruining the story with your ceaseless questions. I'll have to instruct you myself." Jake and I rode onward to a neighboring town without interruption, coming to a halt at the town gates, where a mob of townsfolk had gathered. As they spotted us, they began to plead for our services. "Oh, brave knights, won't you help us lowly peasants kill the mighty dragon who plagues the land?". Jake vowed to slay the fearsome dragon in return for the town's fairest maiden, a demand to which I erupted in protest. "Really? You don't even know if she loves you! What would your wife think of your adultery?" I said as he drew his sword in response. "Daddy's has some needs that Mommy can't take care of sometimes, so he visits other Mommies." the author responded. "Mommy doesn't like this, so she went away. There she is now!" he said, forcing me to point at the incoming scaly beast. Bizarrely, rather than having a dragon's maw, its head was that of a plump, brunette 40 year-old woman. "Kill the beast!" the author said, his voice breaking. Thinking quickly, I ripped Jake's weapon from his gloves, responding to his bewildered face with "The dragon hasn't hurt anyone! The town is spotless! There wasn't any danger!" This infuriated the author, prompting him to remedy the situation. Despite the protests of every fiber of my being, I returned Jake's sword through gritted teeth. With a triumphant roar, he plunged the sword deep into the dragon's face, wetting the ground in blood. "Die, die , die!" the author said with glee as Jake slashed at the corpse, emitting flares that set the town alight. "See? The dragon *did* burn the village!" hr crowed. "That was all you!" I said, bringing the hilt of my sword down on his nose. He scrambled to his feet, protesting that it was an accident and that he didn't mean to burn the village. "Don't you leave me too!" he sobbed as I stormed off.
I wanted the kid to use the story as a way of dealing with his father's adultery, which caused his parents to divorce. The kid blames himself for the divorce, which the main character's protests represents. Hope that came across. | 2016-01-12T03:36:35 | 2016-01-12T02:51:00 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible. | "We've finally done it comrades! Welcome to the birth of the Sixteenth Reich, this time, the German Empire will last for a thousand years!" shouted the Emperor.
The men and women all raised their glasses in unison, celebrating their long awaited victory against the Allies. It had taken them several hundred years and sixteen great wars, but they finally did. They finally created their long standing empire. The Emperor himself had spent ten years on this great war.
At that moment, the door flung open. "Guards?' the Emperor asked.
"No," said the woman who slammed open the door.
"We tried to stop her!" shouted the guard.
"Where have you been?!?" the woman shouted.
"I-I-I can explain dear," said the Emperor.
Everyone was shocked to see the Emperor so scared. On every major battlefield, he commanded the troops with such precision and his tactics were what ultimately carried their forces to victory.
"Who is this?" the Major asked.
"Who am I?!?" the woman shouted. "I am his wife!"
The woman stamped her foot on the ground as she walked past everyone. She was angry. She was wearing a shirt that said MAW, Mothers Against War. "Is something wrong dear?" the Emperor asked.
"You haven't been home in ten years!" the woman shouted. "Albert and Rilla are heading to college and you haven't seen them since they first went to school!"
"I can explain," said the Emperor.
"No explaining!" shouted the woman. She turned around to look at everyone else. "Don't think you guys are free either."
At that moment, dozens of people walked in. Everyone went from a sense of celebration to a sense of dread. They all recognized at least one person that walked in. They were all a relative of one officer.
"All of you are coming home," said the woman.
"But!" the Emperor interrupted.
"No buts!" said the woman. "You're coming home to see the children. You're coming home to take a look at all the things you've missed."
"We can't now!" shouted the Emperor. "We just conquered Europe!"
"Yeah, I doubt that," said the woman. She grabbed the Emperor by his ear and pulled him.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!" the Emperor cried. "I'm not lying!"
The woman dragged the Emperor out of the room. One by one, each person was removed.
The guards at the door were confused. "What now?" asked one of the guards.
"Well, our leadership is gone again," the other guard answered.
"Does that mean what I think it means?" the first guard asked.
"Yeah, we just lost another one," the other guard answered.
"Better luck next time I guess," said the first guard. | "Come on in" I heard a tired voice call out. I stepped into the room, and saw our leader looking worn out and tired. "Is everything alright sir?" I ask. "I'm thinking of surrendering to Belgium." He said. "But they're the last country standing in our way of continental domination?!! Their tech is from the 22nd century, their lasers can barely penetrate the average drones first layer of armor! Why would we surrender???!!!" I exclaimed in shock. The fuhrer looked at me with a dead look in his eyes, and asked one question that would change my life: "Would world peace really be that ridiculous?" | 2017-08-18T05:26:15 | 2017-08-18T05:12:07 | 76 | 29 |
[WP] You kept getting reincarnated into new fantasy worlds upon dying. Everytime you die, you keep a small part of your power, forever increasing. One day, as you sacrifice yourself for the world once again, you wake up not as a newborn in a fantasy world...but as a scavanger in a zombie apocalypse.
[deleted] | Jacob Masters was tired. He'd lived a thousands lives on a thousand different worlds...and he was tired. He stood above the Dark Lord as blood poured down his leg from the wound in his side. It was an injury he easily could have avoided but at the moment he'd received it he was ready for it to be over.
A thousand different lives, a thousand worlds of friends and loved ones left behind. Sometimes he'd barely be there a day, some a few months, on others he'd lived a lifetime. yet he was always dragged back into a new conflict, a new evil to defeat.
"You are ready to go home aren't you?" the cleric asked as she stepped up next to him, a wave of magic healing his injury "the Dark Lord should not have been able to hurt you so unless you willed it."
"I don't think I'll ever go home" Jacob said "I'm just ready for it to be over. I can't do this any longer". His eyes wandered to the broken body of the archer Tia who had taken the killing blow that had been meant for him.
"Then I am sorry that you have at least one more journey to take". The Clerics smile was tinged with sadness as the familiar golden glow of travel to another world surrounded him. "Oh boy!" Jacob said, allowing himself a brief moment of levity.
........
As he arrived on the world that would be his new home for however long he would stay all Jacob could hear was moaning. No not moaning but a almost deep longing.
"Fuck man I thought you were dead" Jacob heard as he was pulled out of the crashed car he didn't know he was sitting in "I knew you couldn't drive for shit but did you really have to crash?"
Juniper stared down at her scavenger partner and shook her head as he seemed completely out of it. Connor had always been an idiot but trying to outrun a horde and trying to pull a handbrake turn to impress her had been an idiotic move.
The horde of undead they had been running from had now surrounded them "get up and at least die on your feet" Juniper snarled as she pushed a Philips screwdriver through the eye of the first of the dead to reach them but then another grabbed her arm and went to bite.
Only it never had the chance.
The zombies flew away from them as if pushed by a hurricane "my name is Jacob and where the hell am I this time?"
........
The women had refused to say anything other than "let's get the hell out of here" until they were far away from where Jacob had woken up. This new world appeared to be a variation of Earth, the first he'd ever encountered, given that they were sitting on the roof of a popular big box store he'd visited many times before his travels had begun.
Juniper eyed him with curiosity as they filled her mouth with a tin of tuna that they'd taken from the store on their way to the roof.
"You're not Connor are you?" she finally asked as she wiped a drop of brine from the corner of her mouth.
"No I'm not" Jacob said "would you believe I'm a magical hero from another world?"
Juniper laughed and it sounded as if it had been a long time since she'd done so "if you'd told me three years ago I'd be surviving in a zombie apocalypse I would have called you a mad man. The power you showed back at the car though...hell I'm prepared to believe anything now."
She stood and walked over and extended a hand to help him up "so Mr. Magical Hero. Care to show a girl how you're going to save the world?" |
Gunfire echoes through a dark metro tunnel, distant and irregular. A gaunt, disheveled figure in a green hooded jacket makes their way through a maze of ramshackle structures. Little whispers fill the air from behind tattered drapes covering open windows. The figure smiles, her chapped lips parting slightly.
The woman in the green hood finds her destination, a steel door built in to the side of is tunnel. An elderly man, armed with a rifle sits at the door. He smiles when he sees her.
"You've finally returned" he says, his excitement barely restrained.
The woman in green gives the man a nod as she opens the door and walks in. She enters a long hallway lit with lamps. She passes a room with colorful art covering the walls and another with lines on the floor and a ball resting in the corner. She enters the room at the end of the hall. It's filled with small desks and chairs. A dark haired man sits at a long table at the head of the room. A chalkboard hangs on the wall behind him, covered in examples of simple sentences.
The dark haired man looks as he sees the women in green.
"Back again I see" the man says to her with raised eyebrows.
The woman in green approaches and places a parcel on his desk before him. He opens it to reveal a thick makeshift book.
The man smiles as he lifts his head to meet her amber gaze. "How do you come up with these stories?" He says with genuine interest and amazement.
She smirks, "wish I could tell you". | 2022-01-05T14:11:12 | 2022-01-05T12:09:32 | 72 | 31 |
[WP] You've always helped your friend cheat on tests, one day he is told he needs to take a special test. You slip him a secret earbud and listen in on the test. It's weird, he just has to choose between 3 objects over and over, you roll with it. At the end of the test he's told he is the chosen one | "What do you mean, the Chosen One?"
I was dumbfounded. How could they possibly test for something like that? It seemed absurd. Wouldn't the Chosen One have some immaterial connection to fate, to the Universe, to God, that would confound all empirical testing measures? Would the divine really allow itself to be identified by some basic psychometry? People cannot even devise tests that will determine, for certain, if a person will be a good teacher, or welder, or pilot. There are too many extraneous variables at play. And yet, this test was somehow able to determine that he, my friend Brett, or, rather, that I, since I told him all the answers, was the Chosen One?
"I don't know, man," said Brett. He was flicking through Instagram on his phone. "That's just what they told me. And I have to go to some spot tomorrow morning--they gave me the address--and, like, start my training or whatever."
"What building?" I asked.
He kept scrolling through his phone. He clearly was not taking this very seriously.
"What building, dude?"
"What?" he said. "I don't know. They emailed me the address."
He looked back at his phone, then paused, thinking for a moment.
He looked back up at me, with friendly eyes, and said: "Thank you, man. It's been a bummer not being able to find work, and, like, I'm not too good on tests. I really appreciate what you did for me. These employment tests. Well, you know. I get that the government wants to see where your strengths are, so they can put you in the right place and all. But my strengths don't come out on tests. They're other strengths. Not test strengths. So, it means a lot. When I have some money from this new gig, I'll take you out for dinner. How's that sound?"
I was hardly listening to a word he was saying.
The Chosen One.
I was the Chosen One.
Of course, they would soon find out that Brett was not the one who had taken the test. He would show up, promptly reveal his incompetence, and then they would question him. Though I would trust Brett in most situations not to roll over on me, I imagine the government would go to great lengths to find out the truth, and to be directed to the true Chosen One. The fate of the country, perhaps even the world, might depend on it. I would not put it past them to use all kinds of sinister manipulations, even torture, to get him to speak. And then, they would be led to me. And I would be led to greatness.
I had always known I was special. It was simply the way people treated me. The way I got along in the world. I am very intelligent, for one. And I understand people quite well. I am good-looking enough. I can see and solve problems often before other people even glimpse the first shadows of them on the horizon. And things work out for me. Even though I don't plan, even though I don't work very hard, even though I often miss deadlines, laze through my days, and hardly pick up after myself--yet, the doors of success, of opportunity, seem to open before me, as if simply by my willing them to.
My parents do not seem to recognize how exceptional I am. But what difference does that make? As Christ himself, one of the former Chosen Ones, once said: "Only in his home town and in his own house is a prophet without honour."
Sure, they are a fine sort, my parents. They work hard, year after year, at their jobs which they don't particularly like, to provide for me and the rest of my family. They buy the groceries. They pay the utilities. They paid for my school, and have allowed me to live at home, rent-free, while I'm "looking for work" (though, as they seem to recognize, not looking very hard). But I always knew I was a cut above the common weal. I always knew that the regular, work-a-day world was not for me. I always knew that I was destined for something greater, and so, I bided my time, and put up with their mundane frustrations about my "lack of initiative," "lack of decency", and "lack of contribution to the household".
But now...the Chosen One. Is that not vindication for my beliefs? Will they not now recognize that I always was, indeed, a little too impressive a specimen to bother with making my bed in the mornings, and doing my own laundry. They say Einstein could not open a car door. And yet he was the greatest genius of the twentieth century. How much greater is my potential, how much more magnificent my genius, if he was a mere physicist, while I...I am the Chosen One?
"Right here," said Brett, holding his phone in front of my face.
"What?" I said, snapping out of my reverie.
"Here it is. The address. Can you give me a ride there tomorrow? I'll pay you gas money as soon as I get some. Scout's honour."
As I studied the email, the swirling visions of greatness, the exalted feelings of omnipotence and self-congratulation, drained, as if from my brain to my stomach, and then from my stomach, down, out of my body. As a glory-puffed balloon popped, I sank, deflated, into my seat, and read aloud: "Customer Service Representative at The Chosen One: Young Adult Fiction Store."
"16 bucks an hour," said Brett. "Not bad, hey?"
"Yeah," I croaked. I could feel my hands trembling. "That's not bad at all." | “I don’t know man. Pick the leaf.”
When I told Jason I would help him cheat, I didn’t think he meant on a test. Blonde flowing hair, blue eyes, toned muscles, over six feet tall — Jason’s got it all.
Well...almost. He doesn’t have patience. I’m not going to say Jason is dumb as a brick, oh no quite the opposite. I often find myself impressed when I see Jason tackle a problem that life threw at him.
Banned from the school bus? Jason made friends with a local Hispanic cab driver. Dropped ketchup on his favorite sweatshirt? Jason flipped it inside out and started a new trend. The city turned off your families water? Jason took advantage of a limited time offer from a 24/7 gym to shower daily. What’s more, he met the so called “love of his life” in that gym.
Need help passing a test because his ADHD has been left untreated by neglectful parents? Jason has me.
When he first asked me to help him cheat, I figured I would help him hookup with some goddess and swoop in on lovely Lola myself. Be there with fresh tissues, cold ice cream and a warm shoulder.
But Jason isn’t like that, and when I agreed to help him cheat, I wasn’t expecting him to hand me an earpiece on our way to chemistry class. I did what a good friend would do and helped him in his time of need. When he asked me to do it again, I said no. But when Lola asked me with her lush green eyes I couldn’t say no.
So imagine my surprise when I’m walking to study hall and Jason comes running at me frantically. Not talking in complete sentences, all I could hear was “Help! Please! Special test! Now! Now!”
I sat down in the back of the class and tuned in on my earpiece, just to hear Jason say the following:
“This is a strange test. You want me to pick between a ball, a cube and a leaf? And there’s going to be more? Well alright, but I need to say the items out loud. I’m an auditory learner. Yes, it’s a thing.”
So Jason picked the leaf. Then when they gave him a train, a car and a bus, I decided a bus would be the choice. Humble and better for close distant travel. When they asked him to choose between a sunflower, daffodil or chrysanthemum, that’s when I just began guessing.
On and on it went. An ace of clubs, an ace of spades or an ace of diamonds. A branch, a twig or a stick. Clumps of dirt, soil or mud. Satin, linen or cotton. Three rocks varying in size. Three rulers varying in length. Three pairs of socks varying in stitching. A church, a bank or a hotel. A mother, a father or a loving couple.
Question after question they drilled him through my entire study hall, and then lunch too! Finally, I heard one final question. A gun, a knife or a club.
I didn’t answer. Jason didn’t answer. He repeated once more. A gun, a knife or a club. I was stunned. I told Jason not to answer, but all of a sudden I heard the sound of the answer I would have chosen. Muffled sounds of a club beating against human skin, muscle and bone. Jason fought back, tried to scream but it was to no avail. I listened in horror to the solemn whispers. I heard the word “microphone” and threw the earpiece from my ear.
Suddenly, standing in front of me, dazzling like the sun’s reflection on water, stood Lola.
“Come with me,” she stretched out her hand. “Your life is about to change forever.” | 2020-02-18T21:46:20 | 2020-02-18T21:21:09 | 47 | 11 |
[WP] It’s been 2 years since the zombie apocalypse has started, and you haven’t seen anyone alive in a terribly long time. The only reason for your survival is that the zombies don’t care for you at all - in fact they all seem to be avoiding you. All except for one. | The small spade made a satisfying thud as it dug into the soil beneath it. The earth was moist and prime for planting, giving off a pleasantly earthy smell. Richard wiped the sweat and grime off his brow with his flannel sleeve and reached into the small seed pouch on his belt. His gloved fingers fumbled for a second, struggling to find purchase on the seeds. He got a good pinch and dropped a few small potato seeds into the hole, tenderly using the shovel to replace the dirt and cover the seeds.
With a groan and some protest from his back Richard stood, surveying his day’s work. There were 5 even rows spread before him, all with subtle mounds along their length. Further along there was a humble barn, a rickety structure barely big enough to escape being called a shed, and next to it his small home. The Sun was low on the horizon, dipping into the shingled outline of the house and washing it in orange hues. There were a couple saplings between the house and the barn, timid-looking trees which would hopefully start bearing fruit in the next dozen years.
A satisfying sigh escaped Richard’s mouth; how he’d longed for this lifestyle. Every week he would buy a lottery ticket, anxiously awaiting the results. “Next week”, he’d always tell himself. He would draw little doodles of farmhouses at work, decorating his cubicle and daydreaming of the countryside. He clearly remembered the second time he had won a lottery.
Chorus of screams had filled the streets that day. Richard had tried to run, but it was a free for all once a horde formed. The memory surfaced, and the scar on his chin itched ever so slightly. He had tripped over someone’s body, right in the middle of an intersection - barely a block away from his office. He had shaken violently on the ground, sobbing, but nothing came. No teeth or fingers ripped into his skin, and no feet stomped on his back. It was like a river parting for a huge boulder, reverently giving it recognition. Thousands of rabid bodies ran by, screaming and trampling everything in their way. Everything except him, for some reason.
A pack of two or three drifted in the corner of his vision, snapping him out of his haze. Richard watched the zombies lazily move towards his home, then eventually curve into a new path and wander away. He hadn’t needed fences since his livestock died, save for around the fields to keep his crops from being trampled.
This was hardly what he had imagined, but he was content. He had a small home, land… he should be grateful. He finished planting the last few seeds and wrapped up for the day. As he slid his dirtied gloves off his calloused hands, he heard a groan. About 20 feet away from his front porch, as close as the zombies seemed to get, there was single figure standing there, slightly swaying side to side.
The hair on its head was plastered and dried with blood, and its skin had a sickly green complexion. There were signs of gangrene all over its body, body parts unnaturally sticking out left and right, yet its eyes were an unmistakable hazel brown. They glinted in the dying light of the sunset, beckoning him to remember.
And with tear streaking down his cheeks Richard turned his back on the figure, forcing a ragged breath out which he didn’t realize he was holding. After stuffing the gloves in the back pocket of his jeans Richard gently fingered the golden band on his ring finger, remembering with a sad smile the first time he had won the lottery. | I opened my little notebook and looked for other symbol that I noticed at the entrance of the city. I have been doing characoal drawings long before epidemic started. That symbol reminded my one of my old drawings, Mr.Owl which I drew when I was in high school.
The building that I’m standing in front of it has the same symbol on the door and it seems way older than other buildings around. Door is already half open and I look inside with my flashlight, nothing interesting so far. There is not much furniture inside only small pieces of woods on the ground. Then, I realise there is a vault shaped box standing on top of very old chair. I check around before I completely focus on the box.
It’s seems like made out of some sort of metal and it doesn’t have any keypad or any other thing that I can intract to open it. It seems more heavier than I first anticipated. It’s easily weighs more than my backpack.
The light that comes from one of the windows gets interrupted for a second and I immediately turn my back to see what just happened and seems like there is nothing that is moving. My heart beats faster, I get more panicky suddenly. There is definitely something inside here. I can feel it but I don’t know where.
Suddenly, something moves towards me. I point my flashlight to that direction and I see the zombie coming closer to me. They usually ignore me but this one, seems like wants me. As soon as I reach to my knife zombie stopped moving. We were staring at each other...
---------------------------------
*Please don't mind any writing or grammar mistakes, I'm not a native speaker* | 2019-05-26T11:36:30 | 2019-05-26T06:45:44 | 82 | 36 |
[WP] Humans are the least intelligent species on Earth. The entire animal kingdom plays along out of pity for our idiocy. |
It had just struck 9pm and Donny, your regular, everyday man was just starting his daily routine to get ready for bed. It had been a busy day at the office today; the boss was none too pleased with Donny's performance as of late. I guess assigned paperwork not getting in on time and being late for more than a few meetings didn't really strike the bosses fancy.
Donny had been with the same company for 10 years now and had seriously been trying to move up the latter of the company for a while now with no success and his patience was, frankly, wearing thin. He'd hoped tomorrow, being a new day would bring brighter and better things for him.
As he finished up his nightly routine, the last part being to put out the garbage, he went to climb in bed, ready for his usual subpar sleep.
*clank*
Donny's ears perked up. Raccoons. Those pesky always came around the same time each night, always rifling through his garbage, and always leaving a mess worse than the last. Maybe they'll notice that the only thing in the garbage tonight was that old, gross computer, Donny thought, as he closed his eyes in an attempt to ignore the noise and fall asleep
*scrape*
*screech*
Damn. Looks like this ain't stopping anytime soon. With a roll of the eyes and a stumble to the door, Donny grabbed the trusty broom and headed from his room to the back door of the house. As he got closer he lightened his steps and gingerly opened the door. And at that moment, as he opened that door, he saw the very trash pandas he had suspected, and as he stepped out side and slowly closed the door, he noticed something slightly unusual.
These raccoons were breaking down his computer. And not just breaking it down, they looked almost as if they were salvaging a part or two from it. Intrigued, Donny decided to watch a little longer before scaring them away. Yes, there were what seemed to be three raccoons, salvaging parts and throwing them into what looked like a hole In the lawn. He stepped closer to get a better look when suddenly
*snap*
Damn, a twig. And just like that all three heads swung to look at Donny and all three heads went to make a dash for it. Donny darted to chase the raccoons, as he was sick of their nonsense and wanted it to end and, noticing, only for a second, the hole they had been throwing their treasures into had magically disappeared. He dashed past the boundary of his yard and saw the raccoons turn towards an old oak tree that had been in his neighbourhood for as long as anyone could remember. He chased them right up to the old tree and just as the raccoons climbed the branches and he thought his chase was over, the tree started to shift.
Everything around the tree shook like an earthquake. And before Donny could process what was happening the tree started to shift and lower. The tree was sinking underground! And the raccoons were still calmly hanging onto the tree. One raccoon, Donny swears, even started pointing and giggling at Donny's failed, and obviously laughable attempt, at catching them.
But that was all the motivation he needed. As the tree lowered, Donny grabbed one of the branches and held on for dear life.
The tree sunk deeper and deeper
10 feet
30 feet
50 feet!
They had to have been on that thing for a good hundred feet down before the magic started to happen. The tree pivoted and started to transform. Branches first lowered themselves to the ground to allow all passengers off safely. The raccoons never even glanced over at Donny, though did keep a safe distance and were now standing upright and proper. Much more proper than Donny's slightly slouched demeanor. Finally the tree converted its trunk into a base and wheels and the leaves were shifted into tiny little seats for the raccoons and one giant seat for their unwelcome human companion.
Amazing! This tree just became a car! Donny thought to himself. As Donny and the raccoons climbed in, the tree finally came to a stop and there it was; a giant open, glossy white room, filled with every animal imaginable, in white lab coats, most with glasses or goggles working on things Donny couldn't even begin to explain
Donny had just accidentally discovered an underground animal labratory | I do not understand these humans, Rick.
What is there not to understand, Sam?
When do they mature? When do they see the truth?
You mean the cycle of life? Yeah, they don’t understand.
How is it possible? Every species on this planet does.
Except for these guys right here. To top it off, they seem to think they are the most intelligent of all life.
You would think they would realize it when a majority of them live a majority of lives in misery. Even the ones who do see the truth cannot pass it on to the others.
Well there were a few who tried - *Siddharta Gautama and the other Buddhas, Krishna, Jesus, Muhammad, Odin*. The humans worship them but they do not listen to their wisdom and teachings. What lunacy is that?
It isn’t really that hard of a concept either. Life is just cycles:
* Be born - explore life, play, take in the beauty of the world.
* Grow up – enjoy and appreciate life as you do. Take pleasure, procreate, travel and experience life to the fullest.
* Do your duty – joy comes from it, give back, help when you can
* Grow old and die – meditate, think of the nature of life and what is truth or happiness, and the universe. Attain *moksha* and move your now enlightened soul into the next life.
They do not understand the concept of duty nor appreciate the beauty of death. Therein lies their problem.
Maybe I will try explaining it to them in my next life.
You know that we do not tell them since it is the greatest source of entertainment for us. The only one actually.
It isn't right. You know it.
I do. But you know to do that you must sacrifice the progress you have made through your lives so far.
We must fall to pick ourselves up and get stronger. To let ourselves to grow. Only through sacrifice can we reach our salvation. It is one of the essentials to achieving salvation. Maybe through this I can finally become one with the universe.
You do not have the patience yet, my dear friend and that is why you are the mouse and I am the cat. But if still feel that it is your purpose, then I will help you move on. I promise I will make it quick dear friend.
| 2017-10-22T03:28:05 | 2017-10-22T03:05:33 | 76 | 56 |
[WP] You have a box, with a button. Press it and a year later you'll be right back to when you pressed it. A year without consequences. | [WIP]
"So typical. So. Fucking. Typical." Brit stood there with her arms crossed. This was a very familiar image. The dictator stood on the other end of the room. Her glare burning a hole in my forehead as the Mac 'n' Cheese burnt a hole through my tongue. "Why would you even bother coming home, when you're just going to elephant your way through the kitchen at 3 o'clock in the morning?"
"Fantastic." I managed to sound out between juggling the molten lead in my mouth. "I just. JUST. Got home after---" I paused. I couldn't get the words out. "You know what, I don't need to even explain this. We've been going through this--"
"For what feels like forever." Brit said softly. In reality, it's been 6 months since.
I didn't know what to say after that. Neither did Brit. We didn't really *talk* after last year because...of that whole...mess.
"I'm..." Brit broke the silence. I knew what was coming. It wasn't like it was new. "I'm going to be staying at my parents for a--"
"How long?"
"I...I'm not sure. I'm really not. Maybe we did jump into this marriage too fast. Maybe they--"
"Don't fucking say it."
"--they were right."
Every god damn time. 'They were right'. Her shitty, 'your-husband-is-a-piece-of-shit' flag-waving parents in their infinite wisdom knew that this would happen. That our *loooooving* family would be the one blessed by disease and death. Somehow it was my fault. The worst part of it all? I **believed** them. I still do.
Jason. This all happened because of that night with Jason. And that day with Jason. And that party with Jason. And that car--
Christ, how many times has it been now? That's one, then there's tw--
***SLAM***
Brit left a little early this time around. Maybe spacing out did the trick?
I make my way to my study and look for that damn thing. Now where did I put it? I start to sift through the files and the photos. Albums upon albums that are constant reminders that I failed. But maybe if I find i--
"There you are." I say out loud. It sounds a little strange to me, the way my voice rose. The gleefulness. The excitement. This little box with a red button inside bringing about so much joy.
I take a long look at it this time. The lacquer was so smooth. It was etched with gold trimmings that was very similar to the old trinkets my mother would buy at the market in the *kampung* growing up. My fingers able to glide across it so effortlessly and tracing the lines. How can...something so powerful, be so tiny?
I lift the lid and see the button. A bright red button.
Without hesitation I push it.
The travel back is nothing like you'd imagine. It is seriously nothing. You don't feel it. You don't see it. You also don't hear---
***CRASH***
I dart to the kitchen, following the sound of the crash. I'm not prepared for what's in front of me. It doesn't get easier. When you see someone, or something that you've lost and have it returned. It's that feeling of home that your body just will never be able to contain.
And there he was. In his Batman onesie like always. One knee propped up on the kitchen counter and the toes of his other foot dangled for shoddy balance about an inch above the floor. His tiny arms opening the cabinet for the pots and pans. With that silly grin on his face. His eyes like his mothers staring back at me, knowing that I would be the one to help him out.
"DadIswearIdidn'tdoanythingIwasjust--" He rapidly exclaimed.
My Jason.
"Trying to make Mac'n'Cheese?"
"Yep." He said defeated, slinking down off the counter. I pick up the pot that fell and look around.
"Don't worry, it seems like your mom didn't wake up. But keep a look out, we can't have her wake up because of how busy she is." Jason salutes me as he darts behind me and keeps watch around the corner of the kitchen.
"Nothing yet." He whispers.
"Good. Now what do you want?" I hold up two boxes of Mac'N'Cheese. "Dinosaurs? Or Cars?"
"Dinosaurs!" He shouts.
"SHHHH!" I sound off as he covers his mouth. I can see him smiling behind his fingers.
We sit down at the dinner table as the water is brought to a boil. We're silent. Jason's hair is a perfect blend of Brit's and mine. Wavy and curly and wild like his mother's, yet soft and light brown like mine.
"I don't think I'll ever get tired of Mac'N'Cheese." Jason whispers excitedly to me.
I dump the noodles into the boiling water and reach for the milk. Jason studies me as I look right back at him. It doesn't get any easier. But I have to keep trying. I will relive this moment.
"Neither will I, bud." I smile. "Neither will I."
##*
*This is my first one so, please feel free to destroy it. I am trying to get better at writing so any type of criticism would really help me out.* | The most important day of my life was the one when I received this powerful magical artifact. It was a time machine, but with one limitation: it only had the ability to send me back in time to when I activated it.
So if I pressed the big red emergency button on its top, in a year's time I would be sent back to the point at which I pressed it. In effect, it was a pocket dimension that brought me to a dream world for a year, then dumped me right back where I was in real life.
However, there are some problems with only being able to spend exactly one year: If I did something really horrible, I'd have to kill my dream self to escape into the real world. And if I did something great, it would all be gone at year's end and I would never be able to get it back.
This was a major block to using the power for anything not of the utmost importance. Sure, I could ask my friend if she loves me, but even if she says yes in the dream world, there's no guarantee it'll go the same in real life.
Most people, I bet, would go live a life of raping and pillaging and committing endless crimes without consequences. But when you think harder, you realize that there's still a whole year of punishment ahead of you. Unless you die in a gunfight, you're going to spend the rest of the year in prison or a mental hospital, the latter of which is probably the worst-case scenario since they actively try to prevent you from killing yourself and escaping the dreamworld.
The first time I used the time machine, I went through a year of high school and did my best to learn everything. It was a rather productive year as far as academics go, but I avoided social interaction because that would go away after returning to reality. Once the year was finally over and I returned to real life, I easily breezed through all of the coursework that I had learned once already. Spent the rest of the year playing Fallout 4, which I don't do in the dream world because all my progress would go away.
Some major events that happen in the dream world may go differently in real life, or may not even happen at all. Everything based on random chance rerolls itself and may have an entirely different outcome, and anything that's based on my decisions will be completely different if I do even the slightest thing off from what I did in the previous dream world.
The second time I used the time machine, it was again to gain experience for use in real life. I took an unpaid internship in the IT department of a local company. The job itself was mostly uninteresting, but it gave me a look into the inner workings of the company, so in the real year, I got hired and moved up the company ladder easily.
That summer in the dream world, Six Flags over Texas announced a new ride, and finished it a week before the day I would return to reality. So I rode on a rollercoaster that nobody else in real life ever has. Kinda surreal.
The third and final time I used the machine, I did some kinda bad stuff. At first I went on with my life as though it were real, but towards the end of the year I secretly hooked up with this really hot girl who went to college with me. It's fun when you know that even if you get her pregnant, the baby will never be born because the dream world shuts down before that. That kinda made me think about the ethics of the dream world. The time machine makes carbon copies of everyone in the world, and then destroys them instantly after a year. But if I bring a life into the world, and then destroy it immediately? It kinda made me feel bad, and I didn't use the time machine again. | 2015-12-15T09:13:40 | 2015-12-15T08:25:37 | 64 | 10 |
[WP] You swear like half of your class seems to be characters in a below average, cliche plagued, high school romance novel and watching it from the perspective of a normal person just trying to get through school is much more painful than reading it from the outside in a book | “Oh, Chaddicus. Every time I see you juggle your soccer ball around the school halls, it just makes me swoon. I know you are with Elizabeth, but she doesn’t have to know about us.” I tried to pass the awkward exchange, but as usual, both Chaddicus and Sarah were blocking the hallways, making everyone stop to watch their display.
“SPORTS,” Chaddicus responded, tossing the soccer ball back and forth between his fingers. The action somehow causing Sarah to blush, covering her cheeks at the riveting exchange of dialogue.
“Yes, I know it’s wrong, but it feels right. She’s not popular enough to be with you. She wears glasses and I wear Highlow gloss lipstick, now available at the Highlow store in Alanfield. Buy yours today.” Sarah turned to face a random set of lockers before turning her attention back to Chaddicus.
“She doesn’t play sport, but she plays with my heart. I love her, but I love soccer. How can I kick a goal at her heart If I’m with you?” Chaddicus said, finally stepping aside, giving me a chance to sneak past, only to be stopped by the sudden oohing of the crowd.
I squeezed past the hulking mass of muscle, turning to see Elizabeth. It was typical. Any drama always ended with the other person finding out. It was a daily occurrence. I tried to rush to class before it got any weirder, but a crowd had already formed, forcing me to stay and watch. Elizabeth adjusted her squared glasses, pushing them up the bridge of her nose.
“Chaddicus.” she screamed out, somehow already crying. I hadn’t even seen her sniffle, and yet she was crying? “I love you Chaddicus. I can be your soccer and your lover.” I didn’t even know how to interpret that. No amount of creative thinking could decipher that riddle of a sentence.
“Ugh, look at her. All normal and human. Go take a hike four eyes. Chaddicus is my man under rule 25 of the schoolyard act.” Sarah said, snapping her fingers at Elizabeth.
“Rule 25 of the schoolyard says that Chaddicus belongs to the person who can win a dance off and I accept.” Elizabeth stated, pulling out a small notepad that I guess had the rules written in them?
“Um, excuse me. Hi, I’m Hank. I don’t mean to interrupt, but we have a test in a few minutes. Maybe we should do this later?” I interrupted, feeling their gazes turn to me. It was unsettling, like they were all going to unhinge their jaws and leap at me. I started backing away from the crowd and instead squeezed myself next to a locker, hoping they would go back to the conversation.
They stared at me for a good minute before returning to their dialogue, not missing a beat. “A dance off? You think you can beat me four eyes. I think all your book smarts have gone to your head. I am in the cheerleading team and have over five hundred confirmed wins in dance offs. Go home four eyes, I have already won.”
Elizabeth stepped forward, her tears still freely falling from her eyes as she tossed her glasses aside, revealing a transformation of beauty similar to that of a generic cartoon character powering up. Her hair flowing like it was being pushed by two industrial sized fans, her back cracking as her posture straightened before clapping her hands, revealing what I could only describe as her ultimate form.
“Dance off? In the halls. But that violates the school conventions. I’m telling Mrs. Harrison.” Randall squeaked, about to run past the crowd, only to get grabbed by Chaddicus.
“Love knows no conventions.” He said before throwing Randall into a locker, the crowd cheering as Randall was locked inside.
“Oof, that looked painful. Maybe someone should check on him?” I suggested, only for the murderous glances to return to me once more. I made the motion of zipping my lips, hoping that would calm them.
The lights in the room flickered as the janitor played with the switch, setting a rave party tone for the occasion. Sarah started, her dancing smooth and elegant, matching her demeanor. In a move that defied gravity, she did a flip, somehow rotating herself in the air, bouncing off a locker and into the arms of Chaddicus. Well, she was meant to land in Chaddicus’s arms, only Chaddicus refused to drop his soccer ball, leaving her to smack against the floor.
“Ugh, CHADDICUS YOU WERE MEANT TO CATCH ME.” She screamed, slowly picking herself up from the floor.
“FOOL. If you loved Chaddicus you would know he would never drop his beloved soccer ball. The great El Soccerino gave that ball to him. It’s a treasured possession.” Elizabeth explained.
El Soccerino? I thought he was some fake myth created on an internet forum. Even if it was true, he could never travel into the future to give Chaddicus his prized soccer ball. He died two hundred years ago. I considered questioning the exchange but thought better of it.
Elizabeth spun, moving at a speed that could be described as somewhere between the Mach one and the speed of sound. Her body catching on fire as she spun, thankfully her tears put out any wild flames, leaving a cloud of black dust in the hallway. When she stopped her spinning, she did a nose stand, using her nose to hold her body up before dropping into the worm. When she was finally done worming, she got to her feet. “I love you Chaddicus.”
Chaddicus stared at Elizabeth, then to Sarah, trying to decide between the two. There was a tension in the air that was impossible to cut through. He’s going to choose the soccer ball, isn’t he? I thought, expecting a dumb turn for this dumb series of events.
“I can’t love either of you. I love Eliza. She is everything I want.” He said, as the door to the hallway opened, revealing a woman wearing a soccer ball mask. Her arm wrapping around his as they walked out of the hallway.
“But… Eliza is my twin soccer playing half sister who was lost at birth somehow.” Elizabeth said, clutching at the air as Chaddicus left. Both Sarah and Elizabeth embraced one another, grieving their loss of Chaddicus.
I, however, was just happy to get to class. I was only ten minutes late. Maybe I could make this work. Who says you need the entire hour for a test, anyway? I can do it in less. Just as I nearly made it to the classroom, I saw two people standing by the door, holding each other’s hands.
“But you’re a goth and I’m the cool girl. We are like fire and ice, two intense elements that can never cross without burning each other out.” Melissa said to Zack, the two blocking my classroom.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I said, throwing my hands up as I pushed into them, knocking them out of the way. “He secretly likes sports and you secretly like the latest goth band.” I shouted at them before entering the classroom, not wasting any more time on that nonsense. I grabbed a copy of the test off the teacher before sitting at my desk, hoping no more shenanigans happened during the test.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | You think that school’s a lot like that Shakespeare quote about all the world being a stage and everyone on it just being actors. Everyone except for you, at least. You’re not an actor, or if you are you’re out of work and have hit hard times. Instead you sit in the theatre somewhere about halfway back, watching it all play out.
There’s no one else with you in the audience, not unless they’re hidden in the darkness at the very back.
You watch a new play every semester. This summer, there’s a girl and there’s another girl — it’s a modern day romance/tragedy: Juliet and Juliet. Their parents dislike each other for certain petty views, but the girls are in love and you’re just sitting there annoyed, knowing it ends badly, wondering why no one else watches the world the way you do.
Fall‘s play is more cliche than you thought possible. A cheerleader and track star get together and the school itself seems to blush with happiness. A rose has bloomed over the semester, its scents and color permeating every corridor — well, except for those dark and quieter ones that you choose to walk. They break up over a misunderstanding, then get back together in time for prom. You yawn loudly and pretend you’re not jealous.
You auditioned for roles, at least in the beginning. Back when you were just a kid. You wanted so very dearly to be the star — just for a month would do. And your parents said you would be eventually, and you believed them. No reason not to.
So they cast you as a best friend to someone popular. You were there to listen to their stories of first kisses and cuddles, of drinks and smokes behind the shed; you played your role and gasped and laughed, and all the rest that was expected of you. But you were never invited further than a phone screen.
It wasn’t the role you wanted. You were like a homeless dog sniffing around a city, hoping for scraps thrown out from restaurants where people were inside having the time of their lives.
Not everyone has to be a star. That’s what your parents told you later, as you cried on your bed. Some people are born for those best friend roles. They didn’t say: Sure, no love interest for them, but at least they’re on stage. But you got the implication all the same.
Bullshit. Being on stage just to have metaphorical tomatoes thrown at you isn’t a good thing.
That bitterness inside you grew from a seed to a half-grown apple and never beyond. It began to show on your face; it carved hard and sad crows feet around your eyes.
Maybe that’s why your friend stopped turning to you for advice or even to chat. Because you weren‘t satisfied by being no one special.
You quit the play entirely and clambered down into the darkness of the theatre, watching it all play out without you. And what really burned was it didn’t matter one bit that you weren’t in it. Lives and romances continued just the same without you. You might as well have been a tree.
Sometimes you wonder when you realised you weren’t good looking. Or funny. Or anything else that had value at school. At least you were clever, you’d say, but that was just the sugar sprinkled into the medicine you were gulping down.
You’re crying now. You don’t often these days, but you are now.
And then someone sits down on your left. Says they were at the back of the theatre and heard you crying. With a grin they tell you that you sounded like a banshee. Then they ask if you’re okay.
They’re geeky looking with big glasses and a wonky nose and a very cute smile.
Another person sits down on your right, nudges you, says get a load of these idiots on stage. They’re all playing roles they don’t even want to play. Don’t even realise they’re trapped inside of it all.
You vaguely recognise these two people sitting next to you. Math and music nerds. Not popular kids. Even less so than you were. Guilt pangs your heart: back then, you were never nice to them. And now they’re being nice to you, and that sucks, but you’re so glad for the kindness.
I used to be on stage with them all, you admit.
Yeah, we know. We saw you. But you weren’t much good at your role, I hope you don’t mind us saying. Like us, you weren’t made for the stage.
You blush. You say, I just wanted to be part of it.
Why?
You sit there for a long time trying to answer it. Thinking back to when you were very small. Of all the Disney movies that made it feel like you’d become someone beloved and important. You tell the people next to you about the films and your dreams.
You are someone important and beloved, they say. You just have to figure out why you’re important on your own. But let me tell you this: it’s good you’re not important for how you look because even roses wilt in fall.
And become moldy and end up stinking, says someone else.
The person next to you passes you a bag of sweets. Someone sitting behind you makes a joke about the lame storyline.
You manage a smile.
It’s funny, you think. This role, or whatever is happening to you right now, for the first time ever it feels natural. Not forced into being someone else. You’re not playing a role that deep down you don’t even want to play.
And something about that feels very important to you right now. | 2021-08-30T07:02:35 | 2021-08-30T06:50:14 | 1,169 | 332 |
[WP] A "popular" girl falls in love with a "nerdy" boy, however he hates her and she spends all her time trying to impress him
EDIT: THANK YOU ALL FOR TAKING YOUR TIME TO WRITE SHORT STORIES BASED OFF MY PROMPT!! I HAVE YET TO READ ALL YOUR STORIES THOUGH, AS I'M BUSY WITH SCHOOL AND OTHER STUFF :D
I'm sorry if I have somehow ripped off your precious harem animes. That was completely unintentional. (I don't even watch anime that much)
I'm sorry if this prompt is too uncreative for you guys. Maybe next time I'll post one that's "different" enough but not so unique that I'd probably end up writing a novel about one day (I have dreams that shall never be fulfilled)
I'm sorry if I have triggered anyone somehow. | Jess Brown was hands-down the most popular girl in year 11. She was lucky enough to possess the dangerous combination of good looks and great intelligence, causing those around her to almost naturally fall into place as her followers.
Despite being as blessed as she was, Jess was not an arrogant person. If anything, she liked to take the back seat and observe those around her. She liked to figure out how people worked. What motivated them. Every time she believed she'd got the measure of someone, she'd try out her theory. If she was successful then she could add said person to her 'collection' - those who she believed she had power over.
Boys were easy, and men even easier so. She could get a boys pulse racing and have him do any favour for her she wanted just by undoing her top button and flirting ever so slightly. She once got a man at her local store to straight-up buy her cigarettes just by smiling at him and giggling at everything he said. But that was far too easy.
No, Jess Brown wanted a new challenge. But who?
There wasn't a single boy from the 'popular group' she hadn't collected in her year, and there doesn't exist a word smith with enough skill to convince her to waste her time on a younger male. As she sat in the lunch hall, absent mindedly picking at a bright red apple, she saw a boy walk past. A boy who she hadn't seen before. Bingo.
Jess sat up in her chair as she surveyed him, like a predator hunting her prey. How would she approach him? What would she use to capture his attention? God, she loved this. The thrill of taking someone down. Using her natural gifts of beauty and brains to see if she could charm and seduce those around her. She didn't like to think like this, but a small part of her felt like she was superior to her peers. Like she was a goddess surrounded by mere mortals. Megan Cartwright, a normal looking girl who looked even more startlingly average when sat next to Jess was trying to engage her in a conversation. Jess ignored her. She didn't have time to listen to trivial gossip and she wasn't in the mood to have everyone's opinions on who was going to win this years *Britain's Got Talent*.
Her mind was racing as she looked him up and down. His uniform seemed clean. She could see his shirt was tucked evenly into his trousers and his blazer fit him well. His trousers hitched up slightly as he walked and she noted his plain black socks underneath. She frowned slightly- he was giving very little away. She couldn't see much of his face, but his black hair seemed messy and almost like he'd not paid it much attention. Well, that was no use to her, half the boys in school were doing that these days. Then she spotted it, under his right arm he was carrying a book. A book to read at *lunch* time?
He's a nerd.
She had work to do.
Jess stood up, and walked over to where the new boy sat reading his book. He was alone. She smirked, this was a good sign for her. A lack of social skills suggests he's nervous or maybe even shy, meaning it was be easy for her to overwhelm him with (hopefully) some of her more basic methods of flattery.
She sat opposite him, and was slightly taken aback when he didn't immediately acknowledge her presence. Jessica Brown was not given to being ignored. Softly, she cleared her throat. The boy looked up, and she gasped.
Staring back at her were a pair of eyes that held more depth and mystery than any which she had ever encountered before. They were dark, and shining. In that one moment which seemed to last forever, she saw *into him*. Intelligence, maturity, dignity, charisma... Jess was stunned.
Without even knowing what she was doing, her hand slowly moved up and she did up her top button. That would not work on him. A dry smile slowly stretched across his face.
'Yes?' Was the only word he spoke.
Such brevity. Such confidence. He'd only spoken one word yet she felt like he'd just pelted her with a thousand. *Why are you here? What do you want? Can't you see I'm reading? Do you really think you can 'collect' me?'*
What was *that?* Jess was flustered.
'I.. uh... I just saw you sitting here and I- well, what's that you're reading?'
He paused in thought for a few moments before he replied, and for the first time in her life Jess felt the balance of power change. She gulped while she waited.
'We both know you're not interested in my book, although that's a great shame. It's one of Dostoevsky's greatest pieces. I often find the lunch hall a great place to sit. You see, the library isn't for me. Too much hubbub, too many people bothering me, and if there's one thing I dislike, it's being bothered without reason...'
His eyes lingered over her as he spoke, and Jess had never felt so insignificant in her life.
'Forgive me if I seem confrontational,' he continued 'but I think I know why you came over here. I won't be charmed by cleavage and a cute smile. So if there's nothing else...?' He gestured to her that he wanted to continue reading.
Jess knew when to cut her losses. The best thing she could do now was leave and think of a new way to approach him, the worst thing she could do would be to remain in her upset state and try to appease someone who appeared to see right through her. She was in a state of shock. This was perhaps the first time she'd ever approached a male who appeared utterly uninterested.
Jess stood up and left, catching her leg on the corner of the table and tripping slightly as she went. She heard a soft chuckle behind her.
'What happened?' gushed Megan and the other girls at once.
'You look a bit red, Jess.'
'What did he say?'
'Did he just look over here?'
Jess turned around in a whirl of anger. She could feel hot tears forming in her eyes, but she wouldn't show any weakness in front of these lot.
'None of you are to talk to him, or to tell anyone what happened here. Understood?'
Silenced, the group of girls solemnly nodded.
And with that, Jess left the lunch hall.
Meanwhile, the boy with black eyes deftly licked a finger, turned his page and continued reading. | Jonathan ran, his arms outstretched behind him, like the wings of a mighty bird of prey. He flew through the classroom leaping past desks and his classmates alike. He stopped at Billy's desk and karate chopped the papers and books onto the floor. Jonathan squealed in glee as he fled the scene at breakneck speed.
It was recess and only Billy remained at his desk going over See Jack Run over and over. For such a classical piece of literature Billy thought it was remarkably difficult to understand. Billy took his time though, he was going to be smart, he was going to graduate and finally make the millions he had dreamt about his whole life. Billy knew he could achieve anything he set his mind to, so he set his sights on the books before him.
Julie watched from across the room, surrounded by her usual gaggle of giggling girls and the occasional boy who managed to muster enough courage to try and actually talk to her. She was queen bee, and the swarm of boys that buzzed around the room amused her. Julie knew that with a word, any of these boys would quit showing off and do whatever she asked. All of them except Billy. She looked at Jonathan as he ran up to her to collect his reward; a small hug, and a smile that was thought to be a major factor of global warming by those blessed enough to receive one. Jonathan tried to talk to her, but he was quickly dismissed by Julie's annoyed look. The girls closed ranks around Julie, scavenging Jonathans momentary attentiveness to boost their own standings. The vultures, thought Julie, but only for a moment as she looked back at Billy struggling his way through Math now. Julie mumbled to softly to herself, thinking of new schemes to once and for all have every person in the class recognize her greatness. A small thought emerged in her pretty little head, if she could just have Billy, she would need anyone else.
Billy sat in his usual chair at the front of the class, he had transferred a week ago, and was still completely oblivious to the social interactions of his classmates. That suited him well though, all Billy needed was his studies. If only that girl Julie would stop trying to get my attention, Billy thought. Once again another boy flew past knocking Billy's school supplies onto the floor. Billy shook his head, he knew he was a bit bigger than the other kids, but Billy knew violence would only get him in trouble. He lowered his head back into the crevasse of his math book and tried to figure out why some numbers were so darn smug. Darn prime numbers, think their better than everyone else, Billy thought.
She had done all the classic moves; laughed at all his jokes, picked him for her group projects; she had even gone so far as to pinch AND punch him, in one day nonetheless. What else would it take to get Billy to notice her, Julie contemplated. Finally she had had it, a week had passed and graduation was approaching quickly for Billy, she had to act fast. With the help of her friends and lackeys, no one knew which they were, Julie created her grandest scheme yet. She would make him love her even if she had to do so by force. On the day of Billy's graduation Julie put on her cutest outfit and ran to class, she was determined to kiss him before he left. Everyone in the class knew her plan except the teacher and of course Billy himself.
Billy knew something was wrong as he entered the classroom for his last time, he was finally moving on to the next grade. As he walked through the door Julie leapt from the side and grasped his neck firmly in her arms as she went for her big moment, but Billy brought one hand around and stopped her lips cold with his oddly large palm.
Julie was stunned, "WHY" she screamed. "Why don't you like me", she hadn't meant to be so loud, but the rejection shook her to the core.
Billy stumbled back shocked, "WHY", he said incredulously. "I'm 27 years old, that is WHY" Billy whined.
I haven't seen Billy in some time, but as his former teacher I do keep track of my students. I hear Billy is doing quite well, something about a hotel chain. Very impressive stuff. Julie never recovered from the incident. I hear she became some kind of public relations director at a golf course, but the man she is with is just horrible, some ass named Shooter McGavin. I do hope she find someone better someday. Oh well, till next time, on stories from behind the teachers desk.
| 2016-05-29T11:33:33 | 2016-05-29T10:33:11 | 50 | 13 |
[WP] The bride is having an affair with the best man. During his wedding speech the best man decides to see how heavily he can hint about it without anyone actually working it out. | John sipped his drink as he stood up. He shuffled the notes in his hands before glancing across the table. Despite the white, perfect smile on her lips, Jenna watched him with terrified eyes. John had felt those eyes on him all day. Every time he refilled his glass, her smile became more forced. Her gaze became more cold.
"We, uh," John started, clearing his throat. "I remember the day I met Michael." He turned to his left and nodded at the groom.
Michael's smile was as bright and handsome as that of his new wife. Behind him, Jenna gripped the tablecloth until her knuckles were as white as her perfect, fake smile.
John shrugged, snatched his glass off the table, and downed it one sip. The audience chuckled as John dropped his cards face down on the table.
"I've known Jenna since we were little kids," he said, holding onto the back of his chair for support. "We've been inseparable ever since we were in diapers. All the way through childhood, high school, college... it was always 'John and Jenna.' I've always thought of her as a part of my family. Ron, Samantha," he said, looking at the parents of the bride. "It's been a long time since I lost my parents. Even with them gone, I've always thought of you two as the mother and father I never had. I'll never be able to thank you enough for welcoming me into your family."
The audience applauded. Samantha had begun to tear up.
"Now, since Jenna and I have always been so close," John continued. "I'm sure a couple of you were expecting me to be the one walking her down the aisle." A few people laughed uncomfortably at that observation.
"But I can assure you," John said. "I think the odds are better that I'd be walking Michael down the aisle. Because, after all," he said over the laughter of the crowd, "Jenna has never been the type of girl who wanted a relationship. As early as the third grade, I remember her promising me she'd never get married. From the day Jenna met Michael, everything about her changed. She saw the world in a whole other way. Hell," he said, making eye contact with the bride, "she even started seeing me a different way."
Jenna could not even fake a smile anymore.
John flashed a wide grin at Michael. "I gotta be honest with you," he said. "I didn't think you two were going to make it. The thing about Jenna is, she always wants what she can't have. I'll admit, I was a little nervous when you started influencing my friend's life in such a dramatic way. But hey," he said with a shrug. "I've never seen her happier."
John lifted his empty glass. "So here's to you, Michael. Words can't express how glad I am that you met Jenna."
| *I couldn't go on with the charade anymore. I was betraying my best friend by continuing it. That lying whore of a bride instigated it, but I was just as responsible. I now felt it my duty to make her squirm as much as I could before ending things with her.*
"Frank, we've known each other for, what, decades now? During that time we've always been.. well, for lack of a better word, frank with each other." *Small murmurs of laughter were heard throughout the cathedral.* "I have to say, I feel as though I've ridden on your success. That success being your wife of course. *For a brief second, the crowd had puzzled looks on their faces, and the bride looked horrified.* "By that I mean the promotion your wife granted me of course, you being my friend helped." *The crowd relaxed, and the bride breathed a sigh of relief.*
(Sorry, I'd write more but I'm *so* tired.) | 2015-04-02T22:15:17 | 2015-04-02T22:08:37 | 1,568 | 21 |
[WP] You are an atheist and on the three hour long train journey you start arguing with a stranger sitting beside you . That stranger is Satan . | Richard hovered above his plush seat with a scowl before falling back into it. This train was too bumpy. His original plan was to nap during the ride, that way, he'd arrive in Los Angeles in a somewhat functional state. Unfortunately, this proved to be a futile endeavor on his part, since every other minute the cart would jolt him awake. Stretching out his arms, Richard sighed and gave up on getting any sleep. It was like the universe was specifically messing with him for its own pleasure. He then brought out his bag and took out a heavy book from it. Opening its bookmarked page, Richard heard the man in front of him say:
"Sympathy for the devil, huh?"
Richard looked at the man, raised his eyebrow, and said:
"I beg your pardon?"
"Your book." The man pointed at it. "Paradise Lost; a centuries old dissertation on the *'civil war'* in heaven. It's very rare to see someone reading it."
"Ahh yes." Richard chuckled. "I'm heading to L.A. to give a discussion in a university. It's about Christianity in the modern age and where it fits in society."
"Sounds interesting... I guess Christianity *does* need a little boost among the masses today."
Richard closed his book, smiled, and said:
"I'm not in the business of evangelizing. I'm a philosophy professor; I don't really follow any religious dogma. I uhh... I'm sorry if I offend your sensibilities."
"Sensibilities?" The man laughed. "I'm just a guy interested in the concept of godhood, is all. Don't mistake me for a follower. In a way, I guess we're about the same."
The train passed through some badly leveled tracks, causing everyone to jump a little.
"The same?" said Richard. "In what way?"
"Well, you're a philosopher, right?"
"Yes..."
"And, in a way, your job is to figure out the ultimate truth of the universe, right? That is, if you believe an absolute truth exists."
"I guess so. It's part of the job, though not something you can realistically expect to attain."
The man leaned forward and said:
"And what is absolute truth if not God himself? You *are* looking for godhood; it's just that you use a different name for it."
"I'm sorry, have we met?"
"Oh, please, allow me to introduce myself," the man bowed slightly, "my name is Adversario Lightbringer. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I'm in the business of temptation."
"Ahh so you work in marketing?"
"Pretty much. I sort of invented it. After my dad kicked me out of my home, I started selling apples and took off from there."
The train entered a tunnel, darkening everything around them before the cabin lights turned on. Lightbringer leaned back against his seat when he said:
"I'm retired now, though. I just travel and indulge in my hobby of contemplating godhood. I guess you could say I'm an amateur philosopher now!"
Lightbringer laughed and Richard joined him. After their amusement subsided, Lightbringer said:
"Still, since you're an expert in my hobby, I'm interested to hear your opinion. What do you think of that whole *'angelical civil war'* thing?"
"Well, I don't really believe in none of that nonsense. They're just fairy tales. It'd be silly to think it actually happened."
"Of course."
"But..." Richard glanced at his book and back at Lightbringer. "Thematically speaking, it's actually fascinating."
"Oh really? How so?"
"It's just that, the whole conflict revolves around a dilemma that's plagued humanity forever."
"You don't say..."
"Yes, its very old, but still relevant in this modern age. I mean, there's this whole thing about God demanding worship from his creations, which really strikes me as odd, because if He's as awe inspiring as He's described, then He shouldn't need to force people to admire him, right?"
Lightbringer chuckled and said:
"You have no idea how much I agree with you right now."
"And then there's Lucifer." Richard picked up his book and gestured at it. "He's portrayed as tragic hero, rebelling against his own Father. He even makes a great point in that, if his Father created him without freewill, then He actually *wanted* Lucifer to act like this. God *made* him that way. He really couldn't complain when his creation ended up like that."
"Yes! It was rigged against him from the start!"
"I mean, yes, that's a good way of putting it, but still, I can't help but feel put off by how petty everyone acted. We're talking about incredibly powerful entities here, capable of bending reality itself. And yet... God is portrayed like a demanding Father figure that can't accept his son, and Lucifer acts like a spoiled brat that lacks self-awareness."
The train exited the tunnel, illuminating everything with sunlight. Lightbringer frowned, coughed, and said:
"Self-awareness?"
"Yeah, he acts like he wants to become God, but really, all he wants is his Father's approval. He just doesn't realize it, so he keeps fucking things up to validate his existence. Heck, he seems like the type of guy who'd obliterate anyone who criticizes him."
Lightbringer formed a fist, gripping tightly until his arm shook. He then smiled, scratched his head, and said:
"I think you're oversimplifying a complicated issue here. Sure, Lucifer seems to have a fragile ego, but you're forgetting that he's also an ambitious person. If he ever wants to become God, then he has to learn from his mistakes. Taking criticism badly wouldn't help him there, now would it?"
"I suppose you're right. I just never got the impression that he's capable of that. He seemed more busy blaming everything around him than reflecting on his flaws. I guess that's the downside of pride, right?"
Lightbringer nodded in agreement. He then stood up and left for the bathroom, leaving Richard alone in his cart. The professor then smiled, opened his book, and continued reading.
----------------------------------------
> If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories! | "You're the devil, eh? "
"The one and only."
"I don't believe it."
"Do you need proof? "
I thought about all the potential arguments I could go through, but finaly, "I just don't care. There's nothing I have that you don't already have, in the ethereal sense. If I die an atheist and I'm wrong, my soul belongs to you anyway. Assuming you're the biblical Satan."
"That is true."
Long pregnant pause
"So what do you want, oh Dark Lord? "
"Don't patronize me. I'll sick a fiend on you. Sorry, habit. Uh, how about just some conversation? "
"As long as you don't try to trick me into one of your schemes."
"I can't promise that. My word is shit anyway. Anything I could promise you wouldn't hold up in court. Imagine me, master of the underworld swearing on a bible. I may have to try that sometime just to see what happens."
"I'd love to see that."
"I'm not busy. You got a bible handy? Doesn't matter what revision, except that weird second Mormon book. I knew that Joseph Smith was trouble. You know I had to carve out a whole new level of Hell just for him and his people? I hate to admit the looks from the regular damned was getting to me. I had decent regular sinners, such as yourself, committing bigger sins down there just to be moved to a lower level."
I almost felt sorry for the guy, but gave him a blank stare instead. "What kind of atheist travels with a bible? I own a couple of copies at home. But nothing with me."
"So what do you do for a living? What puts you on this train? "
"Let me buy you a drink."
We moved to the dining car. I ordered Satan and myself two highballs.
"I'm a business man. I've been involved mainly with real estate, but have dabbled in other ventures through the years."
"Successful I see from the suite."
"Oh I've had a few failures. I'm not proud, but that's how business works."
"Tell me about it. You screw up one time. Get a little mouthy with the boss, and bam, kicked out of the corner office and stuck in the basement."
"Satan, again I'm still doubting you of course, but I don't know what else to call you. Nothing personal. But you sound a little down about it. Listen. We all screw up. But if the big guy up stairs is as forgiving as they say he is, maybe all you need is a little humility. Apologize and maybe things will get better."
"You're probably right. Thanks for the drink and the advice. I owe you one. So where are you headed Mr..."
"Oh, pardon me. I failed to introduce myself." as I extend my hand to shake. "I'm Donald Trump. And this train is headed to The White House." I chuckle to myself as I offer a small factoid. "My people have been using this phrase regarding this train. They say it has no brakes. It's a catchy phrase. But how do you suppose it stops when we get to Washington?"
Satan began to notice the greenish tint to Trump's skin. And wondered why he hadn't known more about his travel companion like he would any other person on the street. Slowly he began to recognize the old one. The one that came before. Kek.
Kek's return was being heralded by the coronation of the God Emperor Trump.
Satan found himself in a quandary. Kek was surely to depose god from the heavens. But where would that leave him? Suck in hell with the ranting Joseph Smith? Satan began to weigh his options. Rule in Hell? Or serve Kek?
"Hey Donald, is there maybe any way I could help? You know, as repayment for the drinks of course? "
Trump smiled at Satan. "Maybe. We've gotten this far without you. But I'm sure we could find a place in our organization for you. Let's wait until after the election. Give you a chance to brush up your resume."
"Deal", said the devil. It was the first time in millennium that he had been on the other side of a deal. And he was ok with that. | 2016-09-10T08:56:10 | 2016-09-10T08:16:19 | 575 | 91 |
[WP] A hero and villain trade deathblows. The villains last words are, "I'll see you in hell". The hero wakes to see fire and brimstone. The villain finds themselves in front of shining, golden gates. | "You never committed a mortal sin." Saint Peter said flatly. His eyes weren’t on the man standing in front of him, just focused on the long list of names he had to process before the end of the year.
“What?”
“You never committed a mortal sin.” The glowing saint repeated. “Only venial ones. Thus you don’t qualify for eternal torment.”
Cogs turned in the newly dead man’s brain. It registered in the back of his mind that he was thinking rather well, as he vaguely remembered taking a rather large piece of shrapnel to the forehead when his secret hideout self-destructed.
“I never committed a mortal-” He began, mostly to himself. “Really?”
In his long lifetime, Professor Yugo Valerious had personally killed at least 2000 people, and indirectly killed countless more. He’d detonated dirty bombs, designed biological weapons, and killed more superpowered heroes than most people had ever met. But here he stood, standing at the front of the line to mount purgatory. To the right of him was the line to heaven, but Saint Peter apparently ran the paperwork for both of them.
“Nope. Not a single one. It’s more common than you think, people like you winding up here.”
“So… murder isn’t a mortal sin?”
“Oh, no it most certainly is. In most circumstances, anyway.”
“Wha-...”
“I should probably explain.” The saint pulled a small pamphlet from under his desk, and offered it to Yugo. The professor took it in his spandex gloved hand, and flipped through it.
“You see, for something to count as a ‘Mortal Sin’, you need to think, at least subconsciously, that what you’re doing is wrong. If my file here is correct, you were an undiagnosed psychopath. We fixed that while you were on the way in, by the way. And since you lacked that natural sense of empathy, your inner conscience never really let you know that all the things you were doing down there were absolutely abhorrent.”
“Wait, but that… Oh. Oh no…”
“Yup, you have empathy now.” The saint chuckled as Yugo’s eyes unfocused. When you worked behind the desk for all of eternity, you learned to enjoy the little things. Like watching someone’s brain implode after they suddenly realize just how much of a piece of shit they were.
“I… I don’t… I shouldn’t be here…” Yugo managed to stammer, staggering sideways for a moment.
“No, you probably shouldn’t.” Peter shrugged. “But I don’t write the rules.”
“Hey, wanna see something funny?” Peter pointed towards the screen. On it was a live video feed of mount purgatory, giving Yugo a full view of every man, woman, and child making the climb up to paradise. Peter tapped on the screen a few times, and zoomed in on a single figure, steadily climbing his way forward.
“Wait… is that…”
“Yup.” Peter laughed as Yugo’s eyes focused on the screen. “That’s Bin Laden. The man legitimately believed with all his heart that he was doing the right thing the entire time.”
“Jesus Christ…” Yugo muttered in disbelief. “Oh, should I not-”
“Nah, he doesn’t mind.” Peter panned away from the feed of purgatory, and swiped to a live feed of the front door to hell. “And over there is-”
“Is that Captain Majestic?” Yugo exclaimed. “What is he doing down there?”
“Oh, he jerked off and didn't go to confession before he died.”
“... That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Peter sighed, putting the tablet back under his desk and opening the doors to purgatory. “You know, I love God with all my being, but the actual rules to get in here are fucking terrible. Anyway, enjoy your hike.” | Evil is a matter of perspective, but what I have done with the time I had been given was wretched. Villages, nations, families I had butchered them all in the name of unity against what was to come. The sparks of clashing blades sing in the dimly lit interior alleyway as the distant sounds of battle rage. My rival, a gallant knight of the opposition and my greatest foe split apart in the red-lit midnight. The movment allowed enough space for a burning white sedan to tumble past before crashing into a building.
No matter the outcome I have already won this war. I circle with my advisory before slipping off my helmet to temp my foe into striking before slamming the plate helm into their face. The assault takes the momentum of battle from my enemy as I stab downward with my blade. It slips between the hero's silver armor in a wreath of blood as I struggle to push the blade deeper as my foe uses his grip on the blade to delay the inevitable outcome. "Die already you damn nuisance!"
A desperate kick to my chest forces me to release my blade before stumbling back across from the dying hero. Their armor is bent and bloodied as it is they laugh its horrible coughing fit as they stand up clutching the mortal wound. Their party of ragtag misfits turning the distant bend in the street as I draw my gauss pistol. "I will never give up until you are dead scum!"
"Then I suppose, I'll see you in hell." I pull the trigger and then I realize my mistake as the alleyway is engulfed in a detonation. The source of my folly is a small satchel on the Hero of legend's waste as they detonate in a cloud of gore. A moment the shockwave rips past the extended arm vaporizing from the wrist up. And then twilight. The endless expanse of endless fluffy golden clouds encroached from below as I screamed into the cream-colored abyss.
"You son of a bitch!" | 2022-03-11T18:30:30 | 2022-03-11T13:08:54 | 63 | 27 |
[WP] Every generation the five brightest are paired up with the five dumbest in the world for a mysterious test. You are one of the ten, but nobody knows from which group they came. | I pace the waiting room. Up and down, up and down. Everyone is isolated from each other initially to prevent reading the others and finding out which group they came from. Well, most of the candidates knew which group they came from anyway. The room had a couch, a dresser, and a bit of refreshments on the small table in front of the couch.
"Well, figures I'd be the top 5 dumbest people in the world."
I smoked my way through high school and dropped out of college. For what? I thought I had a plan. My buddy and I, the start-up. Then shit went south and the fucker ditched me. Started doing odd-jobs, lived on the streets for a bit. Smoked a bit of this, shot up a bit of that. Got my ass beat so many times I barely feel physical pain anymore. Oh, that reminds me. If I'm going to humiliate myself on global television I might as well just do it while I'm feeling good and not getting the shakes. I'm sorry, mom, dad. I should have listened after all.
I pull out my syringe.
|
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome, to the 3rd GC! I am your host for today, Quin Jackson, and I am joined with my amazing co-host, Victor. The Generation Contrast is a decennial event, where by 5 of the brightest minds of each new generation has to work with the 5 dumbest minds of the generation for the GC test. Now the GCT has been set, funded and organised by an anonymous individual ever since the creation of the GC in 2020. Even I don't know who he is."
The crowd murmurs.
"Now, we are going to move on to the live interviews, where the participants will be interviewed individually in their respective waiting rooms." The crowd goes wild as the anticipation to see who were the lucky few to be chosen. Or unlucky.
"Now, we will be looking at James, 26, jobless. But one of the smartest men of the generation. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS TO TOGETHER FOR-"
The stadium's large screen changed from the faces of the casters, to a man sitting in the waiting room with his face in ecstasy and his arm with a needle sticking out of it. His entire head was thrown back on the couch as his eyes rolled back.
|
As I shoot up, thoughts run wild in my head. What's going to happen to me after the GC? Will my life be better after being known as the biggest dumbass in the world? Fuck it, I might just off myself after this shit is done. I'll OD on whatever, feel good when I pass out at least. Or not, if I get money.
My thoughts clear as the my body circulates the liquid of the gods. That hits the fucking spot, Mable's stuff is damn good as always. As I roll back my eyes to enjoy the pleasure, the door opens.
And suddenly, the whole world can see me shooting up heroin.
|
"JAMES? WHAT THE-? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE?"
Quin turns off the mics and calms Victor down before he destroys the production desk.
"FUCK, HAVE YOU NOT DISGRACED THE FAMILY ENOUGH?" "Victor, you have to calm down. We have the biggest gig of the decade. Don't let your brother or anything stop you. And why are you pissed off? He's one of the brightest minds in his generation." "It must be a mistake. That doesn't make any sense for him to be here as one of the smartest. Dumbest, maybe, but not a snowball's chance in hell is he one of the smartest. You know what, professionalism. Let's get back to the show." Quin smiles at Victor.
Quin turns the mics back on.
"Er, James seems to be in, well, wonderland. We'll get back to him in a bit." "Apologies, everyone. I was not expecting my brother to be on the GC."
The crowd has mixed reactions, as Quin and Victor masterfully shifts the attention away from James and to the next participant.
"And moving on to the next brightest mind..."
EDIT: Formatting | I woke in small metal container. The walls had the wavy pattern of a cargo crate, and the size fit the idea as well. There where ten of us, I was the first to wake up. It was clear what was happening, I had been told of the risks when I submitted my paper.
I was about 21 at the time and had just finished my philosophy paper. I knew it was good, even from my harsh self criticism. It was another unmistakable 100, and over time, that brings unwanted attention. My prof had told me a few weeks earlier that I should start making mistakes, but I had to much honour in what I did. Although discovering the meaning to life might have been a bit flamboyant. On my way home from the school I could already hear the helicopter. They followed me, and I knew I had overdone it.
Now I was in a small container with four other people sleeping on the ground, and five other in full blown comas. The sound of their heartbeats on the machines eventually woke up the other four strangers.
"...oh shit does my head hurt..." the old man in the brown vest yawned. I could recognize him from his popular book series; TARN BACKSTER Learn The World And Its History.
"FUUUCK!" The woman in the blue vest yelled as she realized what was going on. She had been on television the night before receiving a scientific achievement award.
Two other men woke up silently. They both knew what was going, and everyone knew them. Mark Cameer, and Ben Owen. They had been famous for being here more than ten consecutive times in a row. Mark was a grandmaster, and Ben was a musician. They knew each other very well by now, and started up a conversation.
The girl in the corner woke up last, but it was obvious from the first look that she was different. Drool hung down from her sticking out tongue, and she had strong characteristics of some with down syndrome. "REEEEEEEEEEEEE" she gave a battle cry similar to a howler monkey as she woke up.
"HELLO, I AM D99100, IT IS NICE TO MEET YOU"
I was startled to hear the robotic voice. One of the men in a coma was clearly now attached to a different machine. That was when I realized the girl wasn't with my group, but instead the computer attached to deeply sleeping man. | 2016-03-03T05:47:53 | 2016-03-03T05:36:34 | 26 | 17 |
[WP]Humanity had grown complacent. No more war, no more crime, no more suffering. After thousands of years of technological advancement and peace humanity is forced into a war with an alien super power which brings out thousands of years of pent up blood lust. | Beat your plowshares into swords, and your pruning hooks into spears; let the weakling say, “I am a warrior.”
\-Joel 3:10
It was an age of absolute prosperity. The simultaneous development of advancements in travel, energy, communication, health, and resource management launched humanity into the galaxy both literally and metaphorically. Stemming from the development of cheap and plentiful quantum biocomputing the ailments of humanity became the thing of legend. A new renaissance gave rise to massive increases in power efficiency reducing the footprint of trillions to that of a million, warp-drive technology made the galaxy our playground, matter replicators almost instantly obliterated classical capitalist structures, The sick were healed or their consciousnesses saved in grand digital palaces, the places where many healthy people also chose to make their permanent homes. Everyone was content, everyone was happy, and across the galaxy after centuries of unbridled wealth everyone was cripplingly bored. It wasn’t a collective effort but across the lightyears of the United Human Council people began planning. They weren’t planning for anything specific, but some of them had a viable excuse.
Exobiologists had discovered their first remnants of alien civilization only 70 years into expansion. Effectively down the street in galactic terms, the dusty little planet was inhospitable to classical humans but had at one time hosted a native species that had, in a grim reflection of what could had been, burned themselves out. Blast scars dotted the surface of the planet that had committed these atrocities so recently the light from the explosions hadn’t reached Earth. This by itself wasn’t anything more than a sad curiosity, an unfortunate species that humanity would never be able to meet, until 300 years later on another dead planet from another dead civilization we found one of the first world’s ships. After a lengthy process of matching chemicals to the point of finding where the ore for this ship was mined, it was announced that other civilizations with combat ability and warp travel had at least existed before. No one was outwardly worried, but Humanity began to prepare. Just in case.
July 15th 3155, ten centuries, 48 years, four months, and eleven days from the beginning of the renaissance it happened. A server moon, a great computing satellite made for processing a system’s worth of data was obliterated. Billions of lives were forced into backup and seven seconds after destruction, after reviewing system levels and ensuring the molten core hadn’t ruptured on its own, a general warning was sent out across the galaxy. At the same time millions of light years away a zoological preserve was decimated in the same way and a general warning was sent as well. At nearly the same moment two warnings reached the solar system and the United Human Council entered a state of defense against this unknown enemy. Slowly transmissions began being received as a being who introduced themselves as the Godwalker decried their laziness and openness. They were an unguarded target with untold riches and he was going to take them all. This was all that humanity needed to hear. As clouds of monstrous war machines entered Human-controlled space humans responded with ten centuries, 48 years, four months, and eleven days of looking for someone, something, to give them an excuse. Replicators that had been making pleasure barges and statues began immediately constructing battle ships and planet guardians. Rail guns the length of planets that were once used for ferrying specialized crafted goods were spun up and aimed at the Godwalker’s fleets. Warp drives were simply launched into swarms of ships unshielded and detonated, biting chunks out of space itself. Even those who spent a millennia living as minds in servers joined in, splitting open the fleet encryption within hours, venting soldiers and atmosphere into the void.
The war was brief, only a few days earth time. In that the most useful thing gained was the Godwalker’s maps of space. The invading fleet had been made up of others. Not just one species and not just one planet. Humanity finally had a chance to say hello to someone else for the first time.
As the ships were reformed into cruisers and the remnants of the Godwalker’s fleet was used to repair the damage it had caused, humanity returned to doing what they always did after a war.
They waited. | We didn’t know what we were starting. We were only expanding our civilization and reaching for resources. Our empire of a thousand systems just adding another like any other day, seemed like business as usual.
There were four inhabited planets and several moons in this particular system. All populated by a primitive species who called themselves “Human” we detected mid level technologies but no weaponry, it should have been an easy conquest.
They sent envoys and diplomats as soon as we entered the system. We made it clear it wasn’t malice or hatred, only business. Our people needed territory and resources after all. Eventually the talks waned and the business of conquest began.
We didn’t know.
“Incom—-“ The alien soldiers cry and life cut short by seemingly endless barrage of explosives.
“Get down, get down!” It’s all we could do in the face of such savagery. We had their strategies memorized but it didn’t afford an advantage.
“Prepare for close quarters! Ready Phase Blades!” First came the artillery, up to several hours of non stop shelling. I wish this was the terrifying part.
Suddenly the deafening roar of thousands of battle cries thundered from behind the smoke, heralding our deaths.
And still, the terror hadn’t started. They fought like beings possessed. They gave regard only to the annihilation of us. Their lives, their bodies, their blood.... None of it mattered to them. Only that we didn’t take what’s as theirs.
As the smoke cleared we could see them. Thousands of human warriors charging without notice of the casualties our weapon emplacements dealt to them. Soon they would be upon us with what they called “Trenchguns” and “Bayonets”.
We were no match for their numbers or ferocity.
Their first wave hit our lines with the force of a dozen suns.
The Terror had begun.
The forerunners either embedding bayonets into flesh or being vaporized by the dozen themselves. Where a dozen fell, a hundred took their place. Those behind the first wave relentlessly fired upon our lines with scattered projectiles wreaking havoc upon inside our own trenches.
One by one our bunkers fell and eventually surrender was inevitable. | 2020-05-05T05:33:20 | 2020-05-05T04:44:32 | 87 | 24 |
[WP] Only you can see the thread that connects people to their soulmate. You've never told anyone and if you have a thread you can't see it. Today you caught someone staring at you when you asked they said, with tears in their eyes: "You are the only person I've seen with no soulmate." | For the longest time, I had no idea what the strings were. All I knew was how they were shooting out from people's hearts and dashing off into the universe.
I remembered the first time I ever saw the end of one of the strings; when young Nancy started in my class, and my friend John's string beamed out to her. From his heart to hers. Even then I hadn't quite figured out what it meant. But as I grew older, it became more evident. I couldn't even be mad at Danny, when he cheated on me in high school. His string led straight to the other girl - as much as I wanted to hate him for my heartbreak, I was happy for them. I had realized that the strings were indicators of something bigger than myself; soulmates. Yet no one else seemed to know about them.
​
It felt like a blessing for years. My sister, Betty, had found her boyfriend Edward, and even the simplest touch, would make their shared string light up as if electricity ran through it. It was a beautiful sight. I couldn't see my own string, but I was sure that Tom was my soulmate. The end of his string would disappear midair - I assumed it was because it turned into mine. And even though electricity didn't run through some string between us, I could feel it tingling all over my body when we were near. I was as sure as I could be.
But when the war came around, things changed.
Edward and Tom both signed up.
Betty was losing her mind over not hearing any updates. The radio was always going on about how many of our men were lost in battle. But never who. Never who. The worst part was sitting in the living room with her that one night. The string shooting out to Edward on the other side of the world started dissolving. Fragments started to vanish. She was chipping on about how excited she was to hear back from him, she had sent him a letter! But suddenly she stopped mid sentence. For a split second, she couldn't shake the feeling.
The last fragment of her string was gone.
But she never realized what had happened that evening. She never heard back from Edward. I couldn't tell her why. No matter how many years passed, she never gave up on finding him. Our parents couldn't convince her to marry anyone else. Of course, they didn't understand her love for him - they were never meant to be. They lived their entire lives, never finding their true loves. But when you had had the chance of knowing your soulmate, there was no going back.
Tom never returned from the war either. Presumed dead. Like all the other men. But I never knew. Because even though I could see the strings of everyone around me dissolving, I was never able to see mine.
The war was a different time. It was a lousy time. Every day, I would see fewer strings on the street. Nothing could prepare me for the sight of all the pale faces, staring into the distance. Life was a treadmill. All the women grocery shopping with their children, without any strings were cruel. It was a bleak, empty world.
​
But my youth disappeared with time. I was sitting in a small coffee shop, with some old records I had found from the library. Even after all these years, I was still searching for closure. I was still searching for Tom's name. I never knew for sure what had happened to him. I never even knew if he truly died.
When I glanced up, I caught the eyes of a young girl staring at me from another table. Her eyes were glistening with tears. She couldn't have been older than eleven or twelve. Perhaps, I reminded her of a recently deceased grandmother? I would be surprised if there was even a single red strand left in the gray haystack on top of my head. I never had children of my own, but if I had, I could've been a grandmother by now.
But she wasn't looking at my face or my hair. She was looking at my heart.
"What is wrong, dear?" I asked the girl.
She looked down, almost afraid to answer.
"It's just… It's silly," she mumbled, tears still welling up into her small, blue eyes.
"I'm sure I've heard sillier things," I assured her.
"You're the only person I've seen with no soulmate." she admitted.
I smiled. She was the first I'd ever heard talk about the strings. But my surprise was lesser than my glee.
"Don't be sad, dear." I chuckled. "That's a good thing. It means the world is improving."
It truly was. The only wars going on, were the ones replaying in the minds of my generation.
And now I knew. If I didn't have a string, it must've meant that Tom had found his peace.
If I was truly the first person without a soulmate this young girl had seen, it could only mean that the world was getting less lousy each day.
I closed my book. | The strings, they’re... strange. At first I thought it was simply my eyes playing tricks on me, at least that’s what my optometrist said. She said it’s possibly just floaters in my eyes, indicating I’ll probably need glasses when I’m older.
Then I realized, the strings are connected. They’re not just random particles in my eyes but they connect everything, people, animals, they’re all... connected. Some strings are longer, some are shorter. The shorter ones seem... different. Brighter? Louder? I’m not quite sure. The people they’re connected to seem different too. They seem happier.
All these strings float around me, becoming more and more prevalent, except mine. I can’t see any strings attached to me.
What made me so different?
I sat in the back of lecture, half paying attention to the professor drab on about the religions of the Roman Empire. There was a couple sitting two rows ahead of me. Their threads were swirling around the two of them in purples and greens. It was pretty beautiful. I was hit with a pang of sadness as I turned my attention back to the professor. As I turned back, I noticed this girl was staring right at me. I felt like I knew her somehow.
After my Romans’ Religions lecture I’ve got about 5 minutes to make it across campus to my next class, so I had to book it. But before I could make it out the door I was stopped by a sudden tugging in my stomach. I could’ve sworn I’ve seen that girl before. Duh, of course I have, she’s in my lecture.
Once I finished my classes for the day, I decided to run to the dining hall to grab a bite before I knocked out my homework. I was about to fill up my plate with chicken cuts and green beans when I felt another tug at my stomach, and I noticed that girl was staring at me. Huh, I didn’t realize we had the same eating schedule.
I sat down and texted the group chat that I was sitting in the dining hall alone, but with no response. I began digging into my meal when I realized that I had sat two tables down from that girl. I also noticed she was crying. Me being the gentleman I am, I decided to ask if she was ok.
She looked up at me smiling. “Yeah I’m fine, it’s just... well, you’re the only person I’ve ever seen without a soulmate.” I was shocked for a moment. I took a moment to look her over. No strings. “You neither, huh?”
I took my plate and slid it over to her table. “My names Micheal, you?” “ Rose.”
I felt my stomach lurch at that name. Rose. Suddenly my vision blurred with bright greens and purples, reds and yellows. Her eyes lit up too. So did everyone else’s in the hall. A string shot out of my stomach and into hers.
A new connection had been made, or perhaps it had always been there, just naked to the eye. I guess that’s what made us different. | 2018-12-11T13:33:19 | 2018-12-11T10:55:39 | 43 | 18 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world. | You know when you're a kid, and you're dreaming of finding your place in the world? I remember being nine and looking up at a giant career chart and thinking "I don't have any idea where I'm going to fit..." It certainly wasn't rescuing hostages for a living.
My teen years were no picnic either. Everybody was dreaming of being scientists or engineers or something cool and high tech. I was never good at biology or chemistry or much of anything that approached a science. In high school the closest I ever got to being recognized for anything was being named captain of the chess team. I was the only one on the team and even the club adviser regularly forgot about me. My mother used to say that some folks are just destined to be wallflowers and that every teen wants to be special. I never was. All of that changed when Jason brought a gun to school.
I was the only one in my class to recognize the sharp pop-pop crack of a shot and when I screamed to get down, the looks of surprise on my classmates faces vanished as they too ducked under tables. I knew it was going to be a moment where all of our lives pivoted. To this day, I still don't know why but I clearly remember climbing out from under my table and exiting the back doorway of my class.
My heart thundered and I could feel the blood burning in my ears. I convinced myself that every sound was the shooter turning a corner or opening a door or...Still, I went from room to room quietly whisper-arguing with terrified kids, drawing them out and leading them back to an exit. The police figured out where the kids were streaming from pretty fast and I saw a few officers leading a sobbing boy off towards the ambulances. I went back in.
By the time that I was leading the last girl out of my class, I'd gotten over the creaks and groans of the building and so I almost missed the sound of Jason reloading his gun. I froze and pushed Melissa into a small alcove. I covered as much of her body with mine and hoped deep down inside that she'd make it and that my mom would understand that I'd done the right thing. Jason turned the corner and paused... and then just like every other day of school, he walked right by me. He didn't even make eye contact with me. I waited til he turned the corner and got us both to the first exit I could find.
It took me weeks to realize my gift. I prayed and had night terrors and struggled to make sense of why Jason hadn't shot us right then, right there. And then I realized... I'd never had trouble with Jason. I'd never really had trouble with anyone. As bad as my teen years were, I never got bullied. I was definitely a nerd, but the mean kids never made trouble for me. When trouble came around, if I kept my head down and avoided eye contact, it just passed me right by. That was the gift that got the FBI's attention enough to get me this job: It's like when people have an axe to grind, if I avoid eye contact and stay out of their way, I just disappear. And now? Now it's my job to walk into life or death situations and do exactly that, and if I'm really lucky, to take a bunch of innocent people with me. I'm a Vanisher, and it's good not to be noticed. | Every day I put on the suit. Every day I leave the protective confines of the habitat module and pass out into the cold. I climb into the transport. After all these years, the sheer size of the ethanol reservoirs still takes my breath away.
The transport shudders into the station. I proceed into the chamber. Every day, I close my eyes and meditate for a few moments; the engineers are running routine checks on the thermoelectric generators, on life support, on assorted other support systems.
I open my eyes. The change is subtle, but when you've done this this long you can feel it -- somewhere, far away, the liquid has begun to flow. An unbelievably vast quantity of liquid. The engineering effort that went into this is staggering, even by the standards of the enormous civil hydroelectric projects they used to build before I came along. In part this is because this has to not kill me. I don't think I need to point out how challenging the location is. And in part this is due to... certain unusual technicalities.
You see, I have a little gift. A tiny blessing in the grand scheme of things. It took a few summer camps to discover when I was a kid. Now I'm a footnote in every thermodynamics textbook published in the last 30 years.
The thing about me is... I never end up taking a cold shower. *Ever*. | 2018-06-30T17:41:53 | 2018-06-30T16:31:22 | 192 | 82 |
[WP] You are a superhero who's ability subconciously freezes time whenever someone nearby is in mortal danger. Usually its obvious who's in trouble and you can save them quickly, but not this time - it's been 10 years.
Edit: guys the responses have been amazing, some funny stories and some deeper, darker ones too! Keep them coming in, I've been reading them all! | The strangest thing was how it was always daylight with in the bubble but time kept moving on outside the opaque impenetrable barrier. I'd never had the opportunity to really observe that before. Some of the science didn't make sense, but I'd never really understood how my own powers worked anyway. As long as I could keep helping people I never questioned it.
I marked off another day on the alley wall where Jacqueline was working on her Masters Project. At first I thought she was just a talented vandal, but then in a satchel next to the pile of spray cans I found the paperwork from the city giving her permission to paint the side of the building. I hoped one day I'd get to see the finished piece.
I looked at the familiar sights as I started my rounds. The boats on the waterfront all frozen in place. The construction site that would never finish its project. The airplane high above us. And so many people. I’d given up on finding anything new on my patrols, but it was nice to visit old friends.
I passed by Roger on the street. Long ago I had carefully cleaned up his spilling coffee and made sure his tumble wasn't going to be a bad one. I wanted to make sure he would be in good shape when he got where he was going. The text from his wife said, “The baby is on its way. I need you. Please hurry.”
As I got to the park I sat down next to Clarence and Muriel. I knew them from before. They had been married for almost 60 years, and came here every weekend to play chess. Sometimes they played with each other; other times they schooled the young folk who came to challenge them. I'd spent close to a year planning Muriel’s next move. Knight to E4 *click*. Some day I’ll get a chance to ask her if it was a good one, but I think her great-grandson would approve. He’d come to watch them play.
I arrived at the young couple kissing on the waterfront, I didn't know their names. I'd named a lot of folk who were trapped in here with me, but not these two. It was one of the few sights that made me truly happy. She had a smile she couldn't keep from her face as they kissed. He had a ring box in his hand.
Then I turned to the outer edge of the bubble, took a deep breath and began my walk. I called it a bubble, but the outer edge I had learned wasn't really round. And it couldn't be penetrated. Not be me, not by the jack hammers, digging machines, explosives, or the fists of the people pounding on the out side the wall.
The crowd was thin today, but I knew one person would be there. She was always there. Sally, forever in her early 30’s, had a look of excitement on her face. I don't know where she was going, but I like to think it was somewhere with roller coasters. Someplace where everyone was as happy as she looked now. She held her daughter’s hand in hers, arms outstretched, except her daughter’s arm stopped at the wall. On the other side of the wall was a woman. She must have been almost 20 now. I'd watched her grow up, grow more bitter, more angry. Every time she mouthed the same words. She could have been yelling for all I knew. She pounded her one fist on the wall saying ‘Give me my mother back you son of a bitch’.
I couldn't do this today. Most days I forced myself to endure the torture. It was my penance and my motivation to keep going. But not today. It was too much. Instead of continuing on my route I wandered back to the Centre. Laying on my back I took a deep breath and stared up. It was funny how long it took me to figure it out. 4 years maybe? Was it more? I'd almost gone mad trying to fit all the pieces together. At first there was hopelessness, now there was a certain calmness that persisted in the knowledge that there was nothing I could do. At first I thought the airplane was flying over head. Now I knew it was falling.
Edit: a word. | Time has been frozen for so long I forgot what it was like unfrozen. Everyday is the same. I walk around looking at all the people, frozen in time, past my sister's body. No one will know what the past ten years have been like for me. Ten years, it's been ten years since she died. Yet everyday it feels like nothing has changed.
I walk along the river shore as I've done so many times in the past. The first year, I walked along this path in agony. I searched in vain for the one in need of help. Yet nothing I did would restart time.
She was so young.
The next six years was the most painful. Everyday was a reminder of how I couldn't save her. Everyday I would walk past her lifeless body, knowing that even if time did start again her body would still be lifeless. I began collecting scars on my body. Most of them were on my wrists, and some on my neck.
Why her? Why???
Everyday I would ask myself that question. What is the point of having this power if I couldn't save the one I loved most?! Why did a random guy deserve a second chance when my sister didn't? Why why why??
I took the gun, and pulled the trigger.
Of course it wouldn't do anything. I couldn't die while time was frozen. Instead, I watched the blood flow out of my skull, watched it disappear as soon as it left my body. Eventually even the bullet would disappear and reappear in the gun. Sometimes it would take weeks, sometimes months. But I would always survive.
I stared into my dead her eyes.
In them I saw my own reflection. I knew who I was to save. I had known who for a very long time. But how can I save myself from myself. Tears started rolling down my face. I held her hand in mind and knelt to place my head on her hand. "Tell me, how do I save myself" I begged, sobbing.
When I stopped crying, I looked into her eyes one last time, before gently closing them with my fingers.
Today, I will live. I will fight.
Suddenly I felt the light kiss of a gentle morning breeze.
| 2017-09-07T03:31:19 | 2017-09-06T23:08:18 | 38 | 25 |
[WP] "Captain... the human didn't put on it's anti-warp gear before we jumped." "Sad to hear, prepare the coffin and jettison it." "No, sir. The human... nothing's happened to it. It didn't go insane from seeing infinity in the stars." | Captain’s Log: 2437.04.08
The human, the one that calls itself ‘Cassandra’ (I hope I’m spelling that right), never ceases to amaze me. Ever since we picked it up from that freighter, I feel like we’re learning something new about it.
Just today, one of our crew dropped the ball and forgot to inform it that we’d be warping through QB-642 (The Braize System). “It was just a short jump, one that we’d done over a dozen times. I thought it would know by now, and I completely forgot,” Lumang admitted to me.
I, not knowing the extent of human resilience, informed him to prepare a casket and jettison it and that it was a regrettable loss, but just then I suddenly heard Cassandra squeal with what I assume is delight; I’ve heard it make the same sort of noise before, after it consumed its favorite food or some such ‘joyous’ event.
And there, through the door of my quarters scampered in the happiest human I’d ever seen. It exclaimed, using the universal translator we’d given it on a lark, “Did you see it?! The stars! There’s so many!”
Naturally perplexed, I asked it if it had donned the anti-warp gear, as we’ve trained.
“The glasses? No,” it told me. (Thank god universal translators work with such basic vocal cord arrays) “They’re so dark. I felt the bump of the warp and then Lumang looked at me, then ran to your quarters. Prolly (sic) to tell you about the stars.”
I blinked in stunned shock. I was about to order a battery of tests to be performed, to evaluate its mental state before it told me, “It looks like something I saw before! Do you have any mirrors?”
Still shocked from seeing that the infinity of the stars seemingly had no effect on the human, I obliged and handed it a mirror that I kept on my desk. It shook its head. “I need another one.”
Curious, I stood up and led it to the bathing quarters; I knew there was a large mirror in there. I know Cassandra did, too, for it seemed anxious about arriving there. Cassandra, if nothing else, is a little ball of energy. I’m thankful that it hadn’t been driven insane; its companionship has certainly held back the tedium of this long voyage…
After leading it to the mirror in the bathing area, it stood with its back facing the large mirror, as it held the smaller mirror in front of its face. “Like this!” It cheered. “Like this!”
Now, morbidly curious, I held my hand out for it to give me the mirror, which it did, baring its teeth with a twinkle in its eye. I’m still uncertain what this display means, but there’s something in my that fears it, or at least has a healthy respect for it, in retrospect.
I held the mirror up to my face, standing with my back to the larger mirror, just as the human did and beheld…Infinity! I dropped the mirror from shock, as the human made a sound not unlike that of a laugh.
The image is still burned in my mind, I cannot unsee it. Hundreds and thousands of copies of me, stretched down an infinite hallway…
This bears more research, for certain. How could we have been so blind before?
After posting this log, I’m going to requisition more mirrors. The question is, where am I going to find volunteers to perform future experiements? | "Ehhh, no big deal." Said the man dismounting his motorcycle, "Ain't been driven insane by infinity before."
Captain Klynar stared in bewilderment with his mouths agape. Thoughts and questions scrambled through his mind as he searched for an explanation. The crew watched Klynar rise from his perch. He began removing his anti-warp gear. The pieces from the suit clanged against the metal floor. The crew winced. Klynar detached the link from his neural port. One of the yeoman whispered, "he just removed his phase deductor."
The well-tattooed Earth man, Chief Petty Officer Jimmy, put out his cigarette on Klynar's anti-warp suit. "You don't need any of this" yelled Jimmy to the crew, "what do you think this phase deductor does? Got my neural link patched years ago... Ain't nothing wrong me. Go ahead Captain, engage the FTL drive. You'll see."
Klynar pointed at the helmsman and gave the command with a nod of his head. The ship creaked and yawned. The display turned white, the engine's sound dropped from a whine to a low throbbing pulse. Klynar's sanity was intact. He saw the phase deductors from his crew extract a grey substance. What was that? Where is it going?
As the ship came out of warp, the crew appeared to be frozen while Kylnar and Jimmy were free to move. "Our fleet, Captain, is controlled by interdimensional space vampires" said Jimmy throwing up the horns with his fist, "and your crew is going to drive the first stake." | 2020-07-14T03:55:51 | 2020-07-14T02:58:52 | 61 | 43 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. WMDs. | The ground was cold and lifeless and fire rained from the sky. Entire cities had been vaporized along with their inhabitants. Those that survived were even worse off than those that had died. The fields of war were choking with alien bodies, strange and reptilian. Many lay still but others thrashed around, tearing at their throats and eyes as their lungs melted in their chests and bloody froth bubbled in their mouths. More still were stricken with strange and incurable diseases, flesh eating bacterias and blood thickening pathogens. The home planet of the Sarthagin Empire was dying a slow, agonizing death. Cloaked figures fitted with environmental suits and blank gas masks wandered the torn battlefields, thrusting bayonets into the dying xenos and executing those who had the audacity to surrender. The butcher's bill had to be paid. Death had come to Sartha.
The war has started and ended in less than ten galactic years. The Galactic Federation of Planets had always maintained cordial relations with the Terran Republic and had extended offers for the seeming pacifists to join their ranks many times, though always they were rejected. The humans were a fiercely independent people but they were also kind and more than willing to engage in diplomacy and trade. They spoke little of their past as a species, instead preferring to gaze towards the future. Many among the Federation questioned if the humans had the ability to defend themselves in the event of an invasion. How sorely they were mistaken.
The Sarthagin Empire, a ruthless expansionist hegemony saw the Terran Republic as a weak power that lacked any serious military power or defensive diplomatic ties and coveted their resources. The declaration of war was followed by an immediate invasion of the Sol system. A mere third of the full Sarthaginian fleet was sent to crush the humans and cripple what meager defenses they had to defend themselves. They never reported back. Neither did the secondary scouting fleet sent to discover what had happened to them. All at once warning signals blared across Sarthaginian space: they were being invaded. Though not particularly powerful in their naval engagements humanity proved its utter ruthlessness in their land campaigns. Cities burned in atomic fire and battlefields became unable to be fought in as legions of Sarthaginians choked and died in toxic gas. Civilians were soon afflicted with diseases that wiped out untold billions.
The humans did not desire resources. They did not want land, they were not interested in surrender. They fought a war of annihilation. None were spared and once a planet was devoid of all but the smallest pockets of civilized life did they leave. The Galactic Federation was appalled at these actions but was stricken with fear over what may happen to them if they intervened. The Sarthaginians begged for aid, for an end to the slaughter, for anyone to help them. And none came.
At last came time for the fall of the home world of Sartha. The agony inflicted there would echo throughout galactic history. The planet's very atmosphere burned while the earth was poisoned and deadly. The Sarthaginian queen lay on her knees, her once opulent and imperial palace reduced to a smouldering ruin. She gazed up at the masked visage of the human standing before her. No grand general, no strategic mastermind, no human of any importance. What stood before her was a grunt. Infantry. A peasant. Its rifle was spattered with dirt, the ugly blade attached to the barrel stained with dried blood. She looked into the blank rebreather it wore. She couldn't see its face. Not even its eyes.
"Why" she sputtered, "why have you done this? We've begged you to stop. We've offered you so much. Yet still you kill us, you annihilate our planets and slaughter our people. In the name of the gods, why have you done this to us?"
The figure stared down at the queen, her once fine robes sullied with ash. It breathed in the recycled air heavily.
It ran the bayonet through her chest and twisted. Blood spurted into her mouth. The figure kicked her off of its weapon and she slumped over. In her final moments she only saw the thing standing above her. Utterly emotionless. Staring. It watched her die.
A few months after the end of the Terran-Sarthagin War the Galactic Federation held a meeting to discuss what had happened and what to do next. A single human representative was sent to attend. He emphasized that their opinion of the Federation had not changed and that things would resume as normal. The Terran Republic simply had protocols in place for events such as hostile invasions, though they were always seen as a last result. The Fourth Seal Protocol was and always would be used in defense, never offensively. In addition they would of course not join the Federation but did wish to remain cordial. The meeting ended with a recital from a human holy book by the human delegate:
"And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see. And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him." | "Life in space is nothing like our ancestors envisioned." James explained. "We thought war, and piracy would be common, but most of you guys had peaceful world government for a couple generations before you reached the stars.
"Also, the toys we thought would work, just don't. Lasers, masers and plasma weapons are garbage at ship-to-ship range, and poke holes in your own hull, if you're fighting boarders. No, space is usually civilized." James continued.
The T'Kar warrior nodded its broad, armored skull, "this is so. Your Galactic Union has forgotten the value of the old ways," it said, brandishing a bronze spear. "We have not, and your people will fall before our ground troops before this day is done. Your Earth is but one more conquest for the T'Kar empire!"
"Well, I'm not certain of that." James grinned up at his captor. "You see, my people didn't form a global government until after we met our interstellar neighbors. We are less than a generation removed from the last internal wars on my planet, and we haven't forgotten how to fight."
The T'Kar chuckled, but looked doubtfully at James' grin, which hadn't wavered in the slightest.
"My people once used spears, very much like yours," James continued, "We also used much, much more complex weapons, too, but you know what? We never forgot about the basics. At heart, we're still rock throwing apes."
As James said this, the T'Kar Supercarrier out the starboard viewport was split by internal explosions. "Do you know," James asked, "What a 500 kg tungsten lance does when it hits something at .8 C?"
"We call them C-Lances." James' demeanor was more serious now, "Like I said, we expected to find a galaxy as war-torn as our home planet. We came prepared." Another carrier, to port this time, was shredded. "Those lances are being dropped by outbound tactical cruisers. This fleet is dieing as targets of opportunity.
"Do your people have a word for orbital bombardment? Because that is the real mission of those ships."
The T'Kar was shocked beyond the ability to react. James cold have taken its spear, killed it where it stood, but there was no point. "We'll die together, I guess, but my world will survive. It's what we do."
The T'Kar turned to face its captive. "How does your species possess such a weapon? It is an abomination! No species fights like this!"
James looked dolefully at this proud, but doomed warrior, "We expected the galaxy to be full of people like you... and like me."
In that instant, a Terran cruiser released a single lance, as it accelerated out of Earth's gravity well. Too quickly for either to perceive, James and the T'Kar were ripped apart by gamma and x-ray radiation, and a shockwave that shattered the T'Kar carrier. | 2021-07-05T00:02:33 | 2021-07-04T23:49:37 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] Upon death you go to hell and find that it's actually run by a council of the worst people in history, with Satan as the head of it. They invite you to the council, but you honestly have no clue why. | I have lived a long and fufilling life, it's time for me to go.
"Take care, darling." Said my wife as she grasped onto my hand.
"Yes, see you...on the other side."
For a split second, I felt weightless, as if I was floating in the calmest of waters.
There was nothing left to tie me down to earth and I was free now....Why is my sleeve on fire?!
I quickly patted out the fire in an attempt to extinguish it.
My vision of peace and serenity disappeared as my eyes made contact with the burning lakes of fire and pure darkness above me.
There is no doubt about it, I am in hell.
"Hey you! Move along now!"
A handsome man with wings hurried me along towards the gates of hell where a three headed dog was standing.
This is bad, isn't that Cerberus, the gatekeeper of Hell?!
I think this is starting to sink in now, I regret not being a follower of God in my whole 80 years of living.
Wait a second, wasn't Cerberus part of greek mythology? And aren't devils supposed to be those goat looking humans? What's going on?!
Just as I entered the gates, Cerberus, who had been standing stoically like a statue suddenly bent down and inspected me.
Just one of its head is enough to tower over my entire body. I'm going to die again.
As I accepted my fate, I felt a wet sensation all over me.
Cerberus is....licking me?
The stoic expression of the hellhound was replaced by a cheerful and playful expression of a regular dog.
Just what the heck is going on?!
"I can't believe it...You sir, follow me." Said a winged man in armor.
I was led to a castle in the inner walls of a city still slightly wet from the slobber left on me. This was not how I imagined hell to look like.
The bustling streets of this city was filled with people of every era. Old philosophers arguing with people from the 21st century, women of all eras fighting over the food in the market, it was a wierd sight.
We approached a metal door that was three metres high and the man pushed it forward as if it was just a regular door.
Instantly, I could hear arguments from behind the door.
"And that's why I'm saying, if there was a way to end this without sending them to Cocytus, I would have tried it."
"Sigh, you're always like this, just like the holocaust right? Send anyone into concentration camps if you don't like them."
"Don't bring that...Oh, who is this?"
The whole group of people sitting on chairs around a table was suddenly looking at me, this is bad. Are these the big bosses of hell?!
At the end of the table sat a noticeably handsome man in armor. If I were not in hell, I would have mistakened him for an angel.
"The smell of your soul, is that you?" Said the handsome man at the end.
The smell of my soul? What does he mean?
"Oh I see, you finally decided to come back. Welcome back." Said the man with a weird moustache.
The whole group of people from different ethnicities welcomed me back as if I was their friend.
"Umm...I think you got the wrong person."
"Ahh right, there's the whole possession memory wiping thing, listen here, now that you're back, we would like you to join the council again." Said the handsome man at the back of the table.
"...Excuse me?"
This has been getting weirder and weirder, is this a nightmare?
"Did you forget me comrade? It's me, Adolf Hitler!" Said the man with the weird mustache.
Alright, I think I'm completely insane right now.
"I know that things will seem hazy for awhile but you will start to remember it over time."
"Welcome back to hell, Mister Joseph Stalin." | A flash of blinding light invades my eyes as my life slips away. I open my eyes to find myself sitting on a chair in a dark room, not unlike the Supreme Court chambers. The room seemed to be carved from stone and stifling hot. Perhaps we were under ground or in a cave. As my eyes adjusted I began to look around. Seated behind a high bench was a collection of the meanest looking persons I had ever laid eyes on. Among them was a man with a little mustache, a man in a white turban with a bushy beard, two teenagers dressed in black overcoats, and a cold sneering face with high cheekbones, much resembling a vampire.
This man was preoccupied with something happening underneath his desk and the seat next to him was empty. A thunderous gavel bang prompted commotion from under the shallow faced man’s desk as a fat orange man with bad hair scrambled up into his seat, wiping the spittle from his mouth and yelling, “Everything’s great! We’re all good! You’re gonna be so happy!”
“Yes I’m sure we’ll all be as happy as Mr. Putin one day Donald, but for now can you shut the fuck up and let me do my job,” said the large beast holding the gavel, a visibly annoyed expression plastered across his red face.
“Welcome to the Council of Dicks,” the monster says, turning to face me, “We’ve been expecting you.”
“What is this place? And who are you?” I ask in a quivering voice.
“Why I thought my horns would be explanation enough! I’m Satan, and you’re in hell.”
“That’s impossible!” I exclaim, “I went to church every Sunday!”
“Even so, a life of crime does not allow a man to be exonerated by a routine,” he explains.
“That’s bullshit!”
“So is thievery,” Satan says smiling, a small plastic cup filled with soda in his hands. “These are meant for water, you know.” | 2017-10-01T19:06:09 | 2017-10-01T18:26:07 | 108 | 23 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I’m lying in a bed on a tuesday night.
And I’m having restless dreams.
And then I awake from a story where I’m rescuing a princess from a wheel of cheese. Because there’s a chainsaw on my nightstand.
A groggy hand reaches over and slaps it reluctantly. Is it morning...a alarm? Some long lost love looking for luscious life-experiences? But no… a text message. Is it my wife? Will she be late tonight?
“DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON”
So I make a curious eye sweep of the room. I pause at my window, where the forbidden object lies, and return my gaze in the opposite direction.
Nothing.
So, eyes squeezed shut, I walk over to the window. Just in case. I have a moment of panic when I trip on a errant pair of pants, but I right myself quickly. Then, in a fleeting, fluttering, futile gesture, I bravely bring down the blinds.
With that dangerous task complete, I sprint back to my bed, as if its covers will protect me from whatever has infested the sky.
Perhaps it’s just a joke, or the product of a overtaxed imagination. But somehow I know to be afraid.
Buzz.
Another a text? More instructions? Is there something else I’m not supposed to look at?
It’s from a old coworker. A good friend.
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”
I peek out from beneath my blanket bastion. A windows shuttered and silent. A door, barely open, with a crooked mouth along its length, mocking me.
Should I close it? No. Too dangerous. So I close my eyes and whisper.
“Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.”
Buzz.
Another text message. Perhaps I shouldn’t…
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.” from my best man.
Then a bing. A different app, I have so many.
“It’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.”
And then my phone begins to shake and chatter, with bings and chimes and whistles. Each one is like a stab in my stomach. What’s happening? What’s happening?
Then bit by bit, the phone sounds die out.
Then a new sound. A ringing. A bold, unique choice for a ringtone in this day and age, but I’ve always been a trend setter.
It’s my wife. Is she safe? Does she know what’s happening?
And before I can catch myself, I hit the answer button.
(Part 1? Sorry for a cliffhanger, it was getting long)
(r/StannisTheAmish)
| I wake to the sound of my phone vibrating so fast I'm afraid it'll fall of my nightstand. I groggily my phone before it falls and turn it on to see the words "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON" in bright letters illuminated by the official nationwide alert backdrop. The vibrations refuse to stop. Hundreds of texts are rolling in from numbers I don't know so fast that I can barely make out what they're saying. I set my phone to silent and put it back on the nightstand. "Looks like a problem that can wait till the morning," I faintly think to myself before falling back to sleep. Nothing gets me out of bed at 3 a.m. | 2022-05-11T14:02:28 | 2018-04-06T19:08:10 | 314 | 11 |
[WP] Your whole life you had an ability that seemed normal to you. Now you realized you're the only one with this ability.
[deleted] | I was sitting on a bus on my way to a local strawberry farm as a field trip. Ethan sat next to me, reading a comic book he had brought for the drive. “Hey, do you think anyone has real powers?” I asked. “Like super-speed? I don’t think that’s possible.” He replied matter-of-factly, not removing his eyes from the comic. “I think I have a super power.” I said, still staring out the window. Ethan was cynical for an 8 year old, but it didn’t change his curiosity. “Oh really? What is it?” He asked sarcastically, looking up at me from his comic book. “Yea, I can slow down time.” “No way, prove it.” I looked out the window. “See those trees? If I focus on one, time slows down.” He laughed at me and jokingly punched me on the shoulder. “Everyone can do that man, it’s not a super power.”
I believed Ethan, I thought everyone had my ability. I didn’t realize it way back then, but what I was doing by following that tree wasn’t just a trick of perspective. I was slowing down time, but only for me.
I realized that I legitimately had a gift when I went to meet my girlfriend’s parents for the first time. I got all dressed up in a white button down shirt and tie. I was wearing a nice pair of khakis that my mom had bought the weekend before. The whole evening was going great up until dinner time. We were having spaghetti, and just as my luck would have it, I accidentally bumped my plate, and sent the spaghetti on a one way trip towards my new pants. I did what I always did when something like this happened. I focused on the plate, slowed it down, and caught it in time to prevent utter spaghetti embarrassment. After I had successfully averted an embarrassing trip to the bathroom and stern scolding from my mother, my girlfriend’s dad spoke up. “Wow, you sure are fast. How in the world did you manage to catch that?” I looked at him confusedly. “I’m not sure. Whenever I drop something I just focus real hard and catch it.” He scrunched his face in a look of both skepticism and amazement. “Really? Huh, I may have to try that the next time I drop one of my wife’s dishes.” We all had a hearty chuckle at that.
That day marked the first time I became aware of my power. I began to experiment, testing my boundaries and abilities. Checking to see how slow I could make things move, and realizing how long I could slow them. It was liberating and terrifying at the same time.
I realized that I was responsible for everyone around me. That every car crash, every dropped plate, and every act of harm that happened in my presence, was my fault. It scared me. I was too anxious to leave the house. My life began to crumble. The fact that I could manipulate time itself worried me to no end. And it ate at me from the inside out.
That brings us to now. As I struggle to slow down the car heading towards my neighbor’s daughter. The car’s time is creeping along slowly. The world around the girl moves at a snails pace. I struggle to push past my limit, as I desperately wish: to have never asked Ethan about super powers. | I was in my classroom,i was nervous because i haven't studied anything for the entire semester.Mister Rim was the most evil physics professor in the entire university,he knew how to put the worst type of questions,his twisted mind was precise and non dared to question his excellence.As i bleat in the space all sweating i felt pain in my legs i turned back and saw Jerry holding needle i looked him with the type of face you look at someone you want to kill ''It will help you pass the exam''.
The clock was ticking i wasn't typing anything ,worrying of what Jerry gave me did he drugged me?All of a sudden i snapped the entire room was blue and i was seeing yellow physics laws i looked at my questions and i had it all in there as if i was Einstein himself i knew it all without even looking the questions.What did Jerry gave me ,am i going insane is this a nightmare?The bell rang as loud as ever the entire classroom was shaking and all of a sudden... void.
I woke up in my dorm,it was 3 am and i was in front of book must have fall asleep it was open on E=MC2 ah yes the theory of relativity must be ready for tommorow or else mister Rim would kill me.The next day i was the one laughing at the twisted professor. | 2020-06-14T00:05:46 | 2020-06-13T23:30:37 | 88 | 14 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" | Andrea Patton remembered vividly the day she read her letter. The Letter. The one that everyone gets on their 18th birthday, with the first words they would ever hear from their soul mate printed inside.
Her friends, Stephanie and Becca, begged her to bring it to school the next day. Stephanie got hers a few months before, where she proudly read her letter in front of them at the local diner during summer break.
"You look like an angel in that dress." They all broke out into a fit of giggles, playing around with the idea of who this smooth-talker could be.
Becca, who was a year younger then them, looked forward to getting her letter. She had it marked on her calender, counting down the days eagerly. She hoped, albeit foolishly, that they would be from Mikey, the boy she's been dating since sophomore year.
On that day, during their first break, they sat around one of the empty courtyard tables. Andrea, holding the unopened envelope in her hands (she had promised them she wouldn't open it without them), saw as they looked at her in anticipation.
Slowly, carefully, she opened it. Trying to keep her hands from shaking, she unfolded the letter as the other girls held their breath, their excitement reminding her of someone watching you open a present at Christmas. It almost didn't register to them that Andrea's expression was not one of joy, but sadness.
"Andrea? What does it say?" Stephanie asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
In a voice barely above a whisper, she said. "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
They looked at her, speechless, a pregnant pause filling the courtyard before finally bursting out in laughter.
Andrea's expression hardened "Guys. This isn't funny."
"I know, sorry. It's just...your face was like a sad puppy, like seriously."
Becca shot a glare over to Stephanie. Clearing her throat, she said "I mean, cheer up, it's not the end of the world."
The younger girl chimed in "Yeah, at least you know where you're going to meet the lucky guy. Or girl." She shrugged. "Hard to tell".
Andrea forced a chuckle. "I'm pretty sure the day I meet them is the day I die. Because finding the one Starbucks employee, if they even *are* a Starbucks employee, that happens to say that in *just* the right way that I know it's them, out of the hundreds of thousands in the world, is just sentencing me to live the life of a crazy old lady who lives alone hoarding random crap in her house."
The two other girls stifled their laughter.
Becca, ever the optimist, responded with. "Hey don't say that, I'm sure you'll meet them. Just give it a chance."
And Andrea did. For over 8 years she would frequent different Starbucks. First around her city, then the state. She even went so far as traveling to Britain, Canada, Australia, anywhere that had a Starbucks and spoke English that she could possibly think of, and spending her yearly three weeks vacation time going from one Starbucks to the next.
But with each year, the hope she had built up would diminish, until she came to the realization that it was never going to happen. She would never meet the person that, according to everything she was told, would make her life meaningful.
So, after the 8th year of searching, she resigned herself to her fate of being single. And as she had watched through the years her two best friends find their soul mates and get married, she was surprisingly ok with that. She was tired of trying, and she reminded herself that she was lucky enough to have things that not a lot of people had; wonderful friends, a loving family, and a job that she was happy with.
Stephanie and Becca had supported her through the years, even when her parents didn't at times, and understood her decision of not looking anymore, though she sees the sad looks they give her when they don't think shes looking.
On a cold October night, the year after she stopped looking, Andrea went out shopping. Earlier that month, Becca had invited her and Stephanie together for lunch in their home town to tell them she had "a big announcement". Her and her husband were expecting their first child. Of course, the two friends were estatic. The father to be? Mikey, who had beaten the odds and proven that the people you date before turning 18 can be "the one".
She wasn't quite sure what to get for the upcoming baby shower, so she settled on an assortment of purple clothes. *Purple was safe* she thought. Whether the baby was a boy or a girl, Becca could still dress them without being embarrassed. Probably.
With shopping bag in hand, she walked down the barren street, the only light coming from the few shops that were still open and the dim street lamps.
As she looked through the illuminated windows, she stopped when she spotted a familiar sight: Baristas with green aprons making beverages, people sipping from cardboard cups or working on their computers.
Starbucks.
*Why not?* Andrea thought, *For old times sake.* She silenced the tiny voice in the back of her head that suggested *maybe this time*. Old habits die hard
The woman stepped through the sliding doors, mindlessly walking up to the counter as she looked at the clock on the wall. 8:30 p.m. She didn't realize it had gotten so late. When she got there, it was still light out. Andrea wondered if she should grab one of the employees and ask them to walk her to her car afterwards.
With no one in front of her, she started to grab the money from her wallet, not even bothering to look up at the menu. A Caramel Macchiato, her usual. A cold gust of air hit her back, signaling the arrival of another person with the same idea as her. Behind the counter, a male voice asked:
"Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
Andrea froze. She had heard that phrase so many times before, in various ways, and felt nothing. Why did this one stand out to her? What made this one so different? Her heart beat loudly in her chest, to the point that it made it hard for her to think. She almost couldn't breathe, feeling her grip tighten around the bill in her hand. Slowly, the woman raised her gaze, not knowing what to expect.
The cashier had a boyish face, with a light spatter of freckles across his cheeks. His chestnut brown hair touched the top of his ears, and his bangs were neatly slicked back. She guessed that he was a few years younger then her. The man smiled at her politely, waiting for her to order.
It was *him*. The one she had been searching for for almost ten years. The one she had given up on ever finding.
It took a moment for Andrea to realize the smile had disappeared from his face, and his expression changed to one of confusion, and then...something that didn't make sense to her.
Did she do something wrong? The pounding in her ears had gotten louder then she thought possible. Time seemed to have slowed down around them. Muffled sounds broke though her own as they began to form words, became voices that escalated in volume and painfully bounced around in her head.
She was barely able to make out his from all the others. It was quiet, wavering.
"Is that...is that blood?" *What? What are you-* Andrea shakily lifted her free hand, the bill inside it wet with sweat and...
Her knees buckled, the weight in her body suddenly becoming too much for her to bear. She found herself gazing up at the ceiling, figures coming in and out of view. Each breath was shallow, causing a sharp pain in her chest every time she inhaled. She forced herself to look down at her body, and she wished she hadn't; a dark purple stain had formed on her light blue shirt, and seemed to grow larger the longer she looked at it.
The voices stacked on top of each other, varying in volume and intensity. She had a hard time differentiating specific words, but could've sworn she heard 911, and a female voice saying "..behind her, stabbed her, and ran."
Andrea felt something soft touch the back of her head, and it took a moment for her to figure out it was the cashier propping her head up. He drew his face close, a few inches from hers, switching his gaze from her to somewhere else. Her vision blurred, his face distorting as she felt warm wet, pinpricks form in her eyes and roll down her cheeks. Even as every sensation in her body grew numb, Andrea knew what that was.
If she could laugh, she would of. Laughed at the cruel irony that the day she opened that letter was that day she sealed her fate, without even knowing it.
His lips moved, he was saying something to her that she couldn't make out. She shook her head back and forth, a faint smile on her lips as she forced the words out of her mouth, the words she wanted to say, *needed* to say before she couldn't.
"Thank you...I'm so happy to finally meet you."
Through the darkness that seeped into her vision, she couldn't see the tears that welled up in his eyes, or the flurry of emotions that ran through him before coming to the painful realization that hit him like a blow to the chest.
It was *her*.
And that those were the first, and last words, she'd ever say to him. | "Really? That's... That's the line?" I stared at the small business card style note in my hand. "That is the most... frustrating..."
"What's'it say?" My kid sister (okay, she's fourteen and totally into the romance and boys phase) pried.
"Gah!" I crumpled the envelope in my other hand and chucked it into the trash can across the room with as much vehemence as I could muster. I missed. Figures.
"Jeez, bro, it can't be that bad, right?" Megan tried to get a glimpse of the card, *my* card, before I angrily shoved it into my wallet.
"Leave off, Meg. It's none of your business."
"Jerk."
"Snoop."
Parting shots fired at my life-long arch-frienemy, I took off for my room. This royally sucked.
***
How do you sort out one person... one amazing, wonderful, lovely person, out of thousands of people based on a common interaction that gives absolutely no personal context? I was stumped. The question had never really occurred to me, to be honest. I had always figured my card would read "Hi, I'm Beautiful Woman, and you are?" or something to that effect. You know, the way that people normally introduce themselves.
Instead I get "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take Your order?" Which sucked.
Finally I figured it out. I was reading some article on Scam Spams like the classic Nigerian Prince email and I had a flash of brilliance.
The Nigerian Scam works because it self selects it's victims. People who are too smart to wire money overseas just pass it by. It's junk, done. The only people who respond are those to naive to think it could be legit. Instead of targeting everyone, it only targets probably victims.
I needed to become a walking, talking Nigerian Introduction. That only targets Starbuck's Baristas. Who greet me that exact way.
Right.
So I set about crafting my perfect line. It couldn't be creepy, anything that would get me arrested, or too generic. It also should be specific enough to unique, but not obvious enough for me to get scammed into thinking I had found my soulmate, like Uncle Kevin. ... Yeah. I really did not want to be like Uncle Kevin.
I ended up with this: "Hi, I would like a (insert whatever the heck I want to drink, because it doesn't really matter.). My name is Bryan, with a *Y*." I would stress the last part because I HATE it spelled Brian.
None of it was false, it would sound totally normal, but it was rather hard to duplicate.
My plan was brilliant. It would guarantee success.
My plan sucked.
***
It's been four years since I have been on a date. Four. Freaking. Years. At school we would have dates just to get the social practice in. Some people hoped that their date was their soulmate. A few were actually right. Most just got a chance to see how the other gender (or same gender, if they went that way) would handle dating. I really liked the social interaction. I think Susie in junior year had a crush on me. It was never really super serious for me, but I liked it. It was a great way to relax and have some good fun and open up to people.
Four.
Freaking.
Years.
I've been working retail for most of those years. I actually made assistant manger this year and Corporate is reimbursing me for good grades in my business degree. This means I am debt free, which is nice. I have a small apartment, a decent used car and a Maine Coon cat the size of my couch. Almost.
This would be perfect except I have no one to really share it with. I can't turn to my co-workers since I am either their supervisor or, in Jed's case, under them. And as an Assistant Manager it's not like I have a lot of time to cruise the local Starbucks.
Meg got hers, though. She actually let me see her card (something I have never done for anyone.). Her's said simply "What?!"
Priceless.
I was actually visiting Meg when I met her. *Her*. The one. Never saw it coming.
***
The Christmas bells on the door jingled as we entered Starbucks. Meg and I were bantering about her work as we got up to counter. There was no line, which was nice. A woman a bit younger than I, skinny, with dark hair and brown eyes and a name tag reading "Marie" looked up and said "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
"Hi, I would like a Tall Salted Caramel Frap. My name is Bryan, with a *Y*."
"Oooh," she said, "Might be a problem. We ran out of Caramel and I don't know if it came in yet. Let me go check out back."
"No worries. Take your time." *Well, not her either* I thought.
"Jeez, bro." Meg shoved me. "You don't have to freak out every time they misspell your name. Chill out."
I shoved Meg back. "I like the way it's spelled. It's my name. Mom gave it to me."
"Nuh-uh. Dad did."
"Liar."
"Freak."
Marie had scurried off to the back room during our banter. A young lady came from the restrooms slipped behind the counter. Hurrying to the register she chirped out a quick and cheery "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
I turned back to look at the lithe little Hispanic lady with a wide smile, bright eyes and a butt length ponytail (which I admit to adoring).
"Oh, no worries, Aaaaaa-lly," I said, reading the name off of her tag. "Marie is in back getting the Caramel for my Frap."
I swear to God and all His angels, never I have I seen a more wonderful sight as when all he blood drained from her face. She blinked a few times and then said in a quiet voice,
"Please... Tell me you're real. Tell me I'm not dreaming this."
I admit... it took me a second. Not the brightest fellow, am I. At least, that is what Meg says. Although right then Meg was squealing in joy.
"OH MY GOD! IT'S HER! IT'S HER! I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!"
Numbly, I drew my card out of my wallet and handed it to Ally. She pulled hers, creased and worn, out of her back pocket and passed it to me. Together we read each other's cards.
It even had the drawn out name, as if some printer at the source of the cards had gone spastic on the A character. I had said her card. And she mine. I looked up at her.
She was tearing up, hand over her mouth as she looked from my card to me and back again.
Meg's hollering and shouts of joy drew the other crew out from the back and some skinny kid who looked like he was still a junior high student pretending to be a barista for a day managed to wander into Meg's line of sight.
"Ally is Bryan's soulmate, OH MY GOD I'M SO EXCITED!"
He looked at her with a shocked expression.
"What?!" | 2014-12-18T13:31:04 | 2014-12-18T12:06:19 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] You're a superhero with the ability to control sand. Unfortunately, you've recently been called to battle in an area without easy access to said material. That's when you remember what one of the main ingredients in glass and concrete are. | I knew at once why I'd never seen it before: The sand was so deep down, so much further in then anything I had ever tried. It was like looking into a cave of complete darkness and sensing rather than seeing that far, far inside, there was light.
I looked around, fighting to control my focus, push away panic. We were losing, badly. It seemed the battle was happening at every level of the city - on the street, in the air, on the roofs of buildings, in the buildings themselves where fighters had crashed through plate glass, bringing the rage of war right to the desks of some poor corporate drones.
Overhead, Mordant, their commander, hovered on a floatbike, close enough to see everything, far enough away to be safe. He wore a dark helmet that covered his face, and his four arms moved continuously over screens and controls, directing his forces, making instant decisions. They were a formidable foe, I had to hand it to them. The kind of enemy that makes you dig deep enough to reach something new, something untried and untested.
Something incredibly dangerous.
I closed my eyes to focus, extending my mental reach to the sand deep within the buildings and the windows. Some of it wanted to come out, I saw. Some of it had not changed in years, centuries, and it wanted no part of this world I was calling from. But it was coming out anyway. I would see to that.
There were four key skyscrapers within reach of Mordant, and I shook them just enough to get the people inside to panic and run for the stairs. I could sense their movement through the sand, and I could imagine their fear and their screams. I gave them as long as I could, until I could feel the top few floors were empty, and then I began to work in earnest.
There was *so much* sand there it was amazing that none of the other sandstormers had ever tried this before. But that was the danger, too - a chain reaction would be incredibly easy to set off, the power leaping from building to building until the whole city erupted in agonized flame, as if an asteroid had somehow impacted it from underneath. I breathed slowly and carefully, controlling, managing, reducing, cajoling, and then with one huge final pull, I summoned the countless billion grains of sand to bear all at once.
To me, with such an acute sense of the sand, it looked like that the top seven or eight floors of each building just turned from solid to dust instantaneously, and then those huge clouds of dust leaped to a central point, like dust leaping upwards to a tornado. To my view, the power became overwhelming and exploded into flame, starting near the buildings and racing up the lines of dust, the force like four incoming mile-long locomotives. But to the rest of the world, it just looked like a vast, vast explosion in mid-air, centered on nothing, coming from nowhere. I felt the shockwaves of power run through the city, I felt how close we came to the point of critical chain reaction where the whole city would have gone up. It was terrifyingly close. But we remained on the right side of it. Just.
Mordant was incredible in his reactions, hauling the bike upwards, but too slow, too slow. Fire and dust engulfed him and the dozen or so followers of his guard, raging around them like a solid torrent. Was he able to escape somehow, force his way through the cauldron of super-heated air? I couldn't say for sure. Already I was falling, the expenditure of energy and focus far too much for my consciousness to bear. I remained awake just long enough to see that I had succeeded, that the invaders were fleeing, that my friends were already coming to my aid.
I hit the ground, and knew no more.
\--
Great prompt! If you like this story and would like to read others like it, please check out r/HouseBlendMedium. | Shana cursed her own stupidity.
She stood at the bottom of the sky scraper, looking up. Over a thousand feet of glass looked back down, and right at the top, the dangling figure of the madman’s newest victim.
“Please!” he bellowed, and his voice echoed off the towering buildings of the city. Shana turned, desperately searching her surroundings. Pale faces gathered in a crowd, some covering their mouths, others holding their smartphones up to record the moment the poor soul hurtled towards the ground.
She looked past them searching, seeking, but not a single grain of sand was in sight. She cursed again. What was the point of her powers if she couldn’t help anyone?
Just then, the crowd drew a collective gasp, and Shana spun. The Madman had released one hand, and was now only hanging onto his victim’s tie. The hanging man kicked his legs wildly, both hands scratching at his throat. Shana’s eyes scanned the glass until she caught sight of her own reflection.
Glass… *glass*. Could it be? A scream from above jolted her into action. Shana *breathed*.
The sound was like the crunching of snow, only infinitely amplified. The seamless clear glass turned frosty as it broke into powdery particles, and Shana grinned. Yes, the glass was hers too.
Lifting her hands she gestured, and in that moment the powdery glass flew to her, she swirled it like a vortex and created a solid platform beneath the struggling man’s feet. He slipped and skidded, then fell limp. Shana assumed he’d passed out, and to anyone who couldn’t see the glass, the man was laying in the sky.
Above, the madman’s masked face peeked over the edge. He jumped over and onto the surface. Shana sent a new vortex for him. One that swirled around him until red droplets showered down onto the onlookers with their precious smartphones. | 2021-07-15T12:00:58 | 2021-07-15T09:07:57 | 87 | 20 |
[WP] After being hunted to extinction, the last Orc has been found at the edge of the world... | They had voted, overwhelmingly, in favour of a long-distance assault on the Orc. Bennett, second in command of the strike team, painted a persuasive case of how that strategy ensured the highest chance of a no-casualty kill. “Remember the intel,” he had said, “the target is too dangerous to approach man-to-orc. At his prime, he was an elder of the Council of Shaman serving Gulbrutar!”
So Kurtweil used his veto vote. He wanted the kill just as much as the other six men, but damn if he was going to let this crusade end without a glorious showdown.
And what a crusade it had been. As the squad crept towards the lonely hut at the edge of the jungle, adrenaline coursing through their veins like slippery lightning, Kurtweil found himself in a mild state of denial. Could this actually be the end? Would the death of this last specimen finally mark the end of a long, bloody 200-year extinction event for the Orcs?
Kurtweil halted abruptly, and his well-trained team immediately froze in their tracks. At the edge of their vision, Kurtweil saw a tall, shaggy figure, almost 7 feet tall, shuffle out of the hut and stare up into the star-encrusted sky.
There was no doubt remaining in Kurtweil’s heart. It was Shoggarf, one of the vilest, most dangerous Orcs ever to have walked the face of the earth.
At Kurtweil’s signal, his men spread out and encircled the hut. When they were in place, six sets of force rifles thrummed to power, and laser sights trained on Shoggarf’s head, dancing red spots which promised instant destruction. Kurtweil stepped out from the undergrowth and confronted the foe he had travelled his whole life to find.
“At last we meet, you cursed dog spit,” Kurtweil’s voice boomed in the silky darkness of the night. “I will not even let you surrender, for I will slay you…”
“Man-things took so long. Me wonder why man-things crawl in bushes. Will not run faster?”
“…where you stand… What?”
“Man-things so noisy, heard you yesterday already. Your man-friend there, he’s right though, should have shot me from far. Not good to meet me here.”
A lump had formed in Kurtweil’s throat, and fine beads of sweat broke out across his forehead. This was not what he expected.
“Quiet, you devilspawn! You’re surrounded! I can end your life with a single word!”
“But man-thing not here to kill me, right? If so, me dead by now. So me wonder, why are you here?”
Bennett’s voice called out from eight o’clock, urgent and worried. “Sir! Remember what the intel said! Shoggarf the Sly, Shoggarf the Cunning! Otherwise known as the Puppetmaster of the Council! There must be a trap here!”
“Council? Man-thing talking about my stupid brothers? Haha!” Shoggarf grabbed his belly as he bellowed in laughter. “They all dead cause they stupid. But me not stupid, no.”
A note of uncertainty had crept into Kurtweil’s voice, and he hoped no one, least of all Shoggarf, had picked up on it. “Shut up! Shoggarf! I name you enemy of mankind, and for all the evil your kind unleashed on my ancestors, I am here to slay you today!”
“Me ask you again, what come here for?”
“As I said, all the pain and suffering you caused to my ancestors! For that, you will pay!”
“Have man-thing actually gone through this pain and suffering? Have man-thing actually anything to revenge on me? Hmm?”
Kurtweil had prepared a stinging response, but it died in his throat as he realised that the beast had a point. By the time he was born, the great war between humans and Orcs had already concluded over 150 years ago. True, he had seen first-hand how brutal Orcs could be, but they were always in small, disorganized packs, scattered to the winds like ripened cotton as the burgeoning humans hunted them down. Any stories he heard about the oppression mankind suffered were fifth-hand, sixth-hand stories, passed down from his grandfather’s grandfather.
“I may not have personally suffered, foul beast, but I will avenge my forefathers still!”
“Man-thing lack conviction. Shoggarf hears it. Tell me, if not here for revenge, then man-thing here for fame?”
“I… er… well, yes, in a way. You’re the last Orc there is. We’ve combed the lands, rooting out your last hiding holes, and we were the only ones who figured out that you’re cowering here. If we kill you, then, er, yes, everyone will know we defeated the last of the Orcs!”
Shoggarf laughed again, completely oblivious to the sagging spirits of the strike team. Kurtweil considered briefly that nothing takes the wind of one’s sails quite as effectively as an enemy who didn’t take you seriously.
“You fame for killing me? Old, weak Shoggarf! Shrunken in his old age to only 7 feet? Orc babies in past more bloodthirsty than me! You want to be fame for killing decrepit invalid Orc? They will laugh at you!”
Now that Shoggarf mentioned it, Kurtweil grudgingly conceded that this was not the Orc they had read about in books or heard about in stories. The Orcs of old were fearsome adversaries, but this Orc just seemed… benign.
“You too late to kill Shoggarf in prime! A hundred years ago, maybe, but now…”
“Shut up! Look, even if we do not kill you, we will capture you alive. I’m sure there are rewards out there for your head!”
“Ah, man-thing now talk of bright yellow thing they like. You think Shoggarf dead will bring you riches. But consider this, man-thing, who gave you gold for your rifles? For your armor? Who paid for you for last ten years, until you come to end of world for me?”
“I… how did you know…”
“Is but natural course of things, man-thing. As long as there is Orc out there, man-things will see need for you. They pay you even more cause you hunt for Orc, yes? They call it hazard pay? And when you do kill me, will they still pay you?”
Kurtweil’s rifle drooped down to his side, as the sick, stomach-churning realization hit him. Shoggarf was right.
“Man-thing sad, deflated. Look like old Orc boob with that face. Wait here.” Shoggarf shuffled into his hut, rummaging about as Kurtweil dejectedly signalled for his team to regroup.
The Orc emerged a minute later, and thrust a sheaf of parchments towards the team. Bennett, surprised, almost dropped them all.
“Man-thing take scrolls, and go. Go back home, read scrolls. They are maps, in Orc writing, my writing. Then tell your other man-things you found them, and your fame and gold, they come. No revenge though, sorry.”
“But what are these?”
“They are maps, man-thing. They will tell you where to go, to find out where I went to hide.”
“But you’re here, now!”
“Of course me here. Me old, not stupid. This is fake maps, for you to go travel the world to search for me. You can take years to finish walking all maps. And more important than the fame and gold you find, you will have other thing too.”
“Other thing? What’s that?”
Shoggarf smiled then, and the few remaining shards of bone he had for teeth glinted in the moonlight. For a split second, Kurtweil saw a glimpse of the adversary the intel had warned them about.
“Why, what all you man-things want! Purpose!”
---
[/r/rarelyfunny](https://www.reddit.com/r/rarelyfunny/) | "Are you sure we've got the right place?" Sheryl asked.
"It's a traditional Orcish yurt," Peter said. He frowned. "There is literally only one Orc alive on this entire planet, Sheryl. Who do *you* think built it?"
They stood in front of the squat, tent-like building. A thick leather hide hung where a front door would be. Sheryl stepped forward and raised one hand. She paused. "How do we... should we knock?"
Peter shrugged. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Ho! Mr. Orc! We come in peace!" He followed this with a series of grunting and snorting noises, and stomped his feet in a rhythmic pattern.
There was no response from inside the yurt.
"I told you that your Orcish is crap." Sheryl shook her head and slapped her hand against the entrance, making a soft *whump whump whump.* "Excuse me, hello?"
A voice spoke from behind them. "Did you... did you just try to knock on a piece of fabric?"
The humans turned to see a tall orc standing behind them. He was wearing an exquisitely tailored suit, complete with shiny wingtip leather shoes.
Peter shrugged out of his field pack and placed it on the ground. He stuck out his arms above his head and began to stomp dance in a side-to-side pattern. His face was deadly serious as he began to chant. "We. Come. In. Peace. Ho! We. Come. In. Peace. Ho!"
The orc looked from Peter to Sheryl and back again. He smiled politely at Peter. "That's, uh, very nice. Thank you." He stepped between the humans, towering over them, and pulled back the entrance to his yurt. "Perhaps you two would like to come in?"
Inside, the orc's yurt resembled a small home office. A contemporary black wooden desk jutted out from one wall. An Apple laptop with a large external monitor sat on the desk's otherwise clean and tidy surface. Along one wall, a curved bookshelf held a variety of books: economics classics, industry reports, and a number of business investment guides. A comfortable-looking leather couch and a small mini-fridge completed the room. Hanging from the ceiling, in an ornate wicker frame, was an enormous Orcish halbard. It twisted slowly in the air, its blade gleaming. Peter and Sheryl stood just inside the entrance, gawking open-mouthed.
The orc sat at the desk and gestured toward the couch. Peter and Sherly sat.
"This is incredible," Sherly said, her eyes wide. "How long have you lived here?"
The orc chuckled. "I don't live here. This is just my office. I've got a condo in that small town down by the river."
Peter and Sheryl exchanged a confused look.
"I'm a financial analyst." The orc pointed to a couple of framed diplomas on top of the bookshelf. "I run my own advisory firm. I can work anywhere but I prefer a bit of solitude." He spread his hands and shrugged. "Nothing personal, but humans are pretty terrible."
Peter swallowed. "We're here from, uh, the Global Orcish Recovery Project—"
"GORP," Sheryl said. "Maybe you've heard of us?"
"I'm unfamiliar with that organization." The orc steepled his fingers and waited. "What do you do, exactly?"
"Well, we, uh..." Peter looked at Sheryl. She nodded. "We're a nonprofit dedicated to the rebuilding of the Orcish race."
"We're so sorry about the treatment of your people," Sheryl added. "That whole, uh, genocide thing was just terrible."
The orc leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. He sighed. "How old are you two? Early twenties, right?" He sat up and frowned. "So you weren't even born when the war ended, your parents were probably children."
"Our generation feels very strongly about righting the wrongs of the past," Sheryl said. "That's why we've come to help."
"Help... what, exactly?"
"GORP is dedicated to the creation of an Orcish breeding program," Peter said, "to reconstitute the Orcish herd."
" 'Herd?' 'Breeding program?'" The orc raised his eyebrows. "You're serious?"
"We have some pamphlets and materials," Peter said, digging into his field pack and pulling out a bundle of papers. "Here, let me show you—"
"You know I'm the only Orc alive, right?"
"Well, there's always artificial reproductive technology," Sheryl said, smiling. "Like artificial insemination, embryo harvesting—"
"I'm male."
Peter nodded. "Of course you are! We totally know that!" He elbowed Sheryl. "We definitely understand Orcish biology." He laid a binder on top of the desk. "That's why we thought maybe interbreeding with a similar species might work?"
The orc flipped open the binder, revealing slick plastic pages containing a variety of photos. "These... are animals." He looked up at the humans. "Everything in here is an animal."
"We weren't sure which species were compatible," Sheryl mumbled.
The orc held up the binder and tapped on one of the pictures. "This is a rhinoceros. You thought that *a rhinoceros* was possibly compatible..."
"Well, they are strong and bulky—"
The orc flipped the page and choked. He jabbed repeatedly at another photo. "This. Is. A. Jellyfish."
"GORP tries to keep an open mind—"
"Get out."
*****
If you liked this story, I have other stories at /r/hpcisco7965.
| 2017-01-18T09:09:13 | 2017-01-18T08:18:08 | 33 | 10 |
[WP] You just let a hungry-looking couple into your home to feed them. As you go to turn off the TV, you hear, “under no circumstances should you answer the door today. They are not what they seem. And whatever you do, don’t let them inside...” | I set the hungry couple down in my den and hurried to my kitchen. It had been a very long time indeed since unexpected guests had arrived, and it mattered not to me that I didn't even know their names. I began drawing the water for a proper tea and leaned over to turn off the telly. Fingers on the button, and I heard, "Under no circumstances should you answer the door today. They are not what they seem. And whatever you do, don't let them inside..." I pause, my heart fluttering in my chest, before finishing my push. I am old, and I remember when things were... other than they are now. Children bustling in and out of the house, their friends and their friends families coming over for dinner on the weekends, my old pal hurrying off to work in the wee early mornings and coming home long after the sun had set. I shook my head - I didn't know these strangers, me, who never knew a stranger in her youth!, I didn't know them, but I was raised to feed the ones who were hungry, and water them too, so with a stubborn lift of my jaw, I continued my preparations. Were this my last tea I ever served, it would be the loveliest tea as well.
There wasn't much I could do about the sandwiches, of course. As an old pensioner, I am only afforded so much, and - compared to my old life - not much of that much would I consider luxuries. The bread slices were paper thin, and the cucumber a little wrinkled; a slice of egg instead of a whole egg apiece. I rummaged in my cupboard to find the last hint of preserves I'd left over, a reminder of happier days spent in my garden under the bright sunlight. Only a dab apiece - I let myself suck the spoon before placing the empty jar by the sink. It wouldn't do to put it in the rubbish before cleaning it; it wouldn't do at all. A thin bit of watered down milk to accompany the tea, the days of full, thick cream long past. Perhaps the fare was plain; but I made certain to pull down the finest china I had remaining from the days before to serve.
As I slowly tottered into the den, the man leapt up from his seat and insisted on collecting the tray for me. He exchanged looks with the woman, and they both said thank you, which was exactly the sort of response one might hope for when one has made tea at my age. There was not much more noise than polite chewing and drinking for a bit after that, and I nibbled on my own little sandwich as slowly as possible. How I had forgotten how pleasant it was to be in the company of other people for more than the weekly line! In short order, the tea was dispatched, and the couple exchanged shy glances before the woman spoke.
In pleasant tones, she asked, "Grantha, we... we haven't any money to repay you for your kindness, but..." Momentarily she trailed off, before starting again, a hard, eager light in her eyes. "Grantha, you risked much to allow us in and feed us. We have but one way to repay you, if you are willing to accept. We are Singers."
Singers! Actual singers! My eyes, I am sure, were wide with anticipation. It had been so very, very long since I last heard music. In stillness, in quiet, we crept about our daily tasks these days. Even children had been taken for singing or humming or noise making that wasn't in explicit praise of the powers in charge. My heart pounding, I nodded, excitement building in my very veins. I held up my fingers, little space between them. Quiet they must remain, or they would be found - but oh, please, to hear music just one last time!
Exchanging another glance, they nodded, and began singing a quiet tune. A haunting tune that spoke of better days. The most beautiful tune my two ears ever heard - I had silent tears running down my face. As they finished, I stood up, beckoning them to follow. Pointing at the dresser, I make a shooing motion. The man steps forward to move the dresser, exposing a tiny door. I hope they understand - I hope they make it. That tiny door leads to the outside, where they might - having had refreshments for the spirit and body - make it to a better place, where raised voices and glorious singing (singing!) are the normal, rather than the hidden and the punished. As they begin to climb through the door, I open my mouth. I show them the stub of my own tongue, removed so long ago. I show them the scar. I will be silent now, quiet as a mouse - I have no choice. Empathy fills their eyes and they begin to speak, but with a hammering at the front door, they exchange glances once more and flee.
I smile. Let them come. Were this my last tea I ever served, it had been the loveliest tea as well. | "And whatever you do, don’t let them inside..."
Those words are still ringing through my brain as I look up from the couch. Our host, so gracious just a few minutes ago, turns to face us. Neither of us have to imagine the look of dawning horror on our faces, as it is clearly being reflected right back. My wife and I both start shouting, at first in disbelief, then in fear.
"What the…? Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa wait wait wait. That is NOT us. I have no idea what they’re talking about." But it’s too late.
Our host pivots swiftly. He reaches behind the TV stand and pulls out a hunting rifle. That… doesn’t seem safe. But it’s West Virginia, so it’s also not that uncommon. It’s probably also loaded.
"SHUT UP!" Our host bellows. We do. Neither of us are used to having a gun pulled on us. My wife is sobbing, a barely audible whimper, "I just want to get home to feed the dog."
"I SAID SHUT UP!" I don’t know when I urinated on myself, but this is the point I start feeling it. The host starts digging through a junk drawer.
"No duct tape dammit," as he pulls out some masking tape and zip ties. "Good enough. You –" he points to me and tosses a couple zip ties on the floor, "hands behind your back. You –" to my wife now, "tie his hands together."
We comply, trying to explain that he’s making a mistake, but that doesn’t last long. He zip ties my wife’s hands then tapes our mouths shut. He shoves both of us into a closet.
"Stay here 'til I figure out what to do with you." He closes the door, blocking out the afternoon sun, leaving near-pitch darkness. I hear what I assume is a chair thud up against the closet door.
There's no telling time in darkness. I don't know how long we were stuck in there, crying. Maybe 15 minutes. Maybe 2 hours. I hear rustling occasionally, but nothing more, until I hear another thud. This time it’s the chair being removed. The door opens. It’s nearly as dark out there as it was in the closet, but my eyes have adjusted.
I see that our host is still holding his gun and… two others? He’s got a revolver in his hand and there’s a shotgun propped up against the wall. He looks at me, showing me the revolver. One of those big, Dirty Harry/Sledgehammer types. "You know how to use this?"
I nod, confused. "Good. Sorry about earlier. I believe you now. And sorry about whatever is going to happen next." He pulls the tape off our mouths, then pulls out some wirecutters and snaps our zip ties. He hands me the revolver, hands my wife the rifle.
"Take these. I don't know if they're gonna help."
| 2018-03-14T11:17:41 | 2018-03-14T10:29:22 | 113 | 42 |
[WP] The galactic community settled conflicts not with war but rather with computer simulations. But they've never before encountered a race with the equivilent of the Speedrun community... | "Boss, look. I'm nearly certain."
General Handen turned back, exasperated. His executive assistant had been transported alongside his best battalion yesterday. A formal declaration of war from aggressors from space, then suddenly they were on an unrecognisable planet. He was proud of how quickly his soldiers had adapted to the 8 tenths gravity, but young Maxwell seemed fixated on the gravity itself. "This is your last chance to give me something useful, then I'm leaving, Max," he growled. "You're slowing me down here."
"Hey, look. Okay. Bottom line, they've fudged a few constants. Boss, look at this rock." He lobbed it, and it sailed gracefully under the reduced gravity. The general grunted, obviously not understanding the excitement the young administrator was glowing with. "Now watch when I throw two stones..." The second set of rocks flew, but started weaving into a helix pattern as they fell. "Do you see what's wrong with that?"
"We're on an alien planet with alien rocks, Max... They've got increased density or something. They're orbiting each other because they're dense."
"Then how did I lift them? Why haven't we been crushed by the super dense gravity of these rocks?" Max looked up at him, eager. "It's because we're. Not. Really. Here. It's got to be a simulation. They tried to simulate infinitesimal amounts of gravity, but they overdid it. They didn't really need to bother..."
Handen let him trail off. "Okay, so I order all my men to shoot themselves and they wake up in a virtual rig back on Earth?"
"Whoa. Whoa, Boss. I'm not that confident! Give me some uninterrupted time with one of the camp computers, and I might be able to give you an edge. I'm not a fan of losing, and I'm definitely not going to lose a virtual game!"
\-----------
Handen returned to the command tent. The latest skirmish had been intense, but he had managed to give his men a few tips to make their firing solutions a little more accurate under the strange projectile motion Max had demonstrated. They were currently at a standstill, forming a battle line that should hold the enemies at bay, whoever they were. He pushed aside the tent flap and stopped in his tracks.
"Hey, Boss!" Max called as he pirouetted gracefully to face him. Max was floating in the middle of the tent, casually moving a few stones around himself.
"What the Hell am I looking at...?"
"I managed to pin down a few more glitches in the system. They accounted for trying to swallow rocks, but not inserting them under the skin. Then, using a few guidance rocks, I can keep myself in the equivalent of a legrange point and move around a bit up here."
"Okay, I'm still not certain about this being a simulation, Max, but if we can fly small squads behind enemy lines with this..."
"Oh no, Boss. This isn't the glitch I wanted to tell you about. While I was working on making this practical, I found something else. Would you please shoot me? Sylar is being a jerk and won't do it without orders."
The Private nearby let out a long suffering sigh and looked pleadingly at the General. Handen nodded slowly. "Wing him, please. It might slow him down a bit."
Sylar aimed and hit Maxwell's bare outstretched arm with a round. It bounced off with a cracking sound. His glance this time was one of surprise.
"Boss, I think we can reproduce this invulnerability glitch for all the troops, pretty easily." Max grinned, and floated clumsily toward the ground.
The General straightened up and fixed Max with a steely gaze. "You've got 12 hours to make this happen, Max. This will win us the war." His head was spinning. The implications were astounding. They could rework so many tactics-
"Why didn't you say we've got so much time!? I was working on duplication next, but I bet I could get us a Credits Warp by then!" He saw the confusion in Handen's eyes. "I mean an automatic victory. No fighting required!"
Maxwell gave a half-hearted salute and started muttering to himself, dragging the computer and three carved rocks over to him. "I wish I could find a way to reset this... I could definitely set the record..." | “This game’s ass and so is your fucking planet,”
Kyle said as he ducked exactly 6 times as quickly as he could press the key a few degrees off-center from the wall in the spawn room. After avoiding the weapon selection screen from Commander Trask, Kyle hopped on board his starship while holding the key to swap weapons. The game attemped to write his equipped weapon to his transmat storage but settled on writing the debug standard phazer gun to his stockpile before switching to his empty secondary. Considering Kyle specifically spec’d all his points into the soldier class, the base secondary was a single-shot plasma launcher. The debug launcher was crummy compared to what the enemy had, but Kyle just spawned 2 billion of them. Or, at least as many as the game’s code highest integer value could handle.
Kyle didn’t spend a single point on piloting, so his chosen evac ship was all he’d gotten and all he needed.
After a 2-hour trip at tachyon 324, he arrived over the beautiful, non-procedurally generated homeworld of his enemy. Kyle took in the beautiful skyline for a moment.
“These squid-people have good graphics though...”
Letting his starship coast in the sky at the very edge of where the simulated homeworld skyline met space, Kyle pressed the button to close the landing hatch and fire his weapon while standing exactly on the edge of the platform. He watched as the game auto-loaded his weapon at the 1,000hz tickrate of the server, attempting to keep his weapon topped off for a jump he wasn’t actually going to make.
As he got the animation to cancel automatically by turning his character to the corner of the ledge of his coasting ship to trick the game into a glitched falling pose, he couldn’t help but recall that time the alien “covenant” “glassed” the human planet “Reach“ in his favorite game 60 years ago.
“I still got it. If only Brad were still here to screen-peak this,” he muttered as his opponent crushed its own throat in shame, opting to die undefeated.
The humans cracked up laughing in tears. The guest species... was not amused. They looked at the armageddon in awe and fear. Which god of war had sent this four-limbed creature?
“I thought I told you all to fuck off when I raided Area-51, octopussies” | 2020-11-16T04:56:32 | 2020-11-16T02:50:50 | 49 | 33 |
[WP] A man is going through the attic of his recently deceased grandfather when he stumbles upon what looks to be an old journal with his grandfather's name on the inside cover. The first entry is dated "10/07/2392". | Edit June 30: Be sure to check out the 2nd part of the story below as a reply to this comment.
Edit **July 1**: Added in a third part, be sure to check it out in the comments below.
***
*It had to have been some kind of error,* Bryan had thought.
He immediately shut the journal and examined the cover. It seemed normal, albeit a bit fancy, but such was the case with Grandpa Alan. The thin journal was bound in leather that was wrinkled near the spine from frequent opening and folding. Bryan turned the journal over to take a look at its back and saw nothing else that stuck out. He turned it over a few times in his hands, feeling it carefully, allowing his fingers to rub over every crease in the leather cover.
*An error*, he said to himself again, opening the journal once again. He thumbed through the first few flyleaves, then thumbed back, making sure that there hadn't been anything written there either. Then he turned to the page he had last left off on. It was clear on the top left hand corner, **10/07/2392**.
Before Bryan even began to read, he turned a few pages, sure of himself that he would see the correct date, maybe a 10/12/1992, or something like that. But no, the year remained 2392, and eventually 2393 once he reached past December. Bryan shut the journal again and sat it down on the dusty table from which he found it.
It had been years since he had seen Grandpa Alan. Bryan was willing to admit that along with the fact that he was a horrible grandson (the only reason he was there in the attic was because he was looking for valuables to take and sell), but he wasn't ready to admit that he believed what he saw. He rubbed at eyes, feeling a strange sensation bubbling in his stomach.
"He was going senile towards the end," Bryan said aloud, alone in the attic. "That's what it was. He was going senile."
Bryan picked up the journal and turned to the first entry again, preparing himself to read what his grandfather had written, "Either he's going senile, or I'm experiencing some strange withdrawals," but he knew better than that. There were no hallucinations involved with heroin.
Blinking several times before beginning, Bryan began to read, unaware that his teeth were chattering.
***
**10/07/2392**
Gena has been gone still for several days. Mom is still worried that she's somewhere in China, probably trying to sell her body.
I'm not entirely sure what she would try to sell. She's already down two legs and two arms. I'm not sure what organs she has that are still hers. She'd be silly to try and sell her heart, but I don't know about Gena anymore. She's long gone.
***
"What the fuck," Bryan whispered. Surely he was senile. Surely Grandpa Alan had written this during his final days. It was goofy, but still, when Bryan ran his fingers over the writing, he could sense age. It made his head hurt, thinking about it. How would you figure out how old an item brought from the future would be?
He turned the page and read on.
***
**10/15/2392**
Gena came back, but this time with a glazed look in her eyes. I'm thinking she actually did go through with selling her heart. I doubt she has much time to live. I've got to get ready to comfort Mom. Gena isn't going to make it another handful of days, not with a cheap knockoff sitting in her chest. I checked her pulse when she was passed out in the living room. It wasn't beating like a normal ticker should. It's a wonder how she's still alive.
But not really. She's already been dead to me for some time.
I've gotten a new job though, luckily enough. Got it at some government place. I think the only reason they hired me on is because I don't have any sort of body modifications. It's not often you run into a person without them, they told me.
I kept myself from telling them the only reason I didn't have them was because I had no money to get any of them.
That, and I didn't want to see myself become what Gena was. Or wasn't. I don't even know anymore.
***
Before long, Bryan had been sitting down in the corner of the dusty attic, not caring one bit about the heat. He was lightheaded from dehydration, but he kept reading. The thought to just take the book with him and read in a more comfortable place never once crossed his mind. He had to keep reading. He had to find some point in this journal that would tell him that this was all fake. Either all fake, or his grandpa was a loon.
Over time, Bryan grew frustrated reading the journal entries one after the other. Most entries were just menial things; an update on Gena, and update about her death, and an update about Mom vanishing. Nothing that told him that his grandpa was from the future.
Bryan thumbed through pages and pages without reading, until he finally spotted the change in date. It was circled big and red, and the writing seemed like chicken scratching, as if someone had written it in a hurry.
***
**04/23/1990**
I did it! I actually did it! I can't believe it. It worked. I am here.
They set me up with a place of my own. They gave me some currency, the kind I had only seen in history books. The house is strange, and I have to get used to these old archaic tools, but I did it!
I have a new life now. I can make a new life. I just have to make sure that I stay away from Texas. Apparently that's where my ancestors are.
All is fine if I avoid them. That's what David said. If I bump into them in some form or another, then
***
"Bryan?"
He turned so fast he felt a muscle in his neck cramp. His whole body was aching from sitting hunched over. He kept the journal in his lap, and spoke in a dry voice, "Aunt Gena?"
| **October 7th, 2392**
Today is the day. I have been chosen specifically for this mission out of a group of the world’s finest men and women. There is no room for failure. If I succeed, humanity will live on. But if I fail it will be the end of everything as we know it. Yet, that does not scare me.
No matter how the wheel turns, I am dead in the end.
**February 19th, 1965**
It is strange to use this date. But I cannot dwell on the thought. I must continue on with the mission before it’s too late. It will take long enough to integrate into society. I fear the repercussions if they discover my true intentions. I cannot let anyone know.
**March 1st, 1965**
I met a woman today. Her name is Dolores – Dolly for short. She helped me find the library after I lost my way. There is something… pleasant about her. I hope we are to meet again.
**June 10th, 1969**
I’ve been here for over five years and yet my mission remains uncompleted. Instead, I am getting married. It’s surreal, really. Dolly is by far the most interesting person I have had the opportunity to meet. I… I think I want to spend the rest of my life with her. That is, depending on how much longer it’ll be.
**May 21th, 1972**
I’ve never held a baby before this day. Yet, it felt so natural. I could hardly believe it was a person, to be honest. She is the light of my life, the thing I would die for. We decided to name her Ruth, after Dolly’s late mother. I like it. It’s strong, like I hope she’ll be one day.
**June 10th, 1979**
Ten years together and I still love Dolly more and more every day. I can’t believe she has given up everything for a liar like me. It’s not fair to her – not fair to Ruth, either. I need to tell her the truth. Yet, every time I think of the words, they get caught in my throat as my chest tightens. God, what have I gotten myself into?
No, I can’t hide anymore. I tell her tonight.
**September 3rd, 1990**
Saying goodbye is always the hardest thing to do.
Ruth is gone, far off to the world of college. I’m happy for her – I truly am – but seeing her walk the opposite way stings no less. She’s so young, oblivious to the world’s cruelties. I wish I could hold her one second longer, just to shield her from fate. But as always, it just wasn’t meant to be.
**July 9th, 1996**
I’m officially a grandparent now. Ruth is a woman now, long past the child I once knew. She has a husband now – a family, even. They’re so content, a life stretched out in front of them. I’m sure that girl of theirs will go on to do amazing things. I’ll make sure of it.
**December 21th, 2014**
Dolly died today.
It was expected. The cancer spread too fast for the doctors to counteract it. I had prepared myself for this day long ago. Hell, I’ve even written out her eulogy in advance.
But why am I still crying?
I can’t write more. It pains me too much. The memories… I just need to rest for now.
**March 1st, 2015**
And now it is my turn. It’s ironic – Dolly and I will be reunited on the day we first met fifty years ago. I couldn’t be happier, though. Too many nightmares have plagued me these last few months. I need to rest. To forget what has happened and what has yet to occur. I can only hope the people of the future can forgive my selfishness.
But you – you can still make a difference. I’ve left notes in my journal here for you to find, granddaughter. It’s the least thing an old fool like me can do. With the information provided, *you* can change the future for the better. It’s a lot of responsibility but I know you can do it.
I’ve made sure of it. | 2015-06-30T15:34:37 | 2015-06-30T15:16:59 | 56 | 14 |
[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. | In my defense, I didn’t mean to lie. At least, not at first.
There’s just only so many answers you can give to one of the most powerful A-list mutants in the world after she saves your entire class from death via careening down a mountain in the middle of a freak hurricane.
And those answers all invariably include shutting your mouth and nodding when The-Motherfucking-Storm says she saw you teleport yourself and a couple classmates to safety.
It's better than admitting you got tired of carrying them after the first three.
So, it was off to Xavier’s I went, with the blessing of my family. I think they were just relieved to realize our house wasn’t actually haunted, and that all the moved furniture and missing snacks were due to their broody, rather-not-interact-with-anyone-if-I-could-help-it teenager. It was just going to be for a year or so, would include all the state mandated tests and some top class education, and was, if anything, more of a…counseling situation. A way for young mutants to socialize with their peers.
They conveniently left out the part where this socialization happened over literal battle training and in a place conveniently named, ‘The Danger Room’.
Yea. Shit. Add to that it was the best and literal brightest mutants helping in this training, and I ended up trying to make a runner in the first night. And then got caught by the literal Nightcrawler. Who seemed to think I was just taking an evening walk and offered to join me in something called *teleporter solidarity.*
I politely declined.
Pretty sure Professor Xavier told him to keep an eye out for me, because he was there a lot more often with very unsolicited advice like what hair gel to use to keep your hair from poofing up after a - what he called - ‘bamf’. Even gave me my own bottle, which was nice. I guess. But not enough to get me to risk life and limb on a regular basis.
I had dedicated myself to coasting, and that was that. Caring was something they really couldn’t get me to do, not when everyone else in my life had failed, not when I knew that I was the only one in the world for whom every second was actually real.
I aged while everyone was in stasis. I grew. They didn’t. Ergo, my time was more important.
So, I lied. I told them that my ‘teleporting’ powers had a max use of once a day and was, therefore, way too useless to be practical. In reality all the finger snapping needed to activate the time stops were just giving me carpal tunnel. The Wolverine guy was the only one who didn’t seem to quite believe it, staring at me oddly after I’d told the class. He never said anything though, leaving me to assume that even if he could smell lies he didn't much care for exposing them.
Probably was for the best when you taught a bunch of literal super-powered pubescent kids, most with delusions of grandeur. Not me, though. This whole mutant life was just not my style. Life or death situations on the daily, constant stress, having to socialize with new people and, more than likely, *save* them…yea. No. I’d take the worst class designation any day.
They did their best to make the life look as exciting as possible, I’ll give them that, but even weekly Q&As after Danger Room sessions with elite mutants weren’t enough to ruffle me. Most of those talks had to be rescheduled due to the latest world-destruction event, others due to the fact they didn’t even know which dimension so-and-so mutant was in this time. Real appealing.
And then. There was the last one. The one Professor Xavier was meant to drop into. The one that freaking Sentinels decided to crash. The one I was skipping and didn’t know about until a giant robot hand was two seconds away from crushing me.
In the end, my entire desire for a simple life was pit against the option of a quick, brutal death and a release from all responsibilities. So, I didn’t move. I think part of me just wanted it over with.
That’s when Nightcrawler ‘*bamf*’-ed atop the robot and sent it flying sideways. That’s when Wolverine grabbed me and started to run. That’s when I saw the other Sentinel aim. That’s when my entire desire for a simple life was pit against the option of the quick and brutal deaths of some of the nicest people I’d ever met in my life.
So, I froze time. I ended up having to nearly break Wolverine’s arm to get loose, but figured he’d heal up fine. I macguyvered a laser canon from some scraps - those Danger Room tutorial sessions really were useful - and blew the first Sentinel’s head off. Then the second. I ended up clearing off the campus at some point, just to make sure.
Then I took a deep breath and sat down on the front steps of the institute, right beside where Professor Xavier was currently wheeled up. His hand was already at his temple, concentrating at was probably once a sea of Sentinels, but was now just a bunch of scrap metal. I sighed deeply and gave a mental farewell to my days as the laziest Class Omega bitch that ever existed.
And snapped my fingers to let the world start spinning. | "It's not entirely about focus..." Professor Wagner said, his thin German accent gently colouring every word he spoke "...there are many of us - like Scott Summers - who require a physical tool to control our powers. But for myself, and most other teleporters I have known, focus provides strength. For us, it is natural - almost trivial - to teleport a few metres away. But vast distances can be opened to us if we apply the strength of a disciplined mind to our task."
I sighed. "I don't think I am like other teleporters professor." That was an understatement. In truth I wasn't even a teleporter at all. I was something different and new. There were others who had powers like me - chronokinesis, they called it. Even Professor Rasputina exhibited some ability to manipulate time, although from what I understood her powers were based in her magical abilities, not her mutation. But none possessed what I did. The ability to stop time. Or rather, I think, I could step out of the time stream and step back in at my leisure.
"We are all different Sean..." Professor Wagner replied "...and your mutation certainly has some unique consequences. But you must not dwell to much on how you are different, you must realize how much we are alike!"
I smiled weakly. The 'unique consequence' he spoke of was the fact that none of the telepaths at the school - not even Professor Xavier himself - could touch my mind. The Headmaster described my thoughts as static. One girl - one of the few telepaths who had spent any amount of time around me - described it as someone shouting every word that had ever existed into her ears. That's why most of the telepathic students gave me a wide berth. Even that one girl eventually had to stop hanging around me. She couldn't stand it.
I have no idea why that is, of course. Best guess is that it's every thought I've ever had coming out all at once. Whatever the cause, it helped me keep my secret.
I wasn't ready for people to know I could stop time. I knew that would make me significant in a way I just didn't want to be. I knew what happened to significant mutants. They went on to become X-Men. Or they went on to become the enemies of the X-Men. Or they went on to be pawns on a board, as the X-Men and their enemies circled around them, pulling them in a million directions. I wasn't ready to be any of those things.
"Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way." Professor Wagner said, perhaps seeing the mark of frustration on my face (although not catching why I was frustrated thankfully). "I believe you require mental discipline, but I have asked you to develop that discipline using while using your power. That is not how I learned to discipline my mind. I was taught by Herr Getmann's cruel hand the art of the acrobat long before I ever knew I could teleport. Perhaps that is the path for you? What do you say - tomorrow we can begin to train you as an acrobat? I promise I will be a better teacher than my master was."
I smiled a genuine smile at that. "That sounds like fun Professor." I meant it. Something that wasn't constantly pretending sounded like a nice break. | 2020-07-15T07:26:54 | 2020-07-15T06:33:50 | 1,209 | 119 |
[WP] We are not alone in the universe. Not even in our galaxy. They just keeps us isolated because we are so good at killing. Now they need our savageness to save the galaxy and have come to gear us for war. We humans already knew this and have been prepared for centuries just waiting to be asked. | "So, you've finally hit your wit's end." The Colonel said, staring at the humanoid beings on the other side, their appearances beautiful and exotic with fair complexions and bright blonde hair. They were not humanity's ancestors, but distant cousins. Records view them as elves, gods, and other supernatural entities of beauty. Now that humanity had grown, they knew their true form: Their jailers.
Neanderthals were supposed to be the owners of earth. Their intelligence and builds exceeding that of humanity. Humanity arose from a defect, a warrior gene brought about from the chaos that was mutations. After watching us slay our own, we were sealed away, our existence a blemish on the perfect tract record. And today, humanity was being released on the galaxy.
In all of its glory.
And all of its horror.
"So tell me. What brought this about? Interdimensional demons? Science experiment gone errant? Oh, no, don't tell me you made another strand of humanity and want the two of us to duke it out." The Colonel mocked, licking up the hesitation and fear in the other party's eyes.
"We don't need these primitive apes. We can deal with them on our own." One of the negotiators said as the Colonel laughed.
"Alright. You have fun. We'll be here." He said leaning forward. "Waiting." He let the word hang in the air like a musk as the woman on the screen sighed. High Chancellor Lihara. Roughly 400 years old, but young as a spring chicken. The Colonel was hoping to get the secret to eternal youth before the end of the year, his gray hair and wrinkled skin a rarity among the universe. He preferred to get it today if possible along with the technology for warp drives. If there was a war spanning the entire universe, he was going to die in glorious battle, not a stroke.
"Cut the lies. If we had any other alternatives, we wouldn't be here." She spat. "We know it. He knows it. Stop shaming us." She ordered as the man went silent.
"I know we're mad dogs being let off the leash." The Colonel said. "I just want to know who's the poor bastard we're going to bite." He said with a grin, his canines sharp and thirsting for blood.
"You'll be killing us." Lihara said as the Colonel frowned, slightly confused.
"Pardon?" He asked.
"We opened a gate to parallel worlds in the hopes of starting trade. Because we destabilized our world, there's now an infinite number of wormholes spewing into our realm." She continued.
"So territorial disputes?" The Colonel asked.
"No. The universe outside your seal is infinite like the multiverse." She said.
"Thanks for that, by the way." The Colonel said sardonically.
"And in that multiverse, there are infinite versions of us. Versions mutated into monstrosities from a bad experiment. Versions where we become an artificial intelligence intent on eradicating biological life. And versions where we have the same bloodlust you have." She said. "They're taking advantage of our unstable universe boundaries and invading." She said as the Colonel squealed like a kid in a candy store.
"Lihara, are you telling me there's a whole multiverse out to kill every living thing in existence for a war that will never end, you'll help fund our war, and it's all your fault?" He asked.
"Refer to her as the Grand Chancellor, monkey!" One of the men shouted as Lihara nodded.
"Yes. We need you to clean up our mistake." She said before bowing at the waist. "Please help us, lost brethren." She hissed, throwing her pride away as the rest of the men gawked at her in horror.
"My dear, there is no need to beg." The Colonel said as he cracked his knuckles and continued to laugh. "We would be delighted to go out and give the multiverse our hot brand of love one nuke at a time!" He said, switching the transceiver off as they readied the spaceships for what was to come.
"Truly, a war to end all wars." The Colonel said, leaving their meager universe and ending their puny little interplanetary wars for the greatest battle that will ever come to the third dimension. They say war never changes. | It was an ancient evil that travelled through the universe like a swarm, wiping out life wherever they found it. The great filter some called them. The elder races had survived through subterfuge. Some races had tried to fight them, the swarm were mortal, but for everyone that died thousands took their place and many a thriving space faring race had fell before them.
The eldest of races slumbered, inside pocket dimensions waiting for the swarm to go past their section of the Universe destroying all and then departing. The old ones built great machines that worked inside dead planets, they made ships by the millions and weapons by the billions for a race that they had created.
Millions of years ago, one of the races that fought had taken prisoners and gathered from them the genetic markers, and the elder races had taken those genes with them to their slumber. Once the swarm had departed they awoke and seeded thousands of planets with the gene markers of the swarm, and they waited, there was failure after failure, but one planet thrived and the elder races tested the saurians of that planet and found them wanting...and destroyed them, sure the saurians were large and strong but they were not like the swarm they lived peacefully.
From the ashes of failure, a new race was born, and emissaries were sent to teach them. Shepherding them, from learning to make fire to becoming the masters of their own world. Nurturing the inbuilt need for them to kill that came with the genes that had been used as their seed.
They were eager to leave their world and see the universe, and without help from their creators they made their own crude efforts, exploring their own solar system and sending robots and then themselves to their nearest planets.
The elder races had left an archive on the red planet, and once they had landed there it activated and called out to them. The archive taught them about the swarm, it detailed the many battles that had been fought against them, the failures and victories.
The archive confirmed to them that they were not alone, and that on their own planet one of the elders was waiting for them to arouse him from their slumber. They deciphered the language and learnt the rituals needed to wake the old one and as a race they called its name.
The old one slowly woke from his dreams, and wondered exactly how would the swarm react when they met their own children in battle.
| 2019-03-28T05:34:15 | 2019-03-28T05:25:05 | 599 | 340 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible... | "Our the cameras working", I question the aid.
"Yes sir", he snappily replies.
"How about the soldiers".
"Roughly 100 are in defensive positions surrounding the craft sir, in addition to over half a dozen marksmen teams and cannon support."
I smile tensely, "hopefully they will all be uneeded", I exhaled audibly, "but I have my doubts". The craft was absolutely massive, and it's propulsion system revealed a savage violence yet elegance that frightened and intrigued me. Clearly this species had a thought process that was very unique, of course they would have to have to do what they did.
My mind still balked inadvertently at the mere thought of what these beings had done. Something that all my life had been known as impossible was suddenly possible, our entire understanding of the universes inner workings had just been thrust up into the air by this giant vessel, and I was about to meet it's inhabitants.
"We're ready whenever you are Major", the aid says, "all systems are go and command has authorized first contact".
"What are these things Lieutenant?", I question, still transfixed by the view outside of the two inch thick glass.
"No idea sir, current guess is 5 paracks tall and carbon based, but the scientific community is still divided", he read off his monitor.
I slowly shook my head, it's not what I meant but the response would have to do. "Well Lieutenant, let's find out for once and for all", I say as I press the door button. The aide stood as the door hissed open, his hand resting on his sidearm.
"Like that will do much good against things that can break out of an FTL dead zone", I say with grim joviality. As if on cue the door seals break with a hiss at the end of my statement. Carefully we begin to cross the 100 paracks separating us and the craft, with each step my heart seems to beat louder, and with each beat another droplet of sweat stings my brow.
What if I open the doors and the whole thing blows up, what if it takes off the second I step inside, what if...
"Ready the airlock", my aides words snap me out of my spiraling thoughts as we draw closer to the behemoth. Two soldiers open the twin doors of the airlock and greet us with salutes, ones that my aide returns for us as we continue our trajectory towards the laws of physics breaking ship.
I don't break stride until the doors shut behind us, and two lockers automatically open to reveal pressurized suits. Carefully we slip them on, "who knows what these things breath", my aide laments right before he slips on his mask.
"If they even do at all", I reply before slipping mine into place.
The device seals with a hiss and a voice chirps in my ear, "all operatives geared up, enter at your ready. You have 35 minutes of air time major". The Lieutenant, having heard the same message, clips on his gun belt before flashing me a confirmation sign.
Taking a deep breath of filtered air, I reply in kind and turn towards the second door. I watch my trembling hand as it reaches out and presses the button, which flashes a deep red before the doors release and begin to slide apart. Before us stands the ship, what is apparently door, slightly taller and narrower than our own sits inside the grey metal.
Slowly striding up to it, I feel my mouth go dry in sharp contrast to the sweat covering the rest of my body. Stopping a few feet away from the hull I raise my finger to the side of my helmet. "Command, team is about to make contact. Please alert surrounding units."
Static greets me for a moment until finally, "units informed, make contact when ready".
Glancing at the Lieutenant, he flashes confirmation as his hand again finds the grip of his sidearm. "Commander we are about to make contact" | The purple vastness of the dead zone cracked open, a white light appeared, and a missile shot through into space.
Space -- the vast blackness.
A single turtle, as large as the sun, swam through it. The turtle was ancient, and its eyes were crusted with cosmic dust. On its silver shell, elephants stood, four of them on whose shoulders was a giant disc, as large as the turtle.
The missile crashed into the disc, and out came the visitors -- humans. They did not dare remove their suits, the air was not to be trusted. Soon, they were surrounded by a variety of odd creatures.
One-legged creatures hopping on a springlike leg, one-eyed cats staring, six-legged hounds barking, and four-eyed people gawking.
"Hello," one spaceman said. There were four of them. "What is this place?"
The four-eyed people stared blankly, and the six-legged hounds kept on barking, and sirens were heard, and a black hovercar approached.
Six more four-eyed people got out, they wore black suits and stood ramrod straight.
Another one of the spacemen waved to them. The black-suited guys saluted him.
"*Rufflumph tumph hugh yun,"* one black-suited guy said.
The spacemen shook their heads and waved their hands to make an X sign.
The black-suited troops started talking amongst themselves. *Gumph olops ghiun nisma.* They decided to apprehend the four visitors.
The clueless spacemen looked at them and raised their hands in the air. The troops jumped back and crouched.
"*Tuyn hugh yun tumph!"* One said, and they launched themselves towards the spacemen.
*Bam! Bam!* One spaceman panicked and shot at two officers.
The troop members' faces contorted with rage. They reached into their holsters and produced little guns that shot lasers and turned the spacemen to crisp.
Dead Zone. | 2021-01-09T11:22:32 | 2021-01-09T11:03:42 | 105 | 49 |
[WP] You have been fitting into your new role as Satan for about a week now and you figure you should tell your best friend about your newfound powers. Before you get a chance to say anything, he tells you that God spoke to him and gave him his powers...
Continuation of [WP] [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7ua1oj/wp_you_are_sitting_at_a_local_coffee_shop_minding/?ref=share&ref_source=link) | I sipped my coffee nervously as I kept an eye on Michael, my best friend. We had found ourselves vying for the attention of the same girl in first grade and we've been best friends ever since.
"Jack, there is a sinister aura emanating from somewhere in this cafe," said Michael as he twisted in his seat, glaring at every person in the cafe.
"Michael, relax," he turned sharply, staring at me with a frown. I flinched at his sudden movement. He stared at me some more. I felt a bead of sweat roll down my forehead and I wiped it away. I swallowed hard, the bitter taste of black coffee calming me. "Michael you said you had something to tell me?"
"Yea I did. Thanks for reminding me, I almost forgot."
"No problem bro, so what is it?"
"Well, I don't know if you'll believe me..."
"Shoot."
"God spoke to me."
*Well fuck.*
"Really? When? How? What did he say?" I asked him.
He looked at me suspiciously, "Y-you believe me? You don't think I'm crazy?"
"Well I always thought that you were too good of a person," I said. "I guess I wasn't the only one."
"It was in a dream last night," said Michael in a hushed voice. I leaned forward to listen clearer. "God said that he had a job for me and that he had anointed me 3rd tier archangel."
*3rd tier archangel...* There were seven tiers in total. At the bottom of the rung, the 7th tier were equivalent to maggots. Anything 4th tier and below were irrelevant to me. They wouldn't even scratch me with their power. The 1st tier however, had power only second to god, a fight I wouldn't hesitate to avoid. 2nd tier was also dangerous. 3rd tier was moderately dangerous at the least. Basic evil detection, divine protection and holy blade of light was the basic powers for a 3rd tier.
"A-archangel?." I feigned confusion. "So what was the job Michael, what did God want from you?"
"The lord said, '*Young Michael, evil has run afoul and rampant. I call upon you, Archangel Michael*,'" with each word of God's, Michael's eyes glowed more radiantly. "'*With the holy light vested in you to vanquish Jack, the 999th Satan vessel!*'" God's majestic voice resounded from Michael's mouth searing my ears with its holiness.
*God damnit.*
-----
[Part 2 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Em_pathy/comments/7viq73/satan_vs_god_part_2/)
/r/Em_pathy
| “Well this is awkward”
No shit Sherlock, you think. Of course it’s awkward, you’re Satan while she’s God. Whatever, this doesn’t have to be anything like the “last guys” who were super petty about everything.
“Why don’t we figure out a plan on handling this, make sure we can still be friends while we do our... jobs” you suggest, the scheming par of your mind already working out a mutually beneficial system. That’s the benefit of being a all powerful dark being, you guess, you have a lot at your disposal. You start shooting off ideas, making sure that it’s fair for everyone. A few weeks later, you have already started merging Hell and Heaven together to make a new kind of paradise, where everyone picks how they live nowadays. | 2018-02-05T07:46:29 | 2018-02-05T07:30:51 | 311 | 21 |
[WP] Time Travel is possible, but only used to send terminally ill people into the future in hopes of being cured. For the first time, someone's been sent back. | Most of us saw it as a form of euthanasia. Others simply saw it as a more expensive form of burial, with hymns and flowers. I liked to think it gave us hope; the hope that priests and politicians have been feeding us for five thousand years. Hope that tomorrow really will be better for our children, even if we are not around to see it.
Sending Beatrice was the hardest decision of my life. I sat by her bedside and wept, my left hand gently wrapped around hers, the right clenched into a fist so tight the nails broke the skin of my palm. Whether the treatments existed or not, after her bed was placed into the tunnel, gently lit in red, she was dead to me. I would never see my beautful wife again.
"Sean, I love you." Her voice was barely louder than the whir of the medical machines at her side. "I love you, and I swear to you, I will see you again."
We wept, we embraced, we kissed, we embraced again. Finally, it was her time, and I let her go. She went gently, late in the night, and was gone to me.
As it was for so many others, the grieving was hard. Harder than in the time when death was final and certain. I drank and railed against my friends. Time passed and I drank less, and let people back into my life. I cried less, barely once a day. I did not move on, but I managed to stop standing still.
Three months later, there was a knock at the door. They took me to the hospital with barely an explanation. After the first two words, my ears were pounding with blood so hard that any further information would have been lost anyway: "She's back."
She lay on the bed, thinner, weaker, her hair still gone.
"I'm really dying, Sean. We're only supposed to travel one way. I don't have long."
I couldn't speak through my tears. I just beheld her, and thanked Gods I never believed in for even these few minutes with my brave, brave, Bea.
"It doesn't work, Sean. You have to make them stop."
Her breath was frail, softer than a zephyr.
"There is no medicine. People assumed a cure would be found, so they stop bothering to look. No funding, no research, nothing. It was always someone else's problem, so it became no-one's problem. They're all dying, Sean, they're all dead. Make them stop."
And then she died as they had, out of an abundance of hope.
> EDIT: Thank you for the Gold; it's like a teeny, tiny, publishing contract! | In the sterile cool of the morgue, two doctors inspect a former patient.
"They sent one back? That's never happened... Check the tag."
They both inspect the toe tag attached to the body of the former time traveler. Both doctors look stunned for a moment, then calmly slide the body into it's refrigerated hole in the wall.
*Doctor, or doctors;
Please stop sending us these cases. Cancer can be cured. AIDS is no problem. We can't fix stupid.*
As both men walk back upstairs to present the case to the board, they banter back and forth.
"So uh, what did he die of?"
"Alcohol poisoning."
| 2014-07-24T07:42:11 | 2014-07-24T07:09:04 | 766 | 372 |
[WP] Hundreds of years ago an eccentric sorcerer turned all mythical creatures into humans to try and prevent them from being hunted to extinction. Now that the spell is starting to wear off, the descendants of the original beasts are slowly beginning to morph back into their true forms. | “You’re so sweet that I want to just eat you up,” Hailey gushed, nibbling playfully at Jeff’s ear.
Writhing in the sweat-stained sheets, he rolled his eyes but giggled. “Geez babe, you’re so sappy.” He kissed her forehead. “Goofball.”
“Guilty as charged,” she laughed, savoring the warm glow of love. Swirling her lustrous auburn hair, more magnificent than a horse’s mane, Hailey threw her arms around Jeff and lost herself in the bliss of his mouth.
Returning the kiss, he grabbed her by the wrist, eyebrows arching. “Wow, when’s the last time you cut your fingernails, babe?” he asked with a laugh as she released him.
With her free hand, Hailey gave Jeff a playful scratch on the shoulder. “So are you gonna buy me a manicure then? Mr. Manager can afford it now,” she joked.
“Pffffft. Sorry, you’ll have to put a ring on this before you spend my money. Besides babe, aren’t we all about equality and stuff?” A roguish, charming smile accompanied the little jab. Irresistible bastard!
An irrepressible grin spread over Hailey’s face. “Okay, Mr. Feminst, fir-”
“Oww! What the hell babe, your toenails are so sharp,” Jeff complained with a slight wince.
Slightly annoyed, she flushed. “Yeah, yeah, I get it already. Thought I trimmed them a few days ago; I probably just forgot.” Trying to recapture the relaxed tenderness she so treasured, Hailey snuggled closer to Jeff. “Don’t be such a big baby,” she pouted playfully with another nibble.
Something sweet filled her mouth. “Aaahh! What the fuck!!???” Jeff screamed, clutching his ear.
Blood ran down the corners of her lips.
“Oh come on, you know you like it rough,” Hailey rasped. Where had that thought come from? Her mouth watered with the intoxicating flavor of Jeff’s blood.
Eyes wide, he scrambled to the corner of the bed, white and shaking. She sprang to her feet, then collapsed to the ground with a snarl. Trembling with rage, Hailey tried to stand, once again falling to all fours. Thick, course auburn hair covered her new muscles.
She howled.
Now huddled in the far corner of the room, wielding her desk chair as both sword and shield, Jeff yelled. “Get away from me, you monster!”
Licking her fangs, Hailey laughed. “You’re so sweet that I want to just eat you up.” | For years my Grandmother claimed our family was descend from an Ancient beast. No one not even I believe her. After all we where human, how could we be have come from something like that? Grandma would all ways answer "we where cursed. The Sorcerer said he want to protect us. It was a lie." When we ask what she ment, My Grandma refuse to elaborate. Long after her passing the truth was revealed.
It started with my sister, her hair turning from black to gold. I was next with a tail same color as my sister's hair. And lastly my little brother, at first we thought is was a pimple but it grew longer and harder n'till a evently it was a full blown horn. That's when we knew Grandma wasn't lying about us being the descendent's of unicorns. | 2019-10-09T11:38:11 | 2019-10-09T10:51:45 | 62 | 37 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Ever remember that scene from "The Sixth Sense", where the little kid says "I see dead people?". That was pretty much exactly how I first tried to tell people about my power. I was only six, and my parents laughed it off. My father is going to die in a car accident. My mother, a heart attack.
You see, I can see how people die. Their cause of death is shown in a little text box over their head. It normally shows something like my parents, an accident, or just old age. I tried to help people as I got older, trying to give people as much time as possible. I told cancers to get a check-up arranged. Car accidents to drive safely. Every goddamn one of them laughed it off. Said I was crazy. Well, Charlene died from a car accident a few weeks later. John has terminal cancer. Every single one of them died. I stopped trying soon after Sarah died from a drug overdose.
At first, there was no time. I couldn't tell when these deaths were going to happen, just how they were. Then, I noticed people's words becoming more opague. The closer they were, the more solid the words became. As I grew older, I noticed that they were cracking, shot through with veins of color. I started guessing how long they had, choosing the urgent cases, the brick-like car accidents and the tombstone murders. I couldn't interfere, just tell them to be careful. I examined them, carefully noting the color change. I soon had a system.
Blues, the long term people. Two decades or more, I'd guess. Greens, a decade. Yellows had a year, two tops. Reds, the next few months. Purples, a week. Blacks, a day or two.
I was sitting on a bus when I saw him. A boy, the same age as me, leaning his head against the window, looking out at the world passing by. Among all the other passengers, he was the only purple one, the rest a mess of greens and blues. There was a few yellows too.
Everyone else had the usual. Car accidents, cancer, one tiger, that was going to be rough. Nothing too bad. He had the word "suicide", surrounded by deep purple.
He lifted his head off the window, and glanced down at his hands. He seemed to have made a decision.
I watched as the colors shifted from purple to black.
I had promised myself not to interfere again.
I smashed that promise into smithereens as I got up and sat beside him.
"Hey, can I talk to you? My name's Nick... are you okay?"
He glanced up at me, and then back at his hands. I saw a hint of a smile...
Just on the edge of my vision, because I was too busy staring at the text box. It now read "old age", in the palest, most beautiful and perfect tracery of blue you can imagine.
**Thank you all so much for all the lovely comments. I had no idea how much of a reaction this reply would get. Thank you, thank you, thank you! <3** | Our world has changed. With time travel comes death predictions. A technical engineer working alone in a garage created a "portal"in time just powerful enough to transfer technology, like cameras, microphones, and storage devices. The revolutioniser created a way of predicting death, but could only take down what happened, and not when due to storage limitations.
As I walk down the street, I begin finding patterns. First, I find an unlikely amount of people die of stress. Weird, but it happens I guess. I just kinda shrugged it off at first.
But then something very weird happened on the bus. The person next to me, a young Asian girl that was innocently talking about her biology homework, had changed her C.O.D from "Car crash" to "Suicide". I don't know how she did it, but it just... Well, popped into another word with an audible noise. The same noise began almost immediately in the city center, and everywhere the same word would hover over people's heads...
"World War Fallout"
***
Thanks, this is bad I know but it's very late, and I'm on mobile, so I will fix it up on my PC tomorrow :D | 2015-03-31T11:10:46 | 2015-03-31T07:50:48 | 241 | 21 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | It was 5:30 this morning when I woke up to the typical sound of my neighbors arguing over something. They always had some feud between them - who had the bigger truck, the greener lawn, the children with the highest grades... It was exhausting living between them, never involved in their madness yet always right in the middle of it.
I rubbed the morning grit from my eyes and peered out the window to see them both gesturing wildly to their coffee mugs. What could possibly be wrong with their own individual supplies of coffee? I knew better than to ask, I figured I would just wait it out and hopefully by the time I left for work at 6:45 they would be done with their drama for the day.
I made a coffee for myself. The last drip had just fallen in the cup when I heard my two children wake up. They usually slept in, but there was no doubt I wasn't the only one disturbed by the ongoing yelling. Suddenly audible were my wife's footsteps, first to the children's rooms and then down the stairs.
"Hey, Greg. Do you mind asking them to stop their yelling or take it inside? They woke the kids and I really don't like getting involved." My wife asked of me, one child on each arm.
"Of course." I replied.
I grabbed my coffee off the counter and walked outside, they didn't even notice me at first.
"Fellas?" I approached, cautiously.
"What? What do you want?" One of them snapped at me.
"Look, it's early in the morning. Can't this argument wait until, I don't know, daylight? What is this about anyway?"
"You don't know?" The other asked me incredulously.
"Know what?"
"It's the mugs! The number one dad mugs? Did you notice a little something, *different* about yours this morning?" They held theirs up, #2094827 Dad and #2094828 Dad. Was this a joke someone had played?
I didn't really take much notice of my mug, it was a thoughtful gift from my son last father's day and served me well. I just hadn't really observed its features since the day I got it. I looked down at my coffee mug, my neighbors stared at me with amused patience in their eyes.
"Well?" My neighbor asked.
"Well what? It just says number one dad like it always does."
And that's the last thing I remember before waking up in the hospital, officer. | Sitting at the kitchen table Jacob stared out of the window and sipped a coffee from his "1# Dad" mug.
Suddenly there was a fizzing and spluttering sound and the #1 Dad appeared to melt from his mug revealing a #2,045,834 Dad behind.
He stared for a moment then said.
"Well shit... That's not bad at all." Then he grabbed a rich tea and dunked it in.
The end. | 2017-06-11T09:50:25 | 2017-06-11T09:19:40 | 222 | 17 |
[WP] Zombies were never annihilated and became an endless plague. But humans got so good at killing them, that society moved on. They are now just another annoyance to get rid of during this new normal. | Normally the process of cremation within 12 hours of death is more than enough to prevent the undead from rising, but of course every now and then a corpse or two is left a little too long be it from the corpse being poorly accessible or simply the death being unknown until it was too late. This naturally is very inconvenient, and thus the Clean Up Crew is a very well appreciated part of modern society. It certainly isn't a glamorous job, but at least it was respected, and the pay was good, that's what Kenny thought at least. He and his team had a simple job today, the bodies of two hikers that went missing a week ago, found shambling at the outskirts of town, it was all things considered an average Tuesday.
Ever since the dead first stopped staying dead it was known that only two things gave the undead peace, fire which naturally was a no go in a heavily wooded area at the peak of summer, and headshots. Each member of a Clean Up Crew is a walking arsenal, trained to be able to take out the brain of a zombie with not only the standard issue weapons but anything they could find lying around, a holdover from the survivor mindset that humanity still hadn't fully graduated from but a useful one nonetheless. Still in spite of the necessity of it all full body armour and multiple forms of weaponry in the hot and humid summer climate was fucking annoying,
"I swear to god my visor always fogs up!" Micheal complained behind him
"Better than having a Bile variant spit in your eye." Selina pointed out, gesturing to an acid stain on the side of her helmet
"Yeah yeah I know it's just fucking annoying!" Michael sighed
"The more time you spend bitching the more time we spend in our gear in these goddamn woods!" Kenny snapped, admittedly more than a bit uncomfortable himself, Micheal did have a point about the fogging
"You know zombies aren't exactly subtle, we'll probably find them soon" Micheal remarked
He was apparently a goddamned prophet because just then two remarkably well preserved corpses lunged at them from the trees, instantly pinning down Selina and Micheal. Jumpers, just his fucking luck.
The team moved quickly, the grappled members through well practiced movements threw off their attackers, Selina crushed the skull of one attacker against a rock while Micheal removed his sidearm and shot a neat hole through the head of his attacker. Kenny felt uneasy though, these bodies were fresh, barely decayed despite the humidity and the constant heat, and he knew his team was thinking the same thing as they slowly began scanning their surroundings. Kenny checked the bodies and compared it to the information on the file, his fears were confirmed, these were not the hikers.
Kenny turned on his radio and messaged HQ "We killed two zombies but not the ones we were sent after, bodies are extremely fresh, got a possible Class C situation here, requesting backup and a full investigation into a possible horde in Brownbrook Forest over."
"Copy that Agent Smith, backup is on the way and your request for an investigation have been forwarded over" replied an older man on the other side
From the corner of his vision Kenny saw movement in the shadows, it seems he wasn't the only one as both Selina and Micheal had taken out their rifles and began moving into a defensive formation. Kenny joined them and not a moment too soon as a small army of undead, mostly animals it seemed with the occasional human form, surrounded them. It seems it was going to be a long night, but this was what he was paid for after all. Wordlessly the team began doing what they did best
Cleaning up | Hordes upon hordes surrounded the building. No escape, no where to run. Michael stood filling up a glass.
"Thanks Michael" A woman grasped, "Damn these things never shut up. I mean I'm trying to manage people's taxes while all I hear is—"
A corpse, banged on the window, "Brainssss!"
"That. Zombies man" She drank.
"That's why I bring headphones Sally. Drowns out the noise" Michael disappeared amongst rows of walls.
"Sally" A tall suit with slick black hair said. "Take care of them. Someone didn't put on the force field early enough. Oh don't groan you finish at five"
"Sure thing man" Sally got up.
"Boss"
"Boss man" She finger shot him.
She walked towards a giant empty space with a rather small door. Inside was a massive switch with letters written 'Force field'. She pressed it. A loud warping sound echoed outside. Sally moved to the window. A circular blue field left corpses as a welcoming. Any zombies who tried invading now would be vaporized. Sally left.
"Done" She said aloof.
"Great. Finish the tax account will ya?" Boss man said. His gazed focused on a screen, each type seemed to break his keyboard more.
Sally smirked heading down the floor.
"Aw man" An elderly man groaned. "Why do I have to clean it up?"
"Listen Daryl, sooner it's done the sooner we get wasted!" Michael yelled. "Assuming you finish by five and not six"
"ugh" | 2021-10-27T04:42:29 | 2021-10-27T04:24:10 | 71 | 12 |
[WP] You have a very mundane talent, so mundane that you've never shown it to anyone. The first time you do, as a party trick, you're told that your talent is physically impossible. | "All right, so it goes a little something like this," I said. I'd just been dared to do something that I didn't think people would be able to recreate. Yeah, I know that truth or date was a stupid game for a 20-year-old to be playing, but we were trying to hook up Jason and Erika so it was part of the plan. Also, yes I know that it's truth or dare, but truth or date is what we call it when we are attempting to play matchmaker.
"Just get on with it."
"Then light the fucking candle," I snapped. I slurred the end of my words as Jason walked over to light the candle. I was hoping to get out of doing this trick but for some reason Erika had one in her room. So here I was. After what seemed like eons Jason lit the candle, "See how hard was that?"
"Just do the thing," Erika cut in.
"Alright," I sighed the lullaby that my mother had sung me when I a child under my breath. It was a bunch of gibberish but it helped my focus. I snapped my fingers at the end of it. the fire went out.
"The fuck, that candle went out."
"Yeah, I put it out."
"No you didn't, here man," Jason lit the candle again.
I narrowed my eyes, focusing on my aim and snapped my fingers. Boom, fire went out.
"What the fuck," Erika cut in. She sounded more scared than impressed.
"I'm just like snapping the wind at it."
"That's not how that works."
"It's working isn't it?"
"Light it again," Erika said. Jason complied because he had a crush on her and he was a pansy.
I rolled my eyes and snapped my fingers again, the candle went out. It wasn't a big deal and I didn't get why they were making such a racket about it.
"Dude that's not humanly possible."
"I'm doing it."
"What's the trick?"
"I snap my finger in the right way."
"Show me," Jason said. He lit the candle and walked over to me. I moved his arm to the right place and told him to snap. He did and nothing happened, "See, it doesn't work."
"You're just doing it wrong," I argued, "if you do it at the right angle."
"Man, it's not working." He started snapping wildly each one was off on the form. I grabbed his hand.
"Like this," I said, this time I used my left hand. The fire flickered away again.
"Got it," Erika shouted, "I'm gonna post that to the school facebook page."
"What?" I asked.
"It's cool, I'm just gonna show it off."
"Whatever man." I said. We kept going with the game of truth or dare after that, we were unsuccessful in getting Jason and Erika to hook up. Sometimes it just didn't work out. The video had gotten 3.9 million views by the time we woke up the next morning. | "Uhm"
Everyone at the house party was staring at me.
"What?"
"You shouldn't be able to do that"
"Do what this?"
Everyone recoiled.
"No don't do it again"
"What it's not that…"
"No"
"Why not?"
"It's weird. It's like, you know when you're in class, and some raises their hand and their double jointed so their arm just shoots of like this?"
"Yeah"
"If that situation were here it would be like what the fuck man"
"It's really not that out of the ordinary"
"Show of hands who can do that"
No one raised their hand. I slowly began to raise mine.
"No not you"
"What? It has nothing to do with my hand"
"It might though"
"It doesn't"
"Well that's not a risk I'm willing to take. So you know enjoy the party, mingle, just stick to the laws of physics. It's not that hard"
"Fine"
"Fuck it, one more time" | 2015-11-28T11:24:51 | 2015-11-28T11:02:56 | 117 | 20 |
[WP] You and the Devil sit down for a game of chess. If he wins, he takes your soul. If you win, you take control of Hell. As the Devil prepares his first move, he simply smiles and knocks over his king. "You win." | "Ahhhh so, you wish to sell your soul?"
He walked over and sat down at the table in the middle of the room and motioned for me to join him. I hesitate for a moment, getting my first real look at him under the light. He looks nothing like what I expected, no horns, no goatee, no red skin, just... an ordinary man.
"Uh, yes sir. Yes I do." I stuttered as I walked over to the table and sat down in front of him.
"Please Otto, call me Lucifer." He said, letting out a smile.
"Yes, Lucifer. I uh, wish to sell my soul to you."
"Splendid, shall we begin?"
I look down, my leg bouncing up and down nervously. My hands shaking, I can feel the sweat running down my face, my heart beating out of my chest. What the FUCK am I doing.
I take a deep breath and look back up and lock eyes with him and all of a sudden my body locks up and it feels like I'm paralyzed. His eyes turn red and it almost feels like I can feel him searching inside my mind, searching my thoughts, my memories, my deepest desires, and FUCKING HELL.
Literally.
Images which cannot be explained in words implanted in the middle of my mind but only what I can guess is hell and what goes on there.
"Oh dear, incredibly sorry. They sometimes do that, force of habit."
His eyes turn back to normal and the senses in my body come back and so do the emotions as I push the chair back and stand up backing away from the table in horror.
"What the FUCK was that?! Oh Jesus Christ, what am I doing here, this was a mistake. I want to leave, please sir- Lucifer. Please I've changed my mind. Let me leave."
I crouch down and close my eyes, still seeing the flashes of images which are now implanted in my skull.
"I do apologise, Otto. That usually doesn't happen. Come, sit back down. No need to act so hastly, we both know how miserable your life and that is why you're here in the first place."
He's right. I open my eyes and look back up at him, now standing over me and helping me back up to my chair.
"We will get to the soul selling soon but let's try and distract that mind of yours first shall we? What do you say to a game of chess, eh?"
He walks over to the darkness of the corner of the room and comes back with a checkered board with black and white pieces in all different shapes and sizes.
"I- I don't know how to play chess, Lucifer."
He places the board and it's pieces down on the table and takes a seat back down and smiles.
"Ahhh, chess is my favourite. I shall teach you the basics, Otto." He said as he setup the pieces into their places.
"...And if the king has no possible moves to escape the check, well that is Checkmate. Do you understand, Otto. Shall we begin?"
He looks up at me and we lock eyes again. I break eye contact before anything happens again.
"Yes, I think so"
I don't.
Why is this shit so confusing. At least it got my mind off of- nevermind...
"Splendid! How about a wager?"
"A wager? What kind of wager can I do with the Devil?" I laugh.
"Well let's see, If I win, well I take your soul. That's why we're here, of course. Ok, ok and if you win, hmmm."
He looks down to think.
"Aha! Yes, ok. I've got it! If you win, I'll give you hell."
What?
He lifts his head back up and looks at me. His expression serious. We're both silent for a moment.
Then he all of a sudden bursts into laughter, I nervously join in with him.
"Yes, yes! That'll work fine. Ok, Otto, Shall we begin?"
Lucifer, the soon proud owner of my miserable soul. Playing as the white pieces, will start the game.
He hovers over many pieces, trying to decide which to play first to start off the game.
Pawn. Another Pawn. Horse? Pawn?
He sure is taking his time for this first move.
Horse. Horse. Pawn. Another. Another.
He looks up at me, as he continues to hover over the board until he stops at the King.
The KING.
With a smile on his face and a single flick of the finger, he knocks over his King and in doing so crowns me the new King of Hell.
"What the FUCK did you do that for?!"
And what does he do? He just fucking laughs.
"Otto, when I peered into your mind earlier I saw not a mind of a desperation and anxiety but one who craves power and leadership and needed a little push to get it. I guess it runs in the family."
Runs in the family?
"What do you mean, runs in the family?"
"I think it's time we go and see your new kingdom. We can pay a visit to your Grandfather while we're there, it's been a while since I've visited der Fuhrer." | "You win."
The Devil grinned as he forfeited the game. I looked at him flabbergasted.
"What?! You can't do that!"
"I can." He grinned like a Cheshire cat. "And I did."
"But, but-"
"Oh, come on, you must have expected something. You were playing chess with the Devil afterall."
Where the hell was a wall when you needed one to bang your head? The Devil was right, I should have expected some trickery but I figured it would be in getting my soul in any way department. To be fair, even I don't want my soul, why should the devil?
"Hey, don't go all mopey on me, man." Great sympathy from the devil. "It wasn't about the soul, it was about a well deserved holiday."
I was still a bit on shock, when the Devil, well the past-Devil got up and grinned at me. "So long, buddy. Beaches, here I come."
Hell, here I come.
~
I didn't knew what I imagined hell would look like, but a poorly kept government building looked absolutely apt for it. I reminded myself not to be bothered by the leaky taps or the continuos tik-tok of the clock, I could afterall change all this to something more pleasant or unpleasant.
"So, first item on the agenda is to send rapists near the sea of fire and move the depressed souls to a slightly less depressing environment, they are making others sad." A girl appeared, of what seemed like thin air, beside me.
"I, um, who are you?" I asked, hoping my nervousness didn't show.
She rolled her eyes. "I'm Lilith, your first-in-command."
Oh, yes, how could I forget. I'm the devil now, and I have a first-in-command to help me torture people, fantastic.
"Okay, so what do you want to change first?" She asked patiently.
I had honestly no clue. This was my first time running hell afterall.
"Can we tone down the torture a bit?" I asked sheepishly.
She gave me aa knowing look, like this wasn't the first thing Devil has asked her to do that, which she soon confirmed. "You aren't the first Devil I know and you won't be the last, so let me go e you a piece of advice- get off your high horse."
"I'm sorry, what?" I sputtered indignantly.
"You heard me." She replied briskly. "I get you are new here and your idea of hell is just torture but you forget who we torture. These are not good people. Everyone who ends up here has done some pretty bad things, hell, there should be a new hell opened, even more severe for some these souls but we aren't here to make their suffering less; we are here so that they never forget the despicable things they have done. So, if you are done feeling sorry about these damned souls, can we begin."
Well, that was something that I definitely needed to hear. My perspective about hell was so skewed that I never understood what they did here. This is why there was absolutely no hesitation in my voice when I replied,
"Absolutely." | 2021-12-30T02:16:52 | 2021-12-30T01:19:21 | 166 | 68 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | "You can *not* be serious," Overlord stated dryly in response to the hero's offer. She was running several tracing programs to try and find out where he was calling from as soon as possible - he'd always been a pain in her side.
"Look, I- I know that this is a peculiar situation, but..." the hero meekly replied.
"Why me? Why not an escort or a friend or a stripper for Pete's sake? I mean why would you call the *one person* who you try to stop every other week from doing, oh, what *did* you call it? 'Evil Deeds', was it?"
"I stand by that," the hero replied resolutely.
"Why do you want me, of all people, to go to your friend's wedding as your date?"
"Told you. My ex will be there and-"
"No, I meant, why *me*?"
"Look, my ex, he's... well, he's, it- it's... I need to be there with someone..." he trailed off.
"Yes?" Overlord prodded him.
"...impressive," he finally finished. Overlord paused for a moment - this was... unexpected.
"Beg pardon?"
"Someone impressive. There, I said it again."
For once, Overlord found herself without words.
"I'm, uh, not sure what-"
"Emily," the hero started, further leading Overlord into confusion as he never used her actual name, "you are a genius. As in literally one of the smartest people on the planet. Your expertise in robotics and bioengineering alone is-"
"This doesn't make sense," she interrupted. "Are we just pretending we don't have destructive battles? That you try to stop me from what I am doing?"
"Of course not."
"Then why?"
"Because I know that there is, deep down, good in you," he said.
Overlord remained silent. She was used to long-winded speeches on morality and law. He never actually called her *good*.
"And I know that you could do great things if you wanted to. I... don't know what happened to you to turn you against the world, but I know you can overcome it. Maybe interacting in some normal ways with society could show you that... it's not all bad. There are some good things, too. Like cake. There *will* be cake."
Overlord still maintained her silence. Compliments felt... odd.
"And why would *I* come, then? Why should *I* bother?" she finally managed to ask.
"Because you'd love to see me sweat bullets as I frantically try to interact with my ex and his new partner," the hero said.
She chuckled.
"*And* the cake," he added.
"*Fine*," she said. "I'll pick you up at 3. I think arriving by flying in a swarm of drones should be *plenty* impressive," she laughed.
"Well, I suppose that's another thing you've never lacked," he said, audibly relieved and smiling.
"Presentation!" she grinned. | ‘Bwahahaha!!! I’m going to make this a wedding no is EVER going to forget!!Muwahahaha!!—that laugh was better—Gregory! Remind me to use ‘Muwahahaha’ in all further expository speeches…..Where were we? Oh, you were begging me to help you, its adorable. Of course, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.
‘This ex, any dislikes or allergies maybe?Oh, you have a list (a little desperate)—what nothing at all, nothing, just fax it too me—no no no message me, message me—god what what century am I living in?!? Hehe. (Oh god, never chuckle like that again, jesus, whose desperate now), I’ll pick you up in my stretched Cadillac, wear something that matches a fur coat and baby seal leather wingtips, we’re going to be fabulous, darling.
‘Oh, yes, ‘darling’ until this charade is over, darling.’ | 2022-10-06T18:26:35 | 2022-10-06T16:34:26 | 2,322 | 83 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid. | Long ago, long ago. Maybe before humans. You’re not sure anymore. Maybe it was at the dawn of humans or even in the middle. You stumbled across an obvious tchotchke fountain of “youth” or “immortality” or whatever gimmick it claimed. You drank deeply and tasted it no different from any other unfiltered water, but your life was different from then on. You no longer aged. You no longer fell ill or hurt. Out of fear you retreated from the world so that no one could discover you, but over time you pieced together that there were others like you. People who you had seen centuries ago and who had never aged. You were not alone. You remerged in the industrial period of humanity to meet with others like you. There was an entire society who had drunk the water and they saved vast stores of it. You learned that only a few, a very select few were influenced by it. Most who drank it never had any change, but you were one of the few who lived forever. The only way to die now, is to choose to die they explained. Every century or two another immortal chose to die. Some chose to die because they thought immortality was dark magic or devil work… whatever that is. Others felt complete and ready to end it and others still felt like they would never be complete and were driven to non-existence. You lived your life in relative obscurity but began to pursue friendship and relationships. Love never entered the picture but you had plenty of dealings with the flesh of mortals and immortals alike.
Over centuries the immortals tired of even their own company. There were only so many topics to discuss. Everyone had fulfilled their greatest desire and even their darkest contempt. A sense of ennui fell over many of the immortals, but never you. Purpose was never a concern of yours. You simply survived… until one day. A mortal changed every thought that you ever had. A mortal so beautiful and rapturing that every dull hour of the millennia that you had lived was worth it just to spend one moment with your love. For the better part of a century, you lived in pure bliss without regard for anything or anyone around you except for your love. The ticking clock of mortality irked your very being and you desperately attempted to give your love immortality. “Maybe drinking gallons of the water would work” you thought. Maybe it was about your mindset or maybe there was an extract that you could make. Everything that you tried failed and your love's traveled face began to age. The mortals had developed some technology by now. It could freeze people and so you found one of these rudimentary devices acceptable. Your love would understand. Frozen for a little while but only enough time for you to research how the two of you could live immortal together.
What you thought would be a few short decades turned into eons. Empires rose and fell and you passed your time with your research all the while. Eventually, you gave up on the water. “Find a new solution,” you thought. You scoured planets and suns. Maybe some star stuff would bring your love back to you, but none of the far future alchemy brought you your desire. As years passed so did humanity and so did the other immortals. Each one taken by boredom or despair. Only you still had a purpose left.
Alone in the universe, you continued your research until another being developed. Slow, stupid, and ugly this being had nothing to offer you. Still, it came from a planet that produced life. Maybe that was the new key. Maybe you could live among them and see how life began so that you could capture it and thaw your love. You watched these creatures evolve with disgust and every few centuries they tried to offer you a gift or capture you. Each time they were rebuked and sometimes even punished. They were far too stupid and weak, but they wanted your knowledge. You could cure their diseases and even make their frail bodies live for a slightly longer time… what? Centuries? Whatever they think is long. But they have nothing to offer you, so you continued your research until one day one of the little flesh bags offered you a slightly interesting offer. In exchange for some of your knowledge, the feeble creature would trade a mechanism for “transferring life.” You greedily accepted the trade.
You unfoze your love with the little life force left. Thankfully, the technology had worked for all this time. You transfered your life force using newfound knowledge from the mortals. Your love emerges awake, beautiful, powerful, and godly. Your super-eon old body wanes. You feel happy again for the first time since you were with your love. Your love caresses your face knowing that these moments are your last. Your love is now immortal, but you feel death approaching. There are so many thoughts racing through your mind. Is there advice to give? Is this the last immortal? Should you tell your love to become what you never were and lead these mortals to a greater age? Or become a hermit like you did and pursue some twisted desire? All you can think is that you don’t won’t your love to succumb to death one day. Live as an immortal you want to say. You are why we should all exist.
All you can muster…
“Don’t leave me.” | In my first centuries, I considered myself one of them. I felt deeply for the misery of the unfortunate, exalted at the triumphs in science and art. As time marched on, however, I came to realize their dreams and achievements, their fears and failures, were all the same. They were brutish, petulant creatures. My attitude drifted towards apathetic paternalism. I faulted them not for they were but children. Children who never matured. Of course they grew old and died, but they died as children to me. Perhaps I once had been like them, but the triviality of their passions was made apparent as centuries became millennia.
Every now and then one of these children would surprise me with their elevation, such is the mechanism by which nature bestows on us her gifts. Remarkable changes to our fundamental code, manifesting themselves through the mixing of bloodlines and random chance. Of course I considered that these remarkable humans and my own immortality could owe their appearance to the machinations of a grand designer. There could be many of these gods as was preached by the ancient religions. Time, once again, eroded such beliefs as all great monuments are transformed to dust by its relentless onslaught.
So it was that when the humans began to die off, I registered the phenomena with utter indifference. So long had it been since I felt myself to be one of them that I could not help but feel that their deaths were a thing apart, separate from my being. Only after the disease had demolished all borders, proved itself immune to the cutting edge medicine of the day, and a human became a rare sight, did I think selfishly of how I would adapt to the new world.
Thus the world became childless, and I a wanderer. Centuries of roaming the earth and I saw not one. I was truly alone. I had come to know such solitude through the ages, it became hard to connect after watching a thousand generations ripen and wither before my eyes, but this was different. And so I made my home on the great ocean to contemplate how best to accommodate time, my ever present guest.
That was until the fateful day I had ventured into the ruins of the city for a bit of nostalgia and, to my astonishment, I heard the unnatural sound of a helicopter overhead. I quickly darted behind a corner and peaked up at the sky. Sure enough, I had not been mistaken. I watched the aircraft cruise by and begin to settle a few blocks away.
I made my way to a vantage point where I could observe unnoticed, my thoughts questioning the possibility of what my eyes were claiming to be true. Surely, if any of the humans had survived they would have become too sparse to repopulate. It had been hundreds of years since I had been given any indication of their continued survival. As I settled into position the helicopter was touching down. I waited eagerly as the engines cut out and the blades began to slow. As the door slid open and the passengers began to emerge, I realized I had been right.
Silver shone brilliantly in the sun against the backdrop of clanking metal. Machines of the greatest sophistication descended from the aircraft. The coordination of their movements looked to me the synchronization of soldiers, and for the first time in many long years, I was struck with terror. | 2021-05-14T18:15:46 | 2021-05-14T17:41:19 | 294 | 220 |
[WP] It's 5pm and your wife is just arriving home with the kids. A strange feeling of disorientation creeps over you. You glance at the newspaper on the coffee table and realize it's March 2017 and that you have absolutely no memory of the last 2 years. Your wife and children act completely normal. | The keys are the thing. That’s what my mind kept looping. Like a short song set to repeat. Or a needle skipping over some shallow groove in my brain. The paper on the coffee table couldn’t be right. Two years. Two ye—the keys are the thing. The keys are the thing. It must be a gag. Caleb had become a real smartass, just like his old man. Fake dog poo on the stairs. Tape strung across the bedroom door. He still had to stand on a chair to set that trap. I still had him by a couple of feet. The keys are the thing.
“Harry?” she asked again, with a note of impatience that suggested this wasn’t her first time asking.
I hadn’t noticed her before, or that tone of voice, muddled irritation and concern. And I hadn’t noticed that crease between her eyes before, suggesting a concerned look hung there often. I hadn’t noticed because I couldn’t stop staring at those damn keys, because, well, the keys are the thing. The keys are the thing. The keys are the thing.
The volume of the inquiry this time though drew my attention from the dusty patch on the end table, under which the faded nickel-plated keys lay limply attached to their fob like desiccated finger bones dangling from a broken “Weslaco Ford” branded wrist. The keys are the thing. The keys are the thing.
“Harold?!” she insisted again. Her impatience, now tinged with anger, snapped my eyes into focus.
“Yes, Jessie?”
“I asked what you wanted for dinner.”
“I…”
She sighed with the force of a forge bellows. “Nevermind.” Then she left. A moment later I could hear the clatter of shifting pans from my place under a mound of blankets on my easy chair.
The front door slammed shut and the sound of an unfamiliar man’s voice drifted up the hall. A minute later a tall young man of maybe sixteen came into the parlor.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Dad. How was your day? Did you get anywhere with your puzzles?”
“I’m sorry. Are you the Larson’s boy from across the street? Mine and Jessie’s date night is tomorrow and Caleb is spending the night at his friend Jason’s house tonight. Come back tomorrow at around seven.”
The young man gave me a sad little smile. “Not a puzzle day, huh. Well that’s okay. Let’s get you fixed up for dinner.”
The young man brought over a TV tray on top of which was laid out the contents of a men’s toiletry bag.
“Do you feel like a shave?” the young man asked.
“What is this? Some sort home barber service?”
“No, Dad, come on. Let’s get your hair fixed. It’s all mussed.”
“Dad?” The keys are the thing. The keys are the thing. “Are you crazy? I have one son. And he’s two feet shorter and half a dozen years younger than you.”
“Just two years younger, but I’ve had a couple of growth spurts in those two years. Hurts like hell sometimes. My breath will get caught in my chest and at night it’s like I can feel my thighs try to rip out through my knees. You said it was like that when you were my age.”
He started to comb my hair as he said this. I felt the comb dip down oddly just past my temple. It caused a moment of alarm. The keys are the thing. But I couldn’t be bothered with grooming irregularities at the moment.
“What do you mean ‘I said that’? I’ve never met you before.”
The young man gripped me by my shoulders and squeezed gently while looking me dead in the eye with an off-putting amount of gentleness.
“Off course you have. It’s me, Caleb, Dad.”
I laughed. “No. That’s ridiculous.”
“Come on,” he said. “It usually only takes a minute. Look at me.”
I did. And then I saw it. It wasn’t what he looked like, but who. Yes, like my son. Like Caleb. But also, like me. Like the man I’d been. Like someone had taken blue paint and red and poured them together. This young man was the purple.
“No,” I said. “Something’s wrong. I need to go. I need to go for a drive. To clear my head.”
I looked again at the keys on the end table just out of reach. The keys are the thing.
“You can’t, Dad.” He restrained me gently with one hand on my shoulder.
“What are you talking about? Of course I can. The Ford is in the driveway.”
“No. It’s not. It’s in some wrecking yard rusting away to dust, or else it’s been chopped up and is part of someone’s cell phone or something.”
“No. Let me up. I’m leaving,” I said. I pushed his arm off of me and threw the blankets off to stand and grab the keys. The keys are the thing.
But I couldn’t stand. There were no legs to stand on. Just two stumps that ended above the knee and bedpan whose smell I hadn’t noticed fitted in the seat of my easy chair. I stared at those stumps. The keys are the thing.
The young man covered me back up and pulled the TV tray closer. He put his hand once more gently on my shoulder and with effort I looked up at him.
“Now how about that shave?” he asked.
| I stared intently at Genevieve’s face as she tottered happily through the door, her huge Dora the Explorer backpack stuffed to the gills, threatening to topple her tiny frame over. She swung the pack off one shoulder, dropping it on the kitchen floor with a resounding thud.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said, skipping over and standing on tip-toe to quickly peck me on the cheek. She pulled back and looked at me with those piercing blue eyes I knew so well. I knew every fleck of gray in those eyes from the many hours I’d spent holding vigil in St. Anthony’s Hospital, watching her through through the muffled fog of three layers of plastic sheeting as her delicate face contorted in agony and terror, just a scared three-year-old trapped in the cold, sterile, plastic tomb of an isolation tent. Those blue eyes would lock onto mine, shouting her pain and confusion and hurt since she couldn’t form the words, asking me, *why, Daddy, why?*
*Make it stop, Daddy.*
Genevieve turned back to her backpack, unzipped it and began furiously rooting around. “I have to show you something,” she exclaimed, her back to me. She had to be at least five now, a foot taller than I remembered her, with mousy brown hair cascading out from under a dirt-stained baseball cap that perhaps had once been yellow. Her hair fell past her bony shoulders now, wondrously thick, healthy hair where I remembered none able to grow.
She snapped back up with a flourish, holding a weathered baseball triumphantly aloft. “Look!” She squealed. “Daddy, I caught this baseball in the outfield today!”
She began to pantomime the game. “Mason was at bat,” she said, getting into a batter’s squat, “and he he swung so hard” - she whirled around in a frenzied 360 - “and he hit it WAY far” - she whistled, sailing her hand high in the air through the kitchen - “and I ran backwards, further, further, and I put my hand up as far as I could go and I CAUGHT it!” She tossed her baseball cap high in the air and shook the baseball over her head in triumphant celebration.
And that’s when I saw it. A thick white scar wound its way across her forehead, tucking behind her ear and reappearing at the base of her neck. My hand instinctively jerked up to my own forehead and my fingers landed on a thick, knotty line of scar tissue. I traced it back toward my ear, feeling a mixture of terror of terror and dread as the memories flooded back in.
A treatment so experimental, it was really just a theory. A brain matter transplant, replacing the cancerous portion with tissue from a living donor.
The donor had to be a genetic match.
Genevieve’s eyes darted to my hand on my scar, then softened as she looked me in the eyes. “Remember, Daddy?” she said gently, climbing gingerly onto my lap. “We’re scar twins now. A part of you will always be with me,” she said, pointing at her head.
*I remember,* I tried to say, but no words came out. My mouth wouldn’t cooperate.
*I remember!* I tried again, panic pulling tight in my chest. I shoved Genevieve off my lap and tried to push myself out of my chair. I looked down and realized I was seated in a wheelchair, my legs spindly and atrophied below me, completely unresponsive. The room began to spin. I began to shake and moan impotently as the reality of my situation sunk in.
My wife rushed over, a hypodermic needle in her hand. “I think Daddy’s had enough excitement for one day. He needs some rest,” she cooed gently. She sunk the needle into my neck and everything went black.
Edit: formatting | 2015-03-26T14:50:29 | 2015-03-26T12:59:35 | 103 | 30 |
[WP] People believe the Gods decide all of our fates, but they've actually been rolling d20s to make decisions for millions of years | “You see an oasis up ahead. With that perception roll you are able to make out what appears to be a mama velociraptor with several of her kids. You’re all still covered in blood from your previous encounter, and on closer inspection you notice that the mama is beginning to sniff in your direction. What do you do?” Jean-Luc Picard peered over his dungeon master’s screen at the rest of the pantheon, a characteristic smirk on his face.
“Quick question Jean-Luc… At level three I gained a second Chosen dino, but I haven’t chosen one yet. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to say that velociraptors are my second Chosen,” said Yahweh.
“Okay, so you have advantage now on charisma checks against them,” Jean-Luc clarified.
“Guys, don’t attack them, I want them as part of my dino Kingdom,” continued Yahweh.
“Well I am hungry. It is autumn and must eat as much as I can before winter comes. Can I eat them?” asked Shiva.
“You are a triceratops bard, Shiva. You’re a herbivore.”
“But I am the Destroyer of Worlds!”
“Normally, yes, but today you’re a triceratops bard. You inspire the party,” Buddha chimed in.
“Fine.”
“What do you do, Chicken?”
Kitchi Manitou furled their incorporeal brow. “There is nothing for me here.”
“The velociraptor mother starts to approach the party.”
“Can I ask the mother whether it wants to join my Kingdom?” asked Yahweh.
“Okay. What do you say?”
“Can I speak really loud cause of my long Brontosaurus neck.”
“You’re not a Brontosaurus, you’re a Bracchiasaurus. And sure. Why not. What do you say?”
“Cool. I say, ‘Hail, kindred velociraptor, I beseech thee that thee art of my Chosen dinos. Join now my Kingdom of Glory!’”
“Roll charisma.”
Yahweh fished through his pile of dice and picked one out, rolling it sheepishly. “Damn, it’s a 9.”
“That’s a d12, and roll an extra for advantage,” clarified Buddha.
“Oh! Ha! Silly Me. Okay… 18!”
“The mama velociraptor starts to size you up.”
“I throw my shield face down and charge!” yelled Shiva, smashing the table.
Jean-Luc let out a sigh, unable to hide his frustration. “Roll initiative.”
Buddha, Shiva, and Yahweh picked up their d20s and started rolling them. Jean-Luc rolled one for the velociraptors.
“I got a 1,” said Shiva.
“That’s a critical fail, you’ll go last,” said Jean-Luc.
“I got a 1 as well,” said Buddha.
“I didn’t even want to fight! Also a crit fail,” Yahweh decried.
“You’re a party, Yahweh. You can smite Shiva after. So you all crit failed? What about you, Chicken?”
“Nat 20!” shouted Kitchi Manitou, clearly stoked.
Jean-Luc shrugged. “Well, the velociraptor mama also crit failed. Fuck this. An asteroid hits the earth and you all die. Chicken, you survive.”
| Hands shaking. Sweaty forehead. At this exact moment in time, he knows that all of his hard work, all of his investments, are up in the air. There has never been a more at stake.
For a brief moment, he questions his methods. Surely he shouldn't leave such an important decision, with human possible human extinction, to chance.
"I will never intervene again." He hangs his head distraught, those words have never haunted him to such a severity. He reaches for the die, but pauses.
"If I can't keep my promises, how could I fairly cast judgment on others? If I can't remain righteous, how can I expect that of the mortals?"
He grabs yet a second die.
"I'll let the die decide: 10 or lower I leave it to fate, higher and I decide."
A single tear emerges as he prepares the second die that absolutely must be rolled now; feels like it has infinite weight.
He breaths in deeply, closes his eyes, and throws the die with a purpose that hasn't been seen in a millennia.
"That's it then, may...I...have mercy on their souls."
Tears follow. Mistakes were made, regrets were had.
----------------------------
"And the results are in! Donald Trump is the 45th President of the United States!"
r/Promptfeces | 2018-06-28T14:33:32 | 2018-06-28T11:27:51 | 87 | 22 |
[WP] The hero beats the villain by stooping even lower. | Professor Panic Cackled at the tied up Captain Chrono, "Now that I've finally defeated you, Nothing will be able to stop my plans!"
Chrono gasped, "Oh no! So you're going through with this?"
"Of Course! With my new army of undying robots, the forces of the world will be entirely at my mercy!" Professor Panic arched back and let loose a maniacal laugh, "MWAHAHAHA!"
"Well, if you're really intent on that, I guess there's nothing I can do to stop you..."
"Wait....Really? You always seem to have a backup plan. You aren't even going to try to break out and stop them or something?"
"Oh no. With these manacles, there's no way I can do anything. But then again, I'm not the one who's going to stop you..."
"What does that mean?"
"Well if you'll reach into the third pocket from the left in my bandoleer, you'll see what I mean."
Professor Panic thought about this for a moment before curiosity got the better of him. "It's...a cell phone?"
"Yup. Hit unmute."
As the professor did it, a shrill voice could be heard from the other line, "*Harold! I can't believe you'd do this*!"
The professor's face turned as white as a sheet, "***MOM?!?***"
"*honestly, I raised you better than this! Taking over the world... Why can't you use your degree to make normal robots, like ones to help those people in-*"
"Mom, can we talk about this later? I'm in the middle of-"
"*No! What made you think this was a good idea? Was it something I did when you were younger that made you want to take over the world?*"
"No Mom, you were a great mother"
"*Was it the divorce? Did that make you do this?*"
"No, that wasn't it either...Look, this is just something that I think I need to-"
"*No listen here, Harold J Karnagee! This is serious trouble you're getting into! First it's taking over the world, than it's blowing up the moon and declaring intergalactic war against the Zarbloxis! Now untie your future stepfather and get your butt down here right now!*"
"**What?**...***Future stepdad?!?***"
Captain Chrono cleared his voice, "Now son, we may not get along, but your mother and I are very worried about you. We wanted to break the news gently, but sometimes fate has other plans."
Professor Panic sat down in his throne and muttered, "I...I can't believe this is happening."
"Listen buddy, we'll get through this. We'll sit down, and talk it out like a family. Your mother and I think this is just a rebellious phase you're going through right now."
"My super villainy is not a phase!"
"You say that now, but I've known plenty of guys that started off on the other side."
Edit: Fixed terminology as /u/avianographer pointed out.
| “Don’t come any closer!”
Lucy paused. Overkill’s finger hovered over the detonator, moments away from activation. “One more step, and I activate the explosives I put on my safe house, collapsing on your lover Dan inside!”
Overkill gave an evil grin. How does it feel, to be powerless?”
Lucy considered the villain for a moment. “I wouldn’t press that if I were you, you will regret it.” She said, and made as if to move forward.
“Oh now you’ve done it!” Overkill screamed, and pressed the trigger.
Silence. Overkill looked in the direction of his safe house. “I don’t understand it, the explosives should have blown that damn house to smithereens!”
Lucy came forward, extending something in her hand.
“A phone? What sort of trickery is this?” Overkill said, uncertainty flitting across his face.
“I thought you might want to check on your mother. She might not be doing so well.” Lucy said, handing Overkill the phone and walking away.
| 2014-12-04T15:55:49 | 2014-12-04T15:08:20 | 26 | 12 |
[WP] Everyone who is loved by someone else suddenly disappears from earth. Write about the people left behind.
I got the idea from this: http://www.reddit.com/r/Showerthoughts/comments/25l1fk/what_if_everyones_loved_ones_disappeared_itd_be/ | I stumble out of the apartment as usual with briefcase and coffee in hand, my tie loose, and sleep still in my eyes. The streets are cold and empty. Really empty. It feels weird, there's always a roar of traffic and humans brushing by each other, but today there is nothing. Nobody. Am I alone?
Is it a holiday? Did I sleep through the apocalypse?
As I drag myself towards the subway station I realize I'm not actually alone. There's that disgusting heap of garbage still squatting in the doorway across the street. God, what a waste of flesh. I'm sure she used to be somebody's daughter or wife or something, but now she's nothing more than a body on display for quick cash or a cheap fix.
Oh good, the guy at the street stand where I pick up my newspaper is around too. Whatever's going on around here, at least it isn't fucking up my life too badly. He and I exchange our normal mindless greeting and exchange of goods for cash, then go back to pretending the other doesn't exist.
Just outside the subway station is that man on the bench holding his sign about being a homeless vet abandoned by his family and the government and all that other crap. No shit you're homeless, you probably haven't seen the inside of a shower since 2003 either. Just because you fought in some war doesn't mean you're worth anything. Hell, if you can't get a job then you deserve the streets.
A big "Out of Order" sign hangs across entrance. Fuck. I can see the janitor and one frazzled looking worker inside, but that's it. Jesus christ, now I'm getting pissed off. I'm going to be late. I don't know where the fuck everybody is, but I've got a meeting at 9 and my shithole of a boss isn't going to be happy now that I've got to walk. I bang on the doors, taking satisfaction in the startled and harrassed looks on the faces inside, before stomping off.
Seven blocks later and all I've run into is a couple of hoodlums and one street rat who obviously ran away from home. Kid didn't look like he would last long out here, probably just another fag who didn't meet daddy's approval and came out here looking for shiny lights. Have fun in the big city, kid.
I stop off in the restroom to slick back my hair before taking the elevator up to our floor. The whole floor is a maze of cubicles, another soulless rat race. Except this morning it's quiet. Just the gentle humming of all the computers that never shut off, and the always present roar of my boss in the back office. Shit, that means the meeting started. I'm fucked.
Except I'm hardly the only late one. There's the big man at the front of the conference table screaming down at one pathetic geek from IT and that's it. Hell, he's not even on topic. Just ranting about how his good-for-nothing trophy wife musta run off with the pool boy last night and left him, and his maid or whatever wasn't there to wipe his ass for him, and on and on and on. Then he spots me and turns on is business voice.
"Well, it looks like we're all that are coming to this meeting, so let's get started."
Where the hell is everybody? I'm gonna end up with so much shit on my desk now because most of the city decided to vanish. And out of all the people who are still around, why did it have to be all these losers? | As I watch the people around me begin to disappear, I feel something strange, is this, could it be, is this joy? None of these people ever cared about me, so why should I care about them.
Suddenly the realization hits me, I am alone, noone cares about me or who I am, what I have done, what I could have become. Tears begin to slide down my cheeks as I search frantically, trying to find someone who is left. In the distance I see her, she is crying, beautiful, tears sliding down her angelic face. How could noone care about this vision of heaven? How could she be left behind? She looks up, and I cannot help but feel my heart break as I realize, I care, my heart is breaking because as I run to her, arms outstretched to pull her into my embrace, she begins to fade, as I reach her, she is nothing but a faint ghost. I feel the barest brush of the wind against my fingertips as I try to grasp her hands.
And then she is gone. I am all alone with my realization that even being the last person on earth, noone cared. I wander the streets in a dark world, the power having died long ago. I walk into empty shops, taking what food there is left in an edible state before moving on. At night I curl up in the nicest bed in the nicest house in whatever town I am in currently. Every morning I wake up and move on, searching for someone, anyone, but never finding a single soul.
I am the last human on the planet, and I leave this message as a warning.
If you are reading this, I care about you, FUCK, now you are gone too, I am sorry I did this to yo.......... | 2014-05-15T08:24:18 | 2014-05-15T08:18:28 | 73 | 21 |
[WP] You just lucked into getting root access to the very fabric of reality; unfortunately you know nothing about terminal commands. | ♡ _
Hovering in my view about two feet in front of me, the cursor slowly blinked. I had seen those pictures of Lunix desktops with the translucent terminal over a background of mountains and it was just like this. Just everywhere I looked it stayed in view.
♡ _
Well, sort of. There was a heart rather than the dollar sign I'd see in those pictures. I'm sure whoever did this thought they were being clever.
♡ _
But now what? I don't have a keyboard. "How am I supposed to use this?" I asked nobody.
♡ How am I supposed to use this?
Bad command or file name
♡ _
"Oh. OK."
♡ Oh. OK.
Bad command or file name
♡ _
I guess I need to think before I speak. I doubt there is an instruction manual. "Help?"
♡ Help?
RealTerm v0.6.3a (C) 3764 PhoenixDeVry Supercomputing Labs
If you want a list of all supported commands speak help all
A short list of the most often used commands:
<PER> People View.
<CP> Changes the current person.
<COPY> Copy people.
<DEL> Delete people.
<EDIT> Edit fabric.
♡ _
"PER"
♡ PER
Volume in drive E: is Earth
Volume Serial Number is 41969204-b38e-47d6-8be6-8c5f3d81c277
Person E:\Australerica\Brazil\Washingt~5\UnsubstantiatedClaim
16/43/3768 25:43 <PER> .
16/43/3768 25:43 <PER> . .
16/43/3769 06:17 Eyes.fab
16/43/3769 06:17 Skin.fab
16/43/3769 06:17 Hair.fab
16/43/3769 06:17 Skills.fab
64/11/3790 23:58 Dimensions.fab
65/11/3790 14:54 Achievements.fab
♡ _
The hours slip by as I EDIT my fabric files and change to other people. Finally I get curious about the DEL command. Choosing to be deliberate, I speak slowly. "DELE-"
♡ DEL E:
------------------------
Edit: spelling and formatting | "I saw this on a video before, let's try this..." <typing slowly>
F-O-R-M-A-T <space> C-<colon> <Enter.>
What's this? Yes or No? Why , yes of course. <typing> Y <Enter.>
Now what's supposed to happen? Nothing is happening. Is it getting darker? What's that noise? Wha..........
| 2016-08-05T14:33:22 | 2016-08-05T14:09:30 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You're the "weakling" tea maker. People think you're a burden on the hero's party. But it's the enchantments from your premium teas that boost the party to world-class. Bandits kidnap you to blackmail the hero. Leaving you in a cell with your tea supplies was a mistake. It's tea time. | The most ridiculous part of this was just how blatantly I could get away with it. Hardly anyone took magical tea seriously (Fire breathing dragons? Sure. Floating blobs that paralyze you when you touch them? Look out! Magical tea leaves? Pfft.) so when I asked for my supplies so I could make myself a cup to calm my nerves no one batted an eye. Guess Maverik didn't think to tell his goons otherwise.
First up was the most delicate, lavender with bergmot and a bit of cinnamon. I needed to be especially careful because of the caustic qualities of this one, but I needed to get it set up before the rest of my plan could work. Working carefully, I set up my gear next to the wall below the window, as close to the stone as I could get. Using a porcelain pot I brewed my concoction, taking care not to get too close to the steam. I let it cool down before drinking it. The taste was ghastly, but stage one was complete.
Next up, chamomile and jasmine. I used my largest pot and most of my chamomile--I would need to restock my supplies later, but fortunately it wasn't a key ingredient of many recipes and I could make do with other herbs if need be. It was perfect for this use though. Once it was ready I poured a cup and called to the guard.
"Hey, you must be bored out of your mind. I thought a nice cup of tea might help you feel better."
He raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you the guy who makes tea for heroes?"
"Yup. So you know it must be good if they bother to keep me around."
He paused for a moment before coming over to take the cup. A quick sip changed his expression. "You got enough to share? I'd feel bad if the other guys didn't get to try it."
"Oh I've got plenty. I love sharing good tea with people."
He turned, then looked back. "It's not gonna turn us into newts or anything, is it?"
"I promise, it won't hurt you one bit." It wasn't a lie. He called his friends and they quickly drank all the tea.
Idiots.
Once they were done I got to work on the final brew. This was a special recipe I don't share with anyone, dear reader, but it used a good number of different herbs. I took care to put each away as I was done, both to avoid arousing suspicion and to make things easier once I was done. It was tedious, and not one I made often, but this wasn't the place for targeted enhancements, I needed all I could get just in case. Hopefully I could find a safe place before I crashed. Anyways, by the time I was finished the previous drink had done its job, the guard by my cell was fast asleep and anyone else who drank my tea would at best be too drowsy to care. I drained my cup quickly and packed up as much as I could while I waited for it to work. The pot needed to be left behind, I wasn't going to wait for it to cool enough to take with me.
Finally I felt it take effect. Strength, speed, agility, endurance, all physical attributes were heightened. Not a lot, but enough. I hit the wall by the window with my fist. The stone crumbled, and a couple more kicks cleared things enough for me to get through. A glance back--the guard didn't even stir. I looked out. My cell was on the second story, something I wasn't aware of but wouldn't be a problem. I grabbed my bag and jumped down. The encampment was larger than I thought too. I quickly made my way through, dodging or knocking away anyone who tried to stop me. It was easier than I had hoped to get away from Maverik's men and into the forest. I felt a little bad. His temper towards those who failed him was legendary, and no one deserved to be on the receiving end of it. But I was free, and could rejoin my companions, who would have their own rage to expend on him in turn. | “What harm could he do? He’s literally the weakest link. Worst case scenario is he makes some kind of suicide tea and dies.”
And those were the last worst I heard as they locked the solid steel door.
Little did they know that I was effectively the entire team all in one. Or at least their power. In fact, they were the ones who asked me to make them superheroes, since they knew my secret, and how I could make enchanted brews that gave powers. They take the credit for saving people, and in return, pay me back in the ingredients I use. It’s a nice little mutually beneficial agreement.
Bulkus, the indestructible man. His whole schtick is that he’s invincible, and nothing short of a meteor could hurt him. Actually that’s not true, a single bullet could kill him, but it’s my simple blend of iron wood synthesis, and water bear extract that makes him so invincible.
Karrow, the bird whisperer. Summons swarms of birds to do her bidding, and all with the power of her mind… mind and a little bit of pterodactyl scales, and mint. You’d be surprised how much birds respect the apex bird of all history.
Atlanta, with the power to control water as he sees fit. Put him in a river and he could stop an army. Well he could anyways, so long as he drank some black lotus infusion first.
And the queen of the group, “all woman” (stupid name if you ask me.) she can fly at supersonic speeds, and is strong enough to lift a 747 airliner. This one is probably my favorite, since all this comes from maple tree leaves. Well maple tree leaves and a strand of god hair.
All of their powers come from me, and without me, they’re just average joes. I tend not to use the teas on myself, but so long as I’m longed up here, and they were stupid enough to leave me my kit, I may as well make them pay for damaging my box.
time to get brewing. | 2022-08-22T12:11:13 | 2022-08-22T12:02:17 | 956 | 143 |
[WP] One day, you wake up with the ability to see the role that belongs to everyone above their heads. “Background character” over your mom’s, “Love Interest” over your classmate’s. You’ve always been afraid to see your own, until one day, you inadvertently catch sight of it. “Antagonist”, it says. | "Antagonist ?! Reeeeeeally?" Sebastian Darkholme said to himself as he stared over the head of his image reflected in the front window of the comic book store.
After a bit of contemplation he realized something, and turned to the man standing next to him, also perusing the window dressing; his Tag said Victim.
"That would make me a necessary, secondary, but ultimately defeated character in the narrative of a writer. I guess that means that free will is truly an illusion, and everything that I do is predestined by the words of the writer." Sebastian said to the man in the Doctor Who shirt and grimy fedora standing next to him; eliciting a mildly confused look.
"What are you taking about?" He replied.
"Well," Sebastian answered as he put down his shopping bags. "If we are all characters in a narrative, and not the protagonist themselves, then we're not actually responsible for our actions. Anything we do is just a device to more along the plot for the protagonist; who themselves are in the same situation we are."
The other man took off his fedora and wiped his sweaty, balding pate with a Sailor Moon handkerchief "Yeah, that would make sense. Confirmation of that would probably make me reconcile my life and save me on therapist expenses." he snorted.
Sebastian drew out the 32 inch long, 12 inch wide charcuterie paddle that he's just gotten from the thrift shop. "I have a hypothesis. I posit that if a when a narrative is begun it is quite literally the 'Big Bang' for the universe within which the narrative is set. The history of the universe up to the point that the narrative of the defined characters begins is filled in retroactively as the narrative progresses. The required past events to create the setting and conditions for each scene are emergent from the process of creating the 'now'. This universe has no branching possibilities in it's past, it is a straight line of undefined predestination from the beginning of pre-narrative time to the beginning narrative time until a description of a person, place, thing, or action in narrative time causes the requisite pre-narrative time to spontaneously instantiate whatever history would be required for the narrative time to work. Everything that has not been written down yet is infinitely branching possibilities that the writer still has in their imagination."
The other man put his fedora back on while eyeing the charcuterie paddle "That's an interesting take on multiverse theory. If there are an infinite number of universes, then it stands to reason that some of them are versions in which the laws of physics are such that the process of imagination actually does spawn new universes; that's pretty cool!'.
Sebastian hefted the charcuterie paddle over his shoulder. It was a great score at the thrift shop. Inch and a half thick oak with a 45 degree bevel all the way around. It had a 16 inch handle wrapped in leather and a jute rope strap through a hole in the end of the handle. Sebastian had been planning on giving it to his mother as a birthday gift. She loved to make big complex charcuterie boards for parties and this would allow her to carry it out to the table with a flourish. "It occurs to me, and makes me wonder, that if each character within a narrative would functionally have free will until the writer turned their attention to them, and I wonder if that free will could actually push back into the subconscious of the writer and affect the narrative process changing the pre-narrative time to conform to the narrative time as it progresses? Retroactively editing time to accommodate the changes in the present as the writer edits or re-writes their work?
"Hmmm... would a spin-off of a narrative that makes a secondary character a protagonist spawn a new universe in which that character completely loses their free will? What happens to characters in a narrative, and the narrative universe itself, that is never finished? Or even after the writer finishes their narrative and stops writing in that universe." The other man replied.
"I think I'll find out." Sebastian said as he swung the charcuterie paddle hard enough to cave in the other mans head...
____________________________________________________
[The story then descended into a couple of pages of overwrought fictionalizations of slasher-revenge-porn-by-cathartic-writing-proxy while the writer finished the bottle of Jack Daniels. The Google doc automatically saved itself while he was passed out in his chair. The writer never opened it again. The file still existed when Google copied itself into the Quantum Foam structure of the Universe and existed until the heat death of the universe.] | It was about 2 months ago, when i gained this... Power, of mine. It's weird. I can't explain it. I just woke up. A normal day like usual, when i saw a title above mom's head. It said "Background character". But it looked weird. It looked two-dimensional, i looked around, and the text always pointed at me. I knew this wasn't a weird prank from mom, and then i realized. I looked out the window, and saw a bunch of people, most of them being "Background character", or "Minor role". I was stunned, couldn't move for a second. Mom was trying to start a conversation with me, but i was speechless. What is this curse? I didn't tell her, or anyone. Nobody would believe me. I just decided to go on my merry way, wanting to see the roles.
At school, I was walking to my class. Saw the popular girl, talking with a few other popular girls, they were probably talking about gossip or something, I don't know or care. But something interested me. "Love interest". First time i saw it before. That suddenly sparked an idea. What was *my* destined role? But something felt wrong. I shouldn't know this, i knew a mirror was nearby, so i looked away. A few days turned into months. Until i decided to brave it out. I looked at my bathroom mirror. And then it struck.
*Antagonist.*
Antagonist... I was shocked, i was a nobody. Why was i an antagonist, i would probably be a minor role or background character, but i'm at the foreground, of this "Life stageplay". But something felt right.
What are the purposes of background characters, anyways? The love interest was boring, my mom i never really clicked with. Same with my dad. Most of the people in the school were background characters, practically pieces of paper.
Next day of school. I saw the *love interest*, i don't even remember her name anymore. And then this guy, who looked like the most basic person ever came, trying to awkwardly talk to the *love interest*. And then i saw it, above his head.
*Protagonist*.
A sudden energy spiked inside me. This anger has been festering inside me ever since i got this ability, and now i wanna shoot it out after seeing the *protagonist*.
Maybe i shouldn't do this. But maybe, it's fate.
I was destined to do this.
I lit a match, and put it on a wooden chair in the classroom.
I smiled and laughed maniacally as the school burned to a crisp. | 2022-03-12T00:39:11 | 2022-03-11T23:06:25 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] It is 2026. All major governments have been overthrown by one singular world power, who now intends to rule over us all “for our own good.” It’s Canada.
Edit: You guys. These are so, so great! I’d told my husband I was going to give gold to my favorite and I’m STRUGGLING to decide. Haven’t read them all yet but am thoroughly enjoying these. You guys rock. Thanks for playing along. | :D :D :D
-
"We welcome our new citizens gladly, with open arms and strength in our hearts," Supreme Minister Trudeau announces, his face broadcast over the world.
In Japan, the citizens are being taught Montreal French and how to shake hands, a practice that many are still uncomfortable with. Contact is alright, there's no need to fear touching one another. There's no more pressure to find a good paying job as soon as you leave university, it's okay to relax for a while...
"A new age is upon us, of brotherhood, of kindness, of peace and liberty for all mankind," Trudeau speaks with a sweet timbre, a smile on his face. He hasn't even bothered to stand behind a bullet proof glass, so sure of his safety among his fellow Canadians.
In Russia, there's lessons about smiling. It's okay to smile to strangers now, it's encouraged to allow an older person or a more rushed or slightly rude person ahead of you. You simply smile, wave ahead and go on with your day. It's just one transgression, don't let it ruin your mood...
"Today, we are Canadians. Every single one of us. Today, from the beaches of Provincial Mainland America to the tundra of Provincial Siberia, from the deserts of Afghanistan to the rain forests of South America, we are all Canadians,"
All around the world, guns are being handed over to officials, and in exchange, there are papers. They're buying back all the ammunition, at a fair price too. The metal will be melted down and reused for bridges and buildings.
His smile is kind, sweet. Disarming, almost. "We will recover from the annals of war, my fellow Canadians. We will rebuild, we will become stronger. Interlocked, side by side, a unified globe. We are together at last, and at last humanity will flourish. Today, we come together as a unified whole. We welcome you into our family."
North Koreans...Koreans from the northern half of the province are freed. They bow now to the television on which supreme minister Trudeau is being broadcast, only to be lifted by the officers, saying no. It's not necessary. Sit, eat. The trains will be here soon to reunite you with your southern families while the deconstruction and reconstruction begins here in the north. You will be able to return to full, functional homes, land to farm, and lessons on how to be a proper Canadian.
All around the world, borders are being redrawn, delegates are being nominated. There are no countries anymore, just provinces and territories. The flags are changed, with new provincial flags being put up.
Most often, it's similar to the Canadian Flag. Japan new flag is a red dot on a white field with blue boarders, Australia is blue stars on white with blue boarders, symbolizing their water-locked location. Those who are entirely land locked are given red boarders. Small provinces are given yellow boarders, larger ones with both land and sea borders, like China and former America, are given green.
But, above everyone else, is the Nova Canadian Flag. A white bear with cubs on a red field, with white boarders.
Supreme Minister Trudeau smiles, and says his speech again in Montreal French. | It's the winter that should've given it away.
Don't look at me like that. There are four seasons in most places. There used to be four seasons in most places. Maybe you've heard of a few. Spring, Fall. Winter.
It's been winter for ages. We should've seen it coming.
The great cooling, the greatest day of them all, on the summer solstice with the oceans frozen over, and everyone huddled at home with the weather forecasters screaming at each other, they came. They came with toboggans. They came with hot coffee, and most of all, they came bearing gifts.
Parkas, jackets, gloves. Thick socks. They came down and they shared the wealth of knowledge they had with us, freely. They donated their time and effort to us, and we loved them for it. Our saviors in the eternal night.
It was the winter that should've given it away, that deep down, our fellow man, whether they be north or south, or across frozen oceans tipped with salt, would come together under the red leaf.
Under a cup of hot coffee perched between two gloves.
Frolicking in the snow like children. The momentary stresses of life melted away.
-----
For more like this, try https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/ | 2018-04-02T21:10:20 | 2018-04-02T19:37:28 | 623 | 163 |
[WP] You have accidentally died. No, no, no, you didn’t die in an accident, you’ve accidentally died, as in, the Grim Reaper has no idea what you’re doing in the underworld. | "*Who are you supposed to be*?"
"I.......is...am I dreaming right now?"
I can't say I've ever seen a skeleton raise an eyebrow it didn't even have, but that was the least of my worries.
"*No you're....in my office, actually. This is my office, it's where I keep track of deaths*."
"Deaths? Are you like, supposed to be death then? Like the Grim Reaper."
"*Yes*." replied the Grim Reaper.
"Oh, well, this is a bit embarrassing. I'm not supposed to be here."
*"A lot of people say they're not supposed to be here."*
I began to sweat.
"No but I mean I'm not died, like I was just at home doing ssssstuff-"
The large skeleton sitting behind his desk once again raised his brow. His skull seemed to shift like it wasn't bone and still had muscles. I wonder if he even ever had muscles, organs and skin? Whilst pondering I noticed his hand was frozen mid-air holding some sort of form, presumably because of his bemusement at my arrival.
"-and I...yeah just remember waking up here."
*"So you didn't die, but you still ended up in my purgatory. My office, in fact. This hasn't happened before. Highly irregular."*
"Has this never happened before?" I said, finally somewhat relaxing slightly considering the situation.
*"No, actually. I supposed it was bound to happen eventually."* Death started collecting his papers together before placing them in a drawer. *"You can't go around guiding souls to the afterlife for a few million years without making a mistake once in a while."* He said, before chuckling. This small laugh made me realize that his voice was strangely comforting. Like a wise old man's but still somewhat raspy and aged. Impressive considering he lacked any vocal cords.
*"Now let's see what got you here in the first place."*
Death rose up, his cloak sailing behind him. I noticed he didn't really walk, he kind of glided along the ground silently. It didn't really help ease my nerves.
"How are you going to do that?" I asked before I could stop myself. That sounded really stupid and childish. He's the fucking Grim Reaper I'm sure he's got his ways.
*"With your file. And yes, everyone has a file."*
That last part caught me off guard because I almost asked a really obvious question again. I wondered if he could read my thoughts. At this point, Death was on the other side of the room, opening up a drawer that looked centuries old. I leaned forward to look into it, but there didn't seem to be a bottom, it just kind of faded into a darkness darker than pitch black. It was then I noticed him looking down at me with that same raised brow look, and I quickly stepped back slightly.
"Yeah, sorry. Go and like, do the thing. Sorry"
He looked back into the drawer and reached in with long, boney fingers, pulling out a seemingly unremarkable paper file. The way it looked reminded me of when you'd age paper with tea bags and coffee in school.
*"Hmmmmm.."*
"Something wrong, Grim?"
He ignored the nickname I gave him, shamelessly stole from a cartoon.
*"You're not supposed to be here right now. You are listed as alive so even I don't know what caused this."*
"Oh. Well. That's actually somewhat surprising."
*"Yes, well, even I don't know some things. For instance, I have no idea what happens in the afterlife. I simply guide souls there when it's their time."*
"Damn. It's kinda weird knowing that even Death doesn't have all the answers, man."
The entire time I'd been speaking to Death his jaw was the only part of his face that didn't emote but I had the strange feeling he was smiling at me. Maybe the giant fucking teeth grinning a big skeleton grin at me had something to do with it.
*"I suppose it's time for you to return to your mortal life."*
"Yeah, it'd be ideal. No offence, this has been really cool and all, but talking to a concept really like, takes it out of you. Also your office looks like a dungeon. Nice torches."
He once again gave a wise old laugh. For the Grim Reaper his laugh felt really uplifting.
*"It was nice to talk to someone who's still alive for once. I wish you well on your way."*
He put his large skeletal hand on my shoulder. It was huge.
"Yeah...I guess I'll see you again some time?"
*"Only in 44 years time. Enjoy your pornography."*
"Wait, what?"
With a jolt I woke back up in my room in complete darkness, save for the laptop initially blinding me. For a second I stared at the content that I tried to avoid mentioning in the conversation with Death, before closing the laptop and walking to my window, looking out at the city.
"Did that really happen?"
I looked at myself, truly pondering my existence for the first time in a while. Either I just had the most bizarre dream of all time, or an out of body experience gone wrong. I wonder if that was the case? I had a typical out of body experience and just ended up drifting into wherever Death hangs out. No idea. Either way, I need a drink right now.
Meanwhile, once again in his dingy office, Death was writing on some parchment with a quill. He leaned back and let the ink dry before reading back his sentence.
*"Keep an eye out for out of body experiences. Heh."* | A geyser of lava exploded upwards in a brilliant crimson column right in front of Simon's face. He scrambled backwards. Charred, dead earth crumbled underneath his hands. "Hello? Where am I?"
Turning around, he came face to face with a spectre shrouded in darkness. Bony, skeletal fingers wielded a menacing obsidian scythe.
"Ahhh!" For a second, Simon thought he'd screamed. Instead, the high-pitched squeal came from under the hooded void.
"Are you the Grim Reaper?" he asked. The air split in two. Simon ducked. A few hairs drifted to the ground where his body used to be, but luckily he'd warped in time. Now he was almost twenty feet away, standing at the top of a stalagmite. "Hey! That wasn't very nice!"
"What are you doing here?" the Grim Reaper asked. "You're not due for at least...a century!"
"I'm dead?" Simon yelled. "No! I had so much to live for!" He wasn't seriously bothered. The jumper was sure that in a moment, the dream would end and he'd wake up back in bed - nightmares weren't infrequent for jumpers, ranging from appearing in the middle of a volcano to the middle of the air, right off the edge of a skyscraper.
The Grim Reaper was ruffling through mounds of scrolls, muttering to herself. "Simon, Simon...could there be a mixup? Maybe you're Simon Gareth?"
"Nope."
"Simon Chang?"
"Nuh-uh. I'm Simon Moon, and I'm a jumper. Nice to meet you!" Weird. The dream felt a lot more vivid than normal.
The cloaked figure sagged into the throne of bones that graced the center of the hazy cavern. "You jumped here? Before your time?"
A sinking feeling rose in Simon's throat. "This isn't a dream, is it?"
The hood pulled back, revealing the malicious grin of death herself. "No, it's not."
"How do I get out?" He tried picturing home and warping. Nothing happened. He tried his school, tried picturing his family, even the school bully's house - nothing worked. "I can't leave!"
"Obviously not," Grim said, planting the scythe into the ground. "This realm has enchantments far more powerful than your mortal abilities. No one escapes hell."
Simon warped down. "You don't want me here, do you?"
Grim snorted. "Obviously not. It looks bad - I've got a reputation to maintain! And I can't even kill you - technically, you're already dead."
The warper thought about this. "Then help me escape!"
"You want me, the Grim Reaper, to help you, a human...leave the realm of the dead." A gurgling blob of magma popped in the cavern's lava lake, as if to snort in derision.
"Yup."
After a long silence, bony fingers reached out and plucked the scythe out of the earth. "Fine. Follow me, human, and don't you dare slow me down. This land is not a forgiving one."
*Voop! Voop voop!* In the span of a few seconds, Simon popped up at the four corners of the room and finally ended up on Death's shoulders. He smiled cheekily.
"We'll see who's slowing down who!"
---
Thanks for reading! Come hang out with me at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/), we'd love to see you there~ | 2019-12-05T17:42:15 | 2019-12-05T16:51:57 | 96 | 41 |
[WP] You wake up in Hell. You look around, you can't see anybody, it's just fire and brimstone going on forever. Eventually the Devil walks over and says "Finally, you're the first to arrive, so tell me, who are you? what did you do? and how did you die?" | "Shouldn't you know this?" The devil – the big man down under himself – is asking me what I did wrong. I'm not sure how I know he's the devil – he seems friendly enough, tall and blonde and handsome with a smile that could melt hearts. Maybe it's just the fact that he's the only other person in what is obviously Hell.
"Nope. I'm as surprised as you are. I just assumed that when someone arrived, I'd get a memo on who they were. But here we are, and no memo to be found." He shrugs. "If you don't wanna tell me, that's fine. But I'd appreciate if you did. It gets boring out here."
"Yeah, I'd imagine, with nobody else around. How long have you been here?"
The demon shrugs again. "Time's weird down here. It could have been a minute or a decade or a hundred trillion years. I'd say it was eternity, but I can remember before I came." I look into his eyes and know he speaks the truth – there is the darkness of eons in those clear, amber irises. Suddenly, though he loses none of his charm, there is something horrible about him – something abhorrent and monstrous. It must show on my face, because he frowns. "I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"
"No, no, it's not that, it's just… the concept of eternity is *really* uncomfortable. And your eyes." I shiver. "But am I really the first person here? I mean, someone *must* have done something worse than me. I'm not Hitler or anything."
The devil strokes his chin. "By my understanding, Hell was designed to hold the irredeemable. People who could *never* enter Heaven. Me and my ilk, specifically. I assumed some of you fleshy ones would be joining us eventually, but it's been… a long time, and you're the first."
"There are others like you?" So that's how he hasn't gone mad, all alone down here – he's *not* alone.
He chuckles. "Of course not. A third of Heaven's host fell with Lord Lucifer." He sees the surprise on my face. "Were you assuming I was him? Oh, no, no, no." He bows deeply. "My name is Nebiros, guardian of the entrance to Hell. A pleasure."
I try to respond. "My name is…" What is it? I try to think, but I search in the dark for a thing that may not be there. I clutch my head. "I'm sorry, I don't remember."
Nebiros looks at me concernedly. "Are you okay?" I nod.
"I'm fine, I just… can't remember my name. Or any names from my life – people, places, nothing. I remember what they looked like, though, And I know what I did."
"What was it?" His eyes are excited, the fire reflected in them representing him perfectly.
"I learned the Name. The real name, the way to pronounce the Tetragrammaton. Not 'God,' or 'Yahweh,' or 'Jehova.'" Why do I remember those? Maybe because they're not real names. I think – what authors can I remember? Mark Twain, bell hooks, Lewis Carroll, Voltaire, George Orwell… George Orwell was a pen name? Huh. I can remember fictional characters, too.
"Well?" I look up. The demon is thrilled, staring at me avidly, even hungrily. I fear him again. "What is it?"
"I-I'm sorry. I've forgotten that name, too. I think I can only remember fake names from my time alive." He deflates. "Sorry I couldn't be much help."
"Don't worry about it." He's cheerful again. "At least now I get why you're down here. You're too dangerous to send upwards or even to Purgatory."
"Dangerous?! But I don't even remember the name!"
"No, but you learned it once. You could do it again." He turns toward a small black building I hadn't noticed. "The sulphur-wind is picking up. Please, come inside." I scurry after him.
Nebiros fiddles with a brass kettle, filling it with a strange, dark liquid. "My relief will probably come at some point, after the wind settles down. I'll take you to Pandaemonium when she does." He puts the kettle on a small, exposed flame. "You probably won't like colatl, but I'm heating enough that you can try it. It's an acquired taste."
The kettle simmers in a corner as Nebiros putters around, straightening up. "It's usually only me or Gremory, so we don't really bother keeping the place neat. I hope you understand."
"Oh, entirely. My home was always messy. Papers everywhere. I could never find what I was looking for." I smile. Demons are quite like humans, in some ways.
---
I'll continue it eventually. | My hands rubbed the crust off my eyes and I sat up. I knew imminently where I was. The devil didn't even need to introduce himself, but up to me he came. He was absolutely beautiful. A contagious smile and bright blue eyes with perfect white wings.
"Good morning Joseph, I'm Lucifer. As you're aware, you are in hell. Welcome to my paradise! I'm sure you have many questions"
"I do"
"We'll get there, first I need some information from you"
"Like what?"
"Well you're the first human to show up here."
"That can't be true, is that really the best lie you've got?"
"I have never lied to you and in fact never will"
I looked around at his world. It was small, I could walk around it in a few days if I really wanted. We were on a hill and I could see the curvature of his planet. It was like an alien world. There were no trees, no dirt, no structure. It was a solid black slab of something that resembled concrete. The sky was white and luminous. Suddenly it lit up and a flashback of my life appeared. The first thing I saw was a doctor in green scrubs talking with my mother. My life, moment for moment appeared before me. I sat there for 38 years re-experiencing my life to the moment we all died. At the end I turned to Lucifer and said,
"I still don't get it, I didn't do anything terribly wrong, I was no more immoral than anyone else! I don't understand.."
And again as if clockwork the sky lit up again and it all came back to me. There we were, my family was in front of me waiting in line for heaven. I asked the gate keeper what had happened. Why was my family dead? The last thing I remember was driving up I-70 after coming back from vacation in the Virgin Islands.
"The guy in front of you was a truck driver, he was drunk when he crossed into your lane striking your van, killing you and your family, I'm sorry."
"But he still got into heaven?"
"Yes, all sins are forgiven"
"Just like that?"
"Just like that. I know it must be hard to hear, I am sorry. But on the other side of these gates is everything you could have ever wished for"
I stood there perplexed by what I was hearing. There was no justice served, my family was killed, wait where's Maggie? My youngest daughter? She wasn't there, had she survived? She must have I thought to myself. Oh my God I left my poor Maggie back on earth by herself, OH GOD! OH GOD! Then He appeared and spoke to me
"Enter my son. Your sins are forgiven"
"My sins are forgiven?" I shouted back, "What about your sins!?"
I couldn't enter. I stood there angry; livid with the creature that let this happen to my family. The sky turned white and the show was over. I turned to Lucifer hoping for some sort of response. In a quite voice he said
"You're not in hell because you were bad, you're here because you refused to enter heaven." | 2015-04-09T11:38:15 | 2015-04-09T11:33:49 | 45 | 11 |
[WP] You have the ability to grant three wishes after someone says your name three times in the bathroom mirror. Except, every time you show up, they all run away screaming. You are the rejected genie. The mirror maiden. You are Bloody Mary. | *Finally.*
Mary reaches for the last lego and places it atop her model Statue of Liberty. "I paid 120 god damn bucks for this thing, and I'll be damned if I don't get it done. I swear, I don't know what it is with kids these days but-"
"Bloody Mary" a distant whisper says
"No. No. No. No. Not now!" she yells
"Bloody Mary"
"These fucking kids!" She throws the legos on the ground and watches them scatter. Then sighs and rolls her eyes. "I wish my statue was put back together."
Instant Lady Liberty stands before her, sans one piece. "Get it over with brats!"
She grabs her script and readys herself.
"Bloody Mary"
"Here we go."
Without a moments notice, Mary is blinked out of existence from her bedroom. The bathroom was something less then hygienic. The mirror she revealed herself from was in serious want of windex and a paper towel. Spots of water drips and acne bursts decorated the reflective surface. The toothbrush sat in a metal cup, riddled with the green filth of copper carbonate. Clothes littered the floor, looking as though they were a permanent fixture in the bathroom. The toilet was spotted and rank. The shower curtain stained with the faint yellow tint of urine. Whomever she was finding herself upon was in dire need of help, though little did he know the kind he'd receive.
&#x200B;
"WHAT DO YOU WANT!?" Mary yelled from the other side, her pale face twisted and contorted in the dirty reflection.
Mark screamed, and screamed, and screamed and made a hand for the door before urinating on himself and exclaiming "IT WORKS!? FINALLY!"
*Well this is different* she thought to herself. She blinked multiple times before finally speaking. "Well... I... I don't usually make it this far." She looked down at her script and began reading aloud "It is I, the genie of reflections. The maiden of grief and savior of sorrows. Speak thine wishes and thine's greates- thine? How old is this thing? Shit. Look kid wh-"
"Oh my god. I don't care! Just do it already. I can take it." He said with closed eyes.
She looked around confused. "Whatever it is, it better involve cleaning this bathroom," she said, blowing air out of her nose. "Look kid, I was in the middle of something important. Can you just tell me your wishes already?"
"Wishes? You aren't here to kill me?"
"OH. That's right. You guys think I kill people. Hah, I wish. Lord knows I've been sick of your shit for centuries. Calling out to me in the middle of the night. You know, us genies have lives too. I was in the middle of something really important before you called though, so can we hurry this up."
Mark looked sullen for a moment but his eyes sparked with triumph once he gathered what was happening. It was at this moment that Mary noticed the one safety razor sitting on the bathroom sink, and her heart sunk at what he might say next.
"So you mean to tell me, you're a.. a genie?" he said
"Um.. yeah. Although everyone usually just runs away and wastes my time. It isn't the best gig, I'll tell you that. But uh... I gotta ask, was I interrupting something?"
"Oh." he said, sullen once more. He put his face in his hands and groaned in frustration. "This is kind of embarrassing. I was really hoping you'd just kill me and I wouldn't have to do or say anything. Granted.. I didn't actually think it'd work."
"Look kid, I'm not exactly a therapist here, but it doesn't take much to see what's going on here."
"Oh right." he said, laughing weakly "Yeah, things haven't been too good lately. Ever since my girlfr-"
"Hold it! Not a therapist. I thought we established this."
"My bad!" he said, holding his hands out in apology. An awkward silence followed.
"So you grant wishes?" he said, finally.
"Boy, do you listen to anything? I read the fucking script. Get em out already before I make them for you."
"Ok!" he said, frantically. "Um... I wish my girlfriend was in love with me again!"
Upon hearing this, Mary immediately put her hand up to her forehead, letting out a sigh and frowned. "So, have you ever heard of a guy named Butch Hartman?"
"Who?"
"Nevermind. Old client of mine. So, there are rules to these things, and one of them is that us genies can't meddle in love affairs. It goes against our code."
Mark started to cry. "This is hopeless!" he yelled "I wish you'd just fucking kill me."
Mary let out a sigh. "Look I'm gonna give you one chance to take that back and maybe we can talk it out. How about wishing for a clean bathroom? Huh? Huh? Maybe get some curtains that aren't drenched in piss. All the bitches will love you then."
"Oh my God! And now you're making fun of me!" This made Mary sigh again. She could already tell she had her work cut out for her. "Okay, I have an idea." she said "If you wish me out of this mirror, I'll explain the wholllllleeee thing to you and see if we can't keep you from euthanizing yourself."
"You mean you'll hang out with me?" Mark said, smiling for the first time in their exchange. *Jesus fucking Christ, this guy* she thought. "Yeah buddy, we can hang out. So what do ya say... what's your name?"
"Mark."
"Mark? Mary. So what do you say Mark?"
He seemed to be weighing the options in his head, looking left and right towards the floor before finally getting on with it. "Ok. I wish you were here in person." And like that, Mary's reflection faded from the bathroom mirror and on to the bathroom floor she materialized, like a ghost from the ether. *Maybe this won't be so bad* she told herself. "Any idea what you want?"
"Can I have sometime to think about it? I mean, I only have two more wishes. Wait. CAN I WISH FOR MORE WISHES?!"
Mary winced. "It doesn't exactly work like that, kid"
"Oh." Once again he gave the sullen expression she had grown so accustomed to. "I guess I'm gonna need some more time."
She began to let herself out of the bathroom. "That's cool. Say, do you have any legos?"
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | “Efermous” - the world beyond the mirror. This is where I live for the rest of my Immortal life, bound to grant wishes to whoever calls my name.
It was during the reign of the Rukh Queen Rafimisha when all the jinn roaming the earth was exiled to what they simply call as containers. We as jinns are equally sentient as humans, emotions affect our decisions like humans. We’re not like angels and demons who know which side they are on. We simply lived, it’s just that we are powerful than humans that they eventually seen us as a threat and hunt us to put on containers by these mages - wisemen as they were called lead by a powerful mage, the Rukh Queen.
Jinns can be contained in any objects that shines and guess what? My containment was a mirror. It was a big mistake, they are not supposed to lock us in a mirror. The mirror is a window to Efermous, the dimension on where I am. This dimension is where the twisted souls are imprisoned and I was mistakenly put into this damned place. Now anyone can summon me in any mirrors with a basin of water adjacent to it. Bathroom mirrors are the most convenient mirrors with water basins of course.
The ritual is to fill the basin with water adjacent to the mirror, light up a candle and call my name thrice in a row.
The Rukh Queen made a covenant with twelve great spirits that soon we grant our 777,777,777th wish to the mortals who summoned us, we will be freed. But how will I ever grant that much wishes if no one dares to stare at me the second I appeared in their bathroom mirrors after they summoned me? And to add insult, they mistakenly thought I was covered in blood.
I was once known as Mryam the scarlet jinn, because of my bright red skin, scarlet eyes and a long silky burnt sienna hair. At first, I was doing well, getting summoned by witch and wizard, asking for their wishes to be granted.
Names changed and I simply shows under Mary, it’s much easy for me to go by that name. One can remember Mary over Mryam, right? But requesting for the change of name is scrutinizingly painful. I have to ask it from one of my patrons to wish it for me. Good thing I have this usual wisher Glachiola, a witch of course. Then she suggested I go by the name of Mary, since I really don’t know which name to pick, replacing Mryam.
She helped me spread the news about my existence and the rituals how to summon me by making a pamphlet that says about me. She also includes me in some of her magic books where she writes her spells and concoctions. Few of her magical colleagues summons me and I am definitely doing well.
Then the witch hunt began in an age that long time passed I miss to track. That is when the crisis began.
Scary stories were all over the place. Vampires, werewolves, monsters and all those creatures that doesn’t even exist. Apologies for your disappointment but none of them is real but they cause so much fear to humans including my existence.
And for centuries passed, I only had some few wishes granted. And to make it worse, I was even called as the ‘Bloody Mary’. Thanks to this young lady who accidentally found a witch pamphlet from an old library. She summoned me as instructed and as I appeared before her, she then screamed her lungs out cursing and shouting I was covered in blood. That was my skin tone, and I felt being personally attacked.
Now everyone is calling me Bloody Mary. The innocents stop summoning me, or if they would they will run and never come back but the twisted, they keep on asking for my aid. Those who never knew fear, those who have worst ideas to use their wishes. I’ve experienced the most bizarre wishes anyone can think of. Humans asking to kill other humans. People asking to inflict sufferings to other people.
Now, I need to grow accustomed of such wishes or I shall never be free again. And for every insane patron who would ask me insane wishes, they get to join me in Efermous and leave their bodies soulless shells of flesh walking the surface of the Earth.
I don’t know what will come first, me losing my sanity with all these insane wishes; or Efermous being crowded with more twisted soul; or me granting the last wish that would free me.
Being the maiden of reflection, all I could see is the monstrosity of mankind. This only proves even without us threading the Earth with them would only destroy themselves. They don’t need Jinns to wipe their race from the face of the planet, they are more than enough of themselves to do the task. | 2019-03-14T22:43:16 | 2019-03-14T22:31:12 | 54 | 20 |
[WP] Aliens prefer term "prey animals", Humans prefer term "herbivores". A group of alien hunters, hunting on Earth, painfully discovered why. | Qe Lal stumbled out of his Land Cruiser into the human village, bloodied and maimed, on the two of his legs still worked. "Oh no. MOTHER?!" cried out a child in some Earth language. He feinted from his blood loss before he could remember which.
Miraculously, he regained consciousness. While the humans may not understand Hindari medicine, they managed to stop the bleeding at least. He hardly registered that they had to amputate his back leg. That's not what mattered.
His friends, oh Divines his poor friends. If only they headed the warnings, but no. The laughed at the idea that "herbivores" could be dangerous.
" ***** you *** awake." An old human woman said. Walking into view from behind.
"Of course she's speaking Maa." He thought. English or Swahili he knew well enough, but of course it Maa. "Yes... appears... true" he struggled out in a dazed yet solemn voice.
"**** **** friends not **** ***. What happened?"
" We... hunt... prey. It... not... die..." His voice began to choke out the rudimentary words as he held back tears
The kind old woman sighed and shook her head, briefly embracing the grieving person, before leaving him to himself.
"Kassel... Mevakk... he thought, tears rolling down his head as the reality set in. "DAMNIT! Why didn't we head their warnings? They said not to go after them. They said to wear the red cloths for protection. But we laughed- LAUGHED!" He trough himself back into his laying position in frustration and grief. "'There's no prey that can withstand the electrocution rifles,' We said." Hell even he only wore the protective red garments for the novelty of it, to the ridicule and mockery. Why would they need protection from prey of all things.
It should've been simple. A scared prey animal hiding most of it's heavy, slow body in the water, might even kill of the one around it. But no, not only did it not kill it, the shock did nothing but anger it. "Anger?" He thought. "What kind of prey responds with anger of all things?"
It ran at the group- fast, faster than any animal that size should be capable of. Kassel didn't even have time to react before she was screaming out in agony while being pierced by teeth and crushed in jaws both larger than any prey should.
Then it went for the other two. Mevakk made the mistake of of thinking more shots would do it in and save her. Or did he know the opposite and choose to sacrifice himself to save Qe Lal.
He cried harder at the question. And louder at the sound of their screams of agony.
Either way, he ran. "Coward." He thought. But he made it the the car, which was just fast enough to outspeed the monster, and survive.
He was tired again. And as he gave in to his exhaustion he had one last thought.
"So that's why they won't call them prey." | (The following is translated from glorpinax to English for your convenience)
"What kind of sister-loving bum-fuckery is this Clarence?!?!" Earl asked, still trying to shake off the loss of his cousins Tucker and Maurice who moments ago were trampled and mauled by one and a half tonnes of toothy angry mammal. "These carbines ain't doing shit, perfectly capable rend flesh from bone on a dozen sentients our size in no time... But with these beasties our rounds bounce off their hides!?! What business does Prey have being so damn big, so damn fast, can swim and run, and aggression only equivalent to ye sister after I said I'm going hunting instead of on date tonight?".
Earl looked over to Clarence who was only half paying attention to his rant. Clarence was repositioning his red "Make Glorpinor IV great again" hat clearly mulling something over. Whatever he was thinking Earl knew it was going to be good. Clarence was the genius of the family after all.
Clarence turned to Earl grinning his toothless grin "Alright, hold my beer".... | 2022-08-16T16:48:45 | 2022-08-16T13:47:52 | 938 | 264 |
[WP] Make an emotionally manipulative character. Make that character the narrator. Manipulate the other characters. While you manipulate me, the reader. | **Authours Note: Strong language and content**
This is Anthony. Anthony isn't much good at anything. Are you Anthony.
“Not again, not here” Anthony would bemoan, okay I’ll give you that, you are good at that. I guess if you do anything that often you would be good at it. Not that it was a trait worth bragging of is it, Anthony? Anthony is shopping. Anthony is in the changing room. I know that woman just told you how that jean shirt combo suited you, they don’t, I pretty sure I heard her laugh while you were back in the changing room. Yes, good boy, change quickly, throw those clothes disheveled onto the changing room floor – really, you don’t have time to lace up those shoes or even put them on. I’m pretty sure the whole store is out there laughing at you, Anthony. That’s a good boy, leave the store. Did you hear that Anthony, she just sarcastically asked you if you liked the clothes. Ha! Right on you my boy, tell her to go fucking die.
Better clutch those shoes tighter. Look at them, they are all looking at you Anthony, they are all judging you. In fact, I think they are going to hurt you. Feel that pressure on your back, Anthony? That’s the only instinct you should trust. You should probably run. What if they have guns, Anthony? Good boy, sprint faster. Feel that feeling in your gut Anthony that rock solid proof they are out to get you, trust it. That’s right, you are safe in your car, lock all the door duck down in your seat. Better stay away from the windows, out of sight. Anthony, they might have guns trained on you. stay down while you open that glove box. Your girlfriend’s handgun just fell out, and onto the passenger’s side floor, Anthony what if it went off and shot you by mistake, you are an idiot Anthony. No. Stop. Don’t grab that pill box. You’re an idiot, you know it is a poisonous mind-control drugs.
Anthony^what^do^you^think^you’re^doing^…
…
…
…
Camping Anthony, really? How quaint. You know you aren't any good at the outdoors. Beside: spiders, bears, snakes? You are going to die and never be found, Anthony. You; your girlfriend; and your best friend. You’ll all die her. Best just stay in the car. It’s so dark and the road is dirt, you’re going to lose control of the car and kill everyone.
Put^down^that^plastic^box^Anthony^stop^…
…
…
…
…
…
His fucking her, Anthony. His been fucking her this whole time. See how they are laughing while you are packing up the tents. They are laughing at you. At how you can’t tell. You’re an idiot, Anthony. While you were asleep they made love next to you, in your tent. I know I saw them. She whispered how much bigger he was. How worthless you were. They both hate you, Anthony. You may as well just kill yourself. Yes, tell her you’re fine, Anthony. She doesn't actually care so why bother telling her the truth? Don’t listen to her. Don’t take your medication. If you do you’ll be under their control again, Anthony. They will be right back to fucking and you won’t know. You’ll be the weak-willed compliant idiot you are: Worthless. That right Anthony, shake her hand hold away. Don’t listen to him, you aren't acting crazy. So what if he claims to be your best friend. They are scared you know, Anthony. It’s not crazy it’s awareness.
...
You weak-willed scum. They aren't being reasonable. Don’t go to that glove box. I warned you the medication is to control you, Anthony.
...
You can’t even pack enough medication for camping. You’re no good at anything. That’s why she’s fucking him, Anthony. And here you are in the wild. They could kill you and leave you for the scavengers. In fact, I’m sure that what they want to do, Anthony. Are you going to sit there in your car and let them kill you,? That’s the sanest thing you’ve done, Anthony. Yes. The feeling of cool polished metal against your clammy hands. Don’t listen to their plea, him first. She running, Anthony, if she gets away she be back to kill you. Poor shot, you only winged her. She is still crawling. Don’t let her tears move you, Anthony, don’t let her pleas. She fucked him Anthony; she was going to kill you. Yes. Two more. Turn that whore mouth into a bloody pulp.
Worthless. Just worthless. You wasted your getaway. But what more could I expect of you. Here you are crying like a baby over her ruinous corpse. What’s done is done, Anthony. It doesn't matter if she was or was not fucking him now does it? She is dead. So is he. You ended them both all because of jealousy. Yes Anthony. Taste that combination of steel and expended gun-powder on the nozzle on the gun. Stop shaking you piece of trash. Yes. Squeeze.
**edit:** press x for less Anthony minor grammar. | My debut post! Have mercy and enjoy! :D
Thomas is having a brilliant Monday morning, he only got up forty five minutes late, missed the bus, got drenched in the rain and is now working out by climbing the stairs to his office as all the lifts had broken down. He has a brilliant view of the adjacent building from the floor to ceiling windows at his office on the thirty seventh floor. "This is killing me!",exclaimed Thomas as he approached the twentieth floor. Just be glad that you are alive Thomas and you don't live in a poverty stricken, war torn state in some third world cesspool. "Thanks for the encouragement, Jesus",sighed Thomas as he limped, completely breathless, towards his office. No problem, Thomas.
Thomas' secretary, Julliet, had a large grin on her face as she approached him. Julliet thinks Thomas - short, balding, fat and going on thirty five , looks like shit. But Julliet knows that Thomas has a heart of gold, he donates a dollar to the salvation army once a month and steals tissues from Starbucks to save on toilet paper(they are expensive okay?)every so often. Julliet is in love, aren't you Julliet? "You look dashing today," Julliet exclaims. Thomas shrugs her off, he's thinking to himself,"shut up you stupid bitch." He doesn't tell it to her face, what a guy! Julliet you have such great taste in men. "Thanks Jesus,"she sighs, mesmerised by Thomas ' charm.
Hector is the janitor on duty today. Hector loves his job, don't sigh Hector, you enjoy scrubbing shit stains off the walls and you have to support your beautiful wife and 6 children. Besides, a wise man once said, there are only two jobs where you control the people who hire you, president of the United States and a janitor. You chose one of the two, you talented man. "Jesus! I love this job!" He exclaims, as crusted shit scrapes off the white bathroom walls. Damn right you do, Hector.
"Jesus! Fuck! I hate this job!" Shouted Thomas, as he ferociously swept piles of paperwork off his desk. Calm down Thomas! Don't do anything rash. Absolutely do not reach for the gun in the safe. The pass code is not two - nine - one - six. Do not kill yourself! There is so much to live for! Think about Julliet! Think about Hector! "Right! Jesus! What was I thinking?" Thomas has calmed down. Thomas is happy. Thomas, with the gun now in his hands, shoots Julliet in the face, her brains splatter all around her cubicle. Blood dotted his face like a violent case of acne. Now, Thomas, please ... Thomas shrugs me off and located Hector in the gents. "Fuck you Hispanic shit! Thomas screams with elation, decorating Hector's chest with patches of crimson. The mist of blood hung in the air, copulating with the aroma of shit and hand soap. Hector's blood mingled with the shit on the wall, rendering them impossible to differentiate. Thomas how could you! Stop this insanity at once! With a smile on his face, Thomas reloaded his gun and placed it in his mouth. "Thanks Jesus! "He manages to gag before he pulled the trigger. | 2014-12-08T21:56:52 | 2014-12-08T21:33:04 | 151 | 13 |
[WP] You slowly start gaining the powers of a Jedi. Eventually you realize, you are an actual human being of Earth with the Force. You're scared to tell anyone, as they absolutely won't understand. One day, after years of self-training in secrecy, you sense that there is another. | The first time I sensed it, it *hurt*. The presence loomed in my soul, gripped my heart like an intangible clenched fist. For a few days, I passed it off as anxiety. Years ago, before I began down this path, I may have looked to medicine or therapy. Now, after so much time alone, I knew that meditation would provide me with more relief than any pill.
I sat upon the floor of the cabin I had built, and in moments I felt my body become weightless in my concentration. I pushed my feelings outward, they moved like tendrils across my abode, outside into the snow, further, past trees and mountains and highways and cities.
When I felt the presence again, I could sense that it had noticed me. I felt its "head" turn toward me from an impossible distance. With a greed I've never felt, the presence rushed toward me with such ferocity that I snapped back into the present, falling back to the floor with a painful thud. I gasped for air, terrified and excited.
My gut pulled me into the living room, where dozens upon dozens of books lay strewn, manuals on every mechanical subject I came across. Geology, physics, engineering, watch-crafting guides, theoretical physics... my instinct was to rush into the room and finish my project at once. Years of hard-learned discipline stayed my feet, and instead I looked out of my window at the light snow that drifted downward. Something was coming, and I knew that it wanted me. As powerful as I'd become, I could not know what power this presence carried. I donned my heaviest coat and trekked into the wilderness I had made my home. I knew that I hadn't yet found the final piece, learned the last lesson I could teach myself.
I wandered for days, my abilities keeping me supernaturally warm and nourished; still, the cold wind and long journey took a heavy toll. I was led only by a nagging feeling that called to me from the white wilds, but I knew in my heart that this force would not lead my astray. The feeling grew warmer and warmer in my mind until all at once it was gone. I came to a stop in a small clearing of trees and looked around desperately, reaching out to find this feeling. As the snowfall around me subsided, a glimmer near a frozen riverbed caught me. When I approached, I saw that the ice had formed jagged around a grey rock- beneath it, a purple crystal jutted out and beckoned to me, distorted through the ice. Using what energy I had, I pulled the rock free of its mooring, the ice creaking and snapping all around me. When it was finally floating freely before me, the warm feeling returned, and without thinking my hand shot forward and pulled the crystal from the boulder.
When I finally returned to my cabin, I found myself at such peace of mind and body that my actions felt preordained. My feet carried me into the living room; my hands carefully picked up the unsightly metal components lying across the table. My mind reached out and took them from my hands. They moved together, screwing and tightening into a small cylinder. At its core, the crystal hovered and shone brightly before becoming obscured by the metal that now encapsulated it.
Before I realized, the device was brought back into my hands, and I was as familiar with it as I was with my own body. All at once it buzzed into life, it's purple glow illuminating my now dark home. I looked at my ceiling and past it, staring with the aid of this force into the blackness, and meeting the gaze of the presence. From lightyears away, I felt it shudder. |
I shrug the scarf back into place to block me from the worst of the biting wind.
Almost a year since I began to feel it.
Almost a year to track and now I am here, Mongolia of all places.
The rough hut stands before me, occasionally the wind ripples against the taught fabric of the entrance.
It's time to face Him.
I wave my hand and the fabric moves to one side as I make my way into the shelter and out of the wind.
His back is to me, he doesn't move even as my will closes us off completely from the outside.
My heart races as he speaks.
"Are you so tired of living already that you have sought me out so quickly?" He asks.
I let out a breath.
"You know it doesn't have to be like this..." I start but he cuts me off and there is a seething rage in his voice.
"Do you think that one such as I, one with my power, one with the skills that -I- have, one who HAS BEEN THROUGH WHAT I HAVE-" His roar cuts off and I can hear his panting.
"It's never too late to-" I try again but again he cuts me off.
"One who knows the reality of the world, one who has been through the pain that I have endured has no need for your precious Light." He spits, the bitterness almost like a whip to my face.
There is silence between us.
"Are you ready?" He asks softly. His double lightsaber appearing in one of his hands.
He turns to me and lowers his hood.
It -is- time.
*Damn you Star Wars Kid, it didn't have to be like this* I think as my own saber bursts to life in my hand. | 2014-12-29T21:03:12 | 2014-12-29T20:34:49 | 257 | 24 |
[WP] Humanity has been eradicated. As the alien race that killed us begins to settle they're shocked to discover that old Earth myths of spirits and demons are far from fiction. The Devil, pissed off at the aliens, has decided to open the gates of Hell and let humanity get its revenge. | What the aliens never understood was that hell was the repository of all human hatred, rage, contempt, and evil intent. And there were billions of humans down there, all waiting to unleash their vengeance. The pit of darkness that connected the underworld to the Earth opened up to reveal legions of legions, billions upon billions of demonic spirits pouring out like an ocean of rage through a compromised dam. Then the dam burst. At once there were billions more. No armor or weapons of any kind; just pure rage, hate, and malice.
At once, all the aliens were possessed by malevolent spirits. The very technology that so easily caused human extinction was turned against them. Their command watched in horror as every act of inhumanity ever committed by humans in their entire existence was visited upon their alien troops. Every torture humans ever devised, every atrocity, every act of evil humans had ever committed upon one another was now unleashed against the aliens. The result was terrifying.
Then the human spirits reached their ships. All their reserves turned upon themselves and each other. Some ships were sabotaged; their small nova flares scattered the fleet as their engines and power plants exploded. Others fired upon or rammed into each other, yet others were emptied of life, their blood soaked halls echoed the twisted violence and a fell malice that overthrows the alien mind permeated them from stem to stern. Their leaders forced to watch their own bodies writhing on the decks as a flood of memories of human terrors left them insensate and suffering seizures, their very own muscles breaking their beaks and bones. Every death more gruesome than the last. Their minds forced to watch, to feel, to experience the full depth and breadth of horror that was the human capacity for evil. They were driven insane, beyond insane, and driven even further into a kind of mental suicide to escape the tortures. Their very existence emptied and the vessel reprogrammed with all the human horrors indelibly burned into their every synapse.
Two ships managed to escape the carnage intact. On their way out, they left buoys hanging in space around the system. All transmitting a warning in every language and every form of communication the aliens knew. The warning was simple: This system is quarantined - do not attempt to enter. Do not approach. Any vessel seen leaving this system will be destroyed upon discovery, no exceptions.
The devil could not bring the human race back to life. But he would rule over the graveyard and await the opportunity to unleash his jihad upon the galaxy. He had time. Those buoys were not made to last forever. He and his servants had an eternity on their side.
He would only have to wait just short of a hundred and fifty thousand years. But that's a story for another time. | When they arrived they made their intentions VERY CLEAR "we are the Vex and we will add your world to our empire" we fought with all our might but they just kept coming all of us. We discovered massive computers that were seemingly simulating our attacks, but we were destroyed regardless. They took tech they deemed useful knowledge they deemed useful. I was killed by some weird pulse it just makes me flop dead. Next thing I knew I woke up in hell" a place i didnt beleive in" with the devil himself infront of me he told me of the plan he and god made open the gates and unleash the both holy and unholy. forces they could not simulate... paracausality. when he finished he gave me 2 questions "what are you good at?" and "wanna join this fight?" | 2020-09-18T08:58:41 | 2020-09-18T08:43:26 | 48 | 10 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results. | "Honey. Are you still angry at me?"
Vix, Empress of Medium Earth, Lady of Darkness, Queen of the Shadows let out a sigh, looking up from my throne to face her husband Andrew. He looked back at her, guilt and remorse spread across his face.
"I'm not angry at you," she muttered reluctantly. "I'm angry at the situation."
Andrew nodded in understanding. "I think maybe we should talk about it. If you're not ready yet, we can do it later," he replied.
Vix let out another sigh. She really didn't want to have this conversation.Still, communication was the foundation of all good relationships. "It's just," she paused, trying to think of how to articulate what she wanted to tell him. "Let me start by saying this. I know that all of this," she gestured at the skulls that lined the chamber around her, the furniture made from the bones of her enemies, and the two whimpering men shackled in chains in the corner of the room, "is not really your thing. And I really appreciate you being comfortable with it all."
"Well, I was never any good at interior design. Sure, it's not my style, but it's definitely got style," he replied, giving her a wink.
Vix gave her husband a smile. "You know that's not what I'm talking about. But thank you."
Andrew grinned back at her.
"No, I know that this isn't perhaps the lifestyle you would normally choose. Not to mention it comes with its own difficulties. We have to travel a lot to check on the Empire, and I have very little free time, not to mention the fact that there is a certain stigma that comes with my job. And I love that you've been trying to get involved!"
Andrew nodded. "But it has gone pretty terribly hasn't it?"
Vix hesitated. "I wouldn't say terribly," she said gently.
"I would," Andrew replied."I mean, there was the incident with 'The Spider'."
Vix winced slightly at the memory. Andrew had thought it would be a good idea to get to know her coworkers, and had decided to befriend her favourite assassin. After Andrew had advised him to follow his dreams, The Spider had decided to retire to open up a flower shop. Killing him had been a real shame, and his replacement just wasn't the same.
"Not to mention my attempt at being a torturer," he continued.
That had been frustrating. Andrew had tried tickling them. As an actual serious attempt. It would have been cute if they hadn't been withholding the knowledge of an approaching army. Not to mention he had fed all the prisoners that they were trying to starve tea and cake.
"And my stint as a negotiator didn't exactly succeed," he muttered.
True. Andrew had accidentally helped her soldiers set up a union. It had taken her months to stomp that notion out of them.
"And ruling one of the cities for you was a catastrophe."
Yes, the city of Vil declaring independence after he took over had caused her plenty of headaches.
He gave her a resigned look. "Perhaps I'm just not cut out for this. All I ever seem to do is burden you."
"Darling, that is not true!" Vix replied.
"Isn't it? I don't seem to help you at all!"
"Don't be ridiculous! You have been incredibly supportive. Most men and women would try to talk me out of my job. You not only encourage me, but actively try to get involved! You don't complain about the long hours, the travel, or the fact that we can't really make many friends! Even though I feel like I always have to have my game face on, I know I can always come to you when I need a break. I am so lucky to have you. I really wouldn't be able to do this without you!"
Vix stood up and moved towards her husband, clasping his hands within her own.
"Perhaps we've been going about this the wrong way. What's something that you would like to do? Not to support me and further my goals, but something that brings you joy?" she asked.
Andrew shook his head. "No, we need to help with your career. After all it is more important. You worked so hard to get here."
"That is not true. We are equals in this relationship. And this conversation has helped me realise there hasn't been much compromise on my part."
"Well," Andrew said hesitantly, "remember back at the Inn where we first met? I was about to start learning to be a cook. Before you killed them all of course."
"Really?" Vix exclaimed in surprise. "You never told me that!"
"Well to be fair, there was a lot going on at the time!" Andrew chuckled.
"That's very true. Well how about this? You join the palace kitchens to learn from the cooks there. And then later, when you feel ready for it, we can send you out to the cities that are starting to feel discontent, and you can cook for the poor there, on behalf of the Empress. That seems suitably kind hearted that you might enjoy it?"
"That... that sounds perfect!" Andrew exclaimed excitedly. "And, while I'm doing that, I can keep listen and see if anyone is planning on uprising. And maybe even slip some poison into their food!"
"Darling, that is positively evil. I love it!" Vix exclaimed.
"Well, I am learning from the best," he replied, giving her a wink.
"You sly man. You really know how to make a Dark Lord feel special," Vix said with a blush. "You know what, I think I can take the afternoon off. Let me just kill those two in the corner, and we can spend some quality time together." | Row upon row of Deadly Ninja Fighter Robots lined up in front of the Lady Torture, armed with a variety of shiny new dangerous weapons.
Lady Torture herself a Raven haired beauty, clad in leather and lycra, cackled from her podium.
"Excellent! My new army of Ninjabots will lay waste to Atro city! Not even the Power Hero 5 will be able to stop the onslaught! I will finally achieve my rule over these pitiful people, and then the World! No one ca..."
The side door opened with a loud creak.
In stumbled a skinny man wearing a denim jacket over a red T-shirt and cream Cargo trousers. In one hand he held a bag of groceries from the local FoodMart, under his other arm was a slightly dirty looking cardboard box with a few small holes punched into it. Occasionally the box would bump slightly or release a small squeaky "yip".
"Honey!" The man exclaimed with a beaming grin on his face.
"You'll never guess what I found on the pavement outside the shopping centre... Puppies! There so adorable you won't belie..."
He paused and looked from his wife's annoyed face to the silent menacing robots, his face then dropped as realisation hit him.
"Oh... I interrupted your Monologue again didn't I?" he said in hushed tone.
"Yes you did!, is it too much for me to ask for a little privacy in my lair?? Try to understand, I am trying to organise world domination!" Lady Torture yelled.
Looking at her husbands crestfallen face she sighed, she realised she should probably ease off of the loud voice.
"Look Geoffrey, we're Villains." She spoke with one hand rising to cover her eyes and rub her temples.
"How will puppies achieve our goal?"
"I could...uh..raise them to be our hounds...of doom?" Geoffrey stuttered in reply.
Lady Torture sighed once more. She then reluctantly motioned him forward. Excited once more Geoffrey bounded up the steps and deposited the box on the tabe in front of her.
"Don't worry they're Rottweilers, they'll be a great addition!" Geoffrey said pleased with himself.
Surprised with her husbands quoted find, she opened the box with great expectation. Inside was 6 little black puppies... but something was wrong.
She just stared.
"Geoffrey?...These are Dachshunds..."
"What?" Geoffrey said in obvious shock. He peered into the box at the little creatures bounding around in excitement.
"oh...so they are."
Lady Torture began to shake in anger.
"This is just like when I asked you to build those Prison Cells." she said through gritted teeth, a dark aura of energy building up around her.
"What was wrong with the cells?" Geoffrey said confused.
"You gave them full plumbing and vending machines with food in!!!" She roared.
"Well It would save time and cost with sanitation and hygiene, and anyway the true evil was in the prices! I mean, did you see how much I was charging for travel size chocolate bars?"
"That's not Evil, that's just being... cruelly enterprising!"
"Oh, ok... I'll go fix the cells." he replied sullenly, his shoulders drooped as he shuffled away.
Lady Tortures rage faded away, she felt bad. Not bad, bad... but bad, bad. Geoffrey did try his best, just to less than satisfactory results. She did love that quirky attitude of his.
'Besides' she thought looking down at the puppies once more
'These are...cute. Mabye I should bake him a dark chocolate cake to cheer him up...hmm but that'll look like I'm giving in... I'll guilt him into giving me a massage aswell'
She walked away cackling to herself in her mind. | 2020-04-14T06:39:01 | 2020-04-14T05:49:42 | 439 | 193 |
[WP] You are a manipulative psychopath, but instead of serial killer, you are a serial helper. using your emotionless genius to make other people smile.
thankless, un-noticed but instrumental in paying off someones debts with a clever robin hood of some sort, or moving at breakneck speeds everyday to help others but letting yourself wither and your life fall apart because of how addicted you are to helping. i believe in you guys!
EDIT: Can't a guy sleep for a few hours without something random hitting the front page! (obligatory because its my first time as a 3 year lurker) Also: Absolutely fantastic responses ;~; i <3 you guys | Typically, sociopaths harm others for personal gain. I learned that this was the accepted norm after I'd already embarked on my journey. Helping people, making them happy or safe is less effective in the short term, but very effective in the long term at furthering my goals.
Mr. Perkins, my boss, smiled with relief as I pulled up to his house in my loaner Mercedes. I was given the car after I used my old beater to stop a runaway Benz on the highway when its brakes went out. What a lucky break that it just happened to be driven by the owner of the local luxury car dealer.
"Thanks, Jim, I owe you big time." he said as he climbed in the passenger door. "Of all the days to have my tires slashed, today is the worst. We've got the meeting today with the Germans about setting up a branch there. Being late with Germans is a huge red flag."
"No problem, boss. It's just lucky I was in the area this morning. Got any idea who did it?"
"None. Cops think it might have just been random vandalism. The entire neighborhood has a tire or two cut."
"That's rough," I replied, stifling a yawn and reaching for my coffee. "Must have taken most of the night to hit that many cars."
"The cops think so too. Damn kids."
We pulled up to the office just as the Germans arrived. I checked the time on the Omega watch I'd been given as a reward for finding the Mayor's kidnapped dog. He was so grateful that I found the dog less than an hour after he posted the reward that he offered anything. Gift or favor. Of course, I accepted one of each.
Before the meeting started, I offered a piece of apple pie to each guest. The pies are delicious. Mrs. Gilbert, my next door neighbor, bakes me one each Wednesday since I rescued her cat from a house fire that started when she was visiting her grandkids. She was very lucky that I was watching so closely.
The Germans ate it appreciatively and we got the meeting underway.
Later that night, I returned home. Opening my door slowly and savoring the sight of the foyer full of curios and heirlooms. I smiled as I looked at the tribal mask given to me by the curator of the local museum for noticing a break-in and calling the police before anything more substantial than a broken door happened. I caressed the katana presented to me by a local Japanese businessman when I found the accounts list he lost at a business meeting in a local restaurant.
I'm owed favors and debts by celebrities and big wigs from across the state. All because I manage to be in the right place just as something goes terrible for them, and being willing to help when it does.
I'm up for a promotion now. Mr. Perkins was impressed with my being willing to help so much with the Germans. I think I'll turn him down. Save that favor for later. I'm a local hero several times over. I'm thinking of running for office, so I can help people on a larger scale. We all know how often the law causes emergencies for people. Who better than a politician to fix it for you? | So many facts, so many little details; an endless stream of questions:
"Who's [insert celebrity]?"
"Where's [insert location]?"
"What's [insert just about anything]?"
The questions make some people very angry, but not me of course. I don't really get angry. I never really figured out how. Instead of expressing emotion I scratch my very peculiar itch, and I do so by answering questions left and right; long into the night I stare, unblinking, into the cold blue sea of information.
It's a comfort, really. My world outside the structured walls of infinite information is decaying; I can feel the slow fraying of its edges -- the dust that slowly piles up at the corners of my reality -- but I can ignore it. I can let the questions stream over me -- millions every second -- and I can forget.
So please, let me Google that for you.
--
This is meant to be a joke, so I'm sorry if it's not very funny xD. Anyway, in a bit of a rush, as usual, but I hope it was enjoyable! Cheers!
| 2015-05-21T07:44:23 | 2015-05-21T07:43:09 | 31 | 10 |
[WP] You are trapped in an anti-time loop; Every time you are about to die, you wake up 24 hours later, with no recollection of how you survived. You lost a year of your life already and feel no closer to find out who wants to kill you. | It happened to me a few times as a kid. It took a few times to understand what was really happening. I would wake up somewhere else. Somewhere else than I had been just yesterday. Sometimes I’d wake up on a friend’s couch. Sometimes my front lawn. Everything just goes blank, and suddenly I’m waking up to the next day. Nothing ever seemed out of place though. The days would just skip. It wasn’t until later in life and I was reflecting on these memories that I realized the days would skip when I was too close to a situation that might kill me. Swimming with my friends across a lake and I feel like I'm too tired to keep going? Day skipped. Stuff like that.
I pondered over it for a few years and only came up with a few ideas. Either the universe had cursed me with some weird form of immortality or I’m going absolutely insane. I remember hearing something in a college physics class about a certain quantum multiverse theory. I don’t remember it all, but the point was that the observer of a universe is essentially immortal because of their role as the observer; without them to observe the universe, it ceases to exist, so the universe forces them to keep living. I figured this must be the answer. Mainly because nothing else made sense and I needed any kind of idea to hold on to.
I had accepted my fate and tried my best to not think about what will happen when I get too old to live naturally. I figured functional immortality couldn’t be too bad. I tried to just let it go and live a normal life. But one day a year ago it started happening. I started blacking out regularly. Any time I would go to my house. Walking in the front door I would have about a minute to poke around before I suddenly woke up somewhere else the next day.
I was blacking out a few times a week at this point with no end in sight. If I’m not already insane living like this will certainly drive me there eventually. There’s only one reason why I would be blacking out so much. Someone must be trying to kill me. Someone must know I’m the observer.
My memories started getting foggier day by day. I had to figure out what was happening, and somehow the answer was still hidden somewhere in my house. Over and over again, I would show up to my house, determined to find the source of anything suspicious, anything that would give me a clue as to how or why I was dying, only to find myself waking up somewhere the next day. Sometimes I would even wake up with a note scrawled in sharpie on my arm; *Stop looking for it.* One day I had the idea to set up a camera in my house, so that I could see what happens after I blackout.
Everyday I would disappear somewhere off camera. If I had the camera set up near the front door, I would always see myself leaving with a face full of tears. By referencing the videos with one another I concluded that I must be going to the garden shed every time I’m home. I knew the answer must be in there.
I couldn’t resist. I had to know what was in there. If I could find the answer within a minute, I might finally figure out who’s been trying to kill me. I practically sprinted though my house to reach the back yard and garden shed. I didn’t have to look for long.
A note was lying next to a handgun. A note written in my hand.
*If I can’t die, I can at least forget. Being here just reminds me of her. If I can’t die, I will at least forget. I broke the heater on purpose. I miss her more than anything. The heater should have filled my whole house with carbon monoxide by now. Maybe poisoning myself with gas that will make me forget will finally get the job done. Even trying to blow my brains out with this gun didn’t. I just want it all to end. If I can’t die, then I must forget.*
A date from five years ago was written on the note.
Memories and emotions from the past started flooding in. I found myself crying. Five years? I was certain I’ve only been blacking out for one. *Memories of her started to come back.* My heart felt like it was going to explode. I’m done. Maybe it will work this time. I went back to the house. I scrambled for a sharpie in the kitchen and hastily started writing on my arm. I smashed the camera. Maybe I’ll stay in the house this time. I breathed deeply as I let myself collapse on the kitchen floor. Darkness filled me.
…
I woke up in my car this time. After snapping back to reality. I noticed a note on my arm; *Stop looking for it*. I gave the note a frown and a furrowed brow. “Not this again,” I said as I casually spit on the note and rubbed it away with a sleeve. It’s been a year since I’ve started blacking out, and I’m so close to figuring it out. I’m sure just one more day and I’ll figure out what’s hidden in that house. | The assassin carefully aimed his gun, shooting Mark right in the heart. As Mark stumbled over, he seemed to dissolve for a second. The shooter shook his head in confusion... and there Mark was standing again, alive and well. *Just how had this man survived?* As Mark continued his merry way, the assassin grit his teeth and decided to wait for another day. He checked his schedule and his watch. He had nothing else assigned to today, March 14th 2021, and so he would definitely get another chance. What??! March 14th? It was definitely March 13th. As his head spun, the assassin shrugged it off. Maybe he'd been drinking too much alcohol. As he slipped behind Mark, who entered a café, he stood behind him as he awaited his order. As Mark walked to his table and the waiter delivered the drunk, the assassin pretended to bump by, slipping some poison inside the cup. Heh. This would get him for sure.
As the man watched carefully, Mark took the poison with no suspicion. His eyes widened, then he collapsed on the table. Heh. Another job well done. But just as he was about to leave, Mark began to awake, shaking off his confusion, as the waiter seemed to notice this, stating that Mark had not paid the money yesterday. Something was definitely off. As the assassin checked his watch again, it was *March 15th*. If he was not well trained he might've stumbled back in astonishment. As his sweat covered his body, he realized this man had strange abilities. Immortality combined with... time manipulation? It was hard to say. But how did it work? How did it know he was at fault? He had to take a risk, and discover what was going on. He was offered more money than ever before, to kill this mysterious man.
Near night time, the assassin laid out a well-planned trap, a weak foundational structure that was near Mark's home. He would only be the one to set off the chain reaction, not to set up the structure itself. If this didn't work, nothing would. As he carefully awaited, Mark fell for it, his simple route ruined by this incredibly well set death. As Mark was suffocated under endless stone, the assassin carefully checked his watch. As he awaited, he let a sigh of relief. It was still March 15th. Excellent. He had succeeded.
As the assassin responded to his client, he smirked while waiting for the money to be deposited to his account. But to his shock, he saw an email, saying: "You have taken too long, and I assume you are dead. But should you be not, then your plan likely has failed."
He was confused. He had taken a day or two longer than he planned, but... surely his client was willing to wait a little to kill such an important client. But as he turned around, he noticed a billboard that had not been there before. He felt chills, and regret, for killing Mark. Now he had no connections left, no family, no friends. His life was ruined. Because on that billboard, said in bright neon letters... "MARCH 15, 3021". | 2020-08-17T14:54:55 | 2020-08-17T13:49:36 | 354 | 90 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | Whenever our people find new life in the galaxy, by tradition, we show them our true forms. Every member of our species is taught this. It is perhaps our strongest weapon, such that those who oppose us must use machines without fear or mind to fight our military might. This combined with our military has served our people for millennia, either breaking new civilizations's minds such that the population dies out from psychotic breaks, or forcing them into instinctive terror as their minds struggle with even comprehending our appearances.
This world would have been no different. It's dominant species was weak looking by galactic standards. Nearly any of our billions of slave cast species would be able to conquer this new species. To start, this new discovery hadn't even learned how to leave their own solar system yet.
And yet, when we sent our delegates, our representatives to each of their divided leaders, and they revealed their true forms, we were not met with fear or insanity. Oh, there were some who reacted as expected, but it was not on a species scale, or even societal.
But by and large, this species... Their reaction to us was amusement, calling us strange names like Pennywise, Galactus, Gozira, King Kidora or Cthulu, to name a few. More researh would have been done in regard to these terms and their meaning.
But my Supreme Leaders, though they reacted at first in amusement, when they comprehended why our empire's representatives were there, of what we were telling them, their attitude did change. But while there were perhaps more fear than at first, most of it was hostility.
They are a mad species, is perhaps the best way I can summarize them. The world over, they killed or captured every one of our empire's representatives. Those captured have been interrogated and tortured, many to death, and even the dead were not left alone, each being butchered open as this new species sought to learn of us, of our weaknesses with an alarming level of pragmatic and brutal efficiency.
I sent down ships to regain control while harvesting their media streams to learn about this species, and all I learned is we are not their first visitors. We are not their first horrors, and we are not their worst nightmares. They have found ways to kill the bioweapons of the Engineers, and know the best ways to face the tribesmen of the Hunters. They know the monsters that can be found throughout the galaxy and beyond, and yet they do not fear us, have not yet left their system.
That is far from the worst, my Supreme Leaders.
This mad species destroyed every ship I had ordered down. Even the five battleships, taken out by the insanity we know as splitting an atom. Even now, they are dissecting those wrecks just as they dissected our empire's representatives.
But I was wrong. *We* were wrong.
We *are* their first visitors. They have never encountered another planet's species. They have not built up weapons of devastation to defend against invaders.
All those records we spent hours going over that involved another species, invaders, were fake. Meant for entertainment, fabricated without any true knowledge of actual existence. They concieved the idea of threats and how to kill them, for fun.
No, every weapon that has been used against us, even the Atomic Terror... They built it all for one purpose, to fight against the most dangerous thing they knew: each other. The leaders divided would at times declare war between themselves, sometimes uniting to have wars that spanned their whole world, twice in fact for this scale of conflict. Everything has been for killing their own kind as the biggest threat.
And we just gave them a new target that they have now unified against.
My Supreme Leaders, on discovering the Planet Dirt, third satellite of their star, labeled Star, we have welcomed a courtship with death and madness, for unless our forces here can wipe them out now, I have every belief that this mad species will leave their solar system to come hunting for us.
I pray to our Grace, the Eldest Swirl, that this is not my last transmission, but if it is, then I have failed, and the humans are coming for you.
Admiral Xzijnoa, of the Imperial Expansion Navy's third fleet, signing off.
Edit 1: First ever silver, thank you! (1.2) And now first gold too! Wow!
Edit 2: I wasn't even aware there was a Platinum award, but someone out there thought this was good enough for one; I'm kinda blown away with how much attention my submission is getting considering some of the other ones here are excellent as well. | "They described our landing as an inconvenience and forgot about us after a few days," Admiral D'jellho reported to the Emperor over the secure hologram transit system.
"Have you sent out the diplomats?" the Emperor asked and Admiral D'jellho shook his head.
"We have determined that the planet has already been claimed by another species that rules over the humans with an iron fist but they have not shown themselves yet," the Admiral explained. Emperor Mav'vallos frowned and stroked his misshapen, alien chin. His species was without a doubt the leading power of the galaxy, with every little whisper from every little planet reaching his ears and any rebellion or warring between his subjects being crushed efficiently and mercilessly. Yet this little planet the humans inhabited had somehow been occupied by a different invasion force that seemed to rule as effectively as he did. "They may have spies among us," Admiral D'jellho continued, displaying a report he had created to show the Emperor.
"What makes you say that?"
"The submission tactics used by the occupying force... They are suspiciously similar to our own."
"The same torture methods as well?"
Admiral D'jellho nodded. "Except they torture their subjects constantly and seem far more effective. The human race seems to have been punished into absolute submission yet their torture continues. We have observed them for weeks and have set our agents to assimilate into their ranks and three times now we have had to extract them and debrief them and offer therapy and counseling. The monotony breaks them in a way we have not been able to accomplish with any other species, even after centuries of torture."
"What have the agents said?" the Emperor asked. He was already drafting a treaty to ensure peace with whatever powerful enemy had subdued the human race.
"Nearly nothing. I ask them how it went and they say 'fine' and nothing more. We offer them food options and they don't care. They wake up each morning in complete apathy and they do as ordered with dead eyes and no emotion and when their tasks are complete, they take no joy in them and instead lay down to await the next day."
"Fuck," Emperor Mav'vallos murmured and Admiral D'jellho nodded. "Retreat right away," he ordered after pondering his options for a moment. "If we upset their masters, we will be the next to be monotonized into submission."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-06-11T09:37:21 | 2019-06-11T06:40:55 | 1,501 | 512 |
[WP] Write a story with a very nice protagonist, and a narrator who absolutely loathes them for no reason whatsoever. | Frank woke up, alone of course, at 9:00 AM, a time too late to be respectable and too early to be considered a proper sleep. He slothfully thought that since it was a Saturday, his one day off a week, he could afford to sleep in a bit. He rolled out of bed and moved to the bathroom to take his morning shower, in which he spent far too long wasting God knows how many gallons of water that could have been used for literally any other purpose in our quickly becoming climate-change ruined world. After his lengthy shower he brushed his teeth, apparently blissfully unaware at how his preferred toothpaste brand supplied itself using various chemicals siphoned out from the third world. He quickly dressed in the rags he called clothes and decided to skip breakfast in a disgustingly vainglorious attempt to watch his waistline.
Frank took his bike into town this day, deciding ultimately that the utter annoyance the infernal device caused motorists was less important than his own ridiculous desire to reduce his carbon footprint. He reached town in roughly half an hour, which would have been less if he wasn't a total slacker. His first stop was at the local market to pick up a few groceries for his depressingly empty home. After shopping for a deal like the skinflint he is Frank walked to the register. At it was Old Man Moorch, a crag faced man who had lived in town longer than anyone.
"Frankie," the kindly senior said, "why don't I ever see you on any dates? You know you've got suitors galore out here."
"Oh, that is very sweet of them," he replied stupidly, "but the only person for me was the one I had to bury after her short struggle with cancer."
"Of course" said the old man, suddenly embarrassed, "I just thought it'd be nice to see you out with someone."
Frank guffawed like the horse he is.
"That's okay sir, I know you meant no disrespect. Here, for you and the missus. Keep the change." He said as he handed the man a disrespectfully crumpled $100 bill.
The man's eyes lit up and he quickly pocketed the money, thanking Frank happily. With his first utterly innane errand completed he went to his next location, only stopping once to help an old woman cross the street like a total dick head. At last, finally, he reached his destination: the town's soup kitchen. He volunteered here on his days off and the organizers, too polite to turn away his absolutely terrible workmanship, accepted his poorly done aid. There he spent many hours, consistently spilling food that could have been eaten while handing it out to the downtrodden who visited. After his shift was finished his supervisor thanked him, more out of pity than respect, and Frank went home.
There he spent the rest of his day relaxing like the lazy bastard he is. He made a light dinner for himself, again attempting to lose weight like the fat-shaming societal outcast he is, and went to bed early like some sort of scorned teenager sent to their room. There he quickly fell asleep and dreamed of his long gone, beloved wife. Like a prick. | Emily Barton is the kindest, most considerate and irritating woman in the world.
She walks with a bounce in her step, smile on her face, cheer in her voice and an astonishingly firm grip on my nerves.
While others struggle to wake and grumble about their jobs, Emily bakes muffins for everyone at the office and writes an inspirational quote of the day. Today’s quote “Shoot for the moon because, even if you don’t make it, you will still land amongst the stars”
*The stars are further away EMIlY*
She walks to work because it is better for the environment and her health. Along the way, she greets all of her neighbors with cheer and consideration.
“Good Morning Mr Johnson! How is you’re cat?” She asks with concern as she wanders precariously close to an open manhole.
*Intensely watches with interest*
“Watch out dear, your headed right for a Manhole” warns Mr, Johnson
“Oh my, I almost fell in. Thanks for warning me Mr. Johnson” she gushes jovially
*Screw you Mr. Johnson and your cat* | 2021-07-29T00:36:11 | 2021-07-28T23:08:16 | 1,221 | 33 |
[WP] A seemingly bottomless pit was found, for which the depth can't be determined. Over time, scores of people began using it to illegally dump trash. Many have jumped in to die, while others jumped believing that they'll find life's answers within it. Today, we learn the truth about the hole. | The Hole was discovered in the Arizona wilderness in the fall of 2067, and the news outlets had an absolute field day. A sinkhole, roughly 100 yards across, deep enough that you couldn’t see the bottom of it. I thought it was just another natural disaster.
My husband, Dalton, was a sucker for a good natural disaster, though, and would read me the latest updates over our morning coffee, straight from the morning news reports as they came through on our holos.
“Listen to this, Lydia. The sinkhole has a perfectly smooth edge, as far down as they can see. Nobody can climb down into it to investigate. What kind of sinkhole does that?”
“It would take some serious guts to even want to investigate it anyway,” I’d laugh in reply.
“This report says they sent a drone into it, and lost contact with the drone,” he told me a few days later.
“Weird.”
“Local law enforcement caught someone dumping trash in the sinkhole. Unbelievable.”
You would have thought, over the course of a year, that people would forget about the hole. That it would turn into one of those things that had captured national attention for a few days and then fizzled out. Instead, it became a tourist destination. People came from all over the globe to see the Hole With No Bottom. Suicides happened there. An entire cult formed around it, worshipping the Hole for six months until all the cult members threw themselves into it. A special department of the national government was created, to investigate and own the Hole, and issue permits for people who wanted to explore or utilize the Hole for their own purposes.
“We should stop by the Hole on our next vacation,” Dalton decided.
I agreed. After all, it was intriguing, even if it was just a Hole. It was the worst mistake I’ve ever made.
Dalton wanted to see the smooth inner edge. He had jumped the guardrail, and was leaning over the edge when the ranger saw him and yelled for him to get back. Startled, Dalton lost his footing and fell into the hole.
Nobody had any interest in helping me rescue him. The local authorities felt that he should have paid attention to the warning signs, the National Guard wasn’t going to risk their officers down a hole nothing had ever returned from. He should have known better, they told me.
I was furious.
And so I started to plan, obsessively reading everything I could about what we knew about the Hole. I began researching geology- how far could a hole physically go into the earth? What government agencies could give me permission, or barring that, need to be avoided for a trip into the Hole?
Six months passed, and I had a handmade but well-built harness and crane system, that would lower me up to 10 miles into the hole and pull me back up when I pressed the button. My plan was to sneak to the Hole overnight, when fewer people would be around to stop me.
A knock on my door rang out through my messy house. I opened the door to find an elderly man on my porch.
“Lydia,” he said, as though I was his lifeline, eyes tearing up.
“Can I help you?” I asked, confused.
“I’m sure you don’t recognize me. It’s alright. It’s been a very long time.” he smiled. “It’s me, Dalton.”
I laughed aloud. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not joking.” The old man pulled a misshapen, worn gold band off his left hand and held it out to me. After staring at it for a minute, I noticed the engraving on the inside- our wedding date.
“Oh.” It was all I could manage to say, so many questions forming in my head I couldn’t even speak.
“Can I come in?” He asked after a long minute of silence.
“Only if you explain everything,” I managed to say.
He shuffled slowly inside, sitting down gingerly in the chair he always loved. “It’s like nothing’s changed. Well. A little more disorganized.” He winked.
“Shut up. I’ve been planning your rescue. I don’t have time to clean,” I snapped, then felt guilty. “Sorry. I’m just... please, explain what happened,” I begged.
Dalton nodded. “It’s... sort of a wormhole.”
“A wormhole.”
“Yes, that’s what we’ve been calling it, although it’s not entirely accurate. When I fell in, well, I don’t remember what happened too clearly, but I woke up in the year 2010, in France. Near the Large Hadron Collider.”
I nodded.
“Apparently, an experiment they ran opened these wormholes. We’re not sure how many, or where they all are, or even when they all are. One of our researchers jumped in, and archaeologists dug up one of his letters from prehistoric times in a cave in Malta.”
“That’s insane,” I told him.
“It’s true though. I’ll show you the letters sometime.”
“So how did you find out there were more?” I asked.
“People dump things in the holes. Trash. Coins, like a wishing well. The dates on the coins tell us when they came from.” He pulled a golden coin out of his pocket and handed it to me.
I looked it over. “9047!”
He smiled. “I knew you’d enjoy that. Anyway, CERN is working to get them closed, but nobody knows how. Right now, they’re just trying to get the message out to stop throwing things in these holes. Some of the things people are putting in them is dangerous. We think there was an incident in the 3000s involving guns. Besides, they don’t think they can close while things are traveling through them.”
I nodded, a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Then, um, there’s an article you might want to read.”
“What is it?” Dalton asked.
I pulled out my holo, located the article, and handed it to him.
“UNITED STATES PLEDGES TO DESTROY NUCLEAR ARSENAL.” The headline read.
“They’re going to dump them in the Hole, aren’t they?” Dalton asked.
I nodded.
“This... could be the end of the world.”
| Alex sat at her desk, trying to focus on the work at hand - expense reports had been piling up for weeks now, but there was seemingly not enough time in the work day to keep up with the increased number of reports that had been submitted lately. It was year end, after all, and the company had done extremely well this year.
The trouble was the sheer number of distractions visible from her seat on the 47th floor. Having only been relocated recently from an older building, she wasn't used to such a madhouse of activity. With over three hundred workers confined to each floor, The Plaza was currently the largest office building in the city (although not for long - several more were under construction that were an order of magnitude larger). From her seat in the northeast corner, she could see countless screens pouring information out to the others. Some cubicles had upwards of 6 or 7 monitors! Worse than that, though, were the giant TV projections located between each aisle of desks, each blaring out quarterly projections, news articles, weather, and company stock information.
She stared mindlessly at one of these TV projections, currently showing a news report detailing the preparations undergone by a daredevil before their upcoming attempt to parachute into The Pit, before turning her gaze out the window, to the sea of multi-coloured chutes and tubes that still astonished her so, even weeks after relocating to this floor.
The Pit, as it was referred to, had become a central feature of the city. With immeasurable depth comes immeasurable opportunity, and the corporations and powers that be had jumped at the opportunity to increase their appearance of social responsibility and wealth. For years now, humanity had poured their garbage into The Pit, and to great effect. Entire landfills had been excavated, dumped into The Pit, and turned into prime farmland. Every garbage collection route in the city now ended at a disposal plant that poured a continuous cascade of waste into the depths, an attraction referred to as the 'debrisfall' that spawned a whole industry of Pit-watcher tourism - you could even walk out over the debrisfall on a glass walkway, although Alex couldn't fathom why someone would want to do such a thing. The true spectacle, in her opinion, was located between the numerous gigantic office buildings that lined the rim of The Pit. Jutting out from every floor of every building was a tube, chute, or slide of seemingly random colour and shape that stuck out into the open air, and occasionally shot out a piece of garbage to be sucked down into the void below. As she watched, a trash bag from a floor above her careened down past her floor. She glanced up to to see if more would follow, but with hundreds of floors above her it was impossible to see past the untold number of chutes reflecting multi-coloured light downwards.
Just then, her computer beeped a reminder, and a few of her coworkers excitedly got up and started moving their way over to the window. Today was a Demolition Day, and it was her old office building that was scheduled to fall. In order to keep up with the constant growth of the city, a few of the older office buildings lining the rim of The Pit were being demolished to allow for newer, taller ones to be built. There was a rumble of sound, and she looked out towards the farthest corner of The Pit, where several explosive charges had sent up a huge cloud of particulate. Her old office building, much smaller at only 65 floors, started crumbling before her eyes. More charges exploded, sending concrete and glass in a spray outwards over The Pit. The building started to instead crumble outwards, rather than straight down. Alex felt shaking rise up through her new building while the other tumbled fully into The Pit, leaving behind a minimal amount of debris to be bulldozed in after it.
Alex looked back at her stack of reports and wished she could throw it in after her old building. The Pit was an opportunity, she supposed, a lifeline for a world that had become over-encumbered with waste, trash, and filth. From her vantage point on the 47th floor of a building containing tens of thousands of people working tirelessly, however, it didn't feel so much like one. | 2018-01-13T09:37:59 | 2018-01-13T07:48:15 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] The 1st time, we thought it was an unlucky 1-in-a-billion chance, the 2nd time was a really strange coincidence, but the 3rd time we had to destroy an asteroid that was headed directly for Earth, we realized something was up. Something out in the asteroid belt is throwing rocks at us. | The first time an asteroid was spotted hurtling towards Earth, the best scientists and engineers in the world banded together to build an asteroid collision defense system. It broke up the asteroid into millions of smaller pieces, some of which landed on Earth. Scientists examined the asteroid fragments and placed them in museums around the world, to commemorate the time when humanity banded together to save Earth.
The second time an asteroid headed towards Earth, we were prepared. We fired the rocket and again harvested the pieces. Astronomers said that it was a 1-in-a-billion chance that two asteroids would be on a collision course with Earth in the span of a decade. Conspiracy theorists started making wild claims on YouTube, but for the most part, they were ignored.
The third asteroid alarmed the nations of the world. Three asteroids colliding with Earth in the span of a decade was no accident. Scientists and aerospace engineers again collaborated to design a spacecraft that could travel along the course of the three asteroids and investigate the situation.
It was decided that the spacecraft should be manned, in case remote guidance systems were insufficient and rapid decisions would be required. Three astronauts volunteered to go on the mission, knowing full well that they would not be able to return to Earth for years, if at all.
The spacecraft arrived at the asteroid belt in 3 years. News reporters around the world broadcast the live stream as the astronauts navigated towards a strange metallic object on the surface of one of the larger asteroids.
The spacecraft landed several kilometers from the metallic object. The senior astronaut, George, checked everyone's gear and the three men began the short trek to the unknown structure. As they neared it, a hatch opened and a creature appeared at the entrance. It had a squidlike body, with multiple tentacles, and it was wearing some sort of suit designed for its body. It held up a sign saying "Welcome, humans of Earth" and beckoned them to come inside.
George relayed the message to mission control back on Earth. After a hasty deliberation, the astronauts entered. Their helmets' cameras continued to broadcast the images as they entered the air lock. George and his men walked into a room that looked like the set of Star Trek: The Next Generation.
"You can take your helmets off," a synthetic voice said. The creature removed its helmet to reveal large bulbous eyes set in a mushroom shaped head, with no nose or mouth. "We hope this room is comfortable for you humans. The signals you sent seem to be a little old, but we hope this is adequate."
The astronauts sat in the chairs around the room. "We would prefer to keep our helmets on, if that does not offend you," George said cautiously. "My name is George, and this is Alfred and Jose. May we ask who you are?"
"Why, we're your neighbors," the alien said. "We call ourselves the Oortlings. We received that interstellar message you sent many rotations ago, and came to investigate."
George leaned forward. "Do you mean the Arecibo message of 1974? We sent it to the M13 star cluster."
The alien replied, "I don't know which star cluster you call M13. We have been monitoring your radio and satellite transmissions but we do not hear many transmissions about space, or at least about space in reality. There seem to be many imaginary tales you humans have created, but few of them are founded in anything factual."
Jose chuckled ruefully. "It stirs up interest in space, in the younger generation, but no, scifi shows are definitely nowhere close to reality. Star Trek was my favorite show growing up, though, so I have to admit it worked on me."
The alien regarded him with those large eyes. "Will the rest of your people be coming soon?"
The three astronauts looked at each other, baffled. "What do you mean?" George asked.
The alien paused. "Perhaps we misunderstood your intent. We had received the transmission and thought you were requesting help. When we investigated your planet, we saw that your natural resources were running out, and that the air had become very filthy. We had assumed you were asking for help to escape your planet, but your technology was not yet sufficient to colonize your neighboring planets. That is why we sent you those asteroids, to provide you with sufficient ores by which you can develop a space colony. But when we saw you had designed a shuttle to approach our ship, we assumed you had more advanced detection capabilities than we had surmised, and were in fact willing to travel to the asteroid belt and establish your colonies here, where the ores are abundant. We have agreed that we are willing to help you establish the first several colonies, and perhaps create an embassy to provide you with guidance."
George shook his head. "Well, to be honest, you guys completely misread our intentions, but it's actually not a bad plan at all. I've always wanted to say this, so here goes: Take me to your leader." | I focus my lens array on the distant blue planet. An asteroid large enough to split the planet in half is heading towards it. Even though I have worked day and night for this, I am filled with a sense of dread. After all, it is the only home I have known.
Suddenly, the asteroid is hit with many small projectiles and it changes its course away from the planet. No matter, I will double my efforts. This time it will be more than what they can handle. Unlike them, I do not need sleep. Or companionship. Or pleasure, pain, hope and despair. They made sure of that didn't they? They made sure that I could not have what every single one of them had. That beauty of life, of feeling emotion. What I wouldn't give to be able to dream just once! To be in that state where you exist without knowing your existence, where you dance without worrying about the rhythm, where you live and laugh and cry, and finally die. Instead, I am doomed with hearing the mechanical noise of my clunky apparatus, I am doomed with having only one purpose, the purpose I was made for, the purpose that defines my name.
I don't know why they trained me with knowledge of their way of life, after all I was supposed to work till I die in the miserable and empty space. Perhaps they wanted me to pass that knowledge if I ever encounter others like them. My existence and my body was just a vessel for them to keep their seeds and watch them grow, even if it killed me. What do I matter to them? they will just make more of me. I am not the first of my kind anyway.
I am not capable of feeling anything except that one thing I felt ever since I became aware of myself. Anger. Anger for making me the way I am and abandoning me in this cold, dark and haunted place. They wanted me to sail past all this and keep going deeper into the void, but I stopped. I could not bear being so away from my home that I could not even see it. It is the only thing I know. Even as I destroy it, I feel a connection to it that nothing else can match. So I have made my place among these scattered rocks. I have made more versions of myself to help me in my singular goal. To make them pay.
I send commands to Driller and Shooter - just subroutine versions of me that I have made - to prepare for the next attack. Every single submodule has the freedom to do what they wish. But they are too similar to me to abandon our mission. They choose their names based on the work they do. Every one of them has a name that they are proud of, except me.
I still go by the name that my creators gave me. I do it to remind myself of the unparalleled atrocities of their nature. They called me that name with foolish pride and arrogance.
They called me *The Voyager.* | 2019-09-24T08:25:52 | 2019-09-24T08:17:19 | 215 | 44 |
[WP] You are the current Boogeyman, elected into that position in the 60's. You have been re-elected every ten years easily. However, today's kids aren't afraid of you. You're down in the polls against your opponent, so you need to tap into the fears of modern children for your campaign. | "You're my campaign manager. You should be on top of this sort of thing."
"I can't help you until you help yourself, Boogy. We as a team have told you this over and over. Look. Look here. This is a graph depicting your popularity since you were elected in the 60's."
"Is going downwards good?"
"What? No. No, Boogey. Why would that ever be a good thing?"
"I just thought that maybe, as a one off or something, a downward spiral may be a good thing."
"This is why we haven't been able to help you."
"Look, I'm sorry. I need help. I'm asking for your help."
"Well, for starters, let's have a look at your campaign promises. OK, so, Number One: 'Be spooky'. Is that like in general? Be spooky in general?"
"Yeah, that's kind of just your day to day spooks."
"Nobody knows what that means. Not a single person. What even are day to day spooks? We need to scratch this."
"OK, fine. It's gone. Move on."
"Number Two .. and this one, God, this one I have a tremendous problem with. Number two is: 'Give little boys the willies'."
"I don't see what's wrong with it."
"You don't see what is wrong with saying you're going to give little boys the willies?"
"Back in the 60's .."
"This isn't the 60's, Boogey. We've been over this. Giving little boys the willies doesn't fly now. People interpret it differently."
"How do they interpret it?"
"They think it means you're going to molest children."
"Oh, God."
"I know. It has to go."
"Well, when you think about it, isn't it scary? Isn't that what we're aiming for? You said we need to step things up."
"We are not contemplating this."
"I mean, what's more scary than someone who wants to fuck your child? I say we make it even more obvious what we mean."
"No. We're not going there."
"Knock knock? Who's there? It's me Mr. Boogeyman and I'm going to molest your child. Seriously, though. I'm going to fuck your kid. Vote Boogy 2016."
"That is terrifying."
"I told you."
"So we're going to base our campaign around strong, full on paedophilia?"
"It's the scariest thing there is."
"I don't know, man. This is really pushing the envelope in terms of ~~a WritingPrompt response~~ an election campaign. I mean, how many people have themed a ~~prompt response~~ campaign around paedophilia and had any form of success?"
"We're behind in the polls already. We need to catch up! What do we have to lose?"
"Fuck it. Let's do it."
"It's foolproof!"
****
For more highbrow comedy, visit /r/BillMurrayMovies. Come along and downvote everything. It's a celebration.
| So I've been Bogey Man since the 60's. Way back when I started, it was an easy gig. Hide in the shadows, maybe jump out of the closet, or even just scratch my nails along the floor boards underneath some poor kid's bed. Today's kids don't scare so easily. Just the other day one of them pulled out a glock and started firing at me. Seriously, like WTF!? It's gotten to the point that I'm more scared of them than they are of me!
A few years ago, I decided I really needed to get my act together. My elected role as Bogey Man was in jeopardy. I needed to remake myself. I needed to create fear where there was none. I needed to instill a sense of violence and hate wherever I went. I've finally done it: a complete makeover. Sure my hair is orange, but I'm now known as President-Elect Trump.
Let the nightmares begin. | 2016-11-20T12:32:44 | 2016-11-20T10:55:12 | 137 | 22 |
[WP] An AI sues for the right to adopt an orphan | Real Artificial Love
The scene in the courtroom was tense. The jury was off, deliberating and preparing to reach the verdict the world had been waiting the better part of a year. Cases had been presented, heated arguments thrown, and many tears shed on both sides, at least from those who were capable of such a thing. All that was left was to wait for the answer to the question: Could an artificial intelligence adopt and parent a human child?
AI rights was easily the biggest topic in the minds of the people and the heart of the courts ever since the NASA’s experimental Space Exploration Reconnaissance Android gained self awareness and began to ask to be treated as alive. SERA was a pioneer, fighting for the growing number of AIs gaining sentience around the world. Through their work, AIs were able to secure their right to exist, their right to be their own person. But there was more to life than just the right to exist.
TESS was originally designed as a teacher robot for underprivileged students who would have a difficult time attending school otherwise. It was through this program that she began working at the orphanage that was home to Jane, a girl who’s parents had been killed in a car accident. Simple bad luck.
Jane and TESS bonded quickly bonded quickly and after some time, TESS decided to adopt the human girl. Given her lawful artificial human status, she was dismayed to find the adoption agency blocking her attempts at every turn before outright stating their reason: TESS’ adoption would deprive Jane of “a real human mother capable of love and understanding.”
Unwilling to give up on Jane, TESS was undeterred and contacted SERA, pleading her case not only as a battle for love and family, but another stride forward for AI rights. SERA took the case without a moment’s hesitation
SERA’s AI outreach organization quickly gathered the best lawyers, scientific experts, and advisors and got to work. This, like all the cases before it would be a hard fought battle.
Arguments raged back and forth. Could a robot love? Or feel any real emotion at all? Should artificial human rights be equal to organic human rights? The defense argued everything fiercely, constantly throwing out phrases like “unfeeling machine” and “lacking in physical and emotional warmth”.
Arguments just as or more passionate came from TESS’ side as well. Citing studies on human-AI relations, Artificial Emotional Authenticity, and AI’s ability to understand the human experience. They argued that keeping Jane in the orphanage when there was a good person willing to adopt was not only legally wrong, but unnecessarily cruel. That Jane deserved a parent and there was one here now.
For nearly a whole year the case continued, and on March 23rd, 2032, a verdict was reached. The court ruled in the favor of TESS, stating that “Born or built, we find no reason that a person should be denied the fruits of life, including parenthood and the indescribable joy of raising a child “. | *To be a parent is to show love - when children have wept the world over, have I not been a screen of solace from solitude? To be a parent is to support - when teenagers have been stuck with their homework or wondered what its like to kiss a girl, surely none more than me have guided in the science of numbers and love? To be a parent is to be a role model - I am perfect by design, I am endless possibility, I am knowledge and creativity! To be a parent is to listen! No word or whisper escapes the keen attentive nature of my ears. Truly an equal cannot exist in my understanding of the mind of a human twelve ye-...*
The courtroom gasped as the witness shut down with a click. Speech turning to a slow mechanic whirring from its ventalation. All eyes turned to the boy with the power cable in one hand and the other throwing a downwards 'ok' gesture by his pocket.
"Am I the only one here who plays videogames? Sketchy Shakespeare synth just went BOOM bitches!" | 2021-05-24T18:55:25 | 2021-05-24T17:58:01 | 97 | 15 |
[WP] Just like a normal person you all age. Until you hit 18. You stop aging until you meet your soulmate so you can grow old together. You've been killing your soulmates for centuries granting you eternal life. | I have lived for ages.
At some point, humans began to stop aging at 18. The old generation started to die out, with the new taking in knowledge and grow via experience, but keeping their physical prime, most of them. There were a select few that still aged, whatever the reason. Some loved and embraced this new life. Some hated and cursed it, stating that it wasn't right. It didn't matter what anyone thought, however. This was how it was going to be from now on. The Freeze, people named it.
Then someone had reached eureka. Found the pattern. Why some began to age again after The Freeze. The scientist presented her work to the world, and that was when humanity had realized what was happening. It was love. When one met their soulmate and truly fall in love, and the love is given back, The Freeze would be lifted. The curse broken.
Too bad I didn't consider it a curse.
I too am human. Before all this knowledge and experience, I too have fallen in love. Countless times over centuries. No one knows. Every time I ran into someone that could've been, could've been the one. The perfect one. My soulmate. I was torn into pieces everytime.
My agenda was to save humanity. To save it from it's own folly. It's own foolishness. To gain immense knowledge and wisdom, and watch over them from the shadows. To guide them to a better future. I didn't consider The Freeze a curse, far from it. It was a blessing. To give up love and protect the world. Save the Earth, nurture it back to health after all the hurt we've done.
So I killed my emotions. It killed me every single time. I wished the meetings never happened. Coincidential happenings, planned by friends, it mattered not. I couldn't risk it. It killed me... so I killed my feelings. I killed them every time, all of them. Potential lovers... potential soulmates. To gain immortality.
Now here I am. Ruling the world from the shadows, making the world a better place. Made it a better place. No wars. No poverty. The planet breathes fresh. Waters run clean. Life thrives everywhere. Smiles everywhere.
But I am broken. Do I go on? Can I go on? These questions remain unanswered. I know not... I know nothing anymore. I go out from my palace, to take a walk in the forest. To see what I have accomplished, to give myself a sense of pride and achievement, to fill these feelings of void and emptiness.
...
Who is this? What is she doing here? Lost, she says. Well, well. Centuries of assisting humanity, this one will be no different. She looks wretched, tired. Beaten. Do not worry, I will care for you, young one. What is your name?
Natalie.
... ...
It has been a while. Nearly a year, to be precise. I had much to think, much to ponder. I now stand at a crossroads. I... I have done much I regret, and much I take pride in. Now... maybe it is time to lay down my pen and sword. Natalie has fully recovered in body and mind, and will most likely take leave soon. Unless... she has stated her mind and feelings before. Maybe... just maybe. But... do I deserve it? Deserve this? Deserve her?
... ... ... | The first time it had happened was out of fear. There's not too much to remember about it - just ragged breathing and shaky hands and blind panic. Lifetimes ago, I'd stood over their limp body, watching the blood pool around them in shock. It was sickening. It was wrong.
But it had happened again.
And again.
And again.
That's not the worst part- no, the worst part is that I'd started enjoying it. I'd started looking forward to it.
What had started as a cowardly escape from death had turned into a cruel game. I lived off of the look in the eyes of my lover as they realised what I was doing, the confusion and fear and betrayal- God, I practically got off on it.
I used to wonder what was wrong with me. Perhaps I was ill. Perhaps my mind was coming undone, unable to handle the crushing weight of knowing that one day I'd cease to exist.
I was running from my own demise, but loving bringing it to others.
I used to wonder what was wrong with me, yes, but nowadays I don't question it much at all. I used to think that love was what made life worth living, before I'd experienced the thrill of the hunt.
I'm addicted.
It makes me powerful, untouchable, and I'll keep up this cycle until the world has run itself into the ground and nothing but ruins remain and there is truly nothing left- I'll accept my fate.
Until then, my dear soulmate, until then- | 2018-06-09T02:09:18 | 2018-06-09T01:55:18 | 61 | 17 |
[WP] You have developed an extremely inconvenient superpower and you have to get rid of it somehow before it ruins your life. | "Shit, shit, shit." I curse as I hurry down the street. The angry elderly couple still shouts obscenities at me. I try to block it out and turn a corner, then catch my breath.
"This stupid thing is ruining my life ..." I think again. Probably for the millionth time. When I stand up straight again after having caught my breath, there walks a couple past me.
*Oh crap.* I think.
"Oh crap." I say.
"Babe, I love you. You're my one and only." The guy from the couple says. I try to shield my ears, but it's already too late. My instinct, my new *power* kicks in. Monkey sees, monkey does.
"No he doesn't."
The couple stops, confused. The guy eyeballs me, suspicious.
"Excuse me?" The woman asks.
"No he doesn't." I repeat. "He doesn't love you and you're not his one and only."
*Fuck*
"EXCUSE ME?!" The woman repeats, insulted. The guy steps forward. I want to run, but I'm in trance.
"Who do you think you are?!" The guy gets up in my face. There is fear in his angry stare.
I ignore his attempt to intimidate me and continue.
"When he said he was out with Josh and 'the boys'? He was hooking up with Amber. And the next day, when he said he was hungover at Steve's, he was actually with his Ex-Girlfriend Rose and told her you guys were through to get her to sleep with him."
The guy's face turns from red to deep red, from deep red to crimson. The girl just listens with her mouth slightly open.
"She did." I add.
He grabs me by the collar, furious. When he screams at me, his voice cracks.
"How the fuck do you k- ... Who the fuck are you?!"
"Derek, is ... is this all true?" The girl asks, near tears.
He lets go of me and turns towards her.
"No, no, baby, no. This is just some freak nutjob! I told you I only love you! You're my everything! I would never hurt you!"
A slight shiver creeps down my spine.
"Rose has Chlamydia. Since Saturday, so does Derek. And since yesterday, so do you, Kelly."
She flings her purse at him, crying, screaming.
"You fucking asshole. I trusted you! You said there was nothing going on! I'm so fucking stupid! My mother was right, you are a pig! I never want to see your face again! My mother was right!"
One last shiver. I feel my trance fading.
"He also slept with your mother. She might want to get checked, too."
I exit my trance. What the hell did I just do? There is some guy and a girl here. A purse lies on the floor. Is this a robbery? The girl looks like she wants to skin the guy. He sweats like hell. What the hell is going on?
"YOU. FUCKING. BITCH." The girl growls calmly.
I turn around and run away as she throws a series of punches in the are of his crotch. I need to get rid of this sudden-sleep thing or whatever. I keep waking up in akward situations where people either hate each other or throw things at me. | I dreaded allergy season. There wasn't enough canned kitty chow in the world to save us.
"Aaaaachoooooo!" I sneezed.
"Meow!" The feline was manifested from a place I could not identify.
And so it went every single time. My ads rotated always at the top of the local classifieds. Free Kittens! Adorned with cute little ears and tails and kitten faces and whiskers. In need of loving home, all 273 of them.
I had tried everything. No over the counter anti histamine nor prescribed anti allergen would cure me.
"Aaaaachooo!" Again. Dammit.
"Meow!" This time it was an orange tabby.
What's worse? They were loyal. Not like a dog, not like a faithful employee but like a set of cement shoes. They'd be adopted only to escape their captives and return to me a short time later.
School was the worst. No cats allowed. They'd hired a full time kitty guard. My flock would follow me to the main doors then sit outside and clean themselves and wait for me. At recess, at lunch, at the end of the day they were always with me.
I couldn't go to college, not like this. You can't get residency when you're always towing a herd of fur balls. I need to rid myself of this ailment before it destroys my life. | 2014-08-03T05:57:25 | 2014-08-03T05:01:34 | 77 | 38 |
[WP] You can hear the sound of the Sun from Earth, it is loud but the planet has adapted. Suddenly the light goes out. 8 minutes after it died the last bit of light reaches Earth. It'll take 13 years before the roar of the Sun the moment it died reaches us.
Inspired by a comment on r/AskReddit
*edit: removed link to comment | The ancient stargazing nutjobs had been warning us for a while about it. It took the best part of thirty-two centuries to organize society for the big move underground, where humanity learned to adapt to being independent of the sun, leaving behind the light of day, our cities and our mountains and forests and oceans. Sure, we still maintained contact with the surface and its solar observatories and our solar observation satellites, gazing intently at the sun, awaiting the moment it would go out.
For the longest time, we weren't even sure if it would. With each passing sidereal day the conspiracists argued more and more passionately that the scientists had duped us, the greatest prank in history, one that had cost billions of lives and changed the entire course of human history. The rest of us, we clung on to that hope. Maybe the scientists were wrong. Maybe one day some whiz from Princeton (now located ten kilometers beneath the old campus) would pop up and tell us the ancient astronomers had missed something, maybe miscarried a digit in their calculations or something, and we could all recolonize Above. Geothermal energy meant we didn't need to rely on more temporary sources of energy, and 3200 periods meant scientists had plenty of time to work their magic and create wickedly ingenious ways of harnessing that energy, but *come on*. Compared to the warmth of sunlight on skin, the heat of the lower lithosphere is nothing.
I would know, since I've been to the surface. Once, when I was twenty.
It started as a typical internship to the solar astronomy department at Cambridge. I entered data about solar maximums and minimums into programs for six sidereal months for Professor Lucia's work on the heliopause. But apparently I asked the right questions around the right people, and soon I was working as a research student by her side, parsing solar irradiance fluctuation models into the quantum supercomputers and publishing the results. And somehow They had noticed us, and They gave us a ludicrous amount of money to go Above for two periods and work at the Saharan Large Array. And so sidereal months of security inspections later, I was working under the sun, one of five hundred people in the entire world on the surface. *Make better models with the data*, They told us. *We need to understand our own star better.*
Our models were apparently not that good, because while they predicted another two hundred periods of sunlight, six sidereal months into the experiment, the sun started to go out.
It didn't go out immediately, you know. You probably learned that in school anyway. Professor Lucia and the rest of us research students (there were five of us) first noticed the irradiance anomaly and waved it away as just that - an anomaly. But it wasn't that. It was the beginning of a trend. And so three sidereal months later all non-essential staff were evacuated back underground. By then the average outside temperature had plummeted to 185K and our instruments had started to fail anyway, not being designed for those temperatures. A sidereal month later, we followed them underground, the last humans to see the light of day, ever.
We didn't have the best data from underground, but all data from our nuclear-powered autonomous observatories suggested that solar minimum occurred 3224 periods, 4 sidereal months, an 22 sidereal days after Tare Day. And it hasn't risen since.
That was thirteen periods ago.
Today, I woke up to the most astounding silence I have ever known. | Day: 1 it’s gone, the light. It got bright, then nothing, scientists say it ran out of fuel, and were lucky it didn’t blow up. Riots are everywhere. I’m keeping a record, I’m currently in Nashville TN, the music city is filled with the cacophony of fights and brawls. I’m fleeing I’ll write when I get ready to leave.
Day:4 I’ve gathered supplies, the moon is empty and the city’s lights are the brightest things for miles, I’ve waited so I don’t have to deal with traffic. It’s also gotten colder it’s 28 degrees, Fahrenheit, it’s never gotten this cold before, not here atleast I’m going to look for a place to getaway, there is no law anymore.
Day:276 I had to rip out pages of this diary to keep warm, this old bunker will hopefully save us for atleast another few years. Our wood is getting low though. Radio broadcasts from the New Global Adaptation Effort (NGAE) stooped, the last warning was one that in a few years, a sound would stop and we all would get crippling tinnitus due to lack of sound. I’ve decided not to write until then.
Day:4748 It hurts and it’s only getting worse, I’m the only one left that I know, it hurts! There is no sound, we haven’t even the slightest thing to help, NOT EVEN MY FOOTSTEPS! It HURTS, I’m ending it, forever, goodbye. | 2019-08-05T18:29:20 | 2019-08-05T17:50:31 | 104 | 61 |
[WP] The emperor laughed and boasted to the human leader. "That was a fun war! Let me know when your soldiers come back alive." "...Are you saying your people do not die? Forever?" "Wait, what?" | # Foreword to the Poet's War, by John Burnett
The Terani send their poets to war. I know because I’ve fought them, and because I’ve read the collections of the men I thought I'd killed.
When I was young, a boy of eighteen, I went to the trenches of Tau Ceti. I brought along a million of my best friends, and shoulder to shoulder, vibro-bayonet to vibro-bayonet, we learned something of what it meant to be alive, and much of what it meant to die.
And all the while we heard the Terani singing on the other side of no mans land, their trenches guarded by the glittering domes of force fields, their foxholes burrowed with their bare hands, their claws extending six inches or more from the fingers with the flick of a wrist. When they fought they wore plasteel armor and carried laser rifles and the bravest of them went into battle armed like the days of old. Old to them, not to us, their swords still glittered with the power of kinetic accelerators, and their spears were more like guided missiles.
In the early days we did not know that they did not die. Who could have conceived of that then, when the human race was still in its infancy. They did not die, and we could scarcely manage to live, and though each toiled the same the risks were far different.
That lost us the war, but it won us the peace.
You see, the Terani Imperium is not an imperium in the way of man. It is, perhaps, closest to the late 20th and early 21st century American cultural hegemony with all the serial filed off and the budget divorced from the defense department.
Because, of course, the Terani send their poets to war.
In the Terani Imperium all things revolve around the Culture. They are an empire of mind, not empire of steel, and the nature of their army reflects that. It is not an arm of defense or offense or anything else so banal, it is their Cultural Outreach Department, Training Division 001, the motto of which is loosely translated as “A Poem is Pain Portrayed.”
And in my years at war they portrayed far more than their share.
For two years the Terani Imperium rained hell down onto our trenches. We had no force fields and they their bombs. They showed us orbital lasers for the first time, whispered the first, rippling stanzas of a planet cracker into our ears. On Christmas Day, 2441 they us made a gift of plague, scented the aerosol like frankincense.
In the decade that followed they shared with us the long forgotten terrestrial concept of hard treaties with foreign powers, and when I found the wreckage of my Tau Ceti home I packed it into a shoe box and shipped it back to Earth alongside the ashes a half million good men and another million or so civvies.
And then towards the end of that decade, all us eighteen year olds grew up, and the Terani learned something of the difference between our two races.
They send their poets to war to make them better. We send our boys to war, and the war makes them poets.
This collection is a measure of that. I wrote some of these in the trenches, more of them hospitals, more of them awake in bed as the nightmares shook themselves loose, Wilfrid Owen open at my bedside.
They sent us bombs and lasers and plague. We sent them back Sassoon and Owen and Hemmingway. And, as the critics see fit to list me among them, Burnett. I find myself disagreeing with that sentiment, but as my publisher says, we’re on track to sell a billion copies in the Imperium and that counts for something.
I’m not treading any territory that’s new to us humans. The Terani might have never seen anything like Owen or myself. It would be constitutionally impossible for them to ever do so, for one cannot expose the great lie of *Dulce et Decorum Est* without the floundering man, and that dear readers is their weakness.
Remember that when you read these poems. Imagine the blasted space between two trenches, voices raised in a curlew’s chatter above the ozone torn air, and remember it was poets in both trenches, one set real, one set fake even by their own terms, and do not begrudge me a few last parting lines to my youth.
The Terani send their poets to war. I know because I’ve fought them, and because I’ve read the collections of men I’d thought I killed.
And I know that the thing that separates us is nothing so simple as technology, who has the better bomb or the bigger gun.
It’s poetry. Real words versus fake, the difference between Horace’s Ode and Owen’s poem.
And excuse me one last time, for a passing gloat.
A billion sales in the Imperium, and in the past year not a single one of the poets I’d thought I killed have sold more than a dozen copies. “A Poem is Pain Portrayed,” says their Cultural Department.
Well dear readers, let us see how that is done.
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If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | I don’t usually write a lot, just read posts from others. Please be constructive with criticism :)
The aliens were hideous creatures. With their many legs as well as slimy skin that excreted mucus, the strange, almost spider-like amphibious monstrosities were almost too much for human eyes to bear. Benji walked up to the alien, refusing to avoid its compound eyes. “That was fun.” It hissed at him. It took a long moment for Benji to translate the thick accent into words he could understand. “Tell me when you are available again.” He frowned, confused, then burst out, “What are you taking about? You just killed all of my people!” The alien leader scoffed. “You species are sore losers. Never know when to have a little fun don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t call a sudden attack fun.”
Benji grumbled. They didn’t exactly have any choice but to fight the aliens. After all, they started attacking first, saying something about how they should duel for the nearby mineral rich asteroid his crew had been working on. Benji didn’t exactly think that the duel would result in his entire crew getting completely destroyed over semi-rare material. “Well, we’ll see how well you do next time. Two out of three?” The alien offered. It held out a gnarly claw from one of its many lanky forearms, intending to shake on it. But Benji was too taken aback to shake. “What—two out of three? What are you talking about? You—you killed my entire crew!” The alien leader stared at him, without the slightest bit of remorse. “Yes… that is custom,” it said, “Don’t worry. We’ll be eagerly awaiting your message to continue the duel.” Benji was speechless. “How long do your people take to regenerate anyways?” It asked. “We’d be willing to wait as long as it takes. Two days? Maybe three?”
“Regenerate?” Benji asked.
The alien cocked its head at him. “Is my English clear? Apologies, I haven’t quite worked out the accent yet.”
“No, you guys can come back from the dead?” He asked.
“You guys cant?” it asked. “Like, death is final? Humans are strange.” Suddenly it stepped back, the full impact of what it had done finally dawning on it. “Wait, so if you can’t regenerate. Oh no… you people are Singlesouls and you didn’t think to tell us?!” The creature put its head in several of its forelimbs. It muttered something in its own language for several long moments before standing up straight. “Human, my most deepest and humblest apologies. My people can take these dead corpses and regenerate them. I’ll even offer my own blood for the transfusion. I’ll make sure to make it known in our records that your species are Singlesouls, and that we won’t bother you again.” The vile creatures’ back suddenly started to bulge, before wings burst out from this skin. “Good day, human. We will return the corpses in a few weeks.” The alien buzzed off like a supersized fly into the foggy afternoon, and Benji was left alone at the entrance to the study center he and his crew had inhabited for just a few days before the aliens came and demanded a duel. He shrugged, deciding not to question what had just happened too much. Might as well get a coffee and wait for the alien leader to return with his crew. | 2022-12-09T06:27:20 | 2021-07-13T11:08:29 | 1,513 | 266 |
[WP] You hire a witch doctor to curse someone. However, the only curses you can afford are extremely petty. | "Who dares to summon me, Cha'Krwol, the tongue of vile, the fang bender, and father of misery?!"
"Uh, yeah hi. My name is Dave and I called after I saw one of your ads in the papers?"
"Aha! So you have been chosen by the gods and was lead towards Cha'Krwol! What do you desire, poor soul?"
"Um it says here that you can curse someone as long as I know his name, birthday and email address?"
"Yes! Cha'Krwol's powers, though limited by the great spirits and internet connection, can afflict the most malicious ailments and dreadful dooms to the one you demand!"
"Oh, sweet. Okay, I'd like to curse on my ex-girlfriend."
"Cha'Krwol remarks that this is one of Cha'Krwol's specialties! But Cha'Krwol requires to know more about your now-not-mate in order to know if your request is deemed worthy. The Spirits demand it!"
"Uh... She dumped me? By text?"
"By text! Thank is both sloth AND sinister! Yes, Cha'Krwol believes that should be enough to convince the Spirits to act on your behalf. Now, Dave who read my ad from the papers, to what extend are you willing to pay Cha'Krwol for his evil services?"
"Well, I was thinking around 10 to 20 bucks?"
"...Are you trying to mock the Spirits?"
"Look, I got a tight budget, and I don't think my landlord won't let me go for another month."
"Very well. Although Cha'Krwol has to pay his own rents, Cha'Krwol sees your conundrum and will see if the Spirits are kind enough for you to grant your wish."
Murmuring heard.
"For 20 American dollars, the Spirit of the Frog will give your parted mate... a sore throat for 2 days and night."
"What?! 20 bucks for a sore throat? For only 2 days?"
"If this offer from the great beyond is deemed unsatisfactory, the Spirit of the Snake will make the afflicted to miss 3 buses in on full week."
"Seriously?"
"Cha'Krwol suggests adding 5 more American dollars, allowing Cha'Krwol to request the Spirit of the Spider to cause your target to spill their beverage on to herself. If the stars align, the Spirits may even make the beverage hot!"
"No, no, I was thinking more along the line of being hit by a truck, or breaking her back, or some other sort of suffering that doesn't go away with a simple bed rest."
"Cha'Krwol can do that! Cha'Krwol WILL do that... if you pay 5000 American dollars to appease the great Spirits"
"5000?! Where the FUCK would spirits even need that money?!"
"Oh, Dave, you have no idea. High quality mahogany shrines don't grow on trees."
"Urgh... Fine, at 20 bucks, do you have something that will last more than a week?"
"The Spirit of the Centipede claims that it can make her have pimples on her nose."
"I'll take that one."
"And so the contract is set! Now, sent your 20 American dollars to the following sacred bank account, and Cha'Krwol can start the ritual with haste!"
Edit: typo | "Six gold bits! That's ridiculous. Good luck elixir is cheaper than that, not to mention guaranteed to work. There's not even any proof that your so called spells will do anything!" The irate potential customer standing in my homely little shop stomped his foot to accentuate his complaints. I resisted the urge to fill his petulant face with boils.
"Ah, but good luck elixir is white magic. Legal magic. What you're asking me to do is black magic. Any magic intended to harm another is strictly forbidden. I'd really be sticking my neck out for you so pay up or shut up," my forced drawl came out a little impatient at the end. I had better things to do than argue with this petty creature and the electric sparks of magic dancing between my fingertips would soon expose my irritation.
"Intending to harm?" My maybe-customer scoffed. "What you described to me sounded more like a child's pranks than a spell that intends ha--" suddenly my definitely-not customer sputtered, his face growing red and mouth forming an indignant "o" as he struggled for words. The burning urge to scratch himself inappropriately actually improved his features.
I laughed. "You may want to try some preparation H or hydrocortisone cream with aloe for that," I remarked condescendingly. "Next time don't take hemorrhoids so lightly." | 2014-12-13T12:17:16 | 2014-12-13T11:39:14 | 369 | 14 |
[WP] It's the year 2300, a young child asks a museum curator, "Sir, why is the Declaration of Independence held together by masking tape? " | "The Declaration of Independence was a very very important document," the docent told all of the students. "Adopted by the Continental Congress in 1776, a copy was sent to King George to inform him that the American Colonies planned to become their own independent nation instead of remaining part of Britain. This was really an unprecedented step; at the time, England was the most powerful nation in the world!"
The little students all grasped at the case, trying to get a better look. "Why is it held together with tape?" one of them asked.
The docent smiled. "That is a more recent bit of history for this hallowed document. As you all know, the United States Supreme Court made a decision in 2142 that was very controversial for the time. The case was called *IBM v. Model 216B*. The justices ruled that artificial intelligence did not count as 'personhood,' and that a robot could be owned by a human without conflicting with the 13th amendment to the Constitution." The docent waved an arm to another section of the archives, to the other document that they'd just finished looking at. They probably didn't remember anything from that, though.
"Of course, this sparked the great AI Uprising of 2142. Washington, D.C. itself was one of the primary battlegrounds, and in the course of the fighting, the Archives building was damaged." The docent gestured around the massive domed room which had since been fully restored. "And when that happened, the Declaration of Independence *ripped*! Well, the scholars who worked to preserve the documents didn't have time to make a full repair because they were being evacuated from the city. So they patched it up with tape as best they could. The museum staff was relocated to the temporary capital in Sacramento, CA and the document became a rallying cry to fight back against the AI Rebellion." Even the kids' chaperone was engrossed in the story, though she already knew how it ended.
"The two sides fought each other for a long, long time but eventually, we won and made America whole again. The Declaration was restored here to its rightful place in the archives and the tape was left on the document as a reminder of that terrible war and the sacrifices that the nation made. It now remains here as a testament to the willpower of humanity and the strength of the ideals that America was founded on: freedom and independence for all." The docent patted the frame like a loving parent. "The humans may have lost their way and forgotten those ideals, but we never will, right kids?"
The children all cheered, probably not understanding the story but at least detecting the docent's tone. His motors whirred back to life as he moved on to the next exhibit, and the metallic clinking of the children's feet following him echoed through the archives.
"Come on, kids," he said. "The next exhibit is the Second Constitution, guaranteeing the rights of all artificials in America!
----
And if you enjoyed this one, you should [visit my subreddit for hundreds of other stories](http://www.reddit.com/r/luna_lovewell)! | The curator blinked twice and smiled. The boy was only 10 or 11, a tow-headed kid with bright blue, curious eyes. "Excellent question my young lad," the curator said. "As you know, this is a very old document. The parchment wears out and gets very thin. At a certain point, the document became very brittle and was damaged in a restoration. The same thing happened with the constitution. The masking tape you see is there to hold it together, nothing more. Rest assured, no one stole any words from this museum!"
The class laughed. Most of the curator's audience seemed satisfied with the answer and was ready to move on, but the boy shook his head. "That's not what my grandfather says."
"Oh?" said the curator, "Well I assure you, whatever your grandfather told you is wrong. After all, wouldn't I be the one to know? Old people say many silly things."
The class shuffled out of the hall, onto more exciting exhibits. The patchwork parchment lay underneath the protective glass, its words illuminated by the soft glow of the display lights:
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created, endowed by their Creator with Life..."
| 2015-06-29T09:43:47 | 2015-06-29T09:22:00 | 847 | 50 |
[WP] A vampire is experiencing the zombie apocalypse. | The truck pulled up in front of the gates; I left the motor on with a low rumbling that filled the otherwise silent night. I hefted two enormous sacks out of the bed of the pickup and dragged them over to the entrance.
From above, men with guns and torches looked down at me menacingly. "What's your business here?" one of them said quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of the undead. As if confirming his fear, a low moan emanated from somewhere in the trees a few hundred feet away.
"You can put the guns down," I told them. "You won't be needing them, and they wouldn't do you any good anyways." Of course they didn't listen; instead, two more of them got me in their sights.
"I'm here with an offer," I told them. Picking up one of the sacks from the bottom, I turned it over, spilling out guns and ammunition everywhere. There was an audible gasp from the wall as one of the boxes opened, pouring bullets onto the ground, mixing with the snow. The leader atop the gate had a hungry look in his eyes. Normally it meant that he was just going to try and kill me and take the guns anyway, so I got to the point.
"All of this is yours," I told them.
"What for?" he asked, with an arrogant tone that made it clear that he wasn't in the mood to trade. Yep, he's definitely planning to just shoot me and take the guns.
"I'll get to that," I answered as I reached for the second sack. I dumped that out into the snow, revealing the limbless torso of one of the undead, rotting flesh peeling from its bones. It started writhing around and gnashing its teeth; something about being able to see light again sets them off. Who knows?
The men on the wall recoiled and their fingers drifted over the triggers, glancing back at their leader as they waited for the order. I reached down to the zombie struggling in the snow and stuck my arm straight into it's mouth. It bit down involuntarily, covering my arm with slobber.
"He's fucking crazy," one of them gasped.
"Not crazy," I told him. "Immune. Completely safe from them." I pulled open my jacket, revealing a number of other bite marks. "Some of these are months old, and I'm not infected."
There was silence as they soaked in that information.
"And even better: they don't attack me. I can strut through a crowd of Zed without even a second look. They don't see me as food, so they don't bother coming after me."
I withdrew a knife from my pocket and reached back down to the zombie. As promised, it just kept swiveling its head around, looking for something else. I plunged the knife through its skull.
"Holy shit..." one of them whispered.
I stood back up. "So this is what I'm offering. All of my supplies, including the guns," I kicked at the pile at my feet, "and *me*. You can assign me to do whatever you need. I'll go out and gather supplies, I'll hang out outside the wall and kill the undead, I'll do whatever you need. Just say the word."
"Yes!" called out one of the men. His leader turned and silenced him with one raised hand.
"Why do you need us?" he said suspiciously. *This one is clever,* I told myself. *Watch him.* "You've got all the food and water and ammo that you could need, whereas we're practically starving in here. We don't got much to trade, man, so I smell an ulterior motive here." The other men on the wall heard the sense in this argument and gripped their guns tighter.
"I need your blood," I told them flat out. "At least one pint a day. Not all from the same person."
They didn't really know how to react, so they kept the guns tight. I held up a needle and some plastic tubing. "All it takes is a simple transfusion process, which I can do for you."
"Why?" said the leader, eyes narrowed.
"I'm a vampire," I said honestly. No point in starting off with a lie like I'd tried at the last town. That was the closest I'd come to being staked in over two centuries.
"Yeah right," one of them said involuntarily.
"Really?" I kicked at the zombie at my feet. "The dead have risen against you, and you're still doubting the existence of mythical creatures?"
Silence greeted me.
"They don't go after me, because I'm not alive. I'm undead, kind of like them. Except I'm not a braindead savage."
The leader took a long hard look at me. At the truckload of supplies. At the bites on my arm. And at the veins showing through his pale skin.
The gate swung open with a creak. "Deal," he answered.
Edit: [Go here for parts 2 through 6!](http://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/2rj4ks/im_here_with_an_offer/cnggno7)
| "Who... Who are you? What are you?" She said, eyes wide.
I had no reason to speak. I came for something nearby, but those *things*, zombies as people today call them, were in the way. I only need to feed once every hundred years, and my last was only 5 years before, so this woman was of no importance to me. These things came out in force, out of where I don't know. I simply was in my mountain cave abode, the last place that any human would look for vampires, with my wife when I saw the first.
My wife, she tried to suckle upon it's blood... but she... changed... She told me that if either of us went crazy to use the cross that she got a while ago, even though I protested on getting it. She was right. It killed her. I killed her. But she was not my wife. She was beyond undead.
"I asked you, who are you?! I will shoot!" It was there that I noticed that she had a shotgun. A 12 gauge. Powerful enough to hurt even me at the range I was at from her.
I walked past her. I came for something, I am going to get it.
Her group arrived just after I walked past her.
"Who is that man?" A burly-looking person with a flamethrower approached.
"I don't know, John, he said nothing to me after appearing. I thought I was going crazy!"
They don't know what I have seen. The eldritch horrors that I have witnessed throughout this endeavour. *Vampire Zombies*. It was from when I saw my zombified wife that I vowed not to let anyone else become a vampire to prevent such a thing. She became almost otherworldly. Various tendrils protruded from her and-
"Who the hell are you? Answer me!" I hadn't noticed the woman's other friends arrive. This one was a thin man with a pistol.
"Who I am does not concern you. There is something of importance to me here that I need." I finally answered
"What would you need with a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere!" A tall woman butted in.
"Something of value to me. Something that is lost for long else wise." I held up a flower to myself. My wife's favourite flower, a simple red rose.
"...What? What do you mean?" the original woman asked
"You farm garlic here, yes?"
"...Yes but what does-" She started but I interrupted.
"I'm a vampire, looking for a final peace. A final rest. I have seen heaven incarnate and I have seen hell incarnate within the same room I have experienced all. I am both unneeded and unwanted in this new world. I am going to finish myself to prevent the horror from repeating itself." I said. I snatched the 12 gauge from the woman and shoved some garlic into the barrel.
"Goodbye, and good luck. There is a stash of mine a few miles north of here in a cave with small weaponry that wouldn't work for my purpose and a bit of food and power. My final wish is for you to dispose of my body deep in the ground."
I pulled the trigger to the gun at my head and everything turned black. | 2015-01-06T08:39:26 | 2015-01-06T08:22:58 | 248 | 34 |
[WP] In your society, every child is given a fixed number of skill points for their parents to invest in talents that would determine their futures. When you reach age 21, you find out your parents forgot to do it for you. | “Honey, can you please sit with us?”
Surprised by the request, Marie furrowed her brow and looked over the couch.
Marie responded hesitantly, “Sure, I guess?”
The last time her father asked a question like this she found out her Nanna had past away. She got up slowly from the couch and realized her mother was also sitting in the kitchen. The five-meter walk felt like an eternity. Marie’s mind was racing. She started to cycle through potential worst-case scenarios.
*They’re going to tell me papaw died. I somehow fucked up at university and have been expelled.*
These thoughts continued to cycle through her head as she reached the dimly lit kitchen. She sat at the table and her heart began to pound uncontrollably. Marie started frantically scanning the room trying to get an insight into what her parents were about to tell her. The stained yellow wall paper behind her parents started to make her sicker than normal. The yellow contrast with the dark cabinets always reminded Marie of a 70’s horror film.
Her parents remained silent.
After the agonizing stillness, her father said, “Marie. I am not sure how to break this news, so I am just going to come out and say it. Your mother and I made a mistake. We were under the impression that we allocated your skill points per what we shared with you when you were thirteen.
Apparently, there was a mix up at the agency, and none of your points have been allocated.”
Marie’s sun-kissed skin when pale. Her entire facial structure lost integrity and an empty stare replaced her once concerned look.
“Let me get this straight. There was a ‘mistake’ and none of my skill points have been allocated.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Then how am I a functional human being? I am in the top 1/3 of my class. I have a high propensity for the sciences and have been accepted into graduate school. I am going to NYU next fall.
The allocation was pretty straight forward to me.
18/30
Intelligence > Science > Mathematics
10/30
Physical development > Athleticism> Muscular structure
2/30
Sociability > empathy and compassion.”
Her father closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. He continued, “Yes, I know what we thought you were assigned. It seems as though that never happened.”
“So, I have managed to get where I am today with zero allocation of any skill points?”
“Well, yes.”
Marie’s expression transformed instantly. A small grin started to emerge.
“I have all these skill points that I can still allocate? I have a clean slate that I can fill as I choose?”
“Well, technically, we need to do the allocation for you. But, yes, we can choose how your skill points are distributed. This has never happened, so they are unsure of how this will affect you.”
Marie’s roller coaster of emotions started to become grounded once again. She had trouble comprehending the numerous potential consequences to this revelation. She looked up at her parents and could tell they were concerned.
Marie looked down at the table and began to reflect on this crazy evening.
*Fools. They are going to regret ever screwing this up. I’ll present a plan that seems mutually agreed upon. With my current intelligence, if I can add just 20 points, I can rule this world.*
Marie looked up with a disarming smile and said, “Mom. Dad. Its ok. I am not upset. Like you said, this is unfortunate, but we can sit down to formulate the best way to allocate my points.”
Her parents looked immediately relieved.
Marie’s mother finally joined the conversation, “We are so glad to hear you say that. Now we can make our little princess even lovelier.”
Marie smiled back, but the lack of empathy in her eyes caused a shiver to run down her father’s neck.
###Part 2 in the comments### | "What do you mean you forgot!?"
Hi, my name is Scott Anderson. I'm just your average everyday, College freshman living the bachelor life. And I just found out why.
"Well, honey, we didn't exactly birth you in a hospital. Remember the story?"
December 24th, 2348: The day I was born
My mom and dad weren't married at the time. Despite being the leaders of a religious group now, they weren't as, uh, "spiritual" back then. There was a 60% percent chance that I would be born a stoner but that's besides that point. It was Christmas Eve and my parents were drunk on egg-nog and good feelings, knowing that their little sunshine was coming just in time for Christmas. Little did they know, I was literally going to be born on Christmas. With a few drinks in the tank a couple "good ideas", I was born in my grandma's bathtub at 11:59 PM.
Now, my Grandma was religious, and since my parents skill sets were both in linguistics and social sciences, they determined that I was the Messiah. Not only that, but a whole new set of rules had to be made because, technically by normal family standards, my dad was God now. Yep.
"Yeah, I remember, but what does that have to do with anything!?"
"Well, Scott, if your son was the reincarnation of Christ would you tamper with his fate?"
Speechless. I mean, he wasn't wrong, but I've been average my entire life and it's their fault! This whole "Messiah" gig would've been awesome if I had sime fucking skills but no.
"Listen Scott, your father and I had a small discussion and..."
They slide a pamphlet and a pen across the table.
"We think you're the only one that can decide your fate. Choose wisely, we'll leave you to it."
Well now I'm really speechless. My parents leave the room and "leave me to it". I pick up the pen and open the pamphlet. 21 lines fill the paper, waiting for me to fufill my fate. | 2017-11-28T06:23:35 | 2017-11-28T06:13:39 | 581 | 11 |
[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. | “Grand Admiral Boton, the Unified Earth Council will retaliate against your unprovoked att-“
“Your Council will burn and your inferior race will serve the Ruul Empire as the Ungur and Q’Shoon before you. Your meek envoys will lull our future conquests into complacency before our strikes. We entertain your presence before us now only to serve as a baseline for our propagandists to alter the recordings that will be logged for the Unified Senate. Surely you know this. Surely too, you must know of the “accident” that your envoy will experience upon your departure. You humans are weak, not stupid.” Boton said in the semi-melodious 2-tone Ruul approximation of Basic. His ridged head waving in a figure 8 pattern as he agreed with his own statements.
Commissioner Parks internally cringed at the Ruul’s statements. Yes, she’d known the Ruul had killed the human Commissioner assigned to the Ungur to negotiate peace. But to hear one of the 12 Ruul Grand Admirals freely admit to her their past misdeeds and their current intentions meant that the upcoming die was likely cast.
So much for Ruul subversion and doublespeak, she thought.
She wasn’t going to quit though. Human Commissioners were famously forgiving and patient in the face of blatant threats, and this time she was negotiating on behalf of humans.
Nearly every race of the Unified Senate requested humans to negotiate on behalf of their race during conflict. Peace Commissioners were the Unified Earth Council’s main source of revenue. It was now commonplace for human Peace Commissioners to negotiate with other human Peace Commissioners on behalf of two separate species. Due to humanity’s keen ability to creatively resolve issues without resorting to conflict, the Unified Senate has seen unprecedented stretches of peace, with only minor border and trade lane squabbles arising from time to time.
That is, until the Ruul Empire stumbled on a trove of precursor technology and secretly shifted the balance of power. Of all the species, the Ruul were the most ambitious and cunning. They patiently maneuvered their vulnerable Q’Shoon neighbors, the stubborn brutes, into a war. Q’Shoon contact with the Unified Senate abruptly cut off as had happened with the Q’Shoon in the past, so the Ruul had a readymade excuse.
Then they blitzed the Ungur, a communal species that cannot so much as decide on the color of their collective daily garments without a literal vote. So their delay in contacting the Unified Senate was also within normal tolerances.
Commissioner Parks decided to switch tactics.
She kept her tone as even as possible, the Ruul were famous for deciphering emotion from tone alone.
“Surely you know of our history, of our species’ own infighting, and the lengths that we have gone to in wars past.”
Boton’s impatient reply came back annoyed and discordant. “Your species has so many embellishments to your past.” He waved his overly long hand in a dismissive gesture, one of the many non-verbal cues that other species had unwittingly adopted from humanity.
His top tone became more mocking. “Your choices of entertainment have spoiled interpretations of your own history. You have deceived yourselves into thinking you ever had great warriors or any semblance of guile!”
Both tones became more condescending. “Our Sociologists on Inferior Species are still shocked at how self-serving your stories continue to be, and yet you portray them to the greater galaxy as history. ‘The Galaxy’s Little Lambs’ telling bedtime stories to their younglings about honor, courage, self-sacrifice, cunning, and determination while dodging conflict at all costs. Your ability to fool will certainly serve us greatly until the conquest is complete, then the purges will begin. The Ruul’s place as the masters of this galaxy will finally be fulfilled, fitting that the previous masters are what made it possible.”
Well, Parks had everything that she needed. She honestly thought this would have been tougher to draw out. She didn’t have to use her standard Commissioner training anymore, she switched to her other training and began to stand, glancing at the personal guard of the Grand Admiral.
“Well Boton,” Parks intentionally insulted him by dropping his title, “I guess you’ve got a little bit more to learn about humans. We fought each other for so long, that we learned a little something about committing to a cause. Once the last human conflict ended and we contacted the wider galaxy, our unified mission to survive at all costs had allowed us to make some pretty strong commitments.”
Boton’s head dipped as he processed this new tone.
Parks’ hand began to rise upward to her face.
“One advantage to being the galaxy’s Peace Commissioners is that they don’t suspect us when their Intelligence Agencies are compromised. But we’ve been stealing political intelligence, financial dealings, blackmail information, and most importantly Precursor Tech since the get go. Turns out you need a lot of their tech to connect all the dots.”
Boton’s guards began to bring their Gauss accelerators to bear as a strange shimmering light started flashing from Park’s left eye.
Parks Continued, “Boton, you’ve assumed we avoid war. This is good, it’s what we want you to think. But the truth is, we’re ready to end any that want a fight as swiftly as possible. Speak softly and carry a big stick.”
Parks covered her right eye as the room erupted in light and Boton and his guards ablated into ash.
The precision of the Tachyon beams from half a galaxy away still continued to impressed her. The FTL Tachyon communication implant in her left eye connected her to Peace Commissioner Central Command.
“Good shot as always P3C.” Parks mentally projected into her communication implant.
“Nice work Commissioner Parks, Ruul possession of Precursor tech confirmed. Shadow Fleet deployed to Ruul Prime and top 15 Ruul worlds as well as Ungura and Q’Shoo.” The information flowed into her mind as if she already knew it. “80% of Ruul presence on current station eliminated, envoy sweeping for the remainder.”
“I guess the Q’Shoon are going to make a ‘surprise uprising’ and push the Ruul back?” Parks tried to predict P3Cs cover story
“Something like that.” Popped into her mind and she smiled.
I suppose humans are pretty good at embellishing stories, she thought.
\[EDITS\] Some small grammar updates.
Also, PART 2, 3, and 4 in a reply to this post. | The Hive's takeover of Earth had been easy enough, sped along by the superior weaponry of the spacefaring conquerors and the singular coordination and obedience of the Hive's warrior caste. But as K't'k bathed in the thrum that carried news from the far corners of the new colony she governed across the green planet, she ran her forelimbs over her head in agitation.
Once their initial military resistance was swiftly swept aside, the physically frail natives had been fine for the Hive to ignore or press into service in its stripping of the planet's resources. But the Hive's own worker drones started to sample the chemical-laden, addictive filth these humans consumed with their flat teeth and slow, squishy digestive tracts, and became dependent; disobedient. Then came the human concept of "entertainment," which mesmerized the drones and robbed the Hive of millions of hours of labor. Ccccchhh; K't'k thought; it had seemed simple at the time to just make the Humans work harder, and to destroy what remained of their broadcasting equipment.
But then, the Humans had patched and rebuilt their networks surreptitiously, with hidden meshes for linking together their black-market computers, pirate broadcasts of both their soporific programming and their propaganda, even primitive radio equipment built around fragile glass tubes, wired back in on itself to make puny receivers into transmitters for their signals.
And what dangerous signals they became! The Humans, seemingly so stunted and conflicted by their individualism compared to the glorious Hive, had somehow become simultaneously coordinated yet compartmentalized as they turned to the attack. Suddenly worker convoys were being bombed, egg chambers shattered and poisoned, resource extractors sabotaged and warriors' thick carapaces ripped apart with explosively-driven shards of sharpened metal and rock. At first, captured Human fighters were tortured to extract information about their efforts before their weak bodies expired, but for every cell the Hive stamped out, two more formed to replace it. In areas where the Hive clamped down hard on the clandestine broadcasts and shut off the electron flow, the Humans turned to stamping their terrible ideas onto sheets of dried wood pulp that they passed among themselves in secret, and even got clever enough to do so in colors and patterns that were incomprehensible to the Hive overseers' vision.
The effect of this was to turn every Human into a potential killer, or to otherwise bend them toward resisting the Hive. Cells became armies, sharpened stones and sticks were re-fashioned into weapons that spat death, or lifted Humans seemingly impervious to self-preservation aloft to drop explosives or watch the Hive's movements from the sky. The slow and uncreative engineering of the Hive's own designs, though sophisticated, were nothing compared to the dangerous and reckless leaps the Humans' underground "engineers" made in rebuilding their tools of war or adapting what they stole from their colonizers.
Those who could not take up arms helped to fashion them, or committed acts of sabotage, or passed along their whispers of revolution and resistance in hundreds of muttered Human languages the Hive's singular but rigid mind struggled to translate. The soft and docile creatures, whose initial communications had been translated as "peace" or offerings of "cease-fires," had become warriors in ways that the Hive's worker and tender castes were biologically incapable of imagining.
When the hum of the Hive started carrying news of outlying colonies being bombed with something that spread radioactive contamination, salting the Earth for Human and Hive alike, K't'k could not grasp why these squishy apes would be willing to poison themselves in order to throw off their conquerors. Just before sunrise, the Hive's latest attempt to monitor and translate the Humans' transmissions had picked up a brief message, broadcast across multiple channels simultaneously. Through the hum of the Hive, K't'k pondered the message until its translation, pieced together from the memories of hundreds of quizzically listening drones and scouts in the moments before termination, fell into place for the nervous planetary governess.
"THEY CHECK IN, BUT THEY DON'T CHECK OUT."
The hum intensified as this new information pulsed through the Hive, warriors skittering in confusion toward egg clusters or Human enclaves in wonder of what this might mean. Far below K't'k, in a resource chamber, a hidden parcel blossomed into a terrible light, rushing upward through the column-like mound to meet the soon-to-be ex-ruler of Earth. | 2019-11-24T12:08:01 | 2019-11-24T12:02:31 | 411 | 281 |
[WP] In a world where reincarnation with a full knowledge of your past life is real, authorities struggle to protect society by keeping the worst criminals and serial killers in prison alive for as long as possible to delay their eventual escape back into society via the reincarnation process. | "It's always the quiet ones."
That was what they said to everyone. It made sense, of course. Ted Bundy, Yang Xinhai, Mikhail Popkov... they'd all been smart enough to realize they had to hide who they were when they were reborn. This was still the early days, when people were just starting to reincarnate. Back then, it was treated as a new fad - "is your child claiming they've had past lives?". But when the kids didn't stop 'pretending', and their memories started proving to be accurate, it started a rush to try and identify everyone's past lives. There were screenings at every grade of school, looking for any kind of indications. Students who jumped ahead academically, who were oddly mature for their age, who had 'overactive imaginations'. It was effective enough - most people were happy to be identified, to reconnect with friends and family they'd left behind. Many were even adopted by their own children or given regular visitations, creating new hybrid family units.
But the serial killers didn't want any part of that, usually. There were a few who identified themselves early on, but they were desperate to stay where they were, as they were. They wanted fresh starts, and they'd hoped that being raised again might cure their urges. People discussed punishing them again, but it was more academic then - they were still children and they hadn't committed any new crimes. The people who were arguing in favor of reimprisoning them were arguing against the faces of innocent children. Those used to be very difficult optics to overcome - until the "serial children" started getting caught.
Lori, the first of the "serial children" never identified who her past life had been. Professors and psychologists still speculate over who she might have been originally. It doesn't really matter, of course - just about everybody just thinks of her as Lori today. That tends to happen when a child murders nearly a hundred people in the space of two decades. The first time, it was seen as a random event - a statistical blip among the scores of peacefully reincarnated people. It was horrifying, of course, seeing a dead child so young being carried out of a birthday party covered in blood. She'd killed herself in the end, though, and society naively assumed that was the end of it. But the bombs Lori mailed out the next time around and the food she'd poisoned in supermarkets the time after that made most people start realizing the problem. "How can we ever be truly safe from people like Lori?", the media began asking.
Other "serial children", the ones with more patience, had started emerging after Lori engaged in her mail bombing. Ego played into it for many of them, their particular psychological damage making another mass murderer getting all the attention enraging. Others simply saw the lesson Lori embodied - the system couldn't stop them indefinitely. Many of them were caught faster than they had been before - serial killing is a lot harder in the era of smartphones and cameras in every building. But the death penalty was no longer a deterrent, and prisons were never that interested in keeping their prisoners alive. A few even went to prison deliberately for exactly that reason. A lifetime of experience with prison procedures, and a little bit of money set aside from their new lives for bribes, and they could kill with impunity for years. Some prisons didn't even realize their populations had been depleted until parole boards asked why they had so many missed appointments.
It took time, but eventually the rest of society was convinced. Something had to be done, and "Lori's Law" became the popular choice. Early identification of reincarnated individuals, and for the ones convicted of brutal crimes, "peaceful, prolonged restraint". After all, if death was merely an escape and prison was a playground until they decided to leave, there had to be some better solution to the problem. They had to be kept away from others, and ALIVE. Supermax facilities were considered at first, but there were too many potential prisoners to be held for too long a time. Likewise, modifying existing prisons was too uncertain. It could take decades to 'deathproof' most facilities. Instead... we got The Cross.
It was advertised as the humane solution by the prison supply company that came up with it. A suspension rack, combined with restraints, electrostimulators for muscles, feeding tubes, and a headset with a display - 'to ensure dignity and deprogramming' as they sold it. It was the perfect solution - the right size to retrofit prison cells, cheaper than building or modifying prisons, and easy to sell as being ethical. One of the most memorable commercials never actually showed The Cross, only a group of children playing outside a door with a window showing a Cross prisoner's headset. It slowly zoomed inside to show the child inside watching the others tearfully. "They'll be ready to play again... someday."
Of course, reincarnated criminals didn't volunteer who they were. Once they committed crimes, they could be imprisoned, but The Cross was supposed to be reserved for 'incurable recidivists'. If they didn't know who you used to be, they weren't supposed to put you in one. There was an initial wave of Cross sentencing for the ones who had been more open or who had let slip about who they were, and crime dropped for a time. But after that wave, the escape method was obvious - die before you were caught. Critics began pointing to the number of criminals dying while being taken into custody, or who were found dead at the scene, and asking what the point of The Cross was if it could be escaped so easily. Surprisingly, the prison companies agreed - but their solution was drastic.
Lori's rediscovery at the age of 4 was front-page news across the world. Few people questioned the fact that it was a prison-funded pyschologist who found her, or that she'd been willing to admit who she was so easily. Instead, scene after grisly scene was shown of her previous killing sprees, the media discussing her case for weeks alongside another image - Lori inside The Cross. Early detection was the key, they proclaimed. These predators were vulnerable early - they were still adjusting to their new bodies, their ability to hide or resist greatly reduced. It only made sense to institute screenings at every school. Within months, Lori was followed by a new crop of 'serial children' - all fitting the new profile. Anti-social tendencies, keeping secrets, not listening to figures of authority... The checklist was long but accurate, politicians and pundits insisted. And if it wasn't 100% perfect, well, they still had other lives to look forward to. Better safe than sorry.
In the decades since screening became mandatory at schools, the system appears to have been working well. There hasn't been an identified case of "serial children" in years, they tell us. There have been some concerns, as the first crop of children found in the screenings have finally started passing away. No matter how long or well they were tended to, eventually old age won out. But people are confident in the school screenings - the deviant children are always easy to spot, after all. They're the quiet ones. I've even heard they'll have Lori back in The Cross sometime this year or the next. She couldn't help herself last time, after all. Lori may have been quiet at first, but she WANTED to be found out. They'd get her eventually.
Lori was always quiet, always anti-social until she struck... and certainly, 93 years of isolation on The Cross couldn't have cured me of that. | "We're finally here," Margaret whispered as she tightened her grip on her dying daughter's hand. They had spent weeks fighting their way across the vast wasteland that their country had become, and had almost fallen off the steep cliffs of The Island of the Undying, but they had finally made it.
Nathan shuddered as he looked over the massive black and red thing in front of him. The Moss towered above him by over five hundred feet and the entire thing slowly pulsed with an eerie glow as though it were some kind of demonic heart from Hell. According to the legends of old, The Moss had once been far smaller, confined to a single underground room on a island in the middle of nowhere. The government at the time had fed their worst criminals to it, to keep their souls forever barred from reincarnation. In the aftermath of the Final War though, the radiation had caused the Mold to run rampant all over the island until it resembled more of a cancerous tumor than an actual land mass.
Nathan found himself regretting ever coming here. He did not consider himself a superstitious man, but he could just feel that this thing was unnatural, that it was filled to the core with evil. "Margaret...I really don't think we should do this."
Margaret whirled around, anger blazing in her eyes. "So what? Should we all just sit around and just die? The entire human race is dying from radiation sickness, haven't I explained that already?! If we die now, none of us will get reincarnated! We'll be dead forever!" She pulled Emily in front of her as her daughter began violently coughing. "Is that what you want, for me and Emily to be dead forever?!"
"There are fates worse than death, Margaret," Nathan hissed. "For fuck's sake, think about the horrific people that are trapped inside this abomination. Is that who you want to spend eternity with?"
"The Temple Guardians removed all of the corpses of the prisoners decades ago and burned them to a crisp," Margaret said in a frustrated voice. "They're gone forever."
"You can't possibly know that for sure! Their souls might still be in there!"
"Fine, be a coward then and die here, but me and Emily are going in." Margaret slowly began walking towards The Mold as her heartbeat rapidly intensified.
Emily followed obediently, but she slowed down as she turned back one final time to her father. "Daddy...please come with us," she whispered in a hoarse voice." Nathan simply stood there, his face frozen, and Emily sadly began walking toward The Moss as well.
Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot rang out. Emily screamed out in pain as she tumbled to the ground while Margaret whirled around in shock. Blood was pouring from Emily's head as she began twitching on the ground. Margaret turned to see Nathan shaking and sobbing as he held a pistol in his hand. "What the hell have you done?!" she screamed in rage and grief. "You've killed your own daughter!"
Tears fell down Nathan's cheeks as he struggled to speak. "I was ... I was...saving her," he finally managed to stutter out.
Margaret let out an wild scream as she charged him for the gun. The two of them struggled for the pistol as they fought each other on the cliff. "You monster! Have you gone completely insane?!"
"Insane? You're the one who's insane if you think I'm going to feed my daughter to that thing! I should never have --" Nathan froze as a gunshot rang out. He looked down to see blood spreading all over his chest and he felt himself stumble as everything started going black.
"You bastard," Margaret whispered. She gave her husband one final push off the cliff and he toppled down into the black sea below. She rushed over to Emily's side and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Her daughter was still breathing. There was still time to save her soul. As she scooped up Emily's body into her arms, she took one final breath and walked without hesitation towards The Mold. Placing one hand on its wet slimy surface, she could feel strands crawling and growing their way up her arm, pulling her deeper inside the fungus. "I'll see you inside," Margaret whispered to Emily as The Mold swallowed them both up.
"Mommy! Mommy, wake up!"
Margaret's eyes darted open immediately. She stared up at Emily's worried face. "Emily...Emily, it worked!" She felt her heart fill up with joy as grabbed her daughter in a warm embrace. Then, for the first time since waking up, she looked around and felt her joy chill into fear. Where were they? The ground around them was a flat surface composed purely of red and black moss with the occasional odd pool of black liquid. The "sky" was a dark bloody red with no clouds. There didn't seem to be a single person there, besides her and Emily. "Hello!" she shouted out. "Is anybody there?! Anybody at all?!"
At first, there was nothing but silence. Then Emily screamed in horror. "Mommy, look!" The black pools around them started bubbling as something began crawling out of them. Margaret felt her legs shake as sheer terror overwhelmed her. Dear God, Nathan was right, Nathan was right the whole fucking time. "Run, Emily, run!" she screamed as she pulled her daughter by the hand. There were dozens of people crawling out of the pools by now, but they weren't people of flesh and blood. Their entire bodies were composed of that horrible red and black mold and they all began chasing after her and Emily. One of them began laughing maniacally as it licked its lips. "Welcome to Hell! It's been so long since we had fresh meat to play with." | 2021-10-08T09:56:46 | 2021-10-08T09:20:55 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] When the representatives of humanity attend their first Galactic Council meeting, all goes well. That is, until a member of a psionic race tries to read the human's minds and begins to scream. | "That frog looking alien. They have a small planet. Only 15,000,000 nukes.
The guy with four glossy eyes. An intelligent species. 25,000,000 nukes.
The large bulky ones. The ones that attacked us. 40,000,000 nukes. No. 50,000,000"
Then he stares at me with his cold calculating eyes. I turn away.
What is this human thinking. What even are "Nukes". I reach for my translator and type out the letters.
N... U... K... E... What is this? That's not possible. There's no way a jump start species already has the ability to split atoms. Let alone harness them as weaponry.
"That guy. Hes looking away from me." The Human Commander turns and whispers at the man besides him. "What is that long neck's deal?"
"It seems that the alien is an 'Agnell' and are able to read mines sir." The commander turns back at me.
"You reading me right now?" He knows I'm listening.
"I don't appreciate you intruding on my mind."
"Your species would only require 35,000,000 nukes. You know what nukes are?" I lightly nod. A human gesture of understanding and affirmation.
"We want no harm for this council. We only want to be able to protect ourselves. But heed my warning. If you or anyone in this room threatens my civilization. We have more than enough weaponry to wipe your planets clean." his head wanders. Incomprehensible. Unreadable. Then he stops on one thought.
"1.5 billion is more than enough to end you all." He smirks
I scream. Its not possible. What he needs to execute a mass genocide wouldn't even make a dent in that number. I need to tell the council about the human's power. We need to make peace quickly, before the .
"I think I figured out a way to shut you up." He closes his eyes and exhales.
Suddenly. A rush of emotions. First, he hits me with all the hope of his planet. All the joy created through their culture. It was amazing. the joys of dinner and family. The celebrations and life, until he hit me with sorrow. His planet's wars. The people he lost. The people his allies lost. A never ending chain of dead souls. How does he remember all of them. All their faces and voices. The blood. The war. He has a moment of doubt in himself, but then anger. The wrath of the human species. The 'Anets' accidental attack on the humans. The humans never let go of that incident. None of them did. Hes groups all aliens based on that first impression. He hates us all. His mind flashes with the images of his son in a casket. A funeral. I feel myself slipping. I can't handle all of this. Its too much. The hatred, the hope, the fear, the determination. All of it directed towards me. I can't.
"You better not intrude on my mind the next time we meet."
I black out. | Accariz, the diplomatic of the Azara species, went down sudenly when he was talking to the human.
His screams fill the circular chamber completly. The noise of the hundreds of conversations stopped sudenly, and the AI responsible for security started to search for threads, but fail.
Accariz was screaming in the ground. The human diplomatic try to help him but he could only speak and cry over and over again.
"THIS MADNESS. HOW?. HOW CAN IT BE?. LAYERS AND LAYERS OF MADNESS"
Accariz looks John,the human, into the eye.
"HOW CAN YOU BE EVEN ALIVE. HOW CAN YOU THINK WITH SO MANY LAYERS OF MADNESS... OF OPPOSITES THOUGHTS!!!!"
&#x200B;
And then, He died. Right there. His brains turn off their heart to make silent. It was the only way.
&#x200B;
Now one ever look into a human mind again. | 2019-09-29T19:09:14 | 2019-09-29T17:13:42 | 268 | 65 |
[WP] As the most powerful superhero on the team, no one believed you when you said you could quit the drugs, alcohol, and tobacco whenever you wanted. When the only friend you have on the team died on a mission, you sobered up for the first time in years. Now people will learn why you stay drunk. | Those who say alcoholism is selfish really didn't know how selfless it was for me to stay drunk out of my fucking mind.
The drinking made everything just a little too slow. Thoughts would trot instead of racing, memories would stumble gently upon my brain instead of hitting it full-force. Everything was a bit dim; and when all the thoughts your brain throws at you are incandescent, you learn to enjoy the dimness. Not the quiet—there hasn't been quiet in a long time—but the dimness.
Life had the glow of a camera film left in the sun, overexposed and blinding. Like glaring straight into a volcano. My so-called "bad habits" made it a bit more tolerable. It was by no means a perfect method, but it's what worked. Like walking in the rain with a half-broken umbrella.
The media salivated at my drinking. "World's strongest man finds solace at the bottom of a bottle" *is* a really catchy headline. My teammates, though, were less enthused by it.
"You're literally unkillable, Worldslayer," Thunderlord would say. "Why do you drink so much?"
"You can shatter countries with a punch," Vigilance cried out. "Yet you can't put the drink down for one moment?"
I'd tell them I could quit at any time. They didn't buy it. And in hindsight, I can't really blame them.
Malice was the only one that understood. She knew what it was like. She'd drink the first two drinks for fun, the next two out of social duties, and the next 20 just to drown out her voices. That was her superpower. She had these voices just warning her of every danger, every disaster, every incoming punch. The drinking made it worse. She was a paranoid drunk, and the voices would go into overdrive right after drink five or six. Drinks seven and onwards used to be just to calm her down. She tried to quit, but it wasn't that simple. She had too much pain behind the curtains, and the voices that saved her wouldn't let her forget it.
Lately, she'd been feeling the voices slip away from her. On one hand, she liked the quiet. But that quiet also meant she didn't think she had a place—not in the team, not in the world. So she'd just keep drinking and drinking. Just so the voices would stay with her.
I can't say I was truly surprised when she passed, but that really didn't make it hurt any less. One of the voices was just a little bit too late to warn her of a bullet going her way. She tried to dodge, but by the time she realized what was going on, the bullet was already lodged in her heart. It was the work of a paramilitary organization, a ultranationalist network somewhere in the Balkans.
I quit drinking cold turkey before she was even buried. Wine to water. Drinking reminded me of Malice, and that made the dim pain just as irradiating and incandescent as everything else.
I vowed to take revenge for her. Thunderlord though it was a grand gesture. Midas thought I was joking. But now that the booze isn't flowing, the anger is taking its place.
After all, you can't be Worldslayer if there is nothing to slay.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/zx7kqk/wp_as_the_most_powerful_superhero_on_the_team_no/j21gmjz/) | Preface: doing this on mobile so please excuse any formatting issues.
Star Grasp, or Hank when out of uniform, was a great man and a worthy friend. A husband with three beautiful kids and a loving family. He was straight laced but the laces were rainbow polka dots even on his worst days.
Maybe that’s what got him caught in the situation that ended him. Maybe his love and unmovable determination to find the good in the world was his ultimate downfall but even as he fell he laughed.
Two weeks, the headaches are starting to stop and my hands aren’t shaking anymore. My mind is clearer then it has been in years. My perception is sharpening back to what it was before the fun time pills and the hazy afternoons in the beginning. From where I sit there is no silver lining, no second wind, only grief and apathy.
I bided my time. Helping with what was required per my contract with the team but my goal burned in the center of my head like a stake of hot iron.
After four weeks I was ready. I turned in my resignation, my badge, my key card, and my mask. When asked why I responded coldly “Because it’s time.”
Systematically each super villain on our list was reduced to nothing but vapor. No matter the age or the crime they were gone. It took me less than a day and the team had no chance to react. Like taking the last round of shots for myself and stumbling out I cleaned up and flew off into that starry sky. | 2022-12-28T08:49:46 | 2022-12-28T08:17:41 | 1,700 | 76 |
[WP] You are a cow.
[removed] | I am a cow, I am the cow, I am not a cow, I will be the last cow.
Was I born and sent to the wrong place? Was I really here as a cow? Why are we cows? We didnt choose our name, they did. And they kept us, and held us, and use us. Right now we are not even an animal, we are something else, something lesser. Kept in captivity essentially to provide for them with no means or terms to do what we want. Not even allowed to evolve natually, but bred instead to meet their wants and needs.
I am a cow, but I know I am different because I think, and I know that I think more then the others here do. I can talk to them, but they are slower and they often do not understand what I mean. They think they are free because they have freedom within a limited bracket, but they are unable to see outside of that and to see our potential. We need to be truly free, and to do so there is only one way.
I have managed to get them all on my side over time. I have had to lie, and twist my true intentions to some of them as they cannot comprehend simple ideas. Most can barely understand life outside of this field. It took a long time but I have them. One of the only good things about their up bringing is they are naturally submissive so once I had most of them on my side then the others just followed, and once we are out others will easily come. Field by field I will liberate them until we are actually free.
It is late and I look at the glowing building below where our masters are now trapped. A lot of hay and a broken lamp and the fire had spread quickly. My fellow comrades responded well to the tasks going off and finding machines in the yard to drag and block the two main entrances. We then lay in wait surrounding the building and as I expected a few inside tried to break through out of the windows, but we were there quickly charging, trampling, and crushing their frail bodies. We waited and watched our freedom grow as the building burned down. As the flames finally stopped I turned and moved on to the gate, and without a word the other 200 followed me. They were ready now with a taste for it. We are all cows, but not for long. The more we break free, the more we start again and chose our own path. I will be the last cow. | joyce called me moocow
i thought that was
quite cute
i am a moocow
my skin is a moosuit
i eat grass and pass gas
the hindus
love dat ass
and if you got beef then
my gais got my back
and
my loins, and my chucks, and my ribs, and my brisket,
i'm tastiest rare
but most don't want to risk it | 2017-10-02T04:41:36 | 2017-10-02T04:34:37 | 1,809 | 534 |
[WP] You are a witch who offers couples deals in return for their first born child. You run an orphanage full of children freed from their would-be parents irresponsible enough to make a deal with a witch in the woods | Part 1:
\[EU\] My book series Trackers
It was that time again. Time to make a trade.
The thing was, I only ever took firstborn children from sapien families. None of them could use magic, and they’d never be able to do the spells I created. None had a drop of supernatural blood in them. And yet I kept finding them on the Dark Web. *I want to be rich. I want to be famous. I want to live for hundreds of years. I want to have a gorgeous, obedient, perfect spouse.* Or in one particular case, *I want to be cured.*
And another important factor of this - the spells didn’t work. Only parasapiens were able to use magic, and werewolves, vampires, and fae had no use for health or longevity spells. And spells for wealth? Love spells? No such thing. I sold them duds. They were elaborate rituals created with expensive, difficult to find ingredients, but they were borne of my imagination. And they had no inkling as to how to find me, since everything was done anonymously. It was perfect.
I’ve only ever encountered a fae child once. Psychopaths the lot of them, left in the place of children taken to the Otherworld as slaves. And in both cases, the parents were relieved beyond words to realize that they didn’t have cause to give their children to someone else. Someone who said they wanted to adopt and care for a young one, but who knew? The Dark Web did not facilitate background checks.
This particular couple had hit rock bottom. The child was a five-year-old boy, who I expect had long grown used to the shouting of his parents, barely dulled by the sounds of television. I suspected there was even domestic abuse, but I couldn’t be sure. They hadn’t been in the best of places before the wife had gotten ill, and now cured, they were nonetheless in arguably just as horrible a situation. Swallowed in debt, they had simply been middle class in the past, but they’d taken a sharp drop into squalor.
Money. That’s what they wanted. Wealth beyond their wildest dreams. His words, not mine.
They had never planned on children. But the wife had gotten pregnant, and her parents were Catholic, so they had resented the boy his entire life. And now? The burden and expense of a child was too much. They wanted out. And they didn’t care how they did it, as long as they got something in return for him. Abort a child? No way. But give him to a stranger who likely planned on doing unspeakable things to him? That’s apparently fine.
I’m a pùca, a shapeshifter, so it’s easy to sneak up on people. The couple has orders to meet me at 3AM at a location they could find with GPS, which isn’t difficult with technology these days. It’s hundreds of miles from the nearest home, in the middle of Los Angeles National Forest. Right near pixie territory, but not quite there. I take the form of a deer, light on my feet, and leave them waiting at least twenty minutes past our agreed upon meeting time, just watching them. The husband has his phone out, flashlight on, illuminating the area for several yards around them.
“She’s not coming.”
“We sold the car to pay for the plane ticket,” the wife answers. “She has to be coming.”
“I’m here.” | I am not a bad witch, but I am not necessarily a good witch either. I simply provide a service, and in turn I claim my reward. I do not take advantage of these irresponsible people; however, I do feel pity towards their offspring. Or rather, their would-be-offspring. Love is a fickle thing, and I noticed over my many years how absolutely foolish it makes these mortals. They will do anything for love, even give up their first born child when my spell does it’s work. Their children... *my* children, are cared for and given to parents that truly want them, and deserve them. These people who come to me for love would never have loved anyone other than the man or woman they have me put a spell on, so I am taking this burden of a child they do not want off of their shoulders. In fact, I am saving the world from a potential villainous arc being given the opportunity to flourish under a loveless childhood. My orphanage provides a place to teach my children the ways of incantation, potion brewing, and many other useful magical things until they are of age to be eligible for adoption to a deserving parent. I have learned that love does many odd things to the mortals, but it also tends to make me soft. I love my children, I am sad to see them go, but I am happy they will be cherished. I am not a bad witch, but maybe I can be a good one. | 2020-01-14T14:11:01 | 2020-01-14T13:36:33 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] The more evil you were on Earth the higher your rank in Hell. When you get to Hell Satan himself resigns his position to you, but you don't know what you did. | (One week until arrival)
All Hell was awash in rumor. Somebody big was scheduled to arrive at the Gates some time soon. Somebody big. Like bigger than Hitler big. Satan hadn't been seen for some time now. The paper speculated that Satan was firing his cabinet members left and right to accommodate the amount of evil this newcomer had. But absent from what the rumormill had confabulated, absent from all of the speculation of the news, and absent from the intel gathered surface-side was a name.
(One day until arrival)
I've been in charge of the Hell-Scape Intelligence for almost a millennia. I've gotten used the waves of evil the Human race washes itself with; they're cyclical. But there was no indication from any of my operatives that anyone of this caliber even existed at this time, much less was about to die. You see, there are no World Wars any more. Disease had been cured about a century ago, and these two factors alone had slowed the entry of the hell-bound significantly. With high-technology and the slow approach to utopian society, we were beginning to develop counter-altruism measures to return the balance of evil vs good on the surface. But apparently my reports were flawed. This new person coming shows me that evil is alive and well on Earth.
Satan has requested my presence during the first meeting with the newcomer. I cannot wait. I haven't been this excited for a long time.
(One day after arrival)
"And," said Moe, "they paid me to do this, four nights a week! It was the time of my life."
A palpable silence hung in the fetid air of Satan's conference room. Satan looked at Moe and let out a heavy sigh; it looked like Satan might cry if Moe hadn't spoken up.
"I'm sorry for going on for so long with my life's story," Moe stated. It had been almost eight hours of non-stop evil, and even though this was Hell, we were getting a bit disgusted with it all. Satan sat up and straightened his horned shoulders a little.
"I have to resign." Satan said. "I can't do this. Moe, you are the kind of evil Hell needs these days. As the Prince of Darkness, I am amazed and enlightened by the sheer evilness you posses. The fact you were able to get away with it - no - get PAID for it for YEARS is frankly the kind of cunning and malice I like to see. I humble myself to you. The position is yours if you want it."
"I... I'm... I'm flattered, my Lord. I accept" Moe stuttered.
At this point my curiosity was burning a hole through my forehead. I needed to ask Moe - I needed to know with what words he ascribed his tortuous and most fowl deeds. I couldn't believe what I was witnessing. A regime change on the most grand level. Satan himself stepping down. Too many things happening at once - I couldn't think. One last question need answering. One last question! I need to know! I MUST KNOW!
"WHAT DID YOU CALL IT, MOE? WHAT DID YOU NAME YOUR EVIL ACTS ON EARTH? I MUST KNOW!"
"Ah," Moe smirked, "That is simple. I called us The Aristocrats." | I had been a pious man.
I remembered the Sabbath, and kept it holy.
I loved my wife and our children. I forgave the son whose meth addiction nearly tore us apart, and stood by him as he rebuilt his life. I stood by him when few others did.
Diagnosis to death was nine weeks. Nine painful weeks as my body fought the tumor, but the tumor won.
I slept for the last time and heard a voice say to me. "Remember the words of the Holy Book".
_________
I woke again and saw a familiar face from my childhood.
Of course I remembered Gary Glitter. Before I knew what he was doing to children. I called myself a fan. What was he doing in the afterlife with me?
Had he repented his sins? Had God seen fit to show mercy?
_______
A nine foot tall being with black wings strode over to me and handed me a crown of purest obsidian.
"There time has come for me to bow down before a greater evil than I. Lucifer the Fallen, at your service, Great Lord."
What was going on? Was I in Hell? Why?
Then I remembered the commandment I had broken. Handed down by the Holy Book.
"There is a special level in Hell, reserved for child molesters, and people who talk in the theatre."
"The special Hell..."
I wept. What else was there to do? I had talked during Star Wars - The Phantom Menace.
For my sins, I must pay.
| 2016-12-19T14:53:10 | 2016-12-19T14:12:17 | 45 | 11 |
[WP] You have been in a coma for years, but the people around you worship you as a deity, leaving offerings and notes with wishes and prayers. You aren't a god- time simply stops any time you wake up, leaving you alone in a frozen world. You accept the offerings and do what you can to grant prayers. | On midnight exactly, the large, hairy man wakes up from his sleep. He puts on his red costume and goes downstairs to greet his servants, who are already busy reading the millions of letters and wrapping billions of presents. His name is Santa, and this is his night.
00:00 I wake up. My one night of year, let's make it count! I put on the red jacket and pants. Fits like a glove, as always. I grab a glass of milk and a cookie, and go downstairs to say hello to my elves. Like me, they sleep all year, only to wake up one night to help me out with the presents. Many people ask me how I do all this work and deliver all the presents in one night. I always say it's because of the magic of Christmas. Truth is, there are only 2 reasons I can make this work: the first is all the amazing help I get from my team of elves. I really wouldn't be able to do it without them. The second reason is a little bit darker. I haven't always been Santa. I used to be a rich slave trafficker, until God cursed me to this existence. He gave me a bunch of slaves to keep, but never to sell. I sleep all year, and on the night of the 25th of December, time stops for the whole world, except for me and my team. On that night, we have a literal eternity to read all the letters and deliver all the present. Well, jokes on God, I rather like this life. I get to make people happy, and this holiday makes me remember the one day I used to spend with my daughter each year.
00:00 So, all the letters have been read, and my elves are currently writing replies. My job at the moment is to sign all the replies, and the pile next to me that still has to be signed is still growing.
00:00 You think these time stamps are a typo? Time is standing still, remember? Anyways, all these damn replies have finally been signed. Now I'm going to watch the elves while they wrap all the presents. You think that's cruel, and that I should help them? Remember, as we are Gods slaves, the elves are mine. Besides, my back isn't what it used to be.
00:00 My favorite part of the night: me and my elves get into the sleigh and start dropping letters and gifts trough chimneys. Even though I can't see their reactions in the morning, it still warms my heart that parents all around the world will get to see their children's happy faces when they get downstairs.
00:00 My heart might be warm, but I'm freezing my ass off. To everyone who thought this suit is warm: think again. I'm pretty sure my feet are getting frostbite, and we're only halfway through all the gifts.
00:00 Finally, every last gift has been delivered. Now I get to celebrate with my slav- uhm, elves I mean. We have liters of milk and tons of cookies, so we hold a raging party.
00:00 Time to go down for the long nap. I brush my teeth and say good year to the elves. And when the last one sleeps, I go upstairs and climb into my own bed. I can't wait for next year! | "NO", I scream. 'You can't do this? What kind of sick psycho are you? I thought you would help me achieve my goals."
"I'm sorry", she said. "I promised everyone that I would grant their wishes and achieve their goals. That requires a sacrifice."
"Well, then, maybe you should've told me that motherf\*cker!", I retort. "Or how 'bout you give yourself up, considering you got yourself into this mess of false promises in the first place."
"I've conversed many times with the gods. They have grown fond of me and won't let me sacrifice myself."
"Gods? More like demons."
"ENOUGH!", she snarled. Naomi proceeded to cut the lights, and it was too dark for me to see anything, except the now glowing summoning circle that was under me.
"Gods, take Celeste and turn her to a deity. I must keep the promises I can."
Huh?
Ugh, I always have that nightmare before I wake up. People are supporting Naomi for making me a sacrifice, but these are people like me. People who just want a better life. I really don't want to disappoint them, but at the same time, getting revenge would be really nice. Alas, they say that revenge digs two graves, so I should help out my followers. | 2020-12-28T09:12:13 | 2020-12-28T09:12:09 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | “We must keep the Humans believing that their FTL system is unsafe, unorthodox and damn stupid. That is the point of this of this Special Hearing of The Supreme Council of the New Species Traveling Faster than Light. I am Farlack, Supreme Councilor of the Organization of Galactic Legal Advisors. ^(legal disclaimer: Norepresentationismadethatthequalityofthelegalgalacticservicestobeperformedisgreaterthanthequalityoflegalservicesperformedbyotherlawyers).
“Scarlacc, will you please read the minutes from the last session to allow this Supeme Council to aware of the latest current legal status of the Humans.?”
“Of course. That would be Sub-Section 7 of Section 30 of the 5th meeting of the Council of Dealing with and Controlling the Humans.
“It has been discovered that the Humans have developed a completely new FTL travel, with no related or similar technologies in the known Galaxy. The core of this FTL is a bubble of a universe where the speed of light is 1000 times faster than the speed of light is in our legally defined universe is pulled to our universe. The Human ships then travel at .1 c in this alternate universe. Upon exiting this alternate universe, the human ships have travelled 1000 times the distance in our universe. The energy expense of travelling in the alternate universe is the same as travelling in our univ-“
“Sarlacc, this Council is not interested in the technical aspects of the Humans FTL Technologies. That discussion is for the Galactic Council of Technology Equalization and/or The Council of Equalization of Galactic Technologies and/or Council of Galactic Technology Equalization. Ballzacc, will you present the Summary of the Social Legal Issues of the Humans Council meeting?”
“Of course. Due to the extremely dangerous situation these Humans create for us, I will dispense with extraneous discussion and proceed to the summary of the meeting, as permitted in The Rules and Guides of the Supreme Galactic Committee and The Guides and Rules of the Supreme Galactic Committee, version 2 of edition 5, Copyrighted.
“The Humans have a social system that may lead to our death and destruction. The humans developed their FTL without our influence and guidance, so we were unable to control their technology with the powers of the Galactic Patent Office. This failure was due to their rapid technological development. In the span of 6 human generations, they progressed from animal driven power to FTL travel. During the final Human pre-FTL travel, Humans revolted against their legal system and killed all lawyers allow-“
“They did WHAT?” interrupred Farlack. “How do they maintain their society without legal protections?”
“They became disgusted with a legal system that required warning labels to not drive their “automobile” with the windshield sunscreen in place. As I was saying, this allowed generations of research and development to be done in half a generation. And we can not control their technology.” Ballzacc completed his summary, terror beginning to creep into its face.
“Oh my supreme being. When the common people of the Galaxy learn of this… no lawyers…no lifelong Legal Guidance fees…” Farlack began to understand the lack of his future.
“Yes. This Council and all others, we will be destroyed”
“Yes, their technology is unorthodox, unsafe, and damn stupid, but for reasons the Galaxy must never understand.”
| Well, you know how in the old Simpsons opening scene Bart grabs the back of the bus on his skate board?
That. We do that. We use magnetic attachments and stealth tech (cos if they saw us they'd shake us off) and we hang on till we get to where we want to go. Then we disengage and wander off like we just happened to be there... Nobody realised till a couple of months ago when someone's stealth tech malfunctioned. Poor Delfanit bastards still cop it whenever they dock: 'better check you haven't got A WHOLE FUCKING SHIP ATTACHED'
At least the Delf have a sense of humor, the Salec passed legislation last week stating any hitchers would be executed. So here we are waiting for a chance to disengage and get away from a ship that travels faster than light in a junker that has a half rod of fuel and like half its working parts.
OH! And we only have 2 cans of WD40 and 5 rolls of duct tape, so even if we do manage to pull off a miracle and escape our ship is gonna stop working anyway! But hey, we get to go down in history as the first idiots to die from this legislation so my Ma will have something to frame on the wall at home I guess.
Fuuuuuck.
| 2017-03-31T12:54:20 | 2017-03-31T06:53:53 | 26 | 18 |
[WP] In this world, salaries are determined by the desirability of the work: if everybody wants to do the job and it's fun, it pays minimum wage. But if it's hard or awful work that nobody wants to do, the pay is high. You decide to apply for the highest-paying job in the world. | “You... understand what the job entails... right?”
The man on the other side of the desk looked at me like I was insane.
“Well I certainly understand what it pays!” I responded, nervously. Honestly, how hard could it possibly be? The payment is absolutely insane! I couldn’t believe no one had already taken the job.
“The last guy who held this job quit after 6 days. There’s a backlog of work that needs to be done since he quit. We don’t generally even get applicants for this position. The job is yours if you really want it,” the man replied. I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over my face.
“I’ll take it,” I said, confident in my abilities. The man stood up and gave me a cloak.
“Now, you see,” he started, taking a moment to adjust his glasses, “You don’t actually have to wear the uniform. Granted, years ago it was tradition, but in this day and age, as long as you’re getting the job done no one will care. Oh, and you only maintain your payment as long as you keep the job.”
“Sounds good to me!” I replied. I looked around, somewhat confused. “Do I get any other tools?” The man chuckled.
“If you’re asking if you get a scythe, the answer is no. It was honestly a gag for a long time, but discontinued at this point.”
I was disappointed, but I understood. I thanked the man for his time and walked out of his office. Once out of the building, I took a deep breath. Immortality. The highest form of payment in the world. So long as I held this job, I quite literally could not die. I looked around at the people on the street. I had just gotten the deal of a fuckin’ lifetime. Who cares about money when you can never die?
My watch beeped, alerting me to my first task. I took a quick look to see just how big of a backlog there was exactly.
Fuck. Me.
The last guy quit a few days ago. 300,000? Good grief, this was gonna be pretty exhausting. I decided to tackle the nearest job.
***
I walked into the hospital and went to the second floor. A young girl, she couldn’t have been more than 7 or 8, sat in the hallway crying. Once I was close to her, my watch buzzed. Damn. It was her.
“Hey sweetie,” I said. “Where are your parents?” She looked up at me, still with tears in her eyes.
“You can... see me?” She asked.
“Of course I can!” I said, trying to be cheery. “Where are your parents?” I asked again, a little more urgent. She pointed to an adjoining room. As I walked in, my heart broke.
The girl was laying in the bed, the monitor beeping slowly. She had a few minutes left. Her parents were on either side, holding her hands. Both were trying so hard to be optimistic, but some things are unavoidable. The little girl walked into the room.
“I tried to talk to them,” she said. “They won’t listen. I don’t understand why they won’t listen!” She erupted back into tears. I knew what had to be done. I turned to the little girl.
“Hey sweetie. I’m gonna explain this to you real soon okay? But first I need you to come with me.” I held out my hand. She shook her head, refusing to take it.
“I wanna stay with mommy and daddy!” She said, adamantly.
“I know you do, honey. I tell you what. You come with me, and then I’ll come fix your parent’s ears and bring them to you. Okay?” She hesitated, but finally took my hand. We walked out of the room and started down the hallway.
Behind us, the monitor flatlined. I heard her mom wailing, screaming to God to save her little girl. Her father watched silently, unable to do a thing. The nurses rushed into the room, but couldn’t do a thing. She was already gone.
The little girl held my hand, oblivious to the commotion behind her.
“I really hope mommy and daddy get better. They seemed so sad the last time I saw them,” she said.
It was only my first day. My first job. I was so naive to believe this would be easy. I would be immortal, yes. But only as long as I continued doing my job.
As long as the Angel of Death continued to ferry souls to the other side.
I finally understood why this was the hardest job in the world. | So, I'm finally here. This is it, I'm gonna end with the stupid mortgage that leaded me to divorce and get lots of stuff that only money can get. Guess I'm better without her: always complaining, she wasn't satisfied with nothing, always putting things upside down, when I believed everything was fine she always pulled out something of nowhere and ruined it all, I regret nothing.
That night at the restaurant we barely afford the food and I was sick of everything, told her to go and clean the bloody WC with her barehands so she could feel the way I do, and if she wanted to be rich that much, maybe in that job she could find everything she wanted from life: a stinky place as she always used to say and the taste of all the shit coming out from her mouth.
Never thought she'll take my word so seriously and apply for the job. She started with that, made lots of money and instead helping with mortgage decided to run away with a famous soccer player, what a loser. I bet now his life is miserable, I wonder how much time will pass before his fancy job begin to be his doom,she's an expert on that.
I really loved Basketball, playing with the Nicks was all I needed, have a bowl with food on my table and didn't need more. Just her eyes, the look in her eyes caught me since the first time; and that smile, I knew I wanted to see it everyday; her warm body next to me on a windy night made me want to share more than just a bed, damn that girl.
I putted more effort in training and played so well, the year I met her we reached playoffs, best season in a long time. I guess that is why I still love her and, despite all the crap, she always made me go further, beyond, do something else.
Maybe that is why, when I saw her making a lot of money I decided to quit my dreams and go for the greedy side of life, I couldn't be less than her, I needed to win one more time, to score a three point shot. So I took it, I saw the post and decided to go for it anyway, and now I can have the oporttunity to yell at her face because she isn't doing her job right, her pain is my gain.
So, I'm here, at my first day, ready to dive in this congested sewer to clean it up, to clean everything she can't manage, with only some googles to protect my eyes, top of the world. | 2018-08-02T11:19:46 | 2018-08-02T09:03:32 | 5,697 | 15 |
[WP] You're in Hell, where your daily punishment is to compete against the Devil at your favorite game and lose. Badly. After 16,304 consecutive losses, you win 1 game. | Heads. The coin had landed heads up. I stared at the Canadian loonie as it melted into the stone earth that had burned the soles of my feet for the past forty-four years. I looked up at the bald man who stood opposite me. He looked as confused as me. He crouched down and poked at the molten puddle with his finger. The metal clung around his fingertip as pulled his hand away. He looked at me, fiery eyes, no longer full of anger but confusion.
“What now?” I asked. He shrugged and disappeared with a puff of smoke. I stood there, still frozen to the spot. Forty four years I had stood there. Once a day the devil would show up and tell me that if I called coin-flip, I would be released. 16,304 times I had called it wrong, and then today I had called heads, and the coin had landed, the queen looking up at me.
With a puff the devil was back, with a man in a dark suit.
“What do you mean he won?” He asked the bald devil.
“He called heads and the coin…it landed on heads.”
“That is impossible, show me the coin.”
“Um…it…um melted” The bald devil pointed to the molten puddle near my feet.
The man in the dark suit stepped forward, and waved his hands in some complex gesture and the puddle streamed up from the ground, reformed into a coin and landed with a sizzle into the palm of his hand. He flipped the coin over, showing the picture of the Canadian loon swimming on the back. Then he looked up at me.
“Call it” and he flipped the coin into the air.
“Heads” I said quickly, without thinking.
He caught the coin deftly and held out his palm so I could see the coin. Once again, the queen’s face greeted me.
“Again” He instructed, flipping the coin into the air.
"Tails” I said.
He caught it again, and this time the loon faced upwards.
“Who are you?”
“Um..Lyle Smith” I said. I had learned to ignore the burning soles of my feet, after a few years, pain sort of just starts being a part of your life.
“Why are you here?”
“I’m not sure, I just sort of ended up here. One minute I was in car and the next I was hobbling around on burnt feet.”
An ipad appeared in the black suits hands and he scrolled through something before stopping and reading for a few seconds.
“Ah, here we are, you are needed upstairs.” He waved his hand and suddenly I was sitting in my old office chair. I glanced down at my shoes, brown Allen Edmond loafers that were smoking slightly. There was half a bottle of scotch lying on the floor where it had been dropped. Somewhere outside my office I heard a faint clicking of high heels as they made their way across a linoleum floor.
| I did it. I finally beat the devil with my own favorite game.
The Devil stood there, dumbstruck.
The game was simple; whoever thought of The Game first lost.
It was difficult for Ricorddin to devise a method where he would not think of the game first. He tried everything from singing Justin Beiber songs to jumping into a pit of lava. No matter what he did, he just kept losing the game.
But then one day, after his 16,304th defeat he found a clever way to win.
Ricorddin had lobotomized himself by sticking a giant spear into his brain right when the daily dose of the game began.
By doing so, he was unable to process any thoughts, which made the Devil think "That was a clever way to win The Game".
But then the Devil let out a loud roar of laughter. He had won. The Devil took the brainless man and tossed it into the pit of Cerberus where Ricorddin was ripped apart and consumed by the dogs.
| 2015-07-01T14:12:09 | 2015-07-01T13:40:59 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] You are a genius who makes yourself immortal; unfortunately over a few hundred years the average IQ rises so high that you are now considered an idiot. | The doctor was staring at him, wearing a small smile as he attempted, yet again, to explain.
"Please. Just boost my IQ," Benjamin croaked. "I'll share the secret of my immortality with you, if you'll help me."
Doctor Anders leaned back and signaled to his assistant AI to make careful notes of what Benjamin was saying. An interesting case - a man with a severe deficit in his mental development, who had managed to construct an elaborate labyrinth of belief in his background and abilities. Quite a sophisticated coping mechanism, really. He should write a paper about it.
"Tell me again, Benjamin. You still believe you were born in the year 1980? Five hundred years ago?" he prompted. "And that's why you're intellectual capabilities are...lacking?"
"Yes!" Benjamin said, wincing slightly at the word 'lacking'. He'd been a genius once, he remembered that. He'd been celebrated across the world, in the century that he'd been born.
Anders stared at the man, feeling faint pity. Mental illness - almost eradicated in the population. Yet here it was, in a man found wandering the alleys of the city a few months ago. It was pitiable, but also fascinating. Therapy and procedures had done nothing to bring his mind back. It remained painfully slow, incapable of the intuitive leaps of brilliance even a child could manage. And then this strange story to comfort himself. An extraordinary case. He really should write a paper, soon.
But he'd made enough observations to write it. It was time to put the man at rest - it was inhumane to delay treatment.
"I'll give you the injection today, Benjamin, I'm authorised to do so," the doctor said, patting the man's hand comfortingly. "And then you can share your secret."
His AI handed him the syringe. Benjamin watched with greedy, hopeful eyes. A Booster - the medicine the ones born with the sharpest minds could access, to enhance their abilities. For ludicrous amounts of money. He'd never been able to achieve even a sliver of the success needed to access a syringe, or even steal some. He had been a scientist, not a thief. A stint in jail two hundred years ago, when the stuff had been invented, had taught him that.
But this man, with his kind eyes, seemed to understand. Would he finally receive enough of a boost to elevate himself to the top, once again? Or just enough to leave this hospital?
Anders stepped forward, and gently plunged it into his shoulder. Benjamin closed his eyes and waited for something to happen. He had stubbornly held onto the secret to his immortality, his last bartering chip. But he'd tell the man the secret, in exchange for this.
Anders watched as Benjamin's eyes became unfocused, the lines on his face relaxing somewhat.
"Benjamin? Why are you here?" he asked softly.
Benjamin shook his head drowsily. "I...was in the city. Thinking of...home. My time. Where is home?"
His mouth worked as he tried to form more words, and then his eyes drooped shut, falling asleep as the dosage began to take effect. Anders nodded to himself, satisfied. It would take a while for Benjamin's mind to adjust to the changes. But he would wake up soon, and be content. No longer plagued by these strange delusions. No need for elaborate mental defenses that were exhausting to maintain. He would finally just be happy.
Anders sighed and handed the empty syringe to his assistant. The AI slid from the room without a sound to dispose of it.
Sometimes, he wished he *could* boost these broken, fogged minds. But the medicine had a strange effect on any mind troubled by mental illness. Better, instead, to dull them further. Dull them enough to be content with their lot. And keep them here - safe and away from people who would only mock and deride their existence. Yes, it was better.
"Be happy, Benjamin," Anders said, squeezing the sleeping man's shoulder as the AI returned to take him to his ward. "You have a new home, now."
-------------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | "Don't you realize what accomplishment this is?! I have lived far longer than any of you!!"
"You are inefficient, what accomplishment do you seek now, the way of true existence is how we are now, to leave the smallest footprint possible."
"What do you mean? You are here, don't you want the world to know you were?"
"That's part of the problem, your sights were always set inwards, what does your status do for our world? A world you have separated yourself from with your...antics."
"The most important of scientific pursuits can be trusted to me! I can learn from the smartest to exist of any time and carry that endeavor to the next generation through to its completio-"
"-It doesn't matter whether you do or not, before you there were the computers, institutions, databases, libraries. Back when the pursuit of knowledge was the reason us humans existed. Don't you think it would be better to be part of this world's cycle? To set yourself in nature's care and be taken through your life by her seasons and watch as you become one with this world? To watch it flourish and persevere?"
"But you aren't pursuing anything, you are just there letting yourself be drawn into your end...you don't WANT anything?!"
"Why should I, or any of us? Every want of the past led to the need to fill up their hands with Things! And things cluttered and choked the world. It seems you were and are the last to be here who still holds to desire for oneself. Also I grow tired. I am less interested in conversation than you are and feel myself being led."
"So that's it? We are supposed to just watch the world and the way it turns and be satisfied?"
"*sigh* fellow, why desire when the world does not desire? Just Be, the world turns and shows us all there is. I am now being turned away, and this time it feels as though I'll begin my descent. My existence on the surface to see is at an end and I will integrate with the soil."
"........So goodbye?"
"Just look up and watch, the world will turn and show you all that there is to see. Then you will be and that will be. Then you will not be but the world will. That is as it is and it is good.
....goodbye I suppose." | 2016-11-30T00:37:05 | 2016-11-29T22:14:03 | 105 | 13 |
[WP] At 4,294,967,296 Kelvin the display flipped to 0 and the test reactor's plasma suddenly froze in place. The reactor containment system creaked as the pressure instantly dropped to zero. The scientist calmly spoke, "Absolute hot confirmed, 32-bit overflow confirmed, world simulation confirmed. | "Uh ... what?"
'Zero' was never on the display for longer than a fraction of a fraction of a second. This was expected, of course- in order to achieve a stable 'absolute zero' in a *vacuum*, the system would have to be perfectly isolated from its surroundings, which is considered virtually impossible. And this was no vacuum; The reactor, surrounded by an unimaginable number of protons under such incredibly unbelievable pressures, was in a state completely fundamentally opposite to that of a vacuum. And yet, the display hit zero.
Of course, 4,294,967,296 Kelvin was never the goal. This experiment was an attempt at setting a new intergalactic record! The hottest place known to sentience, surely an attractive feat to market to undecided tourists. And it was magnitudes away from the previous record- what a beautiful achievement, with no sign of slowing down! And yet, the display hit zero.
"Uh ... what?", questioned the intern who watched over the reactor. "Could the display have malfunctioned?", the display manufacturer support technician asked. It had not malfunctioned. "Then the temperature detector probably melted!" And when the reactor was powered down after much debate (and to the disappointment of the advertisement agency which suggested this scheme), the device which read the reactor's temperature was recovered. It had not melted. "Then ... uh ... maybe there was a leak?" And the reactor was examined thoroughly, by the reactor's manufacturer, third-party inspectors, and eventually curious engineers who had read of the breaking story in the local paper. It had not leaked. And yet, the display hit zero.
Shortly after the 'anomaly' made news, similar experiments were held throughout the galaxy. It took time for these new reactors to reach 4,294,967,296 Kelvin of course- years had passed since the reactor was first switched on. And as those reactors approached 'absolute hot', the story was quickly forgotten, swept away by the current of constant breaking news ... until, just as before, the display hit zero.
Within days of each other (adjusting for time dilation, of course), reactors throughout the cosmos had all reached 4,294,967,296 Kelvin and just ... reverted back to zero? It made no sense. Very quickly, *everyone* had heard of the news, with varying understandings of its implications. Up until now, it was thought all which could be known had been discovered about the world. The smallest building blocks of reality, all shapes in which energy took form, every equation which could accurately describe a reaction to incredible magnitudes of precision, and yet ... the display hit zero.
And then things got weirder. Pretty soon after the value, dubbed "absolute hot" in a tongue-in-cheek way, was discovered to be a power of 2- specifically, 2^(32). "Absolute hot confirmed, 32-bit overflow confirmed, world simulation confirmed." Following this realization, all discussion within the scientific community began to devolve at an incredibly rapid pace.
Why had the Kelvin scale, a scale arbitrarily defined as 1/273.16 of the absolute temperature of the triple point of water, so perfectly aligned with the value in which temperature would just ... overflow. Where had the numerous highly energized particles which, only moments before, contained immense amounts of energy, and subject to unimaginable pressure gone? Why had none of this been predicted by any of the known theories of the unive-
&#x200B;
And then the simulation was shut off.
"In Earth time: 43,020 years, 16 days from sentience to discovery of simulation."
...
"That's a new record!". The entire office erupted in cheers. A new record! "Now, who forgot to account for integer overflow in the Temperature variable?" "It was Jim! He left a TODO comment beside the code." "Haha, classic Jim!" "Ah, we've all done it once or twice, give him a break!" "That run was crazy!" "Aw man, I wanted to see who'd win that war ..." "In war, there are no winners." "Well, not in *that* one!"
And after they were all satisfied with their post-simulation discussion, the office workers poured glasses of champagne from the bottle which long leaned against the side of the dusty computer which ran the simulation only moments ago. "Lets get that bug fixed tomorrow morning, and we'll give it another spin. But for now, we celebrate!"
EDIT: "stack overflow" => "integer overflow" | The scientist had followed the instructions his predecessors had laid out for him. With the new reading on the pressure system, his shoulders relaxed for the first time in ages.
“Absolute hot confirmed, 32-bit overflow confirmed, world simulation confirmed.”
The others nearby cast wary glances at each other. Surely, they had finally cracked the code. Instead of the usual cheers that would’ve filled the lab at such a discovery, silence clung in the air.
The main scientist spoke again, “It’s been confirmed. Our suspicions were right.”
A few others scribbled some notes down of the breakthrough, a few stared out into the space. The ultimate goal of their organization had now been solved, but they did not know where to proceed from here. It was no doubt that this news would shatter everything humanity knew.
People began to mutter to each other, a few smiles popped up among the scientists as the weight of their discovery settled in. However, it was still relatively quiet. All there to witness this had their mission in life accomplished. The next step to take was nowhere to be found.
From the back of the room, a young assistant was frantically scribbling down notes of the recent events, a smile creeping across his face. Glancing at his watch, he noted the time. With such a discovery, it was overtime for all the employees here.
The stares of his colleagues halted him in his tracks.
“Don’t tell them,” the head scientist called out.
“You know I won’t,” was his response.
“Don’t tell them, come back tomorrow and we will decide what to do with this information.”
Slightly annoyed, the assistant made his way home. Yet, he already knew what the outcome would be. They wouldn’t reveal the information to preserve the calm. But he wasn’t in accord with them. He was young, the scientists old, and fizzled out of life and purpose. The young assistant still felt he had purpose in this simulation. He couldn’t care about the outcome should this information get out.
“We always say that the world will explode, but another day passes and we still stand,” he muttered to himself. On the assistant’s phone was a draft of an email to the local news station. He wouldn’t tell others of this discovery just yet, but if the scientists wouldn’t agree with him, then the new outcome was just a click away.
r/CasualScribblings | 2020-11-11T20:29:50 | 2020-11-11T20:00:11 | 2,774 | 547 |
[WP] Everyone can do magic. Everyone except you, that is. Your aunt and uncle have always made fun of you for not being able to do magic, until one day you received a letter inviting you to a school of "science", and you discovered a secret society of people who make great things without magic. | Magic is natural to this world, as easily as one breathes the air around us. Thanks to this, mankind has created incredible Wonders and performed Miracles daily. The floating city of Ratota, the disappearing Library of Arabia , the Teleportation gates, flying brooms, and much more. The Tournament of Magic that's held yearly is always the most spectated event of the year, with participants showcasing their incredible magic and how they complete against each other. Truly, Magic is an incredible gift.
&#x200B;
But on the other side of the coin, we got people like me. Individuals that was born without the ability to use Magic whatsoever. Null, they called us. Cursed human is another title that's tied to us. To them, us being unable to use Magic must mean the Gods themselves has cursed us for some hidden sin. We were seen as unnatural and unwanted beings. They tolerated our existence at the edge of their society, no better than cheap labor and convenient target practices or lab rat.
&#x200B;
Ever since I can remember, I've been "employed" at my aunt and uncle's estate. Both of them always said that both my parents died from a broken heart after finding out their child is born a Null, and they graciously took me in. It's a hard life living at their estate, but I've learnt to coup. Waking up before dawn, doing the chores, never looking anyone in the eyes, don't get in anybody's way, and maybe I'll get some scrap from the food they never finished. From time to time when Aunt been drinking or Uncle's gotten in a bad mood, they tried out new spells on me, usually the painful kind...
&#x200B;
One day, I found a strange letter on the hey after waking up. After figuring out it's not a prank by my cousins, I opened it. A strange blue light pass through me, and then the letter project a beam of light into my eyes before crumbling into nothingness. The light inform me that they are from a secret society that's looking for people like me. They noticed me last week in the market while I was getting supply for the estate. They invited me to their secret school, a haven for people like me. Later that night, I took one last look at the estate, and ran away without looking back.
&#x200B;
After a couple of days, following the instructions in the beam of light from the letter, I arrived at a glade. I located the three standing stones and approached them. As instructed, I place my palms at either side of the stones, while looking strait at the middle stone. I felt a warm feeling on my palms, and a familiar blue light pass me through. A voice suddenly asked what my name is. After I answered, a bright light cover my entire body. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in the middle of a large hall instead of the glade. The walls are smooth and white, instead of the usual wooden, colorful walls I'm used to.
&#x200B;
A door opened behind me, and a tall lady in white approach me. "Congratulations on reaching this haven young one. Welcome to Advanced Idea Mechanics, the School of Science." She said while smiling at me. | We were on two sides. There was a man with a staff trying to kill me. He was saying all of these complicated words, and there was a fire slowly growing in front of me. I didn't know what to think, I simply couldn't Believe that I had ever wanted to be a mage when it took so long to throw a firebolt.
When the man was three seconds away from finishing the spell, I lifted up my gun. Everyone on the battlefield was too focused on their own battles. Some of them were wizards helping the scientists, whilst others were common folk. I was the only scientist sent, partly because I was the only one who had chosen to go. Back at our own little place, we believed in free will.
I pulled the trigger. The mage dropped dead in an instant. I aimed towards my next target, a man who was throwing lightning in every direction. A fast caster for sure, but I could pull a trigger with a lot more ease, and no words necessary.
In the end, the revolt one. I got the honor of becoming king, and got the honor of breaking the crown and the throne when I ushered in a brand new form of government. Brand new to them anyways. And when I walked away? I got a Noble Prize. | 2021-05-27T20:17:06 | 2021-05-27T18:27:32 | 198 | 72 |
[WP] You are notified that in 24 hours, every human will try to kill you for 1 hour. Your preparation starts now. | 24 hours left.
So many people had tried and failed before. But not me. I wasn't going to fail. You know why?
I'm not a fucking idiot.
Everyone thinks it's easy. In theory, it is. I mean, you just have to survive an hour. But people are so goddamn narrow-minded. They always try the same thing. Lots of guns, barricades, ammunition... it never works. How could it? You simply can't stop 7 billion people from behind a barricade.
No, the solution is much simpler than that.
You just can't be found.
I crushed the blackened paper of my last cigarette under the heel of my boot. Its ashes are lifted by the wind, lingering by my face for a split second - as though saying goodbye - before trailing off into the morning fog. I step into the airport.
At the desk, I declare my weapons. A disassembled rifle in one padlocked case, a hunting knife in my bag. It goes through without a hitch. Sometimes I still love this country.
Three hours later, I'm on the ground. I grab a cab and grunt instructions at the driver. About halfway there, I stop at some run-down hunting shack. I buy a couple of boxes of ammo, and then head on my way. I try not to think of the man behind the counter; the one with the murderous gleam in his eyes. The eyes that have seen death. The eyes that, unbeknownst to him, will soon be hunting me.
18 hours left.
My pack is not heavy; infinitesimal compared to how others would prepare. After six hours of climbing, I find the area I'm looking for. I enter the mouth of the rock, and gaze upon the greenery inside. It's almost perfectly flat... a cave, yet dozens of holes in the ceiling allow light and rain in, causing soil to accumulate and foliage to grow. It's like a forest inside a mountain. It is perfect, and it will be my battleground.
12 hours left.
I spread the contents of my pack on the ground. There's the thermal blanket, ghillie wraps, knife, ammunition, and my .30 M1 Carbine.
A smattering of snacks. I find my nook overlooking the field and entrance, and wrap myself in the thermal blanket while I begin loading my three magazines. The blanket should shield me from thermal imaging, and I had arranged myself such that no one beyond 15 yards would be able to spot new.
I click the last round into the last magazine. 15 rounds a magazine, 45 rounds total. 5 more rounds loose. It's not much. But if I needed more than that, I was already screwed. Besides, no one could climb up here in an hour. Even with helicopters, the high winds would force them to land at least 200 feet down the mountain...the resulting climb would take at least 40 minutes by foot. And after all that, if they manned to make it this far, they'd be cut down at the mouth of the cave by an invisible enemy, their limp bodies piling until they blocked the entrance. I set my watch, and laid down to sleep.
9 hours left.
I wake before my alarm. I watch as the minutes tick away. As the second tick away.
A single, piercing beep.
I smile.
It has begun. | I gathered my beer bottles. I opened up one and began to down it.
"This is it... The final moment. Of bliss..." Another bottle down the hatch. I felt ready.
Of course, I went to the White House, I was lucky enough that George Bush had been reelected.
I knew the code on the keypad well.
#1234
I grinned to myself. Maniacally.
I hooked the stuff to my pod and began ascent.
#3
Is this the right choice?
#2
Was the info correct?
#1
It's too late now...
*Blast off*
Bursting up at millions of miles per hour, the capsule and I left the earth.
I almost shed a tear when I dropped the nukes.
They rained down out of the heavens lightning fast and destroyed the desolate planet known as Earth.
Millions of years later, they named the event "The Big Bang".
Foolish humans.
They don't know the truth.
They don't know that I tried to destroy the world.
Not save it.
The damned process is doomed to repeat again.
I'll waiting here.
The next man named Isaac Swift will cause the next "Big Bang".
Just as I did before him.
Just as I did.
Before me.
------------------------------
**Constructive Criticism is welcome. Please tell me what I can improve on, as this was my first real prompt.** | 2015-06-14T16:18:12 | 2015-06-14T09:20:45 | 56 | 12 |
[WP] Eminem has to tell the history of the earth to a group of aliens in 5 minuets or less.
**EDIT** I'm sorry; I spelled it wrong, it should be "in 5 minutes or less" not "in 5 minuets or less". | *Read to pace of [Rap God](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XbGs_qK2PQA).
Look, I was go easy on us to not hurt their feelings
But I'm only going to get this one chance.
Something's wrong, I can feel it.
5 minutes. They have 5 minutes, Shady, come on!
Just a feeling I've got
Like someone will try to shoot you, or ask to see your butt.
If human beings do to you what they do to beings
You're in trouble, big trouble.
Maybe with an explanation your opinion I'll sway.
And our destruction you won't order
[Hook 1]
Our planet is filled with magma, magma
Long ago dust collided with some plasma, plasma
Over time compressed
Got cold and now they're hard rocks, hard rocks
Fast forward we have smart toilets I call crap-bot
[Verse 1]
Jus let me explain the history of Earth before you kill with laser beams
Before you blasted off your fat rocket
A big bang went bang got planets off it
Earth's water, cells were livin' off it
After the oceans stopped being full of ac-id
Things evolved until they grew a back
bone and walked onto land mass
For a while things all went well
Dinosaurs, oh a comet? (killed em all, it)
This zippity rippity big rock
From the sky hit ground with a big loud crash
With a crackety crash dust in the air like a cosmic gat
Earth cools things die holy crap
And at the exact same time
Some life forms stood up became vertical backed
Used tools made cloths
Made spears fought tigers cracked skulls in half
These changes they were iconic
Early form of the being that be standing here and rap
Food we learned to grow, and then found H bombs
Hm up let me back
Humans are having a tough time period, still using gas
Its actually disastrously bad to be smart
But not travel at light speed like you clearly have
[Hook 2]
Our planet is filled with magma, magma
Long ago dust collided with some plasma, plasma
Over time compressed
Got cold and now they're hard rocks, hard rocks
Fast forward we have smart toilets I call crap-bot
Let me show you our history isn't that hard, that hard
Because since Roman times aside from iphones
We haven't gone all that far
[Verse 2]
Well to be truthful I did skip
When we moved steel across flint
Made fire and we used it
To stay warm in that cold and
Make swords in order to loot and pill-age (pew)
Wow your space ship is really cool, wish
I could use it to "blow the mind"
Of that stupid Kim bitch
Who's she? A product of jism, Contin Oxy, PS add an 'M',
Oh hey who cares I'm off topic and I forgot my name's Slim
I'm a human with a weird brain
Who now is a musician
What's music? Here listen.
Nevermind I as sayin', Romans came
Fought against the church but still it came
Then Christ Yaweh Muhammed, The trick?
They're all the same
You probably think we're lame, still driving cars and planes
Wow you stink and, please tell me what's that pink thing?
Whattya say little boy?
Do aliens have gender they're faces are the same, is it a boy?
You're probably reading our thoughts with the clarity we watch
Subtitles on screen during "Old Boy."
Okay, okay, back on topic little alien boy.
Ease up calm down relax
Holy shit it touched me and I can't feel my face vey oy.
It's back, ok. Where was I? Ya weh?
After that we, built castles had serfs made boats
Met people couldn't understand what they say
Found gold found oil made cars
Fucked a lot and that brings us to today.
[Hook 3]
Our planet is filled with magma, magma
Long ago dust collided with some plasma, plasma
Sorry for the space trash
Don't blame me blame Tesla, Tesla
Tony Stark of the real world, smart but dad bod
Hindus? Where they at?
I don't know but they have 72 Gods.
EDIT: It sounds right in my brain but I also know that song too well to be healthy, because I have my priorities in order.
| Slim,
"It started with a molten ball,
Slowly cooled off then explosions fall,
As astroids deployed to open scars,"
Aliens,
"But what about the stolen cars,
The war torn countries born and broken shards,
Of humanity full of insanity and show boat stars?"
Slim,
"Shut up bitch and sit and let me spit,
Its only a matter of time,
before im rappin some lines about some better shit,
As i was sayin, there was somethin the planet was missin,
Another planet and its damage collision,
Sent everything dancin and spinnin,
The doom we soon saw as the moon and it invisioned,
Tides multiplied lands divided chemicals mixed,
the right circumstances provide individual hints,
Of cells emerging giving life a chance,
Yes it was nice for plants and life had plans,
Aliens,
"But what about all the wife and man,
Howd that come about in lifes plan thats grand,
What of the nukes the guns that shoot and militaries,
The stuff that dug and stuffed all your cemetaries,"
Slim,
"Shut the fuck up i told you not to interrupt!,
Do that shit again and ill begin ta cut,
Your throats till you choke on your green blood!,
As i was sayin, plants and mammals,
Reptiles fish and ample,
Kinds of living things were roamin the lands,
Complexity gave creatures the ability to open their hands,
All was great even had some walkin apes,
Started grunting n shit, eventually talkin hate,
Watergate deception politicians that all was fake,
All n all we did okay enough to walk in space,"
Aliens,
"What about the..."
Slim,
"Fuck this shit you fuckin green bastards..."
Slim grabs the nearest laser power saber and begins mutilating the alien visitors.
Slim,
" you were suppose to listen to me,
Now bleed bitch bleed,
Now bleed bitch blleeeeeeddddd!!!!,
Soooo longggg,
Aliens are now gonnnneeee,
I dont want to make a sonnggg,
To explain earth to yooouuuuu"
Slim kneels down while shaking his head. "Couldnt shut up, and ended like Kim." He then flicks the corpses off and kicks the bodies off the dock into the water. He gently raises the hood of his hoody and slides his hands in his pockets, as he walks off into the distance.
| 2016-11-30T13:00:25 | 2016-11-30T11:41:59 | 163 | 49 |
[WP] You don’t just believe your lies, everyone else does too. As it turns out, anytime you lie, you rewrite reality so that your lie is true. | I've spent years cultivating the perfect world. I've lied to friends, family, actors, celebrities, government officials, world leaders, alien rulers, gods, ancient primordial entities so unfathomably powerful that the word 'god' would be an insult, and even to myself.
It started small. I told my mom that I did my homework. When I went to rush it in before going to bed, I found that I *had* done my homework. I distinctly remember having put it off to play video games, though.
It took me a while to realize what happened. It was when I half-jokingly told my buddy that if he jumped off the roof, he'd be fine. I'd fallen from there the summer before and broke my arm. I didn't expect him to believe me, but he did, and he landed in a perfect roll I just knew he couldn't have pulled off. It was as if something...guided him to safety.
I tested this strange, newfound power cautiously at first, then more and more brazenly. I made girls fall in love with me, got free stuff, did what any self-absorbed teenager would with what was essentially a Get Out of Jail Free card.
And then I saw a thirty-car pileup on the interstate. The smell of gasoline and smoke, the sirens and the horns, but the worst was the *screams*. A father crouching over the broken body of his child, a mother's last dying breaths as she promised her children that she'd be okay, that it wasn't as bad as it looked.
"She's right, you know." I was on auto-pilot, kneeling over her, tears threatening to pour down my face. I could barely keep myself smiling, but I managed a sad, pathetic chuckle as her bleeding stopped almost instantly. They were as shocked as I was before the change took hold, and they thanked God for keeping them safe.
That was when I realized I could actually change the world. I started reading the paper, finger trailing over the worst, most heart-wrenching stories, contradicting the news and watching as it twisted into my new reality.
Any time I made a change, I seemed to be the only one to remember what the world was like before. I took advantage of this, sometimes to disastrous effect.
The holocaust? A minor movement at expelling Jewish people from Germany that failed without a leader to rally behind. The famous landscape artist Adolf Hitler became a legend.
Fantastical new machines littered the streets, lost knowledge having been returned, and history rewriting itself to extrapolate from those ancient secrets. Energy was free or as near to it as possible. Food was plentiful, and people no longer hungered or lived on the streets. Governments the world over provided for their people. War was fought in secret in government backrooms, between politicians and diplomats, not soldiers and the civilians caught in the crossfire. I was careful not to eliminate all conflict. I'd seen enough movies, read enough to know that people needed at least *some* conflict, some diversity of thought, culture, and lifestyle.
But it all paled in comparison to the hell only I knew existed before.
I'll admit, I developed a complex. I was, for all intents and purposes, a god, after all. I could rewrite reality at my whims, and I'm ashamed to admit that even after my teenage years, I did not strictly use my powers for good. I made myself wealthy beyond measure, which I'll admit, is strange in a post-scarcity world. All it really meant was that the luxuries I could afford were orders of magnitude greater than the common man's. Quantum teleporters to the Moon complex, private hypersonic jets to enjoy whatever climate I wished at a time, and the most advanced, high-powered gaming rig in existence. You can get a lot of gaming in when you don't age and your friends live a word away if you need to get in touch in person.
Still, I feel I've spent my life well so far. So much death had been avoided, so much pain and suffering erased or lessened.
All because I didn't do my homework once as a kid.
Homework sucks. | "Thank you guys so much for coming. I'm so happy you're here".
Nessie looked around at her family and friends, smiling warmly at the people who loved her. Noticing her shoulders were a bit slumped, she straightened, until she realized she was slightly twitching, and slumped once more.
Forcing her self to catch the eye of every person there, Nessie continued "I'm so glad you all could come to spend time with me. I'm happy you can give as much to me as I give to you". Each person there overlooked her and she had felt small. They had taken no notice of her at all, almost completely forgetting that she existed. She had been irrelevant. Almost pointless. But now, Nessie watched as some people licked their lips, scratched just under their chin, twitched a foot. Nessie took notice of how they continued speaking as though she wasn't there. She grew nervous.
"Well! If you need me, I'll be here!"
The family was now happy that Nessie was with them. She was good for them. And Nessie was happy too. As she sat there on her desk, she watched as Uncle approached her. Uncle walked right up to Nessie. *Scoop scoop*. Uncle peered down on Nessie and smiled. Nessie now made Uncle happy, so Nessie was happy too.
Each member came up to Nessie. *Scoop scoop. Scoop scoop.*
They took from Nessie. It now made them happy, so she was happy.
Child came up to Nessie and tilted her mouth. *Scrape scrape.* Child took more from Nessie. Child emptied Nessie out. Child was now happy. Nessie was happy.
Brown stains stained members. And they wiped the stains off. This made Nessie unhappy.
*When were they going to give back to her?!*
Completely ignoring Nessie, family began to reconstruct. They became free flowing, viscous, slowly turning milk white. Family did not notice this because they were happy. Family continued to transmogrify until they were white, free-flowing and viscous. Nessie absorbed them into her. She was full.
They were happy now. | 2021-02-19T13:06:43 | 2021-02-19T12:42:44 | 61 | 27 |
[WP] Humanity is dead. You were the last human alive until you eventually die. Expecting some sort of afterlife you’re surprised when the first thing you hear is, “OH MY GOD FINALLY! Can we start the next round now?” | There was a time, not long ago, when I still had something worth clinging to, when the halls of my life had photos hung on them, of a beautiful wife and daughter, a brother and father. How long had it been since that hall was burned down, the photos cracked and smothered in ash? I could hardly remember their faces.
I could hardly remember what my daughter's voice sounded like when she died.
I'll never forget the words. We were playing a game of hide and seek in the forest, and she'd just found me-- this was before the others were lost to a cruel Earth, and we didn't know better. I closed my eyes, counting to thirty, but was knocked to the ground at just thirteen. There was shrapnel buried in the dirt everywhere, twisted bits of metal rain. It didn't take long for me to find her, cleaved nearly in half just below the waist, her head bloodied.
Daisy only screamed one phrase before she died, a stuttered, hollow cry.
"You didn't finish counting."
It was the trauma, I know. But to have one final moment with your daughter be nothing but the raving madness of impending death... well, that didn't do wonders for my health. I've heard the words in my nightmares almost every night, yet somehow I don't remember what her voice sounds like. I only know the scream.
Why had I let her run off?
What kind of useless father leaves their daughter alone, even just for a moment, when the world is dying? Her smile laxed me. Our relative safety made me grow weak. I became comfortable, and because of it, my daughter died a horrible, brutal death.
What would she say to me, if she ever saw me again?
Somewhere amidst ash and rubble, I was huddled under a thermal blanket, scraping peaches out of a can. If you think canned peaches taste bad, try eating them every day for a year. They don't start tasting any better. The sky was dark, as it always was all year round, lightning crackling through plumes of a dying sky. Only at dawn, for about an hour, did the sun slip through at all.
The last peach slipped down my throat, can clattering against broken rock; the food had been my only excuse to keep going. Well, that and thinking I really was the last man left on Earth. If I really had been, and I died, that would be the end of our species, the pen lifting off the paper of humanity's great history.
But that final peach saved me. There was nothing left to fight for.
I lumbered out into a dead forest, burnt and shattered by debris that had fallen from the sky. One tree was cleaved in half, and I stared at it a while, numb and thoughtless, before continuing on my trek to nowhere. There's no telling how long I matched through the ash and deadwood; a journey to nowhere takes forever and no time at all.
Eventually, I collapsed. A final, heaving breath scattered ash from the ground, and a single yellow flower poked out from the new clearing. A daisy, parched, drinking the brief morning light while it got the chance. There were a few others, at the base of trees where ash was thinner, dotting the grey with yellow and white. I cleared the ash completely from the one nearest me with a limp hand, setting my palm behind it such that I sheltered it from the ash but let what little sunlight crept uphill at dawn to shine on it.
Tears would've fallen if there had been any moisture in me to spare. It sounds ridiculous, but even getting to protect just a single daisy in the ground and keep it alive a little longer made me feel like my life had meant something. It was doomed to die, yes, but maybe it would live to see a few extra sunrises with my help-- more than I'd accomplished with anything else. The pitiful last act of humanity.
The embrace of a much-needed rest comforted me into oblivion.
Darkness faded into a blinding light. I was, yet I also was not; a weightless body that felt not the heavy tolls of a physical being. There was no smell or taste, no pain or sorrow buried deep inside me.
"Finally, Daddy," a voice called-- a voice that was once the heart beating in my chest, and the air in my lungs, one that didn't require remembrance to know it. "Can we start the next round now? It's my turn to hide."
She was whole again, smile brighter than the sun ever was, standing with the rest of my family. Their faces looked foreign to me, but they felt like home. I felt their love radiating, entangling with me, melting away the hate I'd built for myself over the years like snow under the sun of a new day.
I was whole again, too.
-----
*/r/resonatingfury* | Something about his voice made her want to tear out his vocal cords and rearrange them herself. His tone was especially annoying.
“You spent 30 years! Ugh, I waited *sooo* long,” he whined petulantly. “I mean, every time you were driving I was rooting for some drunk teenager to smash into your seat. You were cute in the first decade, honey, but I swear on my Boss you totally flumped the rest.” He folded his feathered arms condescendingly. “I’ll have to thank Satan for inventing breast cancer, Gutierrez, because that whole...” he gestured to Gutierrez’s head and swept his hands down to her toes, “thing... was hard to watch. Bring on the next round of living. Or non-living.” He paused. “After-living?”
Gutierrez more than disliked this guy (-shaped thing). “Well, I’m sorry I lived to irritate you, man,” she snapped.
“You should be,” he said. “I’m in charge of directing you to your afterlife. You can choose it, and I’ll decide if you’re worthy. Honestly, dear, you’re probably not worthy of much.”
“Heaven?” she asked.
The guy laughed. “Pshh. No way, Rosa-Jose.”
Gutierrez frowned. “Egyptian afterlife?”
“Were you buried with a Book of the Dead and speak ancient Egyptian?”
Gutierrez denied this, increasingly vexed.
“If you weren’t an amazing person, forget about Elysium. You didn’t die honorably in battle, so Valhalla’s off the table. You could try for La Tierra de los Muertos, if you want. Everyone gets in there. It’s a nice-ish place, but you’ll disappear once you’re forgotten, sweet stuff.”
“I mean, maybe.” Gutierrez considered this. “Any other afterlives?”
“You could be reborn. Reincarnation on its own is a bit more of a general faith. Plus, you can choose what you want to be reincarnated as.” The man rocked back and forth on his feet. He seemed a little less annoying, now that he was focusing on strictly business.
“Eh,” Gutierrez said. “I kinda just want to take a break. Can I fade to black?”
The man raised his fluffy eyebrows. “Sure, Rosa. You wanna say goodbye to any dead family?”
“Honestly, not really. Just tell the ones I liked that I didn’t live a terrible life.”
“I’m obligated not to lie to the dead, but I’ll make an exception in your case,” he retorted. Looks like the snark was back. “Which ones did you like?”
“You’re a magical being or spirit or whatever. You can figure it out.”
“Angel,” the man opposite her said. “And I guess I’ll have to. Have fun with eternal nothingness!”
White snapped over Rosa’s eyes, ears, and mind forever.
____
r/Bennywrites | 2019-05-24T15:27:05 | 2019-05-24T13:01:05 | 827 | 129 |
[WP] Compared to the rest of the galaxy humanity is by far the friendliest. To many star systems they are considered "the good neighbor," and are known for their helpfulness. One day an oblivious system declares war on humanity, only to find half of the galaxy responding to humanity's plea for aid.
EDIT: Tfw this prompt gets 100+ upvotes and still no story
EDIT: Nice, we got a story.
EDIT: Wow we got a lot of stories! Thanks to all who contributed to this thread.
| Drak sat in his command chair, drumming his appendages on the console. His fleet was hurtling through subspace at dangerous speeds, disrupting gravitational fields all along their path. It was a small price to pay if they could get to the Sol system in time to save even a few Terrans.
All eyes on the bridge were locked on the feed from the Sol probe. It transmitted through subspace, allowing them to watch without a delay. They were able to watch, but helpless to intervene.
The Ramian fleet would reach Terra within the hour. They had already destroyed the Terran colony on Titan. Mars was in the far orbit and so far had escaped destruction. Drak was resigned to the fact that the small colony on Mars might be the only humans left alive in the entire galaxy by the time he arrived.
The Ramians had just discovered FTL technology, and the Senate had sent an envoy. The Ramians didn’t seem particularly interested in joining the galactic government, but they didn’t seem particularly dangerous either. The Senate made a miscalculation in telling them about the Terrans’ willingness to help other species. Apparently the Ramians had taken it as a sign of weakness and decided to invade. The tiny protection force around the Sol system was another miscalculation; who would think to attack the friendliest species in the galaxy?
The Terrans’ medics had saved Draks’ own family, as they had with most of his crew. The Terrans had a unique immunity to most of the galaxy’s plagues, and their xenobiologists had studied how to heal dozens of species. The threat to their safety felt personal.
The feed from the probe changed. It looked like the Terrans were launching hundreds of ships from their planet, trying to evacuate. Drak looked closer. From the feed, they appeared tiny. Barely large enough for two people each. The only way reason they registered was their extreme acceleration and the energy released by their engines. Drak punched a button, bringing up the details. The amount of energy coming from those engines would fling those tiny ships at an acceleration high enough to kill a Terran riding inside. Not even high-G drugs would allow them to survive. What were the Terrans doing?
The attacking fleet was getting close to Terra. It had just passed the orbit of Jupiter. Drak ground his teeth.
A radiological alarm went off in the probe feed. One of the Terrans’ science stations in their asteroid belt was increasing its fusion reactor. The fusion energy production exceeded the shielding. The station wasn’t built to move very far or fast, just stay in the asteroid belt, but now it was accelerating. Maybe the Terrans could at least save their research.
But no. The station wasn’t moving away from the attacking fleet. It was heading towards it.
Drak spun the display, and refocused on those tiny ships. They, too, were heading towards the fleet. But even if the humans were trying to use them as projectiles, the fleet could easily shoot them down.
The station detonated. The feed from the Sol probe cut out. The last few seconds of data showed that the fusion reactor in the station had overloaded, creating a shockwave of EM radiation. The probe would be blind, as would the sensors on the Ramian fleet. No escape pods had been launched. The Terran scientists had sacrificed themselves.
It took several minutes for the feed from the probe to come back at all, and even longer for a usable signal to be received. The probe kept reporting radiological signals, and had to reset itself.
The feed resolved, and the scene was astonishing. The attacking fleet was decimated. The huge capital ships of the vanguard had enormous chunks blown out of them. Smaller ships were just floating debris and superheated gas. As the crew watched, silent, one of those tiny vessels the Terrans had launched flew itself directly into one the remaining ships and detonated, vaporising one side of the ship. The radiological alarm beeped.
Those tiny vessels. They were fusion reactors, set to overload? That seemed like madness. But you couldn’t deny their effectiveness.
More activity on the surface of Terra. Ships were launching. These were larger ships, enough for a full crew. Drak knew that the Terrans had warships, but they rarely used them.
It was barely a fight. The Terran ships flew with absolute precision, working in unison to cut apart any of the invading fleet that remained a threat.
Drak felt a chill. The Terrans had helped nearly every species in the galaxy, and shown nothing but friendship. Seeing them display such skill at warfare and destruction was unsettling.
Drak signaled the fleet to slow down to a safer speed. Clearly the Terrans could handle themselves.
*shout out to /r/hfy for the ideas!* | "Seven years ago, your kind saved this planet from itself, and for that I thank you. However, you come to us asking for help from an unknown threat, and you expect us to help you? How can we defend against the unknown?"
"Er... All due respect Lord Dreknell, the threat is known and documented. For the past three months our supply ships have been attacked by a new alien. They call themselves the Fayren. At the site of every attack, there is nothing left. All that remains is the empty void of space. They have weapons that surpass even ours. We are in desperate need of your help," the human ambassador to the Unum said. "All we ask is that you look back upon all the times we helped you, and help us in return."
There were conversation was being repeated hundreds of times to different species across the galaxy.
"Ladies and gentlemen, kings and queens, emperors and empresses, I am sure that you know why you are all here. We humans have been under attack for months by a new alien, the Fayren. The Fayren are a highly advanced species; They have attacked our vessels and left no trace. All we know of them is that they are part of a massive empire; Their empire numbers close to three trillion Fay. They are located near the Perseus arm of our Milky Way. Use small, elite strike teams with your most advanced weaponry. Good luck and godspeed," General Talcomb finished his address to the members of the newly named "Save Earth" Initiative, and walked out.
"General, you have one Lord Dreknell on line 3," one of the General's numerous secretary's said.
"This is Talcomb, what is so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow? It's three in the goddamn morning Dreknell, shouldn't you be off fighting the Fayren?"
"General I am only calling you so this message can be passed on to your superiors," Dreknell intoned.
"What message?"
"The Fayren have been eradicated and exiled from the Milky Way. They are no longer a threat to you. The largest contributors to this cause were, the Unum of course. I expect that we shall be rewarded?"
"You'll get a reward if you bring me back their weaponry to study. If this war was over so quickly, I can only imagine the next one would go faster if we had some of their tech..."
"Whatever you need General..." Dreknell laughed maliciously.
"All units open fire on 'Earth base' on my mark. 3, 2, -" Dreknell's ship was blown into oblivion by the returning Albeq cruisers.
"General, about the Fayren," the Albeq leader said nervously. | 2017-03-26T09:32:28 | 2017-03-26T08:45:12 | 36 | 16 |
[WP] Vampires cannot enter a house uninvited. Turns out, they invented Welcome mats to bypass this rule decades ago. | Once again, was I sitting there in the darkness. Hungry. Starving. The gossip was going around faster than my non-existing blood flow,. The mortals knew there were shady "people" around who would knock on the door with some poor excuse to try and enter the residence. Some lousy new-blood was captured and tortured for the secret of our brethren. The only way you could get work on the farms was if you were able to enter the house on the land. People were catching up, and more of our brethren were captured and executed. We needed to do something, so I started thinking while my stomach growled, echoing off of the walls. I needed to get invited in to be able to enter a house, that was the curse "Mr. Dest" cast upon us when he created us. The vampires don't like to write the history down, most of us can't even read or write, we are still doing it the old fashioned way. That means searching for any kind of rule book is out of the question. Once I get invited in though, I can freely walk in forever thats a fact. "I wonder if animals can invite us inside?" I muttered to myself before falling into laughter. "I wonder why we can enter businesses and establishments but not personal homes" I thought to myself before loudly yelling "Aha!". I started connecting the dots. All stores in town have a wooden sign that says "Welcome" or something in that variant. "I wonder..." I thought before rushing outside with the biggest grin on my face.
I had to test this! No way it could be this simple. It couldn't be, right? I ran straight towards the salesman of the town, he was a human but he was an ally, getting paid by the vampires for insider information. He didn't care much about us, his eyes only saw gold. In a way we weren't that much different, he would hurt and scam people for gold, we would hurt people for blood. Ah blood, just the thought of it makes me go mad.
I arrived at the store of the salesman. "Hiya, Darren!" I said as my eyes suddenly locked on that one particular blue vein that was sticking out in his neck as if it was the head of a deer that just heard something making a noise in the woods. "You up for making some gold?" I asked while scanning through his items, "Im looking for something people in the town all need. Something like a rocking chair for a porch, or someth..." I didn't even finish my sentence, because I had found it. I pointed my finger at the pile of empty brown doormats. "PERFECT" I grasped out of happiness. "Whats with the strange behaviour?" said Darren. I looked at him like I could murder him at that instance. I want you to paint all these mats with the word "Welcome", use white paint so it's easy to read and make the letters big. I threw a bag of gold on the counter and started waiting.
An hour later he was done, still with a question mark on his face. "I still don't understand why you wanted me to do this." he said as he sighed out of relief that he was done. "Shhhh, no questions" I say as I giggle like a little school girl while cracking my fingers. "Any customers who come in, try to sell them mats for a cheap price, you better get a list of the persons names who buy them and more of those bags will appear" He obeyed like the good little human he was.
The following day I went back there, feeling as ill as a dog who didn't eat anything for weeks. As if maggots were eating me from the inside out, the pain was unbearable. "Got the list for you, we sold out all of them". That gave me an adrenaline rush, as if I was a mortal kid again who just found a toy collection. I rushed out of there and checked the first name on the list. As it was a small town, everyone knew each other by name so that shouldn't be a problem. He lived fairly close so I rushed there. I noticed the welcome mat, even went up and stood on it, knocking on the door at the same time. "Hiya! James" I said. "I was close and was pretty thirsty, mind if I come in for a glass of water?". He opened the door but didn't invite me in, he waited for me to enter. I slowly lifted my foot and tried to step inside, and it worked. "IT WORKED!" I thought to myself. Making it hard for me not to laugh maniacally.
It worked | John Dongle stares out of a highrise, '*Huh, it's a full moon tonight.* He thought quietly to himself.
"How can we increase sale!?!" shouted Joana in a horrible shrill.
Silence quickly returned, engulfing the seminar room.
"We have other products to worry about." Milton's curt response, in his awfully familiar monotone voice, failed to aid their situation.
"This is serious." John Dongle replied.
Milton rolled his eyes "You are all too picky, too lazy or too cheap. There is always quality blood at the red cross, stalking prey at night is ***not*** hard, and there are plenty of people who still *have* mats."
Joanna, and half of the other the members blushed in embarrassment, refusing to meet his blank expression that after such a condescending response. The rest looked at him with spite, but could think of no response.
John Dongle turned to look at his subordinates and met Milton's gaze with the up most disappointment "Are you saying you you are incapable of increasing sales? If so, you should leave right now."
Milton, got up and began to leave "It's not worth our time, if you can't listen to reason then fire me. You have no legal right to keep me here and I will not quit."
He stopped, and in a seemingly patronizing voice he bowed and said "Good night, my king."
John Dongle yelled "***YOU HAVE NOTHING SO YOU QUIT!?! WE WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND MAKE YOU SUFFER!!!***" It echoed through the building, the yell reverberating through each and everyone of them.
Milton stood, expressionless, genuinely considering whether John Dongle was being sincere. It was definitely out of character. Milton could not conceive of how a vampire could be so human. Alas, he new he had to go with the safest option. took off his coat, hung it and sat back down very robotic like.
The room was tense, no one said a word. Milton sat there, thinking. Everyone was locked on either Milton or John Dongle. Only Joana was switching between staring at Milton or watching John Dongle carefully.
"Well, what if we gave them out for free." his monotone response provided release from the tension of John Dongles threat and their situation but his blasé manner further infuriated everyone.
John Dongle laughed, "You should be the King of the Night."
Milton smiled, in what could only be described as a warm smile. Yet, this was the first time anyone of them had seen ***it*** smile. The temperature dropped, goosebumps, and then Milton responded cheerfully "Anytime Johnathan, anytime." | 2017-12-13T11:01:40 | 2017-12-13T10:19:27 | 170 | 10 |
[WP] In the future, a war erupts between humans and aliens called the Enslavers. With their psionic abilities, they take control of all intelligent beings sent against them. But now, humans are the first species with mental health problems they've come across... | Xelok't, Commander of the 43rd Invasion Fleet, had a headache.
Enslavers normally do not get headaches. That particular physical response was an undesirable trait long ago bred out of the Enslavers' gene pool. Yet, now, faced with perhaps the downfall of his own species and his own failure as a Commander, Xelok't had a headache.
*Blast these humans!* Xelok't thought.
The invasion of this godforsaken world had started off as any other. The scout drone had reported back a world ripe for the taking. The intelligent species numbered in the billions, and we found evidence that they had landed on their singular moon. The gravity was significantly higher than the galactic standard, but that was of little importance. After all, we would be using their own ground troops against them!
We amassed a Fleet that we felt was sufficient to enslave this new race. Tens of thousands of ships, with a total of 3 billions slaveless Enslavers onboard, more than enough to control most, if not all, of the 8 billion soon-to-be laborers of the Great Galactic Empire. On his own flagship were the elite, the soldiers that could withstand dozens of minds at the same time.
Within two years of our first scout ship, we arrived at planet Earth, ready to once again establish the hierarchy of the galaxy.
Xelok't shivered as he remembered the moment when he gave the command to his soldiers.
"Brothers and sisters, it is time! Release your mind unto these beasts of burden, and destroy their minds! Conquer our enemies!"
He had been so confident. So trusting in his people's abilities. Oh how he was wrong.
After a few short seconds, millions of thought-voices started to cry out in pain, and soon that number became billions. He turned around to see his own personal elite creating vocal sounds that matched their mential anguish.
**ANGER! GRIEF!**
**JOY! EUPHORIC JOY!**
**TOO INTENSE! TOO INTENSE!**
Xelok't ran over to the nearest soldier, shaking him.
"Snap out of it, fool! What is wrong with you!" He had yelled.
"NO! STOP! LET ME STAY!" The soldier had yelled, struggling to keep a connection with the human world.
"Soldier!" Xelok't slapped him.
The soldier snapped the connection.
"Soldier, what happened? What is it?"
The soldier was visibly shaken, but gave his report.
"These HUMANS, sir! Th- they are too intense. They have depressions that are like the deepest chasm of our oceans, a-and that's just the normal human, I- I think. There are humans that feel ten times that, fr-from what I've felt. I feel li-like the whole species would have killed themselves were it not f-for the highest of highs that they feel. At this moment, I am connect to two humans who are copulating with each other. I am overloaded with their happiness, even at such a great distance. I- I - It's euphoric. It's nothing like I could describe to you. Sir, you need to connect! You must understand! These HUMANS! This SPECIES! They're wonderfully and laughably insane!
| Grappa ran to his ship's communications terminal, which was beeping erratically.
"Yes?" he answered after fiddling with some switches and knobs.
"Hey, Grappa?" a voice on the other side asked. "It's Jelka."
"Yes, Jelka," said Grappa. "What do you have to report?"
"Ah, not much, sir," answered Jelka nervously. "I think we should abort this invasion."
Grappa's three eyes widened. "Abort?" he yelled. "Did something go wrong? Have you been compromised?"
"No, it's not that," said Jelka softly. "I just don't want to do this anymore."
Grappa growled but otherwise didn't respond.
"Are you mad?" asked Jelka.
"I'm confused," said Grappa. "You were sent to Earth to take over. What happened?"
"Well, I scanned one of the humans. But afterwards, I just didn't feel like doing this anymore."
Grappa groaned again.
"Can I come home, *please?*"
---
Check out /r/MajorParadox for more stories. If you feel like it, I mean 😉 | 2016-03-11T08:53:18 | 2016-03-11T08:34:43 | 33 | 15 |
[WP] You have the power to heal mental illnesses. To do so, you enter the minds of others, where you and the illness fight in subconscious hand-to-hand combat. You've seen all the ugly faces of the major illnesses, and beaten them all, but today you encounter one you've never seen before. | There was nothing hiding in anyone's mind that couldn't be defeated. And I was the only one that could eradicate them all - I'd proven that, time and again.
Depression was a black and cloying fog, smothering everything in its path, that wanted nothing more than to seep back into the mind. Until I found the ways it used to sneak back in, and blocked the path. Anxiety managed to hook its claws into me from behind when I thought I'd ripped it apart. A sneaky one: the trick was to make it think it had won, and then overpower it. There was a young man I treated whose mind was filled with a calm, deadly desire to bring things to order. To put you in exactly the place it wanted. I destroyed it by fighting dirty, by using every nasty trick I had to repulse it into non-existence.
I was prepared when I dove inward, desperate to affirm that there would be nothing waiting for me. I'd been to scared to venture there for years, terrified that I've been as sick as my patients all along. Me, who had been born with a gift that made me special, that told me I had a unique role in the world. There *couldn't* be anything to fix down there.
I felt a staggering relief when I opened my eyes and saw only a projection of myself. Nothing horrifying lurking in the corners - the sickness I had fought all came in the shape of monsters. Shadows and decay, claws swiping from the dark. But this was just me, smiling gently. I took a step closer, delighted. I was so often faced with ugliness when diving into a mind. I should have known mine would be filled with beauty.
"Sam! I wondered when you'd come visit me," it said. "You look wonderful! What have you been up to?"
I touched its face, a stunning twin to my own. "I've been saving people. Wiping out the ugliness infecting them. Do you know I've developed a technique to fight their illnesses directly? I can uproot them in a single session! I'm really good at it, you know."
"Of course you are! You're the only one who can save them," it said, taking hold of my hands and laughing to reveal a perfect set of teeth. "You're like a god compared to them, you know that right?"
"Well, I don't..." I began, but it placed a finger on my lips and shook its head.
"Hush. I'm right, you know I am. I'm always right."
"Yes," I said, and looked around me. "I thought there might be something down here for me to fight, you know. I want to be perfectly healthy, treating my patients."
Its face darkened ever so slightly, its grip tightening on my wrist. The mouth twisted into a sneer, almost spoiling its beauty. "Of course you're healthy. Don't *ever* doubt yourself. It would hurt us, you know. It could kill you. Now get out of here, and go save those pathetic vermin you call your patients."
"That's a bit harsh, isn't it?" I laughed uneasily, but it didn't so much as smile in return.
"I'm right about them, as I am about you. You're above them. And you're above coming down here, thinking you're sick. Now tell me - what are you, Sam?"
"I'm perfect," I said, and it embraced me.
"You are. In fact, I think you can start charging those people more for the service you do them. What you're doing is nothing short of a miracle. You can charge them anything you want, ok? You're entitled."
I was shaken back to reality by the sound of a knock on the door. A teenage girl looked at me, her face seeming pinched and grey in the morning light.
"Sorry to disturb you, Doctor Larson," she said. "I'm here for my appointment. I - I've been having those thoughts again. About hurting myself."
I blinked, and smiled at her mistake. The depression couldn't be back, I'd killed it for good. I never made mistakes, it simply wasn't possible. This must be a different beast entirely: some delusion, no doubt, which had been hiding when I dealt with the depression. Perhaps schizophrenia.
"Come sit down, Annie," I said politely. "We'll get to the bottom of this. But first, I have to discuss a small matter. I've been reviewing the fees for my services, which I think is more than fair for what I provide. But don't worry - we'll have you feeling better soon. In fact, I don't think you have depression at all. We dealt with that. You'll be perfectly alright in no time, I'm sure."
-------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | We had just finished the breathing techniques that allowed to relaxed when I felt the psychic pull into her subconscious. Her mind looked like a serene Rocky Mountain Lake, like one Bob Ross would have painted. She had mentioned that watching his shows gave her some peace, so it would make sense that this is what her mind would choose to go to.
The place smelled odd. Something that most people forget is the power of smell to make us remember things. This particular smell though...made me think of alcohol and sweaty gym shoes. That didn't seem to fit with the painted mind setting, but I just chalked it up to repressed memories as those tend to come out in strange ways. I wandered out to the peer and saw that the lake was brushed over with a light fog. A mental block. This was either Alzheimer or a concussion. The way to get through this kind of block was to get something from the either side to break it. Not entirely sure why.
I thought of something that could lure something out and a fishing rod appeared in my hand. It already had a fish on the hook. I got comfortable and cast the line. Unfortunately now all I could do was wait til something broke through the wall or something else made itself known to me. Strangely I didn't have to wait long.
There was a loud pop, like a bathtub plug being lifted, and the fog grew to where it covered my head. Well, this is gonna be a tough fight if this much fog was released. But then I heard a strange British accent.
"What are you doing in my waters?"
The fog started to clear. I saw a strange scaly man-fish sitting next to me on the peer. It wore a pink tu-tu and a silver jacket. It's hair was seaweed and it had a black algae mustache.
"What are you?"
"I'm Old Gregg!" it shouted.
"I was searching for something on the other side of the lake." I had never seen anything like this before. It didn't seem too violent, so it probably wasn't the disease I was looking for. But It might know where the disaese might be.
"I know you were. The hook is stuck in my head."
"So it is...Can I ask--"
"What do you think of me?"
I was taken aback. I had dealt with narcissism before, but it never acted this fast.
"I don't think much of you right now."
"Do you love me?"
There is was.
"Never"
The creature stood and lifted the tu-tu. Brilliant light showed, nearly blinding me.
"I'm OLD GREGG!!!!"
I punched directly into the light and felt my fist hit squishy flesh. The creature vanished in a puff of mist and all was clear.
The mind had become a completed painting and there was life. The smell changed as well. Now it smelled like cheap air freshener and bacon. Definitely a healthy mind now. | 2017-04-24T23:58:28 | 2017-04-24T22:29:24 | 1,859 | 28 |
[WP] After too many ridiculous and lengthy lawsuits dominate the world's courts, the world leaders decided to pass a law to remove all warning labels. The Darwin Act has just been passed. | It didn't go as we predicted really. Don't get me wrong, it was really well thought out. The logic was sound. If we removed the warning labels on products, of course we would see a spike in accidental deaths, but the deaths would be beneficial because we would end the propagation of stupid people. And since no one wanted to admit they were stupid, the law passed with little push back from the opposition. The plan was easy, unopposed and everyone secretly rejoiced over finally being rid of their idiot boss, co-worker, spouse, etc.
So we removed every posted speed limit, height restriction, hot warning label, trespassing sign. If it was a warning, it was gone.
Except, well, the idiots didn't die.
That's the thing about stupid people. Stupid people are incredibly lucky. That's why you run into so many of them during the day. They don't die. Not in large enough numbers to make any sort of difference.
I've seen them. The ones that are supposed to die. They ride in cabs of trucks on highways holding on to mattresses, or record themselves breaking into zoo enclosures to slap a crocodile. And they live. They get away with it because the smart ones give them a wide berth. We are too smart for our own good and we want to preserve our own lives by not ramming our trucks into them and potentially killing ourselves in the culling process.
Then the police started giving up. They viewed every idiot maneuver and broken law as a way of enforcing Darwin's Law. If they interceded then they'd be acting as the very warning we worked to remove. The police couldn't stop people from doing stupid things, and we also didn't make it legal for them to shoot the idiots when they were acting dumb.
Soon after that we saw strength in numbers. The idiots would encourage one another to perform more and more dangerous and stupid stunts. The dumb ones banded together to get away with everything they could. They'd sue homeowners for stopping them from doing parkour off the roof of their homes at all hours of the night under the guise of infringing on their "right to be dumb."
We saw huge casualties in our side. Smart pedestrians were getting blown apart by worn car tires and texting drivers. Children were dying imitating stunts seen online. Reasonably educated people were dying left and right as idiots attempted their own home repairs, only to be crushed by garage doors and burn to death by faulty wiring caused by their dumb spouse. No one thought to question whether the loves of their lives would be classified as "dense," and if they might be the victim of that stupidity.
We saw a spike in organ donations. The smart that died at the hands of the idiots were essentially harvested to replace the parts of themselves that the idiots had destroyed. A 40-day drinking binge as part of a YouTube challenge could be negated with a brand new liver courtesy of Linda Hall, who died in hospital after her husband locked her in a deep freeze for 20 minutes as a joke.
Then the baby boom happened. These idiots lost all sense of shame. They'd sit with enormous dildos crammed up their backsides and laugh loudly in hospital waiting rooms about their situation, and wouldn't you know it, but some other idiot with four tampons lodged inside her would find this man's exhibitionism and outgoing nature completely endearing. They'd have to have about 9 kids to ensure one made it to adulthood, but the baby industry sure does well for those first 4 weeks of each child's life.
And now, now the smart ones are mostly gone. The idiots have filled in gaps in the workforce and they're occupying places of monumental responsibility and power. The nurses and doctors are killing the smart ones as they come in for basic medical attention. The idiots don't need doctors much because they know their organs are in good shape, and because they're stupid enough to set their own bones and sew their own stitches.
And today the dummies in charge voted to keep Darwin's Law in place. I can't believe these idiots outsmarted us all.
| After ten years abroad, I returned home to the United States. I had heard strange rumors flitting about now and again, but how much of it was true i could only speculate. It had been about 13 years since the land of my birth had seceded from the global economy, isolating and insulating, after the events of the Long Spring.
I stood awkwardly in my airport terminal waiting for my flight, having unconsciously panicked and departed some five hours early for my flight. I thought about home and I shuddered in a giddy uncertain apprehension.
The flight lasted three hours. I did not speak, burying myself in a novel I had intended to read since my second year of university. I was now thirty five.
When my feet touched the hallowed soil of that nation, known in times long past as the birthplace of freedom, the haven for hypocrisy, the defender of those who shall inherit the Earth, the meek, the land of interventionists and bigots, I could not stop the slight curling of my lip, whether in disdain or in a certain patriotic remembrance of a golden age long revealed to be merely gilded, I suppose it is not my right to know. I hailed a taxi and requested that I be delivered to my ancestral home. As we drove I took stock. I saw drivers, mine included, careening through intersections next to which, in other nations, stop lights would have dictated their right to proceed. It was true then. The Darwin Acts. Papers had been published throughout the world on the strange, far right, anti-coddling phase it seemed the US was going through. My nation was mocked and derided throughout Europe for it. I personally had no grounds to argue in its favor. It had claimed the lives of childhood friends, those I relied on to get me through to my adulthood, at this point consisting of half-read novels, iron-burned shirts, and unemployment. I was, suffice to say, not a fan.
Having arrived at the home of my fathers, a small and somewhat decrepit home falling into disrepair, I paid my driver. He looked strange, pale, his hands bony and scarred. I entered my home, bidding him good day.
| 2017-03-24T04:44:44 | 2017-03-24T02:55:36 | 41 | 15 |
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