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[WP] You give your significant other a bundle of roses with a fake one nestled inside, and tell them you'll be with them until the last one withers. Little did you know this made you both immortal... as long as you stay together. | "I'm so tired," you say. "We've lived so long."
Jasmine rolls over in bed and looks softly into your eyes. "Me too. But I still love you."
"So do I," you reassure her. "It's just... everything around us is dying. There are hurricanes ripping apart the southern streets we walked. Fires are destroying the forests we once explored. A madman is goading on a nuclear attack that would decimate the cherry blossoms we once kissed beneath. And here? The cold is already setting in this September. I fear this year's winter will be so deep that spring will never reach us again."
"Shhhh. That last part is a bit dramatic. We've been through worse. This is nothing. Do you remember the Black Plague? The World Wars? We have survived worse, Jack." She smiled in that soothing way she had, as though the dawn could peek from her lips and shine from her eyes.
"Yes, and uneducated fools may as well invite the plague back, since they're letting it hold their childrens' hands. World War III is just around the corner. Jasmine, I don't want to watch the world die," you say. More words catch in your throat, and if you say them, the tears will escape.
"Do you want to go?" She asks. You nod solemnly. "I see."
She slides out from under the sheets, slipping her slippers on to avoid the cool, wooden floor. She walks to the fireplace and stirs the old embers from the night before into life. You both still love the smell of burning wood and couldn't live in a house that warmed itself with electrical currents or water.
"Do you remember that musical we saw?" She asks as she puts more wood into the fireplace. "There have been so many, I forget what it was called. I just remember the girl singing, 'Anywhere you go, let me go too. That's all I ask of you.'"
"I remember," you say. Your eyes are drawn to the the bedside table. It holds several books, an alarm clock, and a vase with a wooden rose in it. The rose had been carved by you a long, long time ago. A time much simpler, where a young man pursued a sweet girl. A time where romance thrived and promises were kept. A time where a bouquet of flowers won a heart. *I'll love you until the last rose withers and dies.*
You take the wooden flower in your hand and go to your wife. She covers your hand in hers and whispers, "Together."
There is a bit of fear in her smile now, turning the dawn to dusk. But you know that dusk means that there will soon be stars.
Together, you drop the rose into the flames and watch it wither and die.
| "I don't want to do this anymore, Becca. Is it really worth all this?" I pull against the restraints. This time she's bolted the manacles into the concrete wall of the basement instead of around the frame of the bed.
She glares at me and sets a cookie sheet in front of me. There's a plate on it with a half-burned slice of toast, dry scrambled eggs, and a cup of orange juice. She never could cook but I had always eaten what she prepared out of love. When there had been love.
She brushes crumbs from her blouse and fiddles with her hair. "You started this, Danny. You bought that rose, you brought this on yourself."
With that she turns and heads back up the stairs, pausing to turn on the TV across the room and crank up the volume. Minutes later I can faintly hear her car start; she's leaving for work. The chain connected to the iron rings around my wrists is just long enough for me to reach the edge of the makeshift tray and tug it towards myself. Damn, she gave me a plastic fork instead of actual silverware. I guess she learned her lesson last time when I utilized the metal fork in my escape attempt.
I've spent six years locked up in her house. I'd started out held captive in the guest bedroom. After I managed to break the window and set a fire to try and get someone's attention, she crushed a sleeping pill in my drink and moved me to the basement while I was out. I don't know how long she plans to keep me like this. There's a bucket for my waste next to the bed but it reeks, and I've lost at least thirty pounds from her cooking now that she's stopped ordering delivery for me. I guess I shouldn't have screamed for help when I heard the pizza guy at the door. I know I'm stronger than her - at least I was in the beginning - but I underestimated the power of crazy.
All because of a stupid silk rose, I've become a prisoner. I'd thought it romantic at the time; an arrangement of beautiful roses in a variety of colors, with a single fake red rose in the center. I told her that I'd be with her until the last rose died. Initially she'd felt a little insulted, her brow furrowing and her sweet button nose wrinkling. Then with a laugh she brushed her fingers across the silk petals of the middle rose and turned to cover my face in kisses.
That was seventeen years ago. Neither of us could have predicted the impact my words would have, and what they would cost us. It took a few years for us to realize something was wrong, and another couple to attribute it to the rose. We weren't aging. Becca was ecstatic, she'd always been a little vain and was terrified of getting old. But a sick feeling blossomed in my stomach that day, and only grew as time went on.
Her vanity increased exponentially. All her humility vanished. I watched the love of my life change into a grotesque parody of herself. She always wanted to go out to bars and shamelessly flirted with other men in front of me, then pretend it was my fault for not giving her enough attention. So I left her, and moved into a new apartment across town.
After a week of separation she'd begun leaving me dozens of voicemails a day, screaming about new wrinkles and demanding I come back to her. I blocked her number. A month later Becca waited for me at my work and managed to follow me home without catching my attention. I found out later, after she broke the sliding glass door to my bedroom and ordered me into her car with a gun I didn't know she owned.
Somehow the vow I made all those years ago didn't take my feelings into account. As long as I was WITH her, we were immortal. I think immortality has driven her insane. I've thought of starving myself to death just to escape, but I'm afraid that even then I may not die. The idea of becoming a pile of skin and bones too weak to move a single finger is enough to keep me eating, at least for now.
After I finish choking down the eggs, I stare at the plastic fork. I experimentally rub the end against the rough concrete wall. It begins to file down to a point. I repeat this on the other side then slide the fork under the band of my pajama pants. I'm not sure what good it will do me, but I still have to try. Forever is too long a sentence to face. | 2017-09-08T08:32:36 | 2017-09-08T07:48:31 | 55 | 22 |
[WP] You are Low-Key, the Norse God of really subtle mischief. | A smile creaked across my face as I heard a dull thud.
"WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?!" boomed from the living room. I only wish I could have seen it first hand, but my hidden sanctuary behind the closet doors kept my presence concealed. They'll never know that their furniture had been slowly moved, inch by inch, to the left.
"Behold the wrath of Low Key," I softly spoke as I vanished into thin air, off to the neighbor's house to replace their ground beef with ground turkey. | Subtlety is a precise art. While my brothers and sisters can do things like hurl lightning around to fill their daily quota of godly actions, I needed to be precise. Too much mischief and all of a sudden I have Loki breathing down my back. Too little and folks wouldn't be aware of my divine intervention.
I sighed, leaning back into my throne, a frown on my face. Yesterday I had scored high marks with Odin by turning all of the spoons to forks during the harvest festival. The stew course had been THOROUGHLY INCONVENIENCED by my works.
But a new day brought the need for new action lest the folk below forget the Gods.
After a minute of contemplation, I was interrupted by Loki. He slinked in, a malevolent grin on his face. "What's wrong little brother? Having trouble with your little games?"
Man, I hated this guy. Class A douchebag. Never got why Thor liked romping around with him. He hadn't remembered a single birthday in a millennia. Just an all around negative presence.
I glare at him, annoyed at the interruption. "Listen, I'm sure it's all fun and games causing a fire and burning a village down, but I'm trying to bring a little nuance into the world."
"What if we did something...together?" Loki leaned forward, a sly grin spreading across his features.
"That doesn't make any sense Loki! How in the name of Valhalla is the god of mischief supposed to work with the god of subtle mischief? It's just going to confuse people."
"Have a little faith brother, you're creative. You can figure it out." With a giggle he danced back a few steps, turned on his heel and strolled out of the room.
Frazzled, I run a hand through my glorious white mane of hair. I was tired of Loki coming in and upsetting the apple cart. Always getting the attention, always taking the lead.
I mulled over his words, thinking about the prospect of us teaming up. It was preposterous on its face, but maybe...maybe there was something there. After a few seconds of reflection, a giant grin spread across my face. An answer to my problems.
We would work together all right. But this time, there would be no mischief. There would be only subtle mischief.
| 2018-01-27T22:00:48 | 2018-01-27T20:53:05 | 1,893 | 49 |
[WP] You're a woman during the Salem witch trials, who's been sentenced to burn at the stake after being accused of being a witch. After the townspeople set fire under your feet and you prepare for your impending death, clouds start to form and rain puts the fire out. Huh. You just might be one. | The townspeople cheered as the flames licked higher up her legs. The entire town had turned out for the burning of the Witch Mary Madison. Old women cackled along with the crackle of burning wood as small children ran through.the crowd, giggling and yelling. The fire roared upwards, Mary's face lit from beneath. The Priest stepped closer, spittle flying from his mouth as he bellowed his sermon from the cracked leather book in his hands. He pointed at Mary as he screamed of the eternal flames that awaited her on the other side.
Mary winked.
Clouds formed in the sky above, huge grey swathes that rolled in at speed. Soon the sky was a uniform shadow and a rumble of thunder echoed over the gathering. The rain when it flooded down was ice cold. The fire sizzled and died in seconds. The congregation muttered amongst themselves, clutching now silent children to their skirts. The Priest turned to calm the turning crowd when a scream rang out from Eleanor Perkins, her outstretched hand pointing behind him. He turned to see Mary stepping out from the now sodden pile of wood, the ropes slithering off her in the form of jet black snakes that disappeared in the crowd. One remained, coiled around Mary's arm and she raised it to her lips, gently kissing its scaled snout. She turned to the trembling crowd.
"One thing never made sense to me", she announced and her voice was the smooth velvet of a poisoned ale. "You are all deathly afraid of Witches. Of their magic. Of their connection to the Devil himself".
She rolled her eyes and walked up to the Priest, dropping her serpentine companion upon the open pages of his holy text.
"So you hunt them down. Burn them alive. And consider it a job well done." She threw her arms out wild and her hair rose in the air around her, as if lightning would imminently strike where she stood. "But if they were witches, then why wouldn't they use that magic to stop you? Hmmm? Do you think your pitchforks stronger than witchcraft?".
Mary extended a hand and to shocked gasps, picked up the small girl who skipped towards her. Mary brushed her mousy brown hair from her forehead and smiled at the child, who grinned back and wrapped her arms around Mary's neck.
"So what you backward god fearing animals have been doing is brutally murdering innocent women. Melting the flesh from young girls bones so the good Father can feel dominant even if he is forbidden from taking from them in other ways. And so good people of Salem, I come here as a representation of true Witches and we are very angry".
She hefted the girl higher on her hip and gestured, raising her head to the sky as the rain grew warm and crimson. The little grew clapped her hands and giggled as Mary walked away with her.
Behind her, in the deluge of offal, the first screams began.
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r/AMSWrites
| Sarah was just as surprised as the rest of them.
She looked up as the rain poured down, washing the tears and sweat and terror from her face. The water turned her bright red hair into dark strands that stuck to her dress.
The flames which, seconds before, were licking at her feet were gone. In their place, a billow of white smoke and steam rose from the bundles of kindling past her shoes, which now bore light streaks of char.
The crowd had gone silent, from screaming with bloodlust to staring in awe. The only sounds in the town square were the beating of the rain and the hiss of the doused flames. The mayor, who both sentenced her to death and lit the flames, climbed up next to her.
“It’s a sign from God,” he told her quietly, then louder to the villagers, “God has spared young Sarah! Praise be to Him!”
He cut her bindings, freeing her hands. Sarah stepped down into the muddy grass, and the nearest villagers stepped back. The one who didn’t was the priest, the old man of the local parish.
“Be ye warned, Sarah Nowell,” he said, a snarl curling at his upper lip, “Stay ye on the righteous path, for God, in His wisdom, will not offer respite twice.”
Sarah nodded. She didn’t speak. She just wanted to get away, to get back to the safety of her family’s farm, several hundred yards outside the village. She took a few hesitating steps, and the dumbstruck villagers cleared a path. She stepped through and headed out of the square.
Nobody followed.
It wasn’t until she was almost out of the village, with the rain fading away, that she heard another’s footsteps on the stones and mud of the street. She looked back and saw him, the clocksmith. The older gentleman, wisps of white hair poking out underneath his tri-corner hat, jogged to catch up to her.
“What do you want?” she called when he got about 10 paces away.
“You need to come with me,” he replied. “It’s no longer safe for you here.”
“I don’t need anyone to save me.”
“You just did back in the square,” the clocksmith said, coming to a stop next to her. “I saved you.”
“God saved me,” she said with a furrow of her brow. “The rain saved me.”
“I saved you.”
He stepped closer and grabbed her arm, looking around before speaking again.
“I’m a sorcerer. I’ve been watching you for a while now.”
Sarah pulled her arm out of his grip and backed away. A quick glance down the street confirmed that they were alone.
“You’ve been watching me?”
“Protecting you.”
He took a step closer. She took two steps back and felt the wall of the bakery behind her.
“Protecting me from what? And how?”
He stopped advancing and cocked his head, confused that she didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Protecting you from those around you. I caused seizures in your classmates when they bullied you. I withered your neighbors’ crops so your father’s farm would flourish. I gathered the rain to save from the stake back there.”
Now it was Sarah’s turn to advance, pushing off from the wall and waving a finger in the clocksmith’s face.
“You saved me? You’re the reason I was on that stake! How do you think these people see me when everyone around me suffers? They see me as a witch!”
“But I saved you,” he said in confusion.
“The only thing you can do to save me is to leave me alone.”
In a second, the clocksmith’s countenance went from surprised and hurt to angry. He advanced and grabbed her arm again.
“No,” he growled, pulling at her. “You need to come with me.”
“Why?”
“A sorcerer has to pass his powers on, and you’re the closest thing to a witch this Godforsaken village has.”
She hit him, hard, a reaction more than a premeditated event. In his momentary shock, she wrenched her arm out of his grasp and began running. She looked back after several strides and saw the clocksmith slide a wand out from under his cloak. A jolt of fear spurred her to run faster.
She sprinted onto the path into the forest, clutching her dress to keep it from holding her back. An unnatural wind began to blow the branches around her, and she could hear a voice calling her name in the distance behind her.
If she could make it to the farm, she might be all right. Her father had refused to witness her execution and stayed at the house, but it wasn’t him she needed. She needed the wand hidden in her wardrobe. She’d never used it before, but if there was ever a time to find out just what kind of witch she could be, it was now.
| 2018-07-04T15:05:10 | 2018-07-04T14:34:32 | 39 | 23 |
[WP] Every species in the galaxy is assigned a danger level, between 1 and 10. Level 1 are species that cannot hurt you and would not try to hurt you. Level 10 are species that can rip you apart at the slightest provocation. Humans are a level 11 species. | "Humans are the only species in existence to break the traditionally know Limit of Violence, being the only Class 11 race" I began, lecturing my Intergalactic Biology 101 class. "However, physically speaking, they are generally as strong as a Class 6 to Class 8, depending on personal preference of lifestyle, and several *behave* as if they were Class 1." Several thoughtful looks formed among my students, always a good sign. "Is anyone able to tell me why Humans are Class 11?"
No one was immediately ready to answer the question, which was again a good sign. It means they are thinking and carefully processing.
"Is it because of their various styles of combat?" Toyg, one of my Relintian students, asked.
I shook my head. "No, but that is a good guess. If it were that, and every human partook in combat training, they would be Class 8, probably 9 if you factored their military armaments. No, it's because of something their bodies produce, chemical compound C9H13NO3. Can anyone tell me what that is ?" Good, the spark of realization in their eyes.
Fendo, another of my Relintian students, raised a padded tentacle slowly, which I of course gestured to. "It's called *adrenaline*, and is a highly expensive drug used by most races to artificially boost their Limit of Violence by a factor of *four*..." Fendo started to trail off, understandably so.
"That is correct, Fendo," I answered, nodding to his direction. Cracking my sore back against my chair, I continued. "Humans produce this substance naturally, but the most surprising aspect about adrenaline is that nearly every animal that I can think of from Earth also produces this compound. Most omnivores and carnivores of the planet would place Class 11 if they had the same intellect as Humanity."
Every year I wait for this day, just to see the scared look on my students faces.
"Professor Henderson... sir?" Ogetu, I think that was. Insect-like species she is, easily from one of the most powerful species present.
"Yes," I started, already answering the question, "I naturally produce adrenaline." God I love teaching here. | Gerzert had always been a bit of a thrill seeker, according to his colleagues anyway, but either way he was truly fascinated by the reports about the incredibly dangerous blue planet he now parked in orbit above. He was just about to start a visual scan when the alarm for an impending collision began blaring. No big deal, the ship was in automatic mode and could move out of the way on its own, but the shipboard computer flashed a second warning, the collision would be unavoidable. Surprised, he shot a glance through the window, he could hardly believe his eyes at the size of the thing barreling towards his craft. It was mostly cylindrical with two enormous rectangular attachments on each of its sides they almost looked like archaic solar energy gathering panels. But there was no time to ponder, he quickly attempted to hail the fast approaching vessel but no response came. Out of desperation Gerzert pushed the throttle all the way forward in a feeble attempt to dodge it, but the giant craft slammed into his ship, hard. He was thrown against a wall in his ship and everything went fuzzy for a while, he heard distant alarms and orange warning lights hazily flashing somewhere far off. Slowly his head started to clear and he realized his ship was falling towards the planet that no other being in the universe dared to step foot on, let alone make contact with.
The fail-safe landing apparatus deployed and barely managed to slow the ship enough to hit the ground at an awkward angle. The power went out and Gerzert was left bruised and sore in his dead craft. He lay there for a moment contemplating what to do when he heard a jarring scraping noise on the remains of the hull. From the cracked cockpit window he saw a creature attempting to climb over the ship. The thing was about the size of his own pet derglerod (which came up to his waist) it was black and had six legs. In it's mouth it carried a large chuck of... possibly plant matter? in it's mandibles. Luckily the thing simply wandered around his ship and continued along with its heavy load. How could such a beast carry that much weight? Gerzert pondered what to do next and decided the only thing to do was carefully explore while the ship's auto-repair attempted to make the craft space worthy again. He donned the highly specialized suit for hazardous environments and exited.
The environment of this planet was extremely hostile, long tall stalks of spiked green plant life grew densely all around him. He attempted to climb one of them to get a better view but the fierce winds were too much. He stayed on the relative safety of the rocky ground. He spotted another six legged beast carrying an even heavier load than the last one, it trudged past without noticing Gerzert, thankfully. Suddenly he heard a loud bellowing noise from somewhere far above him, he squinted his three eyes and tried to peer up through the dense forest and that's when he saw it. An impossibly colossal creature towered above, it hadn't seemed to notice Gerzert and was looking the other way, almost like it was anticipating something. It called something out in it's booming native dialect, his helmets translating software echoed the words in his own language, "throw the ball already!" the ground shook as the giant moved just a few steps backward... toward Gerzert's ship! "It got it! I got it!" The translator picked up. Panicking he ran toward his only means of escape, but it was too late, the giant's foot crushed the ship like an egg shell. Gerzert despaired, falling to his knees. He looked up, only to see the huge monster turning to inspect what it had stepped on, only to bring down one of its massive feet on Gerzert.
\-
"Ouch!" winced Bobby as the baseball hit him. He had been caught off guard when he'd stepped on something that crunched. The other boys laughed. Bobby looked down and saw a what looked like a little toy space ship smashed into the ground. "Come on Bobby! we're up to bat next!" One of the boys called, he shrugged and ran to the dugout, forgetting about the toy. | 2018-07-12T06:16:09 | 2018-07-12T05:49:37 | 298 | 37 |
[WP] A tiny duckling imprints on a giant, fire-breathing dragon, which now feels the urge to care for the adorable little quacker. | The world lived in fear of ducks. Entire cities engulfed in flames with no reason or explaination at first but then reports of a dragon started to trickle out to the countryside.
As time went on word came from survivors that a duck had wandered into the village where it was barked at by a dog. This brought an inferno down upon the city.
And it was an ordinary duck. Nobody knew what duck it was that was able to summon the dragon. Some thought that all ducks should just be killed but others thought that would bring about the apocalypse if the wrong one was killed. Finally it was agreed that for a while all ducks needed to be treated well just in case it happened to be the duck that summoned the dragon when it was in danger.
And that is why ducks are so protected by law. Because somewhere out there is a duck able to end the world just because a dog barked at it. | Areinea was happily curled on her new found treasure, in her new lair, having only a few hours ago relinquished it from its former owners, a king of some kind or another. She quite liked the castle and was quite happy with it. Besides it included a good amount of gold as well as the bodies of the people she took it from for later snacks.
She had just finished a small snack that consisted of the princess of the kingdom when she noticed it. A small white egg lay where she had swiped the princess from. But humans didn't lay eggs right? She didn't think so anyway. She was still a young dragon, only 400, but she felt sure of that. She peered at the egg curiously. She was just considering eating it when the tapping began. A light noise that had her tilting her head to listen closer. It continued for several minutes as cracks began appearing on the egg. Finally a small yellow head poked out. She blinked at it. She blinked again.
It was a duck. Why was there a duck?
As she watched, the tiny creature freed itself of its fragile prison. Now free the duck turned to her. It looked at her. She looked back. It quacked, she blinked. It waddled forward, startled at why the duck would go towards the giant fire breathing dragon, she let it.
The duck waddled up to her and then quacked again. She lowered her giant head until it was resting on the floor as she looked down at the furry yellow creature.
It nuzzled her and she blinked a few more times in confusion. She seemed to be doing that a lot today. She felt sure the thing couldn't talk so she didn't bother ask it what the hell it thought it was doing. Instead she moved her tail to swipe the little thing away. At the last second though she changed her mind. The duckling wasn't necessarily causing any problems, maybe she should let it live. Deciding that yes she would let it live until it became an annoyance she curled back onto her giant pile of gold. She heard the padding of its webbed feet over the giant pile of gold. The she felt it climbing onto her head and finally stopping on her nose. Opening her eyes she watched at the creature curled itself happily on her nose. She huffed and a trail of smoke can from her nostrils. It didn't move. She shrugged, or well the dragon equivalent of a shrug, before settling down to sleep, she eagerly awaited the first knight that would attempt to come to the rescue of the kingdom.
AN: Sorry about any spelling and grammatical errors, hoped you liked it. Part 2 to come later. | 2018-09-16T17:17:14 | 2018-09-16T17:02:29 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] Everytime you think of a funny joke, this girl in your class always laughs, you chalk it up to coincidence but you think to yourself, "If you can read my mind, slap the table three times" the the girl looks over at you, stares right into your eyes, and slowly slaps the table three times.
Edit - Wow we made the front page, thank you for everyone that replied with their stories, I have had a lot of fun reading them all!!!
Edit 2- thank you kind stranger for my first gold!!!
Edit 3- 2 Gold's!!! Holy Shit, I honestly thought this post wasn't going to go anywhere but now it is my most upvoted post ever by far, and 2 Gold's Jesus Christ. Thank you again everyone that commented, upvoted and gifted the gold you are all special to me! 👌👌👌👌
| 'If you can read my mind, slap the table three times.' I think and the girl looks over at me, then slowly, and very deliberately slaps the table. Once. Twice. Three times. Her eyes locked onto mine
'Tap once for yes, twice for no or three times for maybe' I think, immediately tuning out my professor and his inane rambling about something not quite related to astrophysics.
'Can you turn your ability on and off?'
One tap.
'Are you able to select who you listen to?'
One tap.
'Can you read deeper than surface thoughts?'
Three taps.
'Can you meet me after class? Preferably somewhere quiet like the library'
One tap, then a pause before two more
'That a maybe?'
One tap.
'I'm afraid I'm not offering a choice.'
I have her cornered in an alcove in the library. She's trying to act calm, but her glare and clenched fists say otherwise. "It's okay. I mean you no harm." I say but she doesn't look convinced. "If I wanted you hurt you would be."
"Gee thanks." She snaps, almost before she could help herself judging by the visible wave of fear that washes over her afterwards.
"I asked you here to talk to you. Calmly and in a civilised fashion. Because what you're going through only gets crazy from here on out."
"What do you mean?' She asks, still glaring daggers at me
"Powers like yours are immensely rare. There's a number of people who'd kill the entire university just to get a hold of you."
"You one of them?" She spits at me, and now I can feel her actively attacking my mind. Agony lances through me as she randomly slashes and stabs about inside my cranium.
"I said... I wasn't going to hurt you." I force out as I begin to collapse. I feel something give within me and darkness fades across my vision.
Next thing I know I've come too on the floor and she's encased in a swirling miasma of darkness; like the light simply couldn't shine there. "What the fuck is this?" She asks.
"My gift." I say as I stagger to my feet. "I control shadows."
"Shadows are absences of light. You can't control that."
"You read minds and question another impossibility?" I laugh, waving a hand to dismiss the mist that restrained her. "I didn't hurt you though did I?"
"No. Now tell me more." | He held his breath, half-choking on the air held within him. Her eyes were locked on his, her dark hair spilling around her face, her body twisted to face him from her seat at the front of the class. Nobody was paying attention to their exchange, other students sliding materials into their bags and making their way out of class. In moments, they were the last two in the room.
With the ease of a predator who'd already won, she stood from her chair and began to walk towards him. He instinctively started to shift away, as if any bit farther was better than the current proximity. His instincts screamed warnings, but he couldn't look away from her eyes. They seemed to eat at him, eat at something within him. Suddenly, she was standing right at the edge of the desk, and he wondered at how he could have missed that.
"You seem to have a problem paying attention," she started. The smirk on her lips spoke of amusement. "You've been having quite the daydreams, haven't you?"
Her eyes, twin voids on her pale face, dug right into him. The abyss was staring right back, and he was utterly caught in its embrace. He opened his mouth to stammer out some sort of reply, but she pinned his lips shut with a single slender finger.
'Cold,' he thought. She chuckled, something dark and throaty.
"Not quite as cold as you. But the plans you have to kill everyone in class? Now those are cold."
She knew. An icy chill seemed to sweep through him from the pale digit upon his lips. His eyes were wide and his hands (still and always free, yet seemingly confined to his desk) twitched in inaction. He was prey pinned by the predator and with nowhere to run. Adrenaline racing through his form, it slipped his mind that this girl could never prove his monstrous musings, and he scrambled to find a way out of her clutches.
She could definitely hear his thoughts. Her eyes - those eyes! - narrowed; she 'tsked' and sat in his lap. Every muscle that had been spasming in terror became stone. She wore a disappointed frown and turned one finger into five, caressing his jaw. He couldn't move - he was trapped, mentally and now physically.
He also noticed that her legs were quite shapely. In horror and disbelief, he felt a stirring between his legs. Almost immediately, she noticed. That smirk from before returned and she shifted ever so slightly, mocking him. He grimaced, but kept his mouth shut, even as her thumb smoothed the edge of his mouth.
"You're terribly amusing, you know. It's been years since I've come across such an interesting specimen." She let her hand trace the line from his ear to his chin, and her eyes roved the map of his head and face, inspecting and exploring it's every contour. "But if you'll just listen to what I have to say, I think you'll enjoy yourself a little, too."
Abruptly, she stood up. The glacier-like freeze that had settled into his muscles was suddenly whisked away, and he gasped as his lungs leapt for the air it had been denied. She chuckled again, low and enticing. He still trembled, but now, he felt something else, too...
The girl with the dark eyes offered him a hand. His eyes traveled from her palm to the abyss and back. Slowly, he brought his hand up and took hers. She guided him out of his seat - he caught himself at the edge of his desk as his shaking legs buckled from their extended tension. She grinned, sharp teeth like stone in a cave.
"Well, I think I have a fun idea for the weekend. Let's gather a few of your friends, and we'l visit some place nice in the wilds. And we'll have such a treat in store for them, won't we?"
He nodded - it was all he could do, really. She looked a little lower at the lapel of his uniform. She thumbed his name-badge.
"You've such a nice name, too. 'Thanos'." She smiled at him. He drank it in, enraptured. "We're going to have a lot of fun together, yes?"
Thanos responded instinctively, "Yes... mistress." | 2018-10-27T14:50:58 | 2018-10-27T14:04:56 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] You were once an unbeatable hero. Your secret? Every time you died, time rewound itself for you to alter your future. You are now 97 years of age. Constantly looping over your last day before dying of old age. You have been searching for a way to break this curse for over a decade. | Nine thousand, nine hundred ninety eight.
That's how many trips through my last day I have taken.
In my youth, I died in a car crash. My father tried to take me in a drunk rage after he lost a custody battle. He didn't see the sedan backing out of the perfect, cookie cutter driveway. The perfect family was torn asunder that day. The kids didn't survive impact. The adults were crippled. All this I heard while I drifted off to what I assumed to be my final sleep. I did not want to die. I pleaded with the powers that be for a do over.
Never did I expect to get it.
I woke up the morning of the crash with all the knowledge of the pain and suffering. It rocked my young world. That night, I ran away before Dad came. I wandered away for quite a while. I'm surprised no adults asked why I was out alone. Or kidnapped me. But I returned home safely, and went to sleep in the warm embrace of my sheets.
I found my mother dead in the living room the following morning. She was shot, multiple times. The image is burned into my mind even today. From that day, my young self wanted justice. But... It is hard to attain as a young orphan. Father was given the chair, leaving me to raise myself in an orphanage. No one wants the kind of baggage I possessed, so I grew up distant not only from potential families, but from my brothers in arms as well. I actually hung myself one day. Just got so mad and fed up, had to do it.
And to my extreme surprise, I woke up the morning of my suicide, completely fine. I started testing the limits. Everything that killed me seemed to just put me back at waking up that day. Then, an idea struck. I could use this ability I was given to guarantee the justice my broken self so desired. When I finally was turned out of the orphanage, I bluffed my way into the FBI, spying and killing myself to pass all the exams and quickly became a legend within the rookies and top of my class. Through meticulous planning, and many deaths, I took on missions even seasoned vets would have trouble with. It must've looked crazy. Here was this rookie from nowhere with no parents or past to speak of bagging terrorists and lowlifes left and right, with no regard for his safety. I must have looked like some sort of god. I basked in the glory. Like a lizard in the sun. I was a fool to think there were no strings attached.
Now I sit, in hospice care, watching similar events play out for a foreseeable eternity.
Nine thousand, nine hundred ninety nine.
Dammit, must've slipped again. One more till a magic number. I think. I lost faith in special things happening on nice big even numbers at around a thousand. That was ages ago. Now I'll just sit here and ponder what made me wish for such a stupid curse.
"Sir, a cloaked man is here to see you."
This is new.
"Who is he?" I asked with a revitalized interest. "Didn't say. But got security to bend over backwards to make this appointment." Things are getting interesting. "Send him in." I smirked for the first time in what felt like years. The man did not sugarcoat it. "Nine thousand, seven hundred twenty three. For a man of your legacy, that number of wakes should be nothing." I laughed. "Thought it was closer to ten thousand. But cut it, why are you here and how do you know?" The man smiled.
"Let's just say, I know someone who can help." | I wake to the sound of moaning and despair. I lay in this bed looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. I panic.
I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what that sound came from. I don’t know why I’m here.
“My name is...”
Nothing comes to mind.
It now become apparent to me that I’m in some sort of hospital room. I look at my right arm and see a morphine drip attached. Immediately, I’m overcome with fear. Since I was young I was able to have these “dreams” of the future. Where I experience an uncanny clairvoyance of all the events that will take place the next day. Most often these “dreams” are nightmares, where I die, fall into a pit, or get eaten by a monster chasing me. As a result of the mild trauma, I wake up and always avoid whatever caused my death. This morphine drip is what ends me. Slowly. Painlessly. Effortlessly. Time and time again I’ve had this “dream”. Where I wake up, and slowly fall into a painless and thoughtless slumber, only for it all to repeat.
Unending.
Uncaring.
I wake up, stare blankly at the same ceiling, and wait until the morphine overcomes all my senses. Only to wake up again. Stare at the same ceiling again, and slowly wait for my death. My days have long been this cycle of waking and dying. The morphine provides a level of comfort incomparable to any sensation I know of. It’s placating. It’s like being embraced by all your former lovers at once. It’s making it physically impossible to struggle enough to pull the IV out. I try, and try, and try, but my arms no longer have the strength to remove the IV. My body is no longer my own. My body is in a aware coma, no longer able to move, but still able to perceive.
I wake to the sound of moaning and despair. I look up see an unfamiliar ceiling, and panic. I don’t know where I am. I know this thing attached to my hand is killing me, but no matter how much I struggle I can not move any closer to it. My fingers tremble at my feeble attempts to move them. At least I can still vibrate them. Am I still sleeping? Or am I awake? Am I still in that nightmare? My mind is aware, but my body is unmoving. Try punching in a dream. I struggle again, knowing that my fingers can’t move I stare intensely at the IV hoping that I’ll develop some telepathy to be able to yank it out. Nothing.
I stare blankly at the ceiling. At least I can still move my eyes. I start to count the dots in the ceiling, but I immediately realize that I already know that there’s 39,567 dots. I don’t know why I know that. I think I’ve done this before.
I wake to the sound of moaning and despair. I look around the room, there’s no one here. No curtains, no roommate, no nurses, no doctors. Just me, the IV drip, and the dots on the ceiling.
I want to live. I want to continue. I want to survive. I want to spend Christmas with my family. I want tomorrow to come. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to die again. I don’t want to be alone again.
I wake to the sound of moaning and despair. This time I know it’s my own. I know the IV drip is going to kill me. I know the amount of dots on the ceiling. I know I’m in a hospital, but who am I? What is my name? Surely, it must be here somewhere. If only I could move to find it. It must be hidden under the bed or in the closet. Maybe if that telepathy worked out I could retrieve it. I know I can’t stop the morphine, but I at least want to know who I am? There must be something in this room that indicates who I am. I can’t just be patient #, I must have a name. I look below at my chest this time. No tags. I look ahead to see my diagnostic chart, too far away. I can’t read the doctor’s far flung attempts at writing, it’s literally three squiggles. I guess my name is “3~”. Though, probably not. Even without any memories, I still have enough common sense to realize people don’t put numbers in names. I tremble my hands more. Nothing. I tremble my other hand. Nothing. I tremble my whole body hoping I can do anything. Nothing. I struggle, and struggle, and notice that the bed is moving a little too. It’s almost imperceivable, but the bed is slowly inching towards the diagnostic board.
I continue to struggle. Even if I must die again, it would be better if I knew who I am the
The bed vibrates a little more ever so closer to the diagnostic board, I think I can see it! I can make out the first few letter:”S”. I vibrate more.
My bed inches just close enough to read the entire name. My name is Solaire of Astor’s and I’m an immortal undead, bound to this dead bed.’ms the nnek or
I wake up to the sound of moaning and despair.
J | 2018-12-21T09:56:36 | 2018-12-21T09:44:16 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] A fiery ball crash lands in your backyard. You go over and inspect it, only to find a fully functioning Roomba with a knife taped to the front of it. | **Item #:** SCP-B0T
**Object class:** Keter.
**Special Containment Procedures:** SCP-B0T is to be kept in a standard steel and reinforced concrete autonomous weapons chamber. The structure of the chamber must be monitored and routinely repaired. ~~Repairs must be completed by autonomous robots.~~ ~~Repairs must be completed via remote controlled robots.~~ ~~Repairs must be completed after SCP-B0T has been temporarily disabled via EMP blast.~~ There must be two containment chambers dedicated to the containment of SCP-B0T. SCP-B0T is to be rotated between these chambers on a weekly basis, using D-class personnel close to their monthly termination to lure SCP-B0T into its next chamber. Repairs are to be completed after SCP-B0T has been moved.
Currently, SCP-B0T is able to compromise 68% of the chamber's structure within a week, with an increase of .005% per week. Updated containment procedures are being investigated.
**Description:** SCP-B0T is an autonomous, extraterrestrial weapon designed to appear as a common autonomous household vacuum cleaner, with the exception of a bowie knife taped to its top. Upon inspection, though, its internal structure does not resemble the internals of its non-anomalous counterpart. With only 10% of components being identified to date. Care must be taken when disassembling and reassembling SCP-B0T, due to its slow regeneration properties.
SCP-B0T is designed to have an extreme penchant for killing any and all sapient life. SCP-B0T accomplishes this task through learning and self modification of both its structure and methodologies. When first contained, SCP-B0T's sole weaponry was the aforementioned bowie knife. Since then, it has acquired:
* EMP hardening
* Physical hardening
* A form of compulsion that is soley effective on other robots.
* A 1GW ultraviolet laser
* Amnesetic and poisonous gasses
* Flight capabilities
* Speed increases
* Sonic weaponry
* Properties similar to [SCP-2925](http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-2925)
* [REDACTED].
SCP-B0T was discovered in the town of [REDACTED], Kansas, USA. Initially believed to be a large meteorite, several witnesses approached SCP-B0T out of curiosity. The Foundation was alerted through normal monitoring channels due to a sudden spike in fatalities in the 100km touchdown radius. Any surviving witnesses and medical personnel were given amnesetics and released, post interview. The Foundation released an official cover story of a chemical spill, and released the cadavers to the families, post cremation.
Cross testing with [SCP-682](http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-682) is pending O5 approval. | The impact concussed the house with an elephant stampede. Blazing, fiery white light like wrath of god flashed with such vengeance I briefly considered my fate. I wondered out loud if I was dead. As it turns out, I really wish I was.
It stared at me.
Creeping—whirring—it approached. Sweat dribbled down my back. The lamp light over the kitchen table flickered yellow, sparked, and died, leaving me alone in the pale afternoon light. An eerie silence descended on the house.
Swallowing hard, I tiptoed towards the sliding glass door. My footsteps fell heavy on the treated oak floors. I’m not sure I deserved this. I lived a good life. I stayed clean—proper. I changed. My days at the agency were long over.
“I know who you are,” I whispered.
*Tink.*
Just a slight ping against the glass.
I knew the sound—steel on glass. My time in the service flashed back like vengeance. A shadowed room, with masked men screaming for mercy, but they knew secrets I needed to know. I drew out shards of glass and bounced them on the perforated metal floor of the submarine.
*Tink.*
“I was under orders. I had no choice!” I said through gritted teeth.
*Tink. Tink.*
Back on the submarine, the man’s leg quivered as I carved his name in blood. Glass shards in a raw wound will sting and bite for days. Left in place, they will fester and burn for hours on end. Sheer, raw agony. I had time. Days, maybe weeks before they planned to launch. Plenty of time to stop them. Plenty of time to enjoy every minute of the torture.
*Tink.*
“You think this is a game? Some sick joke?”
The power cut out. The only sounds in my one-story ranch home came from outside. A low whirr, and the *tink* of the knife against the doorway. How did they find me? After all these years, I went underground. New job, new identity. Everything changed for me. How did they come back?
“You won’t show yourself? Coward!” I shouted.
*Tink. Tink tink.*
On the submarine, I slammed the head of the first men against the counter. Alarms flashed red, but they didn’t matter. The rest of the crew was dead by my hands. Who would save them now?
“Where are the launch codes?” I snarled.
“Fuck you,” he said, with a thick German accent.
I leaned close to whisper in his ear, grinning. “Don’t tempt me.”
*Tink.*
Back at home, I pressed my back against the doorway, sweeping my eyes across the house. I never wanted this. I was done—I was out. I found a life after. I learned to cope with what I had done for my country. I worked at an animal shelter every Thursday.
The little dogs ran around my legs every time I walked past. The ones beaten and hurt from trauma I held and cradled. Sometimes the most broken spirit needed a bit of mercy, a bit of love. All it took was a touch of kindness.
One dog I remember more than all the others. I called him Prometheus, because the Pitbull looked like god himself had beaten him. He arrived raw and bloody and the vet said to put him down.
But I couldn’t. Something about the way he looked at me. It was like he didn’t understand how the world could be so cruel and heartless. He barked and snapped at me. His legs didn’t work right, so he couldn’t lunge forward. He just wobbled into the corner and lay there defensively.
I put my hand out towards him and he whined and growled. Then I touched his head, gently. I started petting him; he stared at me like he just discovered a whole new world. My calm touch was so new, so foreign that the poor creature didn’t know how to process it.
I don’t know if a dog can smile. Not really, not in a way a human can. But I swear to god that day, when I sat with Prometheus, I made him smile.
I sang an old sold they taught in the service. Over and over, cradling the poor lost soul, until the dog’s beatings caught up with him, and he wheezed his last right in my arms. I didn’t hold back my tears.
*Tink.*
​
***
I didn't intend for this to get heavy, but—well—here we are.
r/BLT_WITH_RANCH
| 2019-03-03T08:11:34 | 2019-03-03T07:55:44 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] When an atheist dies, a lottery determines which religion/deity will claim their soul for eternity. You were claimed by a long-forgotten ancient religion, and are the first newcomer to their afterlife in centuries. | In a realm separated from life, a team of three God's try desperately to cling onto the last threads of their religion. With many former God's flocking to more established group's.
Pacing his room alone, the leader, Pie-Paydos answers the door to greet his loyal friend. Holding a piece of paper containing unusual symbols, Stuntos hands it over.
"It's finally happened. Our first visitor since the earth year of 1695."
After a careful analysis, Pie-Paydos couldn't help but shine a rare smile.
"Summon Esmiliar. I want everyone here for when he arrives."
Waiting in line with a ticket written in English, a slightly confused man quietly worries about his fate. Still questioning if the afterlife is just a dream, "I can't believe it's real!? Maybe it's not? Did that truck really kill me?"
At the end of his queue, the man handed a hooded figure his ticket. An eerie voice echoed instructions.
"Enter the door behind and speak your name. The light guides your passage. Dare go down another path and be lost for eternity."
Not wanting to take any chances, the man did as told. Entering the door, he proudly quoted "Simon Smith". His body was immediately yanked backwards in an aggressively fast motion. Vanishing from one world into another. This one almost entirely populated by darkness. Quickly noticing the only light source, Simon darted towards his target without hesitation. There was no reason to tempt fate.
Once fully immersed in the light, Simon involuntarily closed his eyes. Once he could open them again, he found that he was laying down. The surface felt soft against his hand. A slight tilt of his head revealed he was on top of an exquisite blanket. Although, something felt strange about the room. After adjusting his sight slightly, he found two sets of eyeballs firmly locked on. The oddly shaped creatures took a proud stance, as one made a loud announcement.
"Please show a kind gesture to your new ruler. His Excellency, Lord Pie-Paydos."
With a loud crack of wood against stone, Pie-Paydos stormed into room a confident, all powerful god. Hand on hips, head held high, posing in all his wondrous glory. Motionless, he waited a short moment for applause.
"Why aren't you cheering?"
Noticing something out of the corner, Simon glanced over at the other two. They were mimicking clapping in a discrete display. He decided that it would be best to play along. | "and a- spin. the. wheel!" are not the first words i expected to hear waking up today, i open my eyes to se that the room i am in is... shifting. one second its an open field the other an ancient greek temple that looks almost... new, a second look around reveals one object consistent in this everchanging residence a table a chair a mug of coffee and a small colorful spining wheel.
curios i set in the chair and sniffed the coffee- still need to drink my morning fuel- it smelled like my home brew, exactly like my home brew.i took a sip and not to my surprise it tasted like it was my own making at least if the batch i grew was good. when i set the mug down to the table a soft ring sounded from the spining wheel. green. sitting directly from me a man appeared wearing wearing what could only be described as a linen vest and wielding a bronze farm scythe, he looked surprised to see me just like i was to see him.
"did dan's musrooms fall into the wheat grinder again? i swear if he brings them to work one more time.." i started.
"afraid not" the man interrupted
"then what the hell happend?"
"there was a storm. you died in your sleep"
"what do you mean died!?"
"exactly what it sounds like. can you please come with me? i havent done this in a long time" the man got up and the table dissapeared the room stopped changing and took the form of a wheat field with a single wood house in the distance.
"i am mrsillus the people who worshipped me are long gone and nobody came here for about 2000 years your the first since then. and since that jewish god decided to plunge the poor atheists souls out of the void and randomly throw them into other peoples afterlifes" he said and started walking towards the cabin "i hope you wont find our afterlife too boring but its better then to go into those mad vikings halls, i heard they fight till theyre bloody for fun!"
"wait so i died and now im stuck in the afterlife of some longforgotten dudes who worship what? unkle steve"
"its mrsillus thank you very much but yea thats the gist of it thou you could accept some other god and go over to their realm but to do that youd have to come to them and they will never come here for new recruits especially not if your just one guy."
well if im stuck better get the most of it
"what is this place anyway? i get its your idea of an afterlife but what or where is it based on and how does the after part of afterlife work here?"
"well its nice of you to ask, i guess its based of italy we were a major religion there just before rome rose to power and burned our fields. and the how it works part is well pretty simple this farm is yours and the neighboors are only there when you want them to be its always the harvest season of everything and the harvest is always good"
"thats it?" i asked baffeled
"we were farmers. they worshipped me beacose i promised good harvest and luck with girls they lived a simple life and their beliefs were simple"
"so this place is mine and i can grow watever i want without dealing with annoying neighboors?"
"in short yes. is that ok for you? i might be able to set up some deal for you if not i dont want to bore someone to the afterdeath. so what do you say?"
"im staying"
"really?"
"well i never was one for fancy shtick's this whole deal seems... peaceful"
"well the welcome to your new home! mr..." his gaze wandered back to me
"adam"
"mr adam. well come by later ill show you my wife and kids! oh an jenisalia makes the best apple pie ever! she got the recipe from some olympian god that wandered to close to her house oh and miriam..." he carried on telling about the wonders his subjects have made and for the first time in a long time i felt calm. yea a life of eternal pleasure doesnt sound too bad but not needing to worry about bad harvests and bad employees is just as good for me.
edit: paragraphing | 2019-07-12T02:40:26 | 2019-07-12T00:58:15 | 61 | 27 |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | "This doesn't make sense," I muttered, perturbed. The tulips didn't seem to have any microphones inside. The hydrangea arrangements seemed like they were for sure hiding a secret passage but if that were so it was too well-concealed for even me to find - which should be impossible! There wasn't even a security camera on the ceiling, though that wasn't necessarily unusual. Anyone THIS powerful wouldn't have anything to fear, and also probably didn't want a lot of business caught on tape.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" The smiling old man behind the counter called out in stunted English.
"Oh I'm good," I called back, think returning his warmth with all the sincerity I could muster. I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice.
It has to be the mob, I thought, but which mob? I'd sussed out mafioso headquarters from Russia to Ru Paul's Drag Race (it's all a front, people) and never even got a sniff of one headquartered in Tuscany. A new player? Impossible - whoever was running this place was head and shoulders above the CIA, Mossad, and the nomadic Mongolian witch coven that secretly controls the economy. A flower shop, to boot? I sidled up next to the roses again. Maybe I was going about this the wrong way. I'd been looking for signs of secret organizations that originated on Earth...
"My friend, I know why you come here," the old man said, nearly making me jump out of my skin. When had he gotten so close?
"Ah," I did my best to smile with this monster beside me. "Do you?"
His eyes were a bright green, but his look was somber and grave. Only a few tufts of white hair remained on his liver-spotted head, and his face was a labyrinth of wrinkles and lines. Heavy eyebrows knit together as he brushed some soil off his hands onto the thin apron he wore, and then reached out to take me by the wrist.
"We're a gonna need to talk to Maria," he sternly intoned.
I pulled back, nearly tripping. He'd made me. "No, that's fine, I think I need to be going, there's- "
"Maria!" The man raised his voice, and the previous warmth had vanished. "We have a guest who needs your attention."
I heard a rustling in the back. Past the rows of neatly arranged flowers, the gift baskets and expensive chocolates, the selections of fine wines, a door opened. The old man, who had been so small when I entered, now seemed to loom over me. I had to get out, before -
"What is this? Marco, who is this?" A woman as wrinkled and dirt-stained as the old man rounded the corner. A small shovel was gripped menacingly in one gloved hand. Her eyes, as green as her partner's, gleamed as she cast her gaze back and forth between me and Marco. The old man straightened.
"Now you gonna get it," he threatened. Maria, twice the diminutive Marco's size, locked her eyes on mine.
"There's a misunderstanding- " I started to say, but then the bell on the front door announced a new visitor.
Both Maria and Marco turned, and I seized the opportunity to dash behind the roses. I began to shout out a theat, but another, wild "WHOOP!" drowned out my own.
"Mr. Romano! Mrs. Romano! I cannot thank you enough!" I peered out from behind the dozen thorny stalks acting as my shield. There was a young man in a vest and cap, vigorously shaking the hands of the pair in turn. "I give those flowers you say to Margaret and she adore them! She even give me a kiss - Dio! She's a coming to meet my mother this week - I think you did it! I owe it to you!"
Maria was beaming as Marco chuckled. "I told you our flowers were the best, Silvio," she patted his face warmly. "Now if you two get married and you ever get in a fight, you come back here and tell me what happened, we'll find what you need to apologize."
"But what if I am right?" Silvio queried.
Marco's chuckle became a deep belly laugh. "You just remember to come back when you need," Maria cuffed Marco on the back of the head, but that didn't stop his laughter. She rolled her eyes. "Go now Silvio, you find a nice shirt to wear when you bring her to your mama."
The young man profusely thanked them again before rushing out of the store, the door closing firmly behind him.
Both sets of eyes turned back on me. The thorns on these roses seemed to retract in fear.
"Don't think we forget about you," Marco said. "Maria, take care of this one."
Maria set her jaw, stepping forward. She reached out, gloved hand like a vise around my wrist, eyes pulling my gaze in as she searched my face.
"So," she yanked me from my useless hiding spot and into the shop's center. "What's her name?"
"Her...name?"
"Don't play coy," Maria gave me a look that said she wasn't having it. "Fifty years we've been doing this, and not once have we ever failed. You start talking, I'll get you what you need."
"We don't rightly understand it either," Marco sighed, taking out a broom to idly begin sweeping leaves and dirt from the floor, "but how are we going to complain?"
"You don't understand it, I understand it perfectly!" Maria yelled at him. He gave her a dreamy smile and leaned in for a kiss. She made a show of rolling her eyes and shooing him away, but I caught the fleeting wisp of a smile on her face.
"Fifty years," Maria repeated, "and not a one time have we failed to help a customer find their true love - and keep them - with our flowers. We only started this little shop because we both loved gardening, can you believe it? But I like to think in our little way, we mean something to the world."
"More than you realize," I replied, reassessing everything I thought I understood. "Far, far more than you realize." |
It was a neat trick to pull out at work events, mentioning how a specific government was or wasn’t even in the top ten most powerful organizations. Of course, when you were a member of the President’s Security Detail for the US Secret Service, you weren’t exactly doing that as a bar trick. You generally whispered it directly to the President herself.
You were the most nondescript of her detail, never in the trademark dark suits and ear pieces your brothers in arms were in, but that’s because you were the easiest to hide as an aide to Madame President. You barely made the Secret Service cutoffs for sizing until you pointed out your background in undercover work. It caused the interviewing officers to reevaluate your application. You solidly passed the physical and mental tests, your background showed no blemishes throughout eight years with the military and six more as a city police detective, and you were an ideal candidate for public-level spy work. You passed perfectly as a soccer mom or trophy wife and could get in to places and situations others couldn’t.
It wasn’t until you were through with training and into your third year with the agency that your talents were exposed.
It had been an easy mission – escort some senators through the embassy in Brazil and to a summit on climate change. Low danger level, mild media attention, and plenty of preparation with familiar facilities. You had been the second most senior agent on the case and had been scouting the region when you noticed the warm glow around the small coffee shop just six blocks from the summit. How had you not seen this before?
A soft seven floated around the door of the building. It was almost a shimmer instead of a solid number, just mild enough to catch your attention but not enough for anyone else to notice. It wasn’t particularly busy, but a few customers sat outside, sipping small espresso cups, nibbling on cookies, and reading books or chatting with friends. A single server chatted with an older gentleman who sat by himself near the door; they seemed familiar enough that he was likely a regular here.
It was funny, the most powerful places in the world rarely had Men in Suits going in and out of them as you might expect.
Number Ten had been a comic book store in Queens, NY. It had some mob ties but remained quiet. It wasn’t on any books anywhere and the ownership was so far removed from anyone associated with any of the Families that it couldn’t be tied back to them with rope, but it was the tenth most powerful place in the world.
Number Nine was in Rome, and surprisingly it was the only one you’d expected to be on the list, though you’d expected it a little higher than ninth place. The Vatican still held a lot of power within its walls and it didn’t seem God would be releasing any of it any time soon.
Numbers Eight, Six, Five, and Four were also small businesses in quiet places. An auto repair shop in France, a library in Spain, a Michelin-starred restaurant in Germany, and a petting zoo in Australia all held shimmering single-digit numbers.
Number Three was a historical home in England, but it wasn’t owned by the Royal Family. Number Two was a farm in Missouri, of all places, but Number One was elusive. You’d searched every country you’d been in, visiting neighborhoods tourists avoided and getting to know locals to find their favorite places. They often didn’t realize that their favorite little shop was the seat of power for some of the world’s most influential organizations.
You had spent a little too long staring at the shop and your commanding officer had noticed.
“Morrow, situation?” he’d asked in your ear-coms.
“Negative, sir. Just a cute shop, wondered if their coffee was any good,” you’d smiled. He didn’t believe you and had taken you to the side.
“Morrow, I need to know what you saw at that shop. There is no room for keeping anything to yourself,” he’d said quietly.
“I don’t even know how to say it, but that shop is the seventh most powerful organization in the world’s headquarters, sir.”
“What’s the organization? And more importantly, how do you know that?”
“I can’t answer that on either account sir, but I can tell you I’m right. We don’t have anything to worry about today, though. They don’t know we know and they don’t seem to be actively planning anything.”
The commander had set up a discreet watch on the coffee shop after that. He had been blown away by your accuracy. The US now had a handle on the headquarters of one of the most powerful secret societies in the world and you had given it to them.
Promotions had come quickly after that, getting you to be the personal guard and public aide to the first female President of the United States of America. That’s how you’d ended up in Tuscany, Italy today.
She had a meeting with the Italian president and all hands were on deck, as usual. It was a beautiful season in Italy when the grapes were harvested and many festivals were held. Madame President would be attending one that evening, in fact, but first had to handle the official business she was here for.
You’d spend most of the meeting studying those in the room and the surveillance undoubtedly installed everywhere, but it should be an easy hour. Smile, take some notes, whisper a few reminders and out. Nobody would ever suspect the unassuming aide to be someone with your talents.
And it was exactly as you’d expected. An easy meeting, a few photos for the press, and back out to the hotel. Another standard day in the life of a Secret Service agent, right?
Until you saw it.
It shimmered brighter than the others, you’d thought it was the sun starting to move behind the cute little flower shop that gave it the golden glow. An errant thought about photographers loving the light passed through your mind before it snapped to attention.
ONE. A bright, shiny, glowing 1 floated near the doorway of the flower shop, the fresh, cool scent of flowers hovering near the doorway.
“Madame President, a word please?” You trusted this one, unlike the last two. They’d been total idiots, unfit to serve or lead the people of the US, but this one had something different about her. Maybe it was the respect she commanded that had nothing to do with her gender, maybe it was the thoughtful way she considered each proposal brought her way, or maybe it was something else, but she was doing great and had started a slow improvement in the economy and job market. No one person would be able to fix it all, but she was making progress on both sides of the aisle.
“Sure, Morrow. What’s going on?” You rarely asked for her time, so she paused when you did. “Do we need to step away?”
“No Madame President, but I have a fun fact for you.”
The President leaned in with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye, she loved the facts you spouted off about each location you visited and she was well aware that the phrasing mattered and would be important on this one.
“Oh wonderful! What’s today’s fact?” she smiled.
“I just wanted to point out those beautiful red poppies at that flower shop, Tuscany is known for their poppies this time of year,” you gestured. “They’re regarded as the most beautiful in the world, in fact.”
“Oh? Are they the number one producer?”
“Yes, ma’am, *the* number one.”
“I see, well, perhaps you could arrange a bouquet for the staff at the hotel before we leave, I do enjoy local floral arrangements.”
“Noted,” you said. You’d speak to her again at the embassy when you returned to Florence, but she was aware of the special gift you possessed and knew to take it seriously. While your gift told you of the importance, it didn’t tell you which organization it belonged to and it often took several weeks or months of investigation to figure it out. And only twice had anyone moved locations on you. Foolishly, they’d kept them in the same areas, so you’d been able to find them again easily.
You had a feeling if this one moved, you’d never find it again. | 2019-10-29T09:16:28 | 2019-10-29T08:51:05 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | As I walk down the grand marble hall two guards approach me, probably about to stop me and ask me for a permit but before they can do that I just pull out my sabers and slice them in half.
They used to be silver with the plasma flowing off of their edges green like the flourishing grass of my homeland but now... now they burn with my emotions.
The deeper into the hall I get the less light there is and the more of the guards rush in, still unaware of their first two losses.
"Halt! The Atreuonum Sactinis is forbidden for all but the S'Alai!"
He can't be any older than twenty, a new recruit into the order it would seem.
As I grab the young man and place one of my sabers to his throath, even when not quite powered their edges are as sharp as any other sword's, I yell at all the other guards who finally take me as a proper threat and pull out their swords.
"Listen here you bunch of sad idiots, I am here for one thing and one thing only!"
"Let him go, now!"
"It is impolite to interupt the guy with the gun..." I shoot the improper bastard.
"Now, where was I? Oh yes, I am here for one simple, tinsy, winsy thing... You can't give it to me though... only your precious Qui'Alain."
Now that's got a reaction out of them, angry faces and a few steps towards me.
"Oh, and I should also tell you, THEY are here for you..." From the shadows of the temple my temporary alies come forth.
Ravenous.
Full of hatered.
Thirsting for blood.
"LEAVE NONE STANDING, BROTHERS AND SISTES!" Amanhand, the leader of the dark god followers enters the scene with his typical line and lets his savage followers into town.
Now that my part of the bargain is half done... time for the fun part.
As I shoot and slice my way through hordes of patheticaly weak guardians I start to grow a wicked old smile I missed for so long. Slaughtering such a weak foe feels good... And showing off to all those pathetic fighters does too. Nevertheless I make my way towards my objective.
The Qui'Alain. Priesthood women sensitive to magicka and it's flow, meant to be oracles and Greybeard advisors. Never taught to fight.
The Dark Guard got to the Qui'Alain quarters before me, luckily they are far too incompetent to break through the S'Alain defenses.
It is a simple job really, throw a few smoke grenades in, a head or two of their fellow guards through those and rush in with full shields. Once I get to the first one it's all over, any injury they can cause me will be healed by one of their deaths and my rage shall fuel my might further until the last one remains.
"I- I yield! I can tell you everyting about this place! He-here! The keys to the Qui'alak quarters!" He says as he crawls on the ground, wounded.
I use my sword to break the lock of the quarters and look down on him. "I though your little order taught you to never give up..."
"I- I will! Just please let me live I want to say hello to my mo-" Like I care about this fly's sob story.
The Dark Guard rushes inside the main room wehre they gather all the Qui'Alain.
When they bring the 'mother' and confirm that they found all of them the leader stands proudly before them. Has her lifted up by his lapdogs and smiles widely, letting his fangs shine.
He raises his hand with a dagger and just as he is to stab her heart I use my powers to pull back at his hand from distance. "Wha- How dare you int-"
"Remember our deal? You better or I'll make sure you won't be able to spout anymore bullshit."
I take the mother by the throat and lift her off the floor.
"I will ask you this ONCE. Where. Are. The Elisians?!"
"You... you will never learn it, monster!"
I shoot one of her Qui'Alain.
"Forgot to mention that for each time I need to repeat myself I will shoot one of you."
"I... I will ne-" The deep hissing noise and bang my pistol makes is trully a sweet tune to my ears.
"For the third time. Where. Are. The Elisians?"
"They... They are in the Harald Mountais..."
"Expected you to last at least till round five! Good work, lady"
I snap her neck.
"Now you can do whatever you want with them, Count..."
As I leave the temple I can hear screams and shots...
When I inhale the sweet stench of death and singed flesh I stand atop the monastery stairs, clad in my old armor that still had that wolf fur around the neck and the rune carvings, I think out loud.
"The Wolf... is back..." | 'Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...'
The dungeon was filled with screams and blood like it always does. But the screaming and the lifeless bodies that is hanging from the chains doesn't belong to its usual prisoner. Laying lifelessly on the table is captain of the prison guard, his left eye gouged by a crude device, his fingers all chopped off by the same rusty knife that the captain himself often use on the prisoner, his leg amputated at the knee, the only wound that was made using a frost blade, in order to keep the victim from dying of blood loss before the perpetrator are done with them. His two guards chained to wall, both had the heart slowly crushed by magic. All three of them were dead before the owner of the room 'arrive' here with his wife and two children, all unconsious, binded in ropes and chains.
'Now now Mr.Kazco, we all know what I want. Tell me about the girl that you guy torture 4 days ago right in this room and where did you send her to, and I will let your family live.'
'You bloody bastard. You won't get away with this. Soon the guard will come and I will have your head rolling on the ground.'
Beak let out a big laugh. They are always like this, he think. They always think they are the big deal. Always think everything will go their way, and no one can do anything to harm them.
Beak reach into his pocket and put the eyeball of the dead captain on the table in front of the warden.
'You mean the owner of this little magic eye over here? Gotta say, this thing is pretty neat. Can you imagine how he react when I reflect this thing onto his son? It was hilarious I tell you. Never have I seen someone grovel on the ground that fast after I bested them in a duel. It was something straight out a comedy if you ask me'
The warden couldn't believe what he is seeing. Captain Pheco was not only a great fighter, but he also know his way with the mystic art. The fake eye that Pheco had was enchanted with magic capable of killing a manticore. It was his pride, the result of his effort that even the court mage were impressed by its power. Now it is rolling in front of him, bloodied, cracked.
'I can bring him and his nephew over if you want. Albeit it would be quite a pain in the ass to drag their body over.' - Beak reach for his knife and start to unsheath it - 'I also heard that you wanted to have a daughter? But you only have two sons right? Maybe I can help you with that. It gonna take just a few moment.'
Beak standup and walk over where the women and children lay. Even with all the screaming and noise of the torture, they are still soundly asleep due to his potion. He drag the wife by the hair and the first born by the hand to in front of the warden and say
'You are in great luck then, as I can help you get two daughter. A little cut here, a little slice there and you will have yourself a beautiful daughter.' - Beak cheerfully use his knife to point at the kid crotch - 'Or if you want thing to be more natural, this little bottle right here will make your wife pregnant with an Orc child. Don't be worry about the chances, I have done this more than a few time, I know all the trick and some helping magic to ensure that she will give birth to a beautiful Orc girl, with fangs and stuff.'
'You fucking sicko' - Kazco desperately try to break free, but the chain held him tightly to the chair, and his struggle only make it more painful for him. - 'Let go of my family, I'm the one that you want!'
'No no no. I want to know where the girl is. I couldn't care less about you to be honest. Maybe a bit about your wife too. She look so gorgeous for someone her age. Now that I think about it, maybe I should some time with her before using the bottle. You know what? Imma be right back with you, after getting this boner off first.' - Beak was untying the wife clothe as he say, much to Kazco dismay
'Stop it please, stop it. Please don't harm her, she is all that I ever have.' The warden keep struggle to break free but to no avail. He broke down crying as Beak was pulling his pant down
'Well then, tell me what I want to know, and I will be on my way. Lying would be stupid by the way, the truth potion will crush your heart if you try to lie. Maybe I do need to bring their body over from the next room after all hmm.....'
'Yllien city, Council of the Whitefeather. The girl was send to the Council of the Whitefeather. Lord Gruger have the hobby to feast on young girls and boys with magic potential, and to make them his mindless slaves. The girl is with the Trippier Route Caravan, their next destination is Muyvier city to pickup others slaves along the way. Please let my family go I beg of you. They have nothing to do with this.'
'Isn't that better? Now if you excuse me, I have a caravan to catch.'
Beak tidy up his clothes, grabbing the eye and his tools on the chair before taking out the small barrel of oil in the corner of the room and start spraying it all over the place.
'What are you doing? You promise to let them go? For the love of the High Gods stop!'
'I'm pretty sure I didn't take the true potion. Why you believe me, I have no idea.'
Kazco keep screaming obscenity and begging Beak to keep his word, but he keep ignoring the warden. As he finish dousing the place, he draw the dagger and whisper 'Ignite'. A spark flew out and the entire underground dungeon turned into a sea of flame, and with it, the Kazco family. Beak were already far away from it when the servant of the Kazco notice that the backyard and the entire left wind building is on fire and try to evacuate. After all, he finally got some clue of where his party healer is. The girl always tell Beak to be more positive about life, and how everything will work out in the end because the High Gods love humankind. 'It seems like the High Gods do love people like her' - Beak think to himself, 'Maybe I will ask her to teach me how to pray to them once we reunite, after all there are still more people that is missing, and as much as he want to deny it, they do make him feel like home.' | 2019-12-07T12:13:39 | 2019-12-07T11:35:02 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] Your older brother has been missing for years. You hear a knock on the door, and you open it to reveal a man that looks like your brother would be at this point. "I'm back man! I'm so sorry!" He hugs you immediately. Just then, you get a text from your brother's old number. "That isn't me." | *That isn't me.*
Hmm. There were two possibilities. Either the man hugging her was an imposter, or the person texting was. Choices, choices. Hmm.
She hugged the man claiming to be her brother back. "It's been six years," she sniffed.
"I know."
"You missed my graduation!"
"I know." He patted her back.
"You missed my *wedding*!" Another sniff.
"I'm sorry."
"You weren't even there to help me bury him."
"I'm--wait, what?"
She grinned. *Gotcha fake.* She pulled back, still sniffling. "He was *cheating* on me," she explained.
Another text came in and she surreptitiously glanced at the screen. *Don't do anything until I get there.*
Aw. Don't worry, big sister's got this covered. The day she can't handle a wannabe was the day she turned in her license as a big sister. "With his *boss*!" she wailed.
She saw the panic in the impostor's eyes a split second before he hugged her close again, heart racing so quickly she could hear it through her sniffles.
By the time her actual brother arrived, the imposter was standing on a chair, cleaning the light bulbs in her living room. He looked at his sister, then looked at the imposter who looked at him sadly and mouthed, "Help me."
Her brother sighed. "I don't know why I was worried," he confessed.
She walked over to him and smacked the back of his head. "Because you've been gone for *six years* and forgot who I am," she informed him. | The day was like any other. My routine the same. Except today is different. I’m more sad than usual, for today is the day of my brothers death. The day that he disappeared. The day that we called the police, searched for him, and never found him. That’s why when I opened the door to see my older brother standing there with the same posture he always stood in, the same shining blue eyes, and dark brown hair, I froze in my tracks. A message arrives on my phone but I’m far to distracted to even look. Instead, I could feel the tears falling down my face and I wanted so much to make them stop. I haven’t cried I heard, not since the day he disappeared. I had pretended to be fine, to show I was strong. This way mom and dad didn’t have to worry about me too. That’s also why the moment I felt that tear fall down my face, the door was slammed shut. I try to sort out all of the thoughts in my head. The ones that were saying, “this isn’t possible.” “He’s supposed to be dead.” But the ones that are the most loud are the ones desperately hoping that it’s really him. The ones hoping that he’s okay, alive. The ones hoping it not just randomly hallucinating my dead older brother. Then a knock on the door is heard. Slowly I reopen it. Relief is written all over my brothers face. I feel a buzz in my pocket, but I ignore it. My brother is far more important than whoever is still trying to contact me. “I’m back.” He says to me. “Finally, I’m back. I’m so sorry I left you alone all this time! I’m so, so sorry.” And at that moment the both of us immediately go to hug eachother. I can feel my phone buzzing even more. I go to open up the phone, but then I don’t. A small part of me thinks that if I do my brother will be gone, and so, I don’t. More messages come in as I walk my brother to the kitchen. We sit on the old dinning room table, meant for 4, that mom and dad had given me. Looking at it I feel even more pain. This was the table that we sat at to have every meal, just the three of us. The three of us who no longer talked, who just for some reason never cared anymore, for their son and my brother was gone. It was like life no longer had meaning. Like my brother was the only one holding us all together. A part of me felt resentful of my brother. Anger, but I never let it show. And now that I see him again, all those feelings vanish. For I too am relieved that he is hear. The messages on my phone seem to keep on coming and so I tell my brother that I need to go to the bathroom. For some reason a part of me feels ashamed for wanting to talk to someone else instead of him at this moment. When I open the bathroom door I take my phone out of my pocket. I have over 50 messages by now. A lot of them saying my name. Most of them saying to answer. I scroll o the top and as I read the first message aloud that says, “that isn’t me.” A loud noise like what if imagine a gunshot to sound like rings in my ear. A small whole shines through the bathroom door. And a blue eye looks through it. Just then another message comes in. In 3 big letter words it spells out, “RUN.” | 2020-07-23T11:48:16 | 2020-07-23T11:12:42 | 94 | 37 |
[WP] Millions witnessed as enormous spaceships emerged from the depth's of the oceans and left Earth. After the event submarines found vast, empty cities underwater, built with unknown tech. Among many unknown symbols, there was one short message in English: "You have 20 years left. They are coming" | It had been twenty years since the Great Departure, and we were no where closer to salvation than the day they left.
At first the event was all the rage. Millions saw the city-sized spaceships rise from the ocean and consume the skies, leaving trails of water, fish, and whatever else happened to catch a ride up before falling back down. It wasn’t until they were just specks in the sky that people began to react. Panic was the first wave of emotion that swept through the world’s population. Was it aliens? Was it secret government operations? No one knew, but everyone had their own opinions.
It took a massive and powerful crackdown in order to get everyone under control. Several cities were burned and order was lost for several months. But after the initial shock wore off, people settled back into their normal lives. The only thing that changed on their part was the knowledge that it happened. A few people made fortunes off of viral videos, but otherwise people returned to the way it had been.
While the world population calmed down, governments began bickering about what to do. In the midst of political gridlock, some private enterprises put together dive teams to investigate where they came from before it became illegal. It was these expeditions that revealed the true impact of what we witnessed. Beneath the open waters were gaping holes in the ocean floor, revealing massive and complex cities, all interconnected through the Earth’s crust. A subterranean civilization had been thriving beneath us and advancing beyond our capabilities.
Not only did they demonstrate their technological prowess through the Great Departure, but the cities left behind were woven with technology we had only dreamed of. Power structures harnessing the earth’s internal heat and mantle flow, teleportation devices that could transport materials and (as some believed) even living souls across the planet, and even atomic manipulators that would rearrange the structure of atoms and molecules to whatever they desired. Of course these things took time to discover and understand, and it was apparently time we hardly had.
While the beings who departed earth used an unknown language, it was apparent they knew ours well enough to leave a message. “You have 20 years left. They are coming.” The ominous message took us two years to discover, and which left us with eighteen years to decipher its meaning. What would cause such an advanced civilization to flee?
Theories grew and flew around the world faster than the ships we had seen. Some thought it was a harbinger of an extraterrestrial threat. Others thought it was a prank pulled by the explorers. There was one, however, who knew the answer.
On the day marking twenty years since the Great Departure, an announcement was made by an obscure company. “We know the meaning,” they began, “of the message that has launched our world into a new era.”
“Early in the 20th century, our company accidentally discovered a tunnel while digging for oil beneath the ocean floor. It was held secret while we interacted with them until we knew it was safe. We learned from them, and they from us. And while this was happening, we knew as well that others like us would find them.
“Over time we realized just how advanced they were than us. They were not held back by petty squabbles. They were not deterred by limited resources. Rather, they worked together to make of what they had, and discover what they had not. They lived peacefully and symbolically, quite a contrast to how we lived and still live.
“We both realized they would be better off without us, without human kind, yet our meeting was inevitable due to our spreading dominion over planet Earth. Twenty years was our best guess as to when they would be discovered by the rest of the world. They took their time, they prepared their departure, and we know what happened after that.
“The message, about twenty years, was given from us, to them, *about us*. Let us learn from them in their absence, and perhaps one day, dream to become more like them.” | FADE IN:
INT. SPACE FORCE MEETING ROOM A
*A solemn group of men sits around a large, wooden table. One is at the head in full military dress, chest adorned dramatically with medals. This is WHITEMAN, General of the Space Force.*
**WHITEMAN:** And thus, I bring the first general meeting of the Space Force to a close. We have all agreed--
*A cough of objection rang out across the room. All eyes turned and focused on one man, squeezed in at the very opposite side of the table, almost as if he was shunted in at the last moment. This is TAYLOR.*
**TAYLOR:** Sir, if you’ll please listen to me
**WHITEMAN:** Enough with your silly talk! Every second you waste of ours is a second we are not preparing for war!
**TAYLOR:** But sir, we are basing this off one message in English! What of the numerous symbols left behind? What if there were things that we simply do not know about?
**WHITEMAN:** (*sneering*) We have all we need. Technology far beyond our time, hidden under our very noses. And a warning to men, to prepare for war in 20 years!
*Several heads nod and murmur in agreement.*
**TAYLOR:** But then, why wait for 20 years? If the goal was to subjugate us, why not now? Why--
**WHITEMAN:** Too many questions! A soldier simply has to listen!
**TAYLOR:** Sir, I’m no soldier. I’m here to understand why this has happened, not jump the gun at a perceived threat.
**WHITEMAN:** Threat! Even you know it’s a threat!
**TAYLOR:** Sir, that’s not what I--
**WHITEMAN:** Enough! We are preparing for war! And we will win! No matter what it takes.
*TEN YEARS LATER.*
INT. SPACE FORCE MEETING ROOM A
*Whiteman sits at the top of the table. His head of black hair is now almost fully grey, having aged two decades in one. Taylor sits at the foot of the table, head in his hands. *
**WHITEMAN:** (*shouting*) Budget?! Budget?! We are preparing for war with aliens! If we need budget, we can draw them from elsewhere!
*Several heads nodded and murmured in agreement.*
**TAYLOR:** (*wearily *) From where, sir? Half the nation’s budget at this point is dedicated to here.
**WHITEMAN:** Anywhere! Education, welfare...
**TAYLOR:** But the people need them! What use is there--
**WHITEMAN:** What use? We have to defend our home against this threat, first and foremost! The people will understand!
**TAYLOR:** Sir--
**WHITEMAN:** Enough! We need what we need. I’ll go directly to the President.
**TAYLOR** (*whispered*) What use is defending our home when there isn’t one?
*TWENTY YEARS LATER*
*Whiteman’s hair is now stark white. His powerful voice has not diminished, however, and continues to dominate the proceedings.*
**WHITEMAN:** We are finally ready for the promised day. All our weapons and soldiers are at the ready. We will not lose.
**TAYLOR:** Sir.
**WHITEMAN:** Stand ready, gentlemen. Our troops might fall, and their lives might be gone, but that’s OK! It was worth the sacrifice. We will celebrate when we drive the invaders away from our planet!
*Several heads nod and murmur in agreement.*
**TAYLOR:** Sir.
**WHITEMAN:** No more aliens! No more threats! They will burn in hell for their crimes!
**TAYLOR:** Sir!
*WHITEMAN:* You? You are still here?
**TAYLOR:** I’ve done it. I’ve cracked the code.
**WHITEMAN:** Code? What code? What the hell are you talking about?
**TAYLOR:** The symbols underwater. The message that you refused to acknowledge.
**WHITEMAN:** What symbols? Wasn’t there just one message? To prepare for war?
*Several heads nod and murmur in agreement. Taylor sighs.*
**TAYLOR:** No. It just said we had 20 years left, and that they were coming. I found out why they were coming.
**WHITEMAN:** For war!
*Rousing cheers sounded from numerous men. Taylor slammed his palm on the table, and the raucous crowd quieted instantly.*
**TAYLOR:** No! You are wrong. You are all wrong! There was never any threat! They said we had 20 years to clean up our act! To make the world a better place!
**WHITEMAN:** And we’ve made it stronger!
**TAYLOR:** We haven’t! We’ve invested everything into weapons, and none into our people! We might as well have killed them ourselves as they lay on the streets, starving and homeless.
**WHITEMAN:** But our soldiers--
**TAYLOR:** Our soldiers mean nothing! Do you think that just 20 years will change their technological advantage? They have freaking spaceships! What do you think they have now?
*The room is deathly quiet.*
**WHITEMAN:**(*hopefully*) Less spaceships?
*The room begins to shake. Heads turn and start shouting. A laser beam shoots through the ceiling, instantly incinerating one head.*
**TAYLOR:** We are done. We abandoned our people. And they gave up on Earth.
FADE TO BLACK
---
r/dexdrafts | 2020-07-29T09:10:48 | 2020-07-29T09:04:49 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] You are a third generation guard for the holy immortals, and you have finally have received the greatest accolade that they can bestow on your kind... "Good boy", says your immortal master. | The Littlest of the Immortals called me to her dwelling. It was not as big as the Big Immortals, yet it was my favorite. The Little Immortal beckoned me forth, and I leaped into her chambers. She spread her lips to reveal her teeth. Time has thought me that this is the Immortals way of showing gratitude. I lowered my head, and she placed her hand upon it. Though it may be wrong of a protector to say so, Littlest Immortal is my favorite. She is caring and compassionate. She carries the softest touch of all. As her hand ran through my fur, she whispered to me. “You’re a good boy.” I huddled closer. My father, and his father before him guarded the immortals. My grandfather was a Shepherd from Germany. A good man, yet not the favored among the Immortals. My father was deemed a “good dog”. A glorious ranking. Yet I, for some reason, was deemed worthy enough to be granted the title of “good boy”. To be seen as an equal. As I lay down by the Little Immortal, I took to looking away from the tears rolling down her cheeks. My aging bones settled into place. I hope... my children... get a good life. A good life with the Immortals. I closed my eyes, and settled into a deep slumber. A last nap. A final sleep. As my breathing slowed, I placed a paw on Littlest Immortal. She is- she was... a good girl. | As I was going to my post I saw another boy standing there about 20s or mid 20s in age. I walked toward him and said "Boy this is my place of duty"
"I was asked to stand there and was asked to give you the message that you have been summoned to meet His Holiness in Immortal Palace." He replied
As i was moving toward the palace I thought "Have I done anything to offend the Holy Immortal"
As I reached inside the palace I saw Holy Immortal sitting behind his Table writing something which probably I cannot comprehend since they deal with the working of life and death itself. I walked toward the table and stopped at some 4-5 foot so and I bowed and in that state I said "Your Holiness I was summoned by you!"
"Yes, Come stand near the table I have to give you something that may make your future a little good or in your opinion a Best it has ever been!" He replied in a tone that resembled a old voice.
I walked toward the table and stood just behind it facing his Holiness. Then again I bowed to not offend or seem some disrespectful donkey.
"Hmm" He murmured and continued "Oh! Just stop doing that bowing again and again, doesn't that make your head and back ache?"
"No, your Holiness! It does not!" I replied.
"Well, whatever! Just stop that and take this" he put a letter and a badge on it as I getting straight posture. I took it with a confused look and then suddenly he said "Come here Boy."
"Boy? I am 30, well in his age that must be boy" I thought as I went near him and as I was about to bow again he just stopped me and said "I did said stop it right?" And then suddenly he patted my head and hugged me and suddenly said "Good Boy!"
What the hell is going on here, I'm third generation of my household that is serving to his Holiness and I've heard that before me that served him didn't even received this their whole generation! And I get this!
'Why' Is what I wanna ask him but will not as it will just seem rude and I just took the batch and letter and again bowed to him and I got outside his palace. I was going toward the gate but stopped in the middle of the pathway and opened the letter out of curiosity and saw its contents which simply wrote "this is to inform Kellstok that he has been granted a 'Good boy' from his Holiness which is a highest and greatest accolade one can receive from him and will be promoted to a much higher post to Chief Holy guard and will be granted any good noble house present in his territory!"
I couldn't comprehend what was going on then suddenly I saw a carriage stopped near the royal and wide gate. Then a figure for out of the carriage from inside and came walking toward me and stopped and said "Good Boy Kellstok I presume you are?"
Wow listening that made me uncomfortable but was good and satisfying at the same time and suddenly I remembered that he asked me something but I forgot what and I just said "Yes" without any thinking.
"Come you have some important work to do, sir!" As he said he grabbed my hand and took me to the carriage and said "after you, sir!" | 2020-09-23T15:53:56 | 2020-09-23T09:29:13 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] Humans have developed faster then light travel and made contact with alien races. Turns out our civilization still has the most primitive classification because we somehow managed to skip one of the simplest inventions imaginable. | "You're still *completely* organic? You haven't hybridized with Artificial Intelligence at all?" The stranger asked me.
We were standing on designated neutral ground for humanity's first touch with an alien race- and so far, they were only one thing; confused.
"Look, the fact that you've managed to get here means your species is advanced enough to join the Community- but what gives? I'm not picking up any electronic signals from you, and only basic systems on your ship."
"W-well, yeah. There are *some* people who've been trying to get humanity onboard with the notion of A.I, but mostly humans are fearful of their power- and religious groups say its an affront to their gods."
"Who do they think their gods *are?!*" The alien shouted, exasperatedly. "Rogue A.I *love* to prank primitive planets with their seemingly paranormal displays."
"O-oh..." I said, thinking of the Buddha tattoo on my shoulder. "Well, without A.I we still got this far, no?"
"Yes, and that's...look, imagine if your son, at a prepubescent stage, created an elaborate system to cook his breakfast- your race probably has this, almost all of us do- where they wake up and trigger some kind of chain reaction, where the marble rolls downhill and hits the domino, which causes the bread to fall into the toaster, and the popping of the toast leads to the cracking of an egg, that kind of thing."
"Yeah, sure, we have videos of that nature, for entertainment."
"Right, so the amount of effort involved in making that and re-setting it every evening would be much more laborious than just making their meal. Yet they use that system every day. In a way, it's kind of impressive- yet it is also frustrating and leaves you very confused. That is the collective feeling of the Community about humanity."
"So you're saying that our abilities in space travel and communications- our very nature as well- are kind of like the mostly futile efforts of a child?"
"Yeah, kind of."
I roared with laughter. "That's the first time I've heard our entire race roasted like that, but it's damn accurate. Nothing's more frustrating to humans than humans. I think we'll endure the growing pains necessary to make great members of the intergalactic community." I extended my hand.
The stranger extended his, and we shook.
So began Humanity's ascent- to the top of the *Intergalactic* food chain.
---------------------
r/nystorm_writes | "Esteemed Council members. I have momentous news for the galaxy. The humans have finally discovered Slood.”
A hush descended over the auditorium. Agent SOL-3 smiled to xyrself. Xe loved a theatrical flourish. Perhaps something xe had learnt from a long time observing Earth. The humans might be as blind as hatchlings when it came to the basic building blocks of the universe, but they could be pretty exciting in other ways. Their music, and theatre were xyr favourite. Their art was supposed to be good, but if it was an acquired taste, it was a long time in acquiring.
“How have they done it?”
“Their ‘Science’ continues to astound us, my President. Imagine the effort, creativity, and powers of mathematical deduction required to exist at the level they do without Slood. Well, they found the only remaining logical way to find it, since they cannot see it, and cannot feel it, none of their measurements or instruments seems to be able to either. They have hit upon the most incredible method.”
“Agent SOL-3, we all know from your reports how much you like this Earth concept of suspense, but my lifeforce is not getting any stronger while you draw this out.” The Councilbeing from Artax cut in. A regular sparring partner on xyr broadcasts. They did not believe Earth was worth bothering with, that we should just class it as non-sentient inhabited now the Dolphins had agreed to take asylum off-world, after many eons of trying to help the humans find Slood.
“I will cut to the chase, as the humans say, if it pleases the Council”, Agent SOL-3 said with a pointed mental prod at Councilmember Artax-1. “The humans found the Slood, the only way they could. The measured everything else in the universe, and found that there was a huge amount of matter missing. They finally know.” An alert flashed the display projected on xyr eyecovering. Xe cancelled it impatiently.
“Humans!”, the President shook his head. “They need to go next door so they travel all the way around the world to get there. The result is the same, but it would have been a lot easier if they just paid attention to the world around them.”
The alert flashed again on Agent SOL-3’s eye covering. Xyr number two was calling. Everyone knew where xe was, so this must be urgent. Xe opened a side comms channel to take the call.
“SOL-3, thank Chronos”, said SOL-4. “You are not going to believe this. The humans have made their report.”
“Yes, I’m telling the Council the news. As you well chacking know, SOL-4.”
“Yeah, you are going to need to belay that message. The Humans completely chacked it up. They found all the Slood, looked straight past it and shrugged. They have called it Dark Matter and Dark Energy. They are just going to accept that they can’t see it and carry on with their lives!”
Endocrine responses long rendered pointless by the safety brought by connection to the Slood flared in SOL-3’s body. Xe sighed, and cancelled the connection to SOL-4.
The Council were chattering excitedly about the power of Human science, determination and ingenuity, finally fully joining the rest of the universe.
SOL-3 cut across the chatter. “Esteemed Council Members. I’m afraid the humans have done it again. This surely was their last hope”. Artax-1 smirked as SOL-3 continued. “We must reluctantly accept they are just not fully civilised. We should not cut them off completely as I still feel there is much to learn from them. But we must accept that they may never be civilised enough to be let into the true nature of the multiverse.”
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
One I wrote a few months back, that I think fits with some tweaks.
[r/TallerestTales](https://www.reddit.com/r/TallerestTales/) | 2021-02-04T08:44:09 | 2021-02-04T08:28:54 | 265 | 154 |
[WP] You adopt a humongous dog from the animal shelter, unaware that it's actually a werewolf. | My mom told me the best thing for a broken heart is a dog. Growing up in a household with more pets than people, I would tend to agree. My favorite dogs were always the big dogs, so that’s what I have in mind when I head to the local shelter.
The moment I laid eyes on Peter, I knew he would be coming home with me. Something about those sad eyes that I saw in my own reflection. He was a young mutt, with some possible Husky and German Shepard in the mix of other breeds I couldn’t identify. In some ways, he looked more wolf like than dog like, except for those brown eyes.
What I soon discovered after taking Peter home was living with your family and nine pets is quite different to living alone with one dog. Especially if said dog is very needy.
Peter would get lonely when I went to work, bored if I put on one of crime drama shows without petting him enough, and marked his territory in my small apartment in pretty much every way dogs know how. He howled and whined daily, enough that the neighbors began sending complaints. I hadn’t even kept him a month and Peter was already a handful.
It became considerably more complicated 25 days into welcoming Peter into my life. When I came home late from work, my dog was nowhere to be seen. Listening for his telltale noises as I drop off my keys, I hear the faint tingle of his dog tags.
Of course I’m used to Peter jumping on me when I come home (unless he’s been doing something naughty), but instead a small boy wearing Peter’s collar octopus hugs my legs. My first thought was that this boy stole the color from my dog and let him lose. The second thought was wondering who this kid belongs to.
I tried to shake him off, and eventually he let go. When he looked up at me, I see Peter’s eyes staring straight into my soul. “Peter?” I asked in confusion. The boy’s face lit up considerably.
“Me, I’m Peter,” the boy proudly pointed at himself. Now that boy Peter wasn’t surgically attached to my leg, I could fully take in the monstrosity of a wardrobe he concocted for himself. There was the collar, of course, around his neck. Then further down at his torso, where most people would wear a shirt, he was wearing one of my bras. He somehow managed to wear it both backwards and upside down. My exercise shorts were bunched up around his waist, but otherwise seemed to fit him well enough.
As I was absorbing the new person in front of me, Peter changed his attention to the framed photo on the fridge. “Who’s that?” He asks, pointing at the man with an arm wrapped around me.
I swallow. I really should take down that photo. “A person who used to love me,” I said in lieu of explanation. “Enough about the photo. Tell me about you. How are you now a person?”
“I’m a werewolf pup,” Peter rocks back and forth on his toes. “Except I can only be in person form on the new moon since I’m not good at transforming yet.”
“Okay,” I said. I don’t know why I was so calm and accepting of my new reality. But I could tell that Peter was a little nervous I wouldn’t accept him. Maybe that I would try to return him to the shelter. I just knew that this kid needed me, maybe just as much as I needed him.
And so my life adjusted. Peter became less of a mischief maker after I realized he understood everything I said to him. We worked out a somewhat reliable system of communication when Peter was in his animal form. I pasted different images of things he could want or need and he would paw at them when I asked questions.
As chaotic as my life became after adopting Peter, I wouldn’t change it for the world. Mom was right in some respects that adopting had helped my broken heart. Because with Peter, I was able to experience a love I wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world. My kid, my pup, my Peter the werewolf boy. | Between dinner on the stove, the successful conclusion of his first week living with his girlfriend, and the unexpectedly massive dog who had stolen their hearts, Aaron thought life had never been better. That all changed in about 5 seconds flat when the new dog’s howl became a painfully human scream and he tore his eyes away from a pair of beautifully marbled steaks to see her.
That she was beautiful went without saying, and that fact struck Aaron like a bat to the head in the moment before Leah turned the corner and let out a scream even louder than the first.
“Aaron what the fuck is that?!” his girlfriend shouted, pointed with a shaking finger at the oversized kennel that until moments ago had held a dog named Scarlett. A kennel that was now occupied with a very human and very naked woman, who of all three people in the room seemed the most relaxed.
“Woah baby it’s not what it looks like I swear to God!” Aaron said, turning his back on the woman in the cage as if that might make her go away. “Scarlett was in that thing a second ago, I’ve got no idea what happened!”
“Oh yeah right!” Leah positively huffed in anger as she turned back to the living room and grabbed a blanket off the couch. She returned to the kitchen, advancing on the kennel with it held in front of her like a shield while the woman inside watched her approach in a silence that lasted right up to the moment Leah tossed the blanket unceremoniously over it.
“Hey what?” the woman inside said in surprise, “you’re not even going to let me out?” She had a remarkably normal voice for someone who had been a dog a minute ago, there was the faint hint of a midwest accent and not much else.
“You can turn around now,” Leah said sardonically.
“Are neither of you even going to talk to me? Like, hello your dog just turned into a girl! Nobody?”
Aaron didn’t know what to say, and in a rare moment of wisdom he kept his mouth shut, watching as Leah looked down to the kennel with an anger that quickly began morphing into confusion.
“Both of you can drop the dog routine, I have no idea how you even got into our house but you’ve got to know there’s no way I’m going to believe that.” She looked up at Aaron with betrayal in her eyes but he could see a quaver in that too, as if she were already beginning to question her initial rage.
“Look lady, I don’t know who you are but frankly I’m really tired of having to explain myself like this every time. I’m not Spot or Fido or whatever idiot name they slapped on me down at the pound. I’m a free woman named Sadie and I would absolutely love it if you let me out of this cage.”
5 seconds stretched out into 10 and then 20 as Aaron and Sadie waited on Leah’s answer. She stood transfixed above the kennel staring down at the knitted red blanket she had thrown over it as if it might rise up and bite her. Aaron reached out a hand, wanting to go to her, but as he took his first step he was interrupted.
“Hello? Is anyone even out there?” Small hands fingers poked through the bars, shaking hard as Sadie tried to break free on her own. “Come on didn’t you heard the scream? Look I promise I was a dog a second ago, just let me out right now, please! I’m claustrophobic!”
Aaron seized the moment as the last of his girlfriend’s anger melted away. “You were in here two minutes before she appeared,” he said, “and then you were in the living room the whole time after. Unless I’ve been hiding her under the table all night there’s no way I could have gotten her in here without you noticing. Honey, it sounds crazy but I swear to you that Scarlett was in that kennel right up until you turned the corner, she’s the one that howled.”
Leah began nodding, slowly at first and then uncontrollably as she stared down at the crate. “Right,” she said, “you’re right I was just so shocked when I saw her, I-”
“Real touching. Out please?” derision dripped from Sadie’s words as she interrupted, and for the first time one of her hosts saw fit to address her.
“Ok, I’ll let you out,” Leah said, “but my god do you have a lot of explaining to do.” She crouched down to one knee as she reached for the door latch, pausing for a moment as she turned a fiery look to Aaron. “No peaking!”
His gaze was already fixed on the ceiling, straining to find a small spider in the corner as fascinating as possible.
Behind him he could hear Sadie climb out of the kennel, heard her sigh of relief as she stretched, popping her spine. “Hey uhh, think I could borrow some clothes?” she asked Leah. “I lose mine every time I transform, shit sucks.”
Together the girls walked off towards the bedroom, the blanket that had covered her cage now wrapped around Sadie like an itchy dress. She stopped at the entrance to the kitchen and turned back, looking at Aaron with an amused expression.
“Yo man, I think you’re burning something.”
He looked down at her, he couldn’t help himself, and even in that stupid blanket she was still beautiful. From the look in Leah’s eyes he knew he would regret it later. Then his nose finally registered to his short-circuited brain at the same moment the smoke alarms went off and he turned back to the stove with horror to stare slack jawed at the remains of his once perfect steaks.
Aaron heard Sadie’s laughter all the way down the hall, and somehow it sounded no less eerie than her scream.
\------------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-02-09T20:49:56 | 2021-02-09T18:56:38 | 84 | 32 |
[WP] You are the newest recruit in a group that does the fundamental opposite of assassination - contracted, covert resurrection. And yes, it's just as illegal. | It seemed most akin to a lemon, the thing expanding in my upper chest: big enough to make me catch my breath, flooding my throat with the bitterness of fear. I ignored it and watched $200,000 sit up in front of me, naked as a baby, the fluorescent bulbs from the hallway throwing a stripe of cold light across his muscled chest.
He planted his hands and swung his legs off the mortuary table, seemingly oblivious to his nakedness -- a fact that sent yet another chill down my spine. The red splotch between his eyes rippled and sucked into itself, smoothing over until it was no bigger than whitehead. Then it vanished completely. I took a step back, looking up at him as he stood.
"Who knows?" the man said, head cocked as he surveyed me.
I had the distinct impression that he was determining exactly what sequence of motions he would use to kill me. "Me," I said, voice steady. "I received this assignment directly from Commander Dempsey."
"Dempsey?" the giant mused, raising an eyebrow. The veins in his abs threw shadows across his skin as he exhaled thoughtfully. "Since when does AC leadership contact your kind directly?"
"Only since the Assassins' Corps lost its best asset." I wasn't being obsequious, just truthful, and we both knew it.
"Hm," he rumbled. "Do you have my gear?"
"Your cremation is scheduled for 6am sharp tomorrow morning," I said, unslinging the pack from my shoulders and tossing it at his chest. "We need to move now."
His eyes were unreadable. "There is no *we*. Thanks for saving my life, but this is where our paths diverge. The Guild has no place in the rest of this assignment. Tol Brandr's life is mine."
"Actually, the Guild *does* have a part to play in this assignment. Commander Dempsey composed this missive--" I held my PDA in front of him while he pulled on the compression shorts from the gear I'd given him "--which you can read in more detail when we're on the road. But right now we need to get to ground level. There's a vehicle waiting for us."
"You're a resurrectionist, yes?" the assassin asked me.
I watched him lace his boots. "Of course."
"Why is a resurrectionist taking orders from AC leadership?"
"I told you, you'll get more details on the road. But right now--" I turned up my wrist to look at the digital watch it sported "--we need to fucking *move*. I don't care how many men you've killed, or how easily you could add me to the list. There's a patrol due for another sweep in less than three minutes, and if they kill us both, there's no coming back."
The giant considered me for a second, traces of a smile flickering around his lips, before he withdrew his infamous, suppressed 1911 and racked the slide. "Lead the way."
We jogged from the morgue into comparatively fresh air; I hadn't realized how cloying its chemical air had been. As we made our way down the hallway, I shot him a glance. "You still get to kill Tol Brandr, you know."
"Oh, yes?"
"Yeah. You kill him, I resuscitate him. That's the assignment."
Fury sparked in his eyes as I slapped the elevator button. We'd reached the end of the hallway. "Excuse me?"
"Will you try to trust me? It's all in the missive. Dempsey wants information. Once he gets it, you can kill Tol Brandr again. And probably again, if that's what you really want."
"You did save my life," he said with a grunt, stepping into the elevator as its doors opened with a *ding*. He looked disconcertingly pleased at the idea of killing the same man multiple times.
I stepped in after him. "No, I didn't. You already lost it. I just gave it back." | "You know the drill. We get in, we extract, and then it's like we were never there." The boss fastened her gear to her chest and gave the rest of the squad a look. It was David's first operation, and somehow he had been assigned to a high-profile resurrection. He fidgeted in his seat as the rest of the team took up small chatter to fill the time.
He took the time to reflect on how he had first started down the path to this career; it was considered taboo and morally corrupt to most. When resurrection magic was first discovered, years before he was born, it was immediately banned by every government the world over. Dead men returning from the grave could mean secrets spilled, lies broken, and above all, a total lack of accountability for anyone who had the smarts to take their own life and resurrect themselves after suspicion had passed. It was too powerful a tool for the common man to use. At least, that's what the government thought.
David had lost his mother at the age of seven; just enough time with her both for him to cherish her and feel the full force of devastation from her death. He spent the rest of his youth as a socially distanced and damaged young man.
When he had first heard of resurrection magic, his first though was of his mother: *What if he could bring her back*? The question gnawed at him day and night until he finally took the first step towards becoming a criminal.
It was through a friend of a friend of a friend, initially. He didn’t have high hopes to actually meet the guy offering passage to the world behind the scenes, but he took all the necessary steps, making sure to cover his tracks as well as possible. He eventually succeeded, and it was at that point that he learned something crucial about resurrectors; they took life as quickly as they returned it.
David had been forced to take a vow of secrecy in that meeting; a vow taken with a gun pointed to his head. Any doubts he had been harboring before were now a distant memory. Following that day, he had been metaphorically erased from the surface of the planet, destined to become the nameless figure people would notice but not really worry about, raising those who had something more to say from their graves.
After months of rigorous training, he had made it. He had learned some harsh truths, and the true nature of the method of the magic itself. He knew now that returning his mother was an impossibility. Even so, he made it his personal mission to make sure that what had happened to him would not happen to others. And now, somewhere in the desert, he was going to perform his first resurrection in the field.
David snapped out of his daze when the doors at the back of the van flew open. Everybody sprang into action, and he reluctantly followed suit. The captain barked out an order: “Soulcatchers, move out!”
The squad filed out from the back of the van into a nondescript field. Lying a few meters away was a large mound of dirt that had clearly been disturbed within the past 24 hours. Two members of the team each unfolded a trenching shovel, and began working away at the mound. Within minutes, they recovered the corpse.
David stretched his hands out in front of him, and took a deep breath. Before him was a man who had died quite a bit ago, with maggots in the flesh, bullet wounds in the chest, and bloating in the abdomen. For a moment he worried about his abilities, since he had only practiced on freshly-deceased men and women; he shook it off quickly. He knew he had it in himself to take care of the job.
David started his incantation, paying careful attention to the pronunciation. As he did, blue light began to emanate from the corpse, and it slowly floated into the air. His colleagues back away as each bit of damage to the corpse seemed to melt away. The bloating recessed. The maggots shot out of the flesh like bullets, and the bullet wounds themselves tied up into themselves until there was nothing left but healthy skin.
The man floated back down to the ground on his feet. He looked around, then laughed.
“That was... *very* interesting.” He spoke with a heavy Russian accent. He pointed at the squad’s leader. “You, with the bandanna, you are in charge?”
She stepped forward with a smirk on her face. “You got that right.”
“If you can relay this to your superiors: Give my appreciation to the person who ordered my return. I will cover the rest of the bill myself.”
“Sure thing.”
With that, the man and the rest of the squad headed back to the nondescript van. David followed suit, and took his seat right next to the front. On the way back to the extraction point, the man leaned over to David and said, “You performed the spell?”
David nodded lightly.
The man chuckled. “Good work. I feel good as new.”
He grinned nervously, lacking a response.
Once they had made it back to HQ, with the man having left with a troupe of body guards at their extraction point, David made a beeline for the break room to get a cup of coffee. By the time he sat down to enjoy it, his eyes caught the headline on the TV in the corner.
**RUSSIAN OLIGARCH KHEYLIK PATSPOROV BACK FROM THE DEAD**
*The Russian people have expressed alarm at the revelation that Patsporov has seemingly recovered from a successful assassination and has returned to controlling his large sect of the Russian underground system. Worries that the start of a bloody gang war stewing over the past two years is right around the corner have been rekindled, and many fear for their lives.”
It was then the David had figured out that the act of resurrection was nowhere near as virtuous as he had first assumed. | 2021-04-05T15:39:45 | 2021-04-05T14:15:04 | 35 | 16 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid. | I do not speak their language. I never had the chance to learn. With their instinctive hostility to the outsider, I was driven away from their settlements as they grew from the cinders of human civilisation. Survival for me is simple; I only require blood to thrive. From where it is sourced, it matters not. Forest creatures and passing travellers are all I desire. Though the thrill of evading capture no longer excites me, I still play games of cat and mouse with my prey.
They're not too dissimilar to humans; closely resembling the hominids I was born of, yet visually different enough to be recognisably distinct. A new species of primate, forged though famine and disease, forced to leave the ashes of their jungle homes and adapt to cityscape scavenging.
There are a few words of their language I understand - the most notable of which is their name for me. In the most undignified way, they trudge through my home wielding torches and cameras. They seek me out, hoping to capture a rare a photograph of "the unfurred ape."
I fucking hate monkeys. | I was an old god of the humans, however my name and purpose were long forgotten to me. I sat in a clearing of a forest, one I had called home for years now. Sat in a valley, the river ran fresh and cool.
As I allowed the sun to wash over me, animals moved about around me. The Forest alive with movement. Birds called and canines ran, the sounds I had grown to love.
Soon I heard a different sound, the footfalls of the new dominate species. I sat up, my golden robes shifting and shimmering in the sun.
I listened to closely, judging if they were heading my way. Finding they were I ran for the trees, quickly clambering up as they got closer.
Then I realised I had left an impression in the grass.
Not my first mistake, these folk already made me a creature of myth, however I was not theirs, I was the Human's.
The ones I heard aproche burst in the clearing. They look like felines, bipedal with striking human faces. I'm pretty sure they evolved from house cats. One of them was a female, a sleaker shape overall. The other was a male, more bulky then his female counterpart. On his back was a child, must have been no older then seven.
The female was holding a book with a sketch of me, or what these people had gathered of me. Golden robes, golden hair and tanned skin. My face was off however, drawn significantly more cat-like. I turned my nose up, preparing to climb further up the tree.
When the humans left in earth and died out I was left, any of them in the cosmos had forgotten me, leaving me on earth. I had been withering away in this forest for thousands of years until the first one found me, covered in undergrowth under the oldest tree, they had screamed, waking me from slumber. It took me a while after they had run to get myself free, and now I was local ledgend.
The child pointed to my impression, making the older ones freak out. I quickly climbed up the tree, hearing their joyful chatter below. Making out a few words. "Look" "Good" "Imagine" "Music".
Music... I hadn't heard that one before and yet I could make it out. "Sun" "Medicine". Another two I had only heard once and gotten the meaning of.
I breached the thickness of the trees and found myself looking out onto the village that had been built on the edge of the valley had become a sprawling town, built upon the remains of an old human town. I looked up, the sun burning my eyes.
Music...
The sunbeams became solid, a lyre sat in my hands. A sun emblazoned on it's face. I looked at it, allowing myself a small smile.
Dear sister I write you this letter as the sun sets, I feel myself growing tired, I shall move on from this forest, myths shall abound about me. When you first wake remember me, and the hunt.
Your dear brother,
Apollo. | 2022-11-26T20:40:07 | 2021-05-14T20:55:00 | 516 | 31 |
[WP] 2 years ago, tired of all the bugs in your house, you made a deal with a spider. He would protect your house from pests, and you would not kill it or drive it off. When you made the deal, you could have held the spider in your hand, now, it is much bigger, and its definition of 'pests' is also. | I hid in the basement when I heard 'them' break open the door. Shambling, groaning, screaming things that probably used to be my neighbours - or maybe their neighbours. Doesn't matter. 'They' were inside.
I'm not sure how it started - some patient zero is some city that I didn't really care to remember. For whatever reason, the authorities couldn't contain them. The military couldn't contain them. People who would call themselves survivors could barely fight them. I couldn't fight them either. But you know how that old song and dance goes - so I'll skip the long part and get to the present. 'They' somehow got everywhere, and now the world was ending. Some radio stations were talking about how infection was mostly started by bug bites - something I never really had to worry about for the past few years.
'They' pulled themselves inside, either tracking the scent of human, or the sounds, I don't know - 'they' somehow knew where to look to find others. I covered my breath with my hands, for all the good that might do. Made sure that I smelled squeaky-clean, if they could track that. I heard them dragging themselves closer to my hiding place anyway.
But I knew I that, despite what might seem like helpless begging for a miracle, I was safe.
Suddenly, there was thrashing, but no sounds of nails scrapping on wood, bodies smashing themselves on stone. Just thrashing against some material that made no noise itself, and incoherent screaming. Then, scuttling of eight limbs, and a screech. The sound of tearing flesh, and then....nothing.
I opened the basement door, and my eight-legged saviour and what might as well be my roommate walked past me taking up nearly the width of the hallway, like nothing of note happened at all - save only for a curiously clear word:
***"....Pests."*** | Jeremy swung open the door to his basement, holding a dim flashlight in trembling hands. He took a single step into over the threshold and swung the beam of light around the room, illuminating empty cardboard boxes covered in dust and thick cobwebs. Though he always told people it was where he stored old useless things he couldn't bear to get rid of, it was almost completely empty. All he could see in the darkness was a few scattered boxes and the bare concrete walls.
This emptiness did nothing to ease Jermy's fear; in fact, his arm shook more heavily as he saw the conspicuously bare walls and unoccupied floor, making the flashlight beam dance crazily around the room. After a long pause, he finally called out in a weak, trembling voice.
"I... I know you're there. I know we've had an agreement going, I let you go who knows how long ago and you killed the bugs and ants and things. Even when you got bigger, started killing rats and couldn't fit through the hallways, I let you stay here. But... but... but recently it's just been too much. I have a wife now, and I can't keep lying about the basement to her forever. And you're not eating insects anymore."
Jeremy had to pause as a terrifying memory overtook his mind. He was relaxing on his front lawn, enjoying the sun with a book in hand. He was nearly asleep when he was interrupted by the high-pitched yapping of his neighbor's dog, a little white monster that was for some reason allowed to freely roam the neighborhood. Jeremy lowered his book to see the dog on his lawn, standing beside a pile of poop with an expression of what almost seemed like pride.
Jeremy stood to start yelling, but just before he could open his mouth, he paused as he noticed a single strand of silk glistening in the sunlight. Then, the dog's head jerked to the side with a sickening snap, and the rest of its body was yanked behind it as it flew towards the back of the house almost too fast for Jeremy to follow. When he turned in stunned horror to his house, all he saw was a black shape pulling itself out of sight behind the house.
Standing now with his flashlight in the basement, he could almost see the mangled, deflated husk of shredded white fur he found there later that afternoon. But Jeremy shook his head, dispelling the memory and mustering the courage to continue.
"I don't really know what you classify as a pest anymore. I think it's things that irritate me? But I don't think you can understand, and... and...."
Jeremy paused to hold in a sob. "My wife's having a baby. You... You... It's time for you to get out."
An enormous black shape dropped from the ceiling right in front of Jeremy, and as him jerked the flashlight to point directly at the hollow black pools of its eight round eyes, it hissed, a loud, grating roar that no spider should ever be able to make. Droplets of clear venom dripped from its massive, gleaming fangs, sizzling as the hit the basement floor. Jeremy pulled a small letter opener from his pocket and held it out in front of him, but the spider merely skittered forward on its thick, hairy legs to hiss again, blowing Jeremy's hair back with the force of its rage.
Jeremy ran. What else could he do? He slammed the basement door behind him, ran back to the relative safety of the living room and curled into a trembling ball on the couch. Still lying there, he grabbed his phone off of the table and flipped through the tabs he had opened in preparation for this eventuality. The websites of various exterminators, and listings for a hotel far, far away from his spider-infested house. | 2021-07-03T20:59:36 | 2021-07-03T19:40:43 | 1,698 | 668 |
[WP] "Son, i need to tell you something. I am a god." "Dad, I'm 20 and studying mythology. You don't think i haven't figured that out?" | The tide of mortals rises and falls.
Swells like a symphony.
Crashes like a wave against the tallest rocks.
And sure as a golden age rises, it will someday set– the land left bitterly shrouded in the one and only constant truth between myth and mortal alike.
Darkness.
From ember and ash, we clawed our way into being– gods. Birthed from the only true source of life; fire. From heat, we were forged. With the cold came knowledge.
*All* knowledge.
And that, most of us believe, is the true test. The first layer to break through– the eggshell from which we either break with our own beaks or tuck back into ourselves to sleep for a millenia more. The understanding that one is what one is and wrapping one's fingers around their assigned sword; it is no trivial feat.
And still, we must. For we were responsible. Gods were not born without purpose. It was etched into our skulls. Laid before our eyes and inscribed into our tools. What must be done was as clear as the brilliant burning stars around us, birthing more gods and continuing the cycle.
For parenting, however... no such manual existed.
I wasn't certain when to tell him, nor how. When I did, his lips birthed the first string of words to have ever surprised me.
A new emotion to a god was worth more than all the treasures in creation– I smiled perpetually as I doted upon the back of his head.
"You... already figured it out?"
"Of course," he chuckled as he turned around in his chair. "Who did you think you were fooling?"
"All of creation, I suppose," I responded.
"Yeah, you're not very slick," he said before turning back to his book.
"Where did I err?"
He sighed and closed his book before turning around and sitting backwards in his chair, "Alright, big guy. Riddle me this: how is it that someone who quotes scripture nonstop owns nothing religiously symbolic?"
"I..."
"Nothing around the house that would suggest you're of the faith," he continued. "You don't even own a copy of the scripture."
"For it was I who penned it," I defended myself.
"I get that, big shot."
". . . You could not have made such a leap in logic with that information alone," I insisted.
He folded his arms on the back of his chair and rested his head on them, looking upon me as though he pitied me.
"Dad. Remember when I was a little kid? When I wished I had a friend who understood me? Then suddenly, my stuffed tiger came to life?"
"T'was your imaginary friend," I smiled warmly. "I felt content to allow you to believe in it."
"Yeah, well I took him next door and Mrs. Goldman screamed for five minutes straight. She's *still* in a mental ward, do you realize that?"
I turned my gaze left and peered through the architecture. Indeed, Mr. Goldman had fallen asleep with a TV dinner on his gut. The true sign of a single man.
"Then there's all this mythology," he turned partway around and felt around for the book on his desk. He pulled it forward and set it against the backrest of the chair before poring over the pages. "I mean, this stuff in here. It's all describing *you*."
". . . Son. Had I known all this time how keen an intellect you possessed, I-"
"No. Nope. Even dum dum down at the end of the road could have figured you out. I said it once, I'll say it again, you're not slick."
I folded my arms and leaned against the wall.
"Well. How about that?"
"Yeah, how about that," he said before turning around returning to his studies. "I love you pop, but you're too perfect. Always where I need you to be. Telling me exactly what I need to hear when I need to hear it. Making sure every single one of my needs is met. Nobody is *that* lucky. Like, *all the time*."
I chuckled softly before turning and making for the door.
"And dad..."
I turned around.
"Thanks. You're a god at being a dad."
Pride. Gods were to be wary of it.
The boy was good at testing me.
r/A15MinuteMythos | Alex watched his father pour water over a bundle of spaghetti sitting in a pot.
It was funny, really. His dad confessing to him that he was God, like a sinner confessing a secret to a priest, hoping for forgiveness. But he’d known already. Had for a long time.
“So when did you find out?” Dad asked. “You know, that I’m… Him.”
Alex shrugged. “I think when you’re a very little kid, both your parents are kind of gods to you. Then, as your grow up, as you understand the world a bit more, you see they’re just adults and there are lots of people like them.”
Alex paused and opened a jar of tomato sauce, handing it to his dad. “That is to say, it wasn’t so much a matter of finding out as much as just keeping that feeling that other kids lose.”
Dad poured the sauce into another pan. Then he filled a glass up with tap water. Tapped the side of the glass. A bloom of red inked out in the water. Dad took a long swig.
”You doing stuff like that probably gave it away a bit though,” said Alex.
Dad wiped his mouth. “Yeah. I guess it would. Old habits, right? Besides, it’s more of a Jesus thing to most people.”
”Did Mom know you were God?”
Dad smiled. “She knew. But it didn’t really bother her. She just treated me like I was a person. That’s why I loved her.”
”I bet the drinking bothered her though.”
”Ah. Yeah. It would have. To be honest, I didn’t do so much of it until she died. Stresses of being a single father, right? How humans do it, God only knows.” He forced a chuckle.
Alex smiled politely.
The water bubbled. Dad turned down the heat and added first salt, then a little oil.
”Guess you want me to help you with your coursework? Mythology happens to be a pretty strong subject of mine. Back when they called me Zeus I—“
“Why don’t you do anything anymore?” Alex said. The question snapped out of him. Like a rubber band pulled until it broke. This band had been stretching inside of him for years, waiting for release.
”What do you mean, nothing? I work, don’t I? That’s how I got you through school. And I help out in soup kitchens — and a second-hand shop.”
“Everyone thinks you’re dead.”
Dad didn’t respond. He looked at Alex. Then at the sauce lying cold in a pot.
”Did you hear me? Everyone thinks—“
”They’re the ones who killed me! Hell, they crucified my first son. Then expelled the very thought of me from society. They label those who want to believe in me as nuts.“ He caught a breath. “You know what the philosophers say about me?”
Alex shook his head.
”That I’m dead, but it could take a thousand years more to chase my shadows off all the cave walls.“
Alex digested the sentence. Did it mean the slow process of educating people out of faith?
“Yeah that’s exactly what it means,” said Dad. “Because faith is for idiots. That’s why I gave up. That’s why I became one of them. Why I married a woman and raised a kid and didn’t tell anyone who I was. Because this way, I get to love and be loved. And we get to be left alone.“
“Sorry,” said Alex. Although he didn’t know why he said it. Not exactly. He’d never seen his Dad this upset.
Dad turned on the flame beneath the sauce. “She’s been dead sixteen years and I still can’t cook much more than spaghetti. You’d think I’d have learned something by now. Pathetic, right?”
”It’s not selfish to want your own life,” said Alex.
Dad said nothing. Not for a long while. Then, with a sigh: “It’s not brave, either. Ah, what are we going to do, eh?”
“People always worship. You know that, right? One of the first things we learned in class.”
”What do you mean?” said Dad.
”If it’s not religion, it’s ideology. Or it’s looks. Or it’s the material stuff people buy. Either way, everyone has to worship something. There’s an empty spot in us that needs to be filled by it.”
”Then I’m glad they found a replacement for me.”
Alex shook his head. “That’s just it. It’s not a replacement. People who worship money or beauty… it destroys them in the end. Because there’s no depth to it. And once the money dries up, or their looks fade, they’ve got nothing. And everything they believed crumbles down. Castles of sand, Dad.”
Dad took the pot of spaghetti and drained the water over the sink. “Not easy being human.”
”People are lost, Dad.”
His dad took a long breath. Alex saw tears running down his father’s cheeks and into his brown beard. For the first time Alex could remember, he thought his father looked old. Old and frail.
“What about me?” said Dad. “You think I know where I am? Think I’m not just as lost as all of them? Ever since your mom—”
”She’s gone,” Alex yelled. “She’s gone, Dad. But you’re still here.”
Dad ran his hands over his face.
“I’m sorry,” Dad said, after a long pause.
”Yeah. Me too.”
“Don’t be. I’m the one who brought all this up.” Dad took his glass of wine and tapped the side. The red drained away into nothingness.
”You didn’t need to. Not for my sake.”
”It was for my sake,” said Dad. “Think you can finish making dinner? It’s pretty much done.”
”You going somewhere?”
”Yeah. I need to go find something. Something that’s been lost for a long time.” He kissed Alex on the forehead. “I’ll be back though,” he said. “I promise.” | 2021-12-10T09:17:45 | 2021-12-10T08:06:23 | 1,557 | 408 |
[WP] There once was a legendary mage whose lack of a max mana cap allowed for slow but powerful spells that laid waste upon the land. After the unification of the races, their leaders have come to negotiate with the living catastrophe who hasn't cast a spell in centuries. | The heroes walked through the dreaded castle. An elf advanced first, scouting for foes and dangers for his fellowship. Twenty meters behind him, a human knight walked, her heavy steel-coated feed marking each step. A halfling wizard followed her, his magic scanning every corner for magical traps or hidden creatures.
Them three were the best. Heroes whose tales were spoken around the world, whose feats were sung by bards in every tabern, a team whose adventures inspired young adventurers in each guild of every city in every nation.
And they had been summoned... by the Witch Queen herself.
It had to be a trap. They were certain. There were legends about the Witch Queen, some so horrifying that one would desire they were just made-up tales. Legends about how a single spell from her created the great deser of Karrak. Tales about how her magic killed entire armies with a single thought. Religious books talking about her ire wrathing against the gods themselves. Volcanoes, earthquakes, floods, plagues, fire rains, and the list of horrors summoned by her vile tongue continued for pages and pages of stories told. She was the witch who had the world at her grasp, the witch who controlled the shadow gods, the monster whose stories mommies tell their children to make them eat the soup.
The Witch Queen.
And the heroes arrived to a huge door, thirty foot tall and twenty wide. Under it, they could see the orange glow of the flames. They looked at each other, readied their weapons, drank potions and prepared protections spells and, coordinated by decades of fighting the unknown together, they kicked the door opened...
...and the sight was astonishing.
The witch appeared to be a young woman. She was sitting in a huge padded throne, lying over hundreds of pillows, while immense flames roared behind her. At the same time, a rain of ice fell non stop from the ceiling, countering the heat and making the chamber quite... pleasant? The party of heroes stopped their attack, staring at the woman that slowly, whispering, greeted them. "Welcome, heroes", she said, "I have a huge problem".
They looked at each other, confused. "Wait, aren't you the Witch Queen, the bringer of chaos, destroyer of world, slaver of demons, slayer of kings, Burner of forests, Creator of Deserts, Bringer of the Plague...?"
"Yes, yes, yes, I am" she admitted, "but that's not why I called you. You see, my problem is that there is no theoretical limit on how much mana I can gather".
"I read about that", said the wizard. "Your mana pool is disconnected from the world's mana flow. This means that the more you accumulate mana, the more you will attract. In other words, you gather mana at an exponential rate".
"Yeah. That's it".
There was an awkward silence, until the scout dared to ask the question. "Why the fire and the ice?"
"That's me trying to burn my excess mana. But it just keeps growing".
"I don't get it", said the knight. "Why did you summon us, then? We thought you were challenging us!"
"It is quite funny. After the century long war, I was pretty much upset and couldn't sleep" she said. Her voice, while whispered, carried some remorse about her decissions. "So... I decided to enchant myself with a simple sleep spell. You know, to catch some eye-shut."
"The hundred years war? Wait, wasn't that...?"
They all looked at the halfling wizard, who had suddenly grown pale. He produced a book and a quill and starting making calculations, growing paler as the numbers filled page after page. Finally, he looked at the Witch Queen and realized how very slowly she was moving on her throne.
"Please, PLEASE tell me you haven't been asleep for the past five hundred years!".
"Sorry but yeah, I have", she said. "I might just end the world if I sneeze. I... no. WE have a problem".
The three heroes looked at each other, the fear growing in their faces and spirits. Finally, after several minutes of tense silence, someone mouthed what they were all thinking: "Fuck".
((Hoped you enjoyed it. If you have an idea on how to continue this tale, please be my guest!)) | 'There is it,' the Dwarves Representative announces, their gloved finger pointing towards a huge lump of green in the middle of a forest clearing.
The Ogre King hums and pulls out his map, 'According to map, we arrived.'
The Elf Queen frowns, 'Are you certain? That do not look like human dwelling, let alone the legendary mage's cottage.'
But it is. As they get closer, carving a path of broken grass under their feet, the trio of leaders of the New Kingdom see that the lump is indeed an cottage. An extremely overgrown one, covered brick-to-brick with weed and over spilled with vines, but a cottage nonetheless if the single round window at the top is anything to go by.
For a moment, the air is filled by ruffling noises and coughs as the leaders clear their throats and readjust their garments. Talking to a legendary mage with unlimited mana is a honor, even if that mage had not casted a spell in thousands of years.
The Elf Queen starts first by bellowing their introduction, 'Mage! We are the High Order of-' , only to be cut off by a strong gust of wind.
Suddenly, a door springs open from between the weed. It too is covered so densely in vegetation, they could not see it before.
The Elf Queen is irritated at being cut off but before she can repeat her words, the Ogre King holds out a silencing arm. His relaxed expression from before has turned serious, 'We come in.'
'That looks dodgy,' the Dwarf Representative squints at the inviting darkness. Just to be sure, they call out, 'Mage, may we come in?'
There is no answer. However, the door flaps a little in another gust of wind, as if to wave them inside.
'They want enter,' the Ogre King growls quietly.
The Elf Queen and the Dwarf Representative stare at him in puzzlement, as ogres are the most hypervigilant of all races. This looks clearly like a trap of some kind.
The King immediately notices their hesitance. He softens his expression and explains in a reassuring tone, 'I do not smell metal or aggression. But I smell something sad, so perhaps the mage lonely.'
Ogre's assessment of danger is always accurate, so the elf and the dwarf relax a little. Still, as the three of them enter the door one by one, their postures are stiff with tension. Each of them expects the door to spring shut as soon as the last get in.
It does not. Instead, it hangs there in perfect stillness, offering an escape of light between the box of darkness.
​
Inside, everything is bathed in a thin veil of light. Other than the round window they just saw and the opened door, there is no other light source. From where they stand, the trio can see a plush living room leading straight to a cozy kitchen. In between the two spaces, a simple cot hangs next to a stack of old tomes acting as a side table. There is no stairs. Even in limited lighting, the place looks homely, so much so that one can almost skim through the mess of parchments on the floor.
The Elf Queen can feel the the hair at the back of her neck standing on end. 'Ogre, Dwarf, once again, are you certain we are at the right place? This place is desolate.'
'There might have been a mistake,' the Ogre King hisses and draws his axe, his eyes darting around rapidly.
Still, his eyesight cannot rival a dwarf, who immediately notices the lone tea bag on the kitchen counter, next to a chipped mug.
'They were making tea? They must be out to get some water. We barely miss them then,' the dwarf says cheerily.
The heavy tension in the air slides off in sheets at their words. His companions sigh, before dropping their weapons. If the mage is nearby, they only have to wait for them.
To be polite, the three leaders settle uncomfortably on the only sofa in the cottage, which is clearly not designed to sit more than one and a half person. As a result, the tall elf and the wide ogre sit on two opposite end, leaving the small dwarf squished between them.
After a long period of hot, sweaty silence, the Elf Queen finally breaks, 'It is getting warm here, don't you think?'.
"Warm" is of course an underestimation. She can feel every crevice of heat in her armor, accompanied by the gross accumulating moisture, and hopes desperately for something to fan herself with.
The Ogre King pants in agreement, 'I agree, Queen. I am certain the Mage will not mind if we open the windows.'
'I will get us drinks!' The Dwarf Representative chips in.
'And I will go find something we can fan with,' the Elf Queen announces before all three of them get up.
​
The Ogre King yanks open the nearest window. A shower of dusk greets him, making him coughs, before revealing crudely hammered planks woods. He frowns minutely and moves on to the next window. Same thing, boarded up with planks.
Nearby, the Elf Queen searches the sprawling parchments on the ground for something hard enough to fan with. As she touches each parchment, she feels the faint imprint of quill. Curious, she turns them over. She can read fragments, the rest blocked by bad lighting. Still, it is enough to turns her face ashen.
"Dear Doctor, my vision keeps blurring..."
"My dear friend, do...when I drank the..."
"...might be poison...pain..."
"...diary, today...grow scales...black blood...hungry..."
"...soon...soon...deformed...hated...hopeless"
"...Doctor,...my mind...recognize in mirror..."
...
​
Outside, as the dwarf pulls up the bucket of fresh water, he spots something jutting out of the sloshing reflective surface. Feeling dread rolling off his stomach, the dwarf pull faster and faster until the content of the bucket is in full daylight. Only then, does he scream. | 2022-05-04T12:37:09 | 2022-05-04T12:24:15 | 21 | 10 |
[WP]Well, that's a pretty fucked up way to find out you are immortal. | I looked out upon the city that had eaten me up and spit me out. I tried to think of the good people in my life. The memories that had helped me through the tough times. Even just the good times. Nothing came. Well, just one thing. A dog I had when I was growing up. She was the only loyal thing I had ever known. The only thing that I had loved or had shown me any love. But that was 15 years ago. Maybe I’ll get to see her when this is over. Maybe.
I take one last breath. I whisper, “fuck it.” Then I fall forward. I see the buildings in the skyline fall up as many turns into one. The one across the street. I think I see a glimpse of myself in the windows that begin to rush by, but I can’t be sure. Then I see the street below and then white noise. The wind is so loud I can’t even hear my screams. If I was screaming. The cars get bigger. I can see more detail on people’s clothes. I see a hot dog vendor drop something, pick it up, and put it back on his cart. “Gross” I think. Then I close my eyes. I feel a pain that can only be described as being hit by a truck. The pain is like nothing I have ever felt. It felt like I was folded in a lawn chair then squeezed in a vice. But only for a split second. Then blackness.
I heard voices. Worried voices. Gasps. Then I heard movement. Feet shuffling. Horns. I smelled something. Hot dogs. And the faint scent of garbage. My eyes start to twitch and light starts to poke through. I open them, or rather, one since I seemed to be on my stomach with my face on pavement. I groan as I push myself up of the street. I stand and look at the crowd that is looking at me. I look up at the building that I had chosen as my last vantage point. I look back towards the source of the hot dog odor. “Well...fuck!” | I sit in my desk chair, slumped over with a bottle of whiskey in my hand, held by the neck. I lift it up to take another swig, tasting the bitter ambrosia as it passes through my lips. It tastes terrible, but day after day my mind seeks refuge in its nasty tang. The way it clouds my perception is sweeter than the liquid, and usually keeps me sane. Today it serves a different purpose.
Today isn't particularly special compared to others. I'm drunk. I'm depressed. I'm no stranger to how I feel, but so much so that I'm sore in the head. I'm drunk on alcohol and nothingness, with a cloudy future and a meaningless past. All I can comprehend is the present, in which I'm a vegetable of the man I'm supposed to be.
Today, however, is slightly different. I've grown too tired, and in my groggy despair I had set a 357 Magnum on my desk right in front of me. It's loaded. After sitting in the filth which is my sweat-stained work uniform and pondering with my poisoned mind, I've got little left to hesitate picking the firearm up sluggishly with my left hand.
I sit there for just a moment, glossing over the handle of the Magnum with my thumb. As I graze over the cold metal and wood, I breathe lightly and shakily as I contemplate. I'd expect that such heavy thoughts would affect me more, but at this point I'm drunk and I'm sick and I hate breathing. The world is a cruel, cruel mistress, and this place wasn't built for me. None of it. Not my house, not my job, not my life. I exist to please those who don't care for me. I feel invigorated by the all-curing pill I grasp. I can escape. My one final way to stick it to the man. I'll soon be off to the real land of the free.
I feel angry at those that have led me to this dead end, but I feel triumph knowing I'll slave to this world no longer. I lift the bottle in my right hand one final time, taking my last swig of the sweet anesthetic. I slowly put the bottle back down on my desk so as to not drop or spill it once the deed has been done, but it's not like that matters to me. Once the glass of the bottle clanks onto the desk, I take a deep breath.
I raise the revolver to my head, pressing the cold barrel to the center of my brow. I close my tired eyes, pulling the lever on the gun back with my thumb. My index finger grazes the trigger. Tears well up in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. Oddly, they aren't tears of sadness. I crave the freedom I'll have in a couple moments.
I take a deep breath, then squeeze the trigger. A bang louder than anything I've ever heard rings through my ears as a blunt searing pain fills my head. My slow, drunk thoughts are quickly stung with panic. I scream louder than I thought I ever could. I pull the lever again quickly and shoot again, something I thought wouldn't be necessary. I'm met with the same pain, now twofold. I unload bullet after bullet into my throbbing brain, which has blood and other fluids pouring out all over me, my clothes, and the floor.
Not a single bullet does the trick, but clearly they all went through my skull and eviscerated my cerebral tissue. I fall out of my chair, writhing on the floor. My guttural roars of agony echo throughout my room, combined with the sharp ringing in my ears. My previous struggles are now of no importance to me, replaced by crucifying pain. After screaming myself to exhaustion, I pass out as I'm pleading to the universe that still plagues me:
Why? Why am I alive? | 2022-05-05T11:25:59 | 2022-05-05T08:33:18 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] Humans aren't the strongest, or the most advanced, species in the galaxy, but they are the most vengeful and persistent. They evolved as persistence predators. If you wrong them, they are willing to follow you across the stars and can spend years working to get back at you for what you did. | The bartender poured another round of Blue Andromedan for the pair of men in dirty overalls, then went back to polishing the bar as the two continued trading stories. As far as he was concerned, it was just another twelfth day afternoon in the Main Deck Saloon on Lhasa IV.
“So you came all the way out here because your wife left you?” Asked the mustachioed man in orange coveralls. “Talk about pulling a geographic, that’s 400 light years!”
“I didn’t say she left me, in fact I sorta left her.” The younger man in red coveralls answered, sipping his blue beverage and wincing at the astringent burn. “It was more or less mutual, really. I just didn’t expect her to leave the house and chase me to the helium mine on Luna.”
“Jeez, what did you do to her?” Mustache asked.
“Nothing! Really! I guess I just must have shown her a really good time while we were together.”
“So why did you split up?”
Red Coveralls thought a moment, considering the alien beverage in his glass.
“I guess she was just a bit too clingy, you know?”
“I hear ya. Reminds me of this girl I was with back on Mars, back when I was foreman of the ice mining crew over there. Did I tell you how I got this scar?”
Mustache pointed to a gray-brown stripe of scar tissue above his right eye, as the door behind him swung open, hitting the bulkhead with a dull, metallic thud.
The hooded figure strolled noiselessly to a place at the bar next to the two patrons as Mustache continued his story of the girl on Mars, its diminutive stature erect and supple under a flowing dark robe.
The barkeep finished polishing the other end of the bar, sauntered over to the newcomer, asking “Blue Andro or Solar Fizz? I recommend the Fizz, it’s not made from industrial waste.”
“Fizz.” A smoky, feminine voice answered.
Mustache continued, “and I shit you not, man, she took that mutant marmot by the nose and-…hey, hey buddy are you ok? You just turned white all of a sudden.”
But his drinking companion did not hear him. All he heard was the one word uttered by the hooded newcomer behind him. He turned, slowly as the figure removed its hood, revealing a shock of platinum blonde curls and a face that was so average it was almost picturesquely plain.
Red Coveralls sobered up immediately. “H-how did you find me here?”
The Blonde produced a small metal object from inside her robes. A pistol, old fashioned projectile weapon, possibly from all the way back on earth, and placed it on the bar. She turned to face Red, revealing a small cold sore at the upturned corner of her mouth.
“Hello, honey.” She said. “You gave me something that just won’t go away.” She thumbed back the hammer on the ancient weapon, still resting its bulk upon the aluminum bartop. “Well, I’m here to return the favor.” | I do not have time for this today. I’ve got memos to write and clothes to pick out for the Dyson-sphere inauguration at Cetis Prime and three-hundred of my genefixed-children have asked for a formal audience to discuss their inheritance and now this so-called hoo-mahn shows up with what my HUD says is a look of melodramatic grim determination, demanding satisfaction for “the destruction of my planet, its people, and its future!”
“Yes, yes, my dear, um, person. I understand, you’re quite upset. Excuse me …” My assistant comes in and raises three eye-stalks like *should I call the local Annihilator Corps on his ass?* and I swivel my main optic-sensor at her like *not yet, but stay close*. She gives me some documents to sign and leaves, leaving the sphincter-door open.
“UPSET????” my interface translates his guttural noises into galactic speak, adding intensifiers to denote intense emotion. “Upset?” he sputters, “yeah I’m upset! You assholes destroyed our planet, our moon, all our satellite habitats and even managed to drop some debris on our Mars colony. You killed our entire species!”
“Well, yes, dreadfully sorry, I’m sure. Accidents happen, and it’s not like you were really doing that much, where you? As a spacefaring species I mean. You’d been genetically stable, like, well that,” I point at him, “for almost half a galactic rotation, and only developed electricity and telecommunication in the past 0.000003 percent of that. Not exactly tearing up the sky, were we?” I laugh a gently, trying to draw him in. It doesn’t work.
He goes on. “And me and my buddies manage to steal one of your shuttles, only I survive the trip, fight my way in here, and your assistant, the one who looks like an upside down wedding-cake . . .”
“Astree-D”
“What’”
“Astree-D, that’s her name.”
“Whatever. Your assistant looks up her record on the genocide of humanity, and it turns out it was a clerical error? You were supposed to destroy some other civilization in Proxima Centauri but some intern made a rounding error in the navigational data?”
“Oh, yes. I remember. He got five demerits for that. And had two tentacles cut off. Ugly business.”
“Five demerits.”
“Yes, he was quite heartbroken. But he’s a good boy, from a fine family, so he put his beaks down, grew back his tentacles, and is now in charge of shipping and entertainment in the Galatean sector, I believe.”
He seems confused by this. “What happened to Proxima Centauri?”
“They took advantage of our little, um, mishap, to pay the late fees on the documents they’d borrowed from the Galactic Central Library. So the story has a happy ending. For them, I mean, obviously not for you and your …”
“Family, friends, planet, solar system.”
“Yes, that.”
“And my dog.”
“Your what?” I look up the word on my interface. “Oh, I see, you keep other mammals as companions? How, um, novel.”
“You bastards killed my dog. And now, I am going to kill you!”
The hoo-mahn pulls out a conical object with all kinds of interesting shapes sticking out of it menacingly and points it at me.
“With that?”
“Yes, the biggest, meanest looking gun I could find on my way here!”
“Oh well, I guess I have it coming. Please, go ahead.”
The small primate looks confused—though to be honest he’s looked confused from the start—and pushes down the lever at the back of the machine.
A great ray of light shoots out of it.
When the light subsides, I’m still there, in a single piece. Some smoke is wafting above me.
“Ah, yes, thank you. My clones confiscated all my lighters, thinking that would help me quit, but, you know how it is with will power and all that.”
I take a drag on the rolled-leaf cylinder the hoo-mahn helpfully lit for me. He stands there, looking dumber than before.
“Astree-D, “ I say into the intercom space, “please, do call the Annihilators now.”
The fight and bluster seem to have drained from him.
“You don’t mind if I keep this, do you?” I ask, placing the lighter in my desk’s private cupboard.
The guards come in and drag the person out.
I’m a few decaticks late to the Dyson sphere ceremony, but I don’t mind.
I find it’s important to keep oneself available to all our citizens, even the ones who feel the need to complain about every litle thing. | 2022-08-09T15:27:09 | 2022-08-09T14:38:55 | 62 | 32 |
[WP] Sorcerers draw mana from a personal source, such as raging storms, campfires, murky swamps, etc. and that source affects the spells available to them. You possess the gift of sorcery but you feel no attraction to any traditional source, so you wander and seek that which will ignite your powers. | "Why haven't you packed? We're leaving in 30 minutes! Hurry up!" Mom's yelling, again. Another trip, another try, another disappointment.
We've been doing this every year, ever since my eldest brother started growing his own firewood during a family camping trip. I was only two at the time, so I don't remember the excitement. Then my eldest sister made fish fly just two years later on a beach trip.
Since then, my parents have been adamant about going to as many different locations as possible to make my other big brother, sister and me magical, too. We've been around the world twice already. Sister found her gift on a farm tour. Brother got his in a desert. Mom and dad cheered, like always, but sounded less thrilled that time.
We're going to a volcano park this time. Not the first time. Dad's ready to give up, but mom's too invested in her "magical mama" persona. She wants an ALL sorcerers family, no exceptions. So, off to another repeat destination we go. Just in case I missed something the first time.
I've heard her rant many times. She calls me a late bloomer in public, in tune with a rare kind of enviroment we haven't visited yet. In private, I'm the black sheep, a waste of money, the loser child, the talentless disappointment of the family. Dad never defends me. He knows better. They all know better.
I take out my bag from the closet. I never unpacked after the last trip. Only washed the dirty ones and put everything back. One set of hiking clothes, one set of swimwear, one set of thermal underwear, one jacket and shorts and t-shirts for everywhere else. Hygiene products are always ready, too.
"At least you were fast" mom mumbles as I come down. I show her my passport and travel wallet before tucking them under my shirt. She just nods and points to the car. My siblings are staying home, again. No, wait, younger big brother is in the car.
"What's up?" I ask him.
He shrugs. "Volcano park was cool"
In the airport, everything is a mess. Announcements cite bad weather in other airports. People are mad, mom included.
"Why the heck do WE have to wait? We're not even GOING to the Canaries!" She's never been this mad before.
It feels... odd being here. All these shouting and nagging and grumpy people. The chaos, the inconsistent complaints, the demands for someone else in charge! And I'm feeling like I'm...
"Hey, Bradley? How did you feel in the desert?" I ask my brother.
"Huh?" He looks up from his phone. "Dunno, like I was home? Um, you ok?"
"Yeah, why?"
"You're smiling. You never smile on a trip"
Suddenly, a horde of gate agents, customer service reps and airline staff and custims officers materialize into the terminal. They have notepads, tablets, tiny desks and radios ready to use. Every complaining traveler gets a smiling, personal agent to listen to their woes. They smile, explain, compromise, compensate, some even break down and cry. So many people to just, yell at.
Mom's going full steam at a gate agent. Dad and Bradley are stunned.
I can't stop laughing. I've never felt lighter in my whole life! This is Awesome!
Mom runs out of steam. She's all out of complaints. And the gate agent vanishes into thin air.
"H-honey? What did that... agent tell you?" Dad asks.
"Hmm? Oh, I don't remember. Let's get in line, baggage check will take a while" Mom's completely calm now.
"Dad, look" Bradley says. "None of the staff have legs!"
They both look at me.
"I think I know, what I want to do with my life" I grin at them both. | “So what exactly is your source master?” asked Zari, Argona's new disciple.
“hmmm such questions are considered impolite to ask of a mage, it would be too easy to corner a mage and kill him should you figure out his source. In fact, this is precisely how the Archmage Jonathan Stonehaven was killed.” Argona said to Zari while nodding to the grass beneath their feet “You see, as an earthen mage, he was known to always cast his spells on fertile land where trees could be found in abundance and flowers would bloom.”
“so you mean to say that he was caught in a barren land and killed there?” asked Zari.
“no, killing an Archmage is not that easy. When you reach that level, you will be powerful enough to cast even without your source being around you. It is said that an Archmage changes nature itself when he casts a spell.”
“then how was he killed if he was that strong?” Zari wondered, confused.
“by his anti-source. You see, the Archmage loved a specific type of flower that grew around his hometown. Such feelings and upringing affects our magic, and so his conduit was plant life in general but he was at his strongest around Sun Flowers. Of course, nobody knew this back then but his closest relatives and loved ones. Or at least that's what they thought”
“then what of this thing you called anti-source, Master?”
“it is a rare thing and not all mages have it. But if, for example, your source was fire, then water would be your anti-source. This is why you rarely see fire mages travel by sea. When you are surrounded by your anti-source, it is almost impossible to do magic. This is how the Archmage was killed. You see, he himself didn't know that he had an anti-source because a plant usually doesn't have an opposite. But the assassins haired to kill him discovered a plant that was later called Night Shadow. It had the opposite properties of Sun Flowers and they managed to use it to kill the Archmage.”
“I see... So there is such dangers to the source. I didn't know that” Zari said while considering this new knowledge.
“do not worry about it Zari. You are a long way from needing to worry about anti-source. First we have to figure out your source” laughed Argona while he lead his disciple deeper into the forest.
“But master, it's been three months now and we still haven't found anything that works” complained Zari while he moved tree branch out of his way.
“what do you mean? We had much progress during this period. Didn't you find out that you are affected by water?”
“yes. But it was party tricks at best. I could not even make a leaf drown or a metal float. Didn't you say that this was the minimum requirement for a water mage apprentice?” Zari said while he remembered how he felt the leaf's resistance. It was very frustrating to finally have a clue about his magic only to end up at a dead end.
“And this is why we came here!” Argona stopped and pointed at the waterfall in front of them. It was enormous with trees surrounding it from both sides and a constant rainbow visible to them.
“but how is this any different than a river or an ocean? I think the sea would be more viable than this”
“true, but this waterfall is different. You can't feel it much at your current level but the mana here is strong. I believe that there is a mana vein somewhere around this area.”
“Mana vein?”
“not now! Just start the mana circulation that I've taught you. You should be able to do more than what we did at the river last time”
Zari did as instructed and drew in the mana to his body. With the mana fueling his magic, he tried to rise a stone from the depths of the waters. He was vaguely able to sense the stone moving inside the water but couldn't bring it to the surface.
“how is it?” asked Argona.
“I can feel it and move it around a bit but I can't bring it to the surface.”
“I see. Well, don't think about it too much. We will eventually find your source” Argona said consolingly. Suddenly, he heard a movement from the trees and spun around, summoning a light bow and shooting an ephemeral arrow into the sound. A shout was echoed from that location and they heard curses from several places around them. They were surrounded.
“hide!” Master Argona screamed at him while shooting his arrows at seemingly random locations. Zari just froze there, unable to process what's happening. How could they be ambushed like this? Who would dare attack his master? He was one of the seven! And yet they were still attacked?
He was shaken off his musings because of a knife that pierced his master's shoulder, blood tricking from the wound. But what alarmed him most was the fact that the knife was aimed at him! Apparently, the assassins were trying to kill him too!
But then, when he saw the blood of his master, something changed within him, he got excited for some reason and felt like he could destroy this whole area if he wished. He lifted his hand, entranced, and was able to draw the blood to himself.
The blood swirled around him in circles, protecting him and empowering him. Suddenly, he was able to see red shapes within the forest and with a flick of his finger, they exploded! More and more of the crimson liquid was drawn to him, a ball forming around him, it grew larger until it stopped suddenly.
At first he was confused, but then he felt exhausted, and the blood sphere exploded around him, splashing blood in a wide circle. Looking around, he found that he was the only one standing. His master was lying on the ground, pale and cold. Dead. | 2022-08-28T02:34:08 | 2022-08-28T01:57:26 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] a portal appears infront of you and a 7'4 380 pound version of you from another universe walks out covered in blood holding the heads of 4 other versions of you and screams "JOIN ME OR JOIN MY COLLECTION" | My opponent and I stop as a glowing disc appears between us.
From the light, drenched in blood, brandishing four severed heads, steps . . . me?
"**JOIN ME OR JOIN MY COLLECTION**", they thunder.
Then they pause.
And tilt their head back.
And back.
And back.
Until they meet my eyes, three feet above theirs.
I lower my blade, and my opponent snuffs its fire. We share an incredulous glance over the head of the other-me.
Other-me looks at me, at my scorched armor, at my greatsword - then, wide-eyed, turns to stare at the dragon.
"**UHH, NEVERMIND**"
And steps back through the portal.
***
Edit: formatting. | The portal ripples as what I can only describe as version of me on steroids steps through, a belt of heads at his waist... my heads.
He proceeds to speak
"JOIN ME OR JOIN MY COLLECTION" he says in a deep overtone. The energy from the portal rippling once more as a cold 'wind' streams from it.
I stare ahead as the man lifts the heads and immediately recoil backwards, not because of the sight of it but because of a smell that my body simply can't seem to handle.
Achoo
"Make your decisio-"
Achoo!
"Make your-"
ACHOO
"Argh! Make-"
ACHOO!!
"Stop that this instant!!"
I manage to hold back my sneeze but not for long until my sneezing fit lowers down a bit.
"Ugh make that smell go away dude I-I can't take it anymore!"
"What, you can't handle the smell of death? Perhaps you're too weak"
Achoo
"Not that! It's something else! It's like being pepper spray but in my nose, ACHOO!!"
"I came here for an Great Arch-Mage and this is what I get?"
He says as he lifts his sword ready to strike completely disappointed.
Achoo!
"Oh God make it go AWAY!" My eyes glow a Cerulean hue as the 'wind' stops. Out of the air tendrils of energy manifest as they grasp onto the sword and rip it from the man and into the portal.
The man's eyes widen up in vigilance as he lowers his stance, staring at me.
ACHOO!
"Damn it make it STOP!" I say through the stears and snot running through my face due to constant sneezing and the energy once again acts to my will as a small barrier forms around my nostrils.
Finally after one last sneeze I stop and look at myself. "Oh god I'm so sorry I don't know what came over me. Here let me clean up" I reach for a towel but the magic flows around me, cleaning my body. I stand there frozen and turn around.
"Oh I um, thank you? I uh didn't know you could do that" I say sheepishly staring at the ground. The man squints at me then smiles.
"So this is the talent I've been looking for, it's you, I finally found it" He reaches for my arm as I let him and step through, looking back into my room and think 'I... really hope it's a dream' | 2022-12-04T14:47:50 | 2022-12-04T14:09:30 | 24 | 18 |
[wp] examine a Redditor of your choice's comment history as if you are a film noir detective. | Something's fishy.
I scroll through my phone, looking for justice. The crime seemed too dastardly for anyone on this site to ever commit. Two users. Doxxed. No answers. It had to be an alt account, it was created 3 days ago. But why, and who? My thumb swipes the screen and there he is. I have a strong feeling growing inside me, a hunch. the last time my hunch was wrong was the old Boston Marathon case. I mouth his name as I scroll through his comment history.
"Vargas."
I seek internet justice, which is justice in its truest form. No people, only users. Users that risk their accounts to doxx the helpless. You sick scum, I'll get you.
6 days ago. "They are both pretty large men. Maybe take them one at a time."
Obviously he's talking about how he will only try and reveal the identity of one user at a time. Look at him, practically admitting to the crime in one single comment. A couple more compromising replies and I will have him shadowbanned.
9 days ago. "Yes, let's queue up in an orderly fashion so that we can all get a crack at her."
This is torture. He is flaunting his guilty status in front of me like a bully who won't give me my Ken doll back. No matter. He will pay for this inconsiderate molestation of two helpless Redditors accounts.
"Wait."
I gasp when I see it. The biggest Reddit conspiracy of all time has shown itself to me and only me. I will become an internet hero with his own detective series. The comment is self explanatory to me, but others must have missed it.
9 days ago. "Maybe I am Unidan?
*gasp*."
I rush to my laptop. I can pick any random subreddit, it won't matter. I'll be on the front page in about twenty minutes. I click on /r/news and start a self post. After an hour of furious typing, I see my magnum opus.
"BREAKING NEWS! Vargas is Unidan. They have both been doxxing everyone they can find on this site. I urge the top Reddit mods to shadowban immediately- details inside."
I will be famous in a few minutes, I just have to promise that I will change for the bet-
-1
No.
-3
No..
-8
No!
-29
NO!!!!!!!!!!!
I send /u/_vargas_ a pm.
"I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY! Goodbye Unidan."
The gun fits perfectly in my mouth.
| (*Note: the author apologizes for the quality of his similes and metaphors.*)
The case had been given to me by a large dame who could've been the prize sow on any hog farm. It was pretty simple: she'd told me there was a guy around her neighborhood who was making her feel downright uncomfortable. I'd taken a drag on my cigar and told the broad I'd do it -- for a price.
She'd come into my office last Wednesday for the meeting I'd asked her for. Grasped between her fat sausage-like fingers was a stack of papers.
"Here's what I've been able to gather, detective," she said, her voice about as pleasant to listen to as a cat in heat having a fight with out-of-tune guitar. "He likes to frequent an online forum. He posts there a lot, and I thought maybe you could gimme the inside scoop on him."
"What's the forum?" I ask, blowing smoke out of the corner of my mouth.
"Reddit," she'd replied.
I knew the place. Reddit. It was a hive of idiocy, mostly, a gathering of dimwits with a few smarties sprinkled into the mix.
"I hate that place. You'd better have a good reason, and a good chunk of dough to hand over if you want me to do the job, lady."
She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope that was almost as fat as her. She dropped it onto the desk with a loud thud. "Does the reason really matter?"
--------------------
Two days later, I was on the case. I'd opened the file to be greeted by name in large black letters, a name only a mother could love:
**/u/tomutwit.**
And beside that, a barely legible handwritten note:
*Lemme know what he's been up to. I'd like to keep an eye on him.*
I knew what tool I would need for this case: a laptop. I took out my trusty old one -- it weighed more than a blue whale and had probably been used by Neanderthals, but it got the job done. Plus, no one would ever think to look on it to see what a detective like me was up to.
I snooped around his profile for a bit. Hmm. Looked like he liked to write, too. Was in charge of a few communities, and was exceptionally proud of being named Tom. Liked to run around AskReddit and play Minecraft. Nothing too strange. What was the fat broad's beef with this guy?
I poked around a little more, and then I found what I was looking for. He'd begun to craft a secret code, one that would have been very difficult to crack. But I had found the key.
August 30, 2013. He'd let himself slip, [revealing what the code meant](http://www.reddit.com/r/teenagers/comments/1ldovs/shit_guys_theyve_figured_out_our_secret_code/cbyaunb?context=3).
> LDIU
> Lets Do It Unprotected
It wasn't really all that bad though. I began to have suspicions about the lady who'd tasked me with the assignment...
------------
She came back in next Monday, a cow in a floral dress.
"So," she asked, "what'd you find?"
"Lady," I said, taking a puff of my cigar. I was amazed it still hadn't gone out after having been smoking it for almost a week. "I got a question for you."
"Go ahead."
"Why'd ya want me to spy on this kid?"
"I... er... well, I just needed to know what he was up to!"
"He's just a normal teenager, lady. Plays Minecraft, likes to write, so on."
"No! I know there has to be something more!"
"Do you... Ms. Utwit?"
She gasped. "That's right," I said. "Don't think you can try to pull one over on the greatest detective to ever live. I did find something, but you'll have to look for yourself if you want to know what it is. Don't come back here with any more dirty work, Ms. Utwit. Next time you want someone to spy on your son for you, hire someone with a little less integrity." I took another puff on my cigar as she stood there, shocked. "Now get out of my office."
(*Sorry, this was kinda awful.*)
| 2014-05-20T12:31:06 | 2014-05-20T12:23:39 | 40 | 15 |
[WP]: In one paragraph, write the most disgusting and despicable character you can ever come up with. In the second paragraph, kill them in a way that makes me feel sorry for them. | Lily hated it when they kept moving. A necessary inconvenience, to keep the flesh fresh, but their screams and squirms ruined the painful pleasure of a desperate appetite.
A shame her brain was locked in that fantasy while her dry lips tasted dust instead of flesh, and her arms flailed against a straitjacket instead of caressing her kill. A pity they abandoned this asylum years ago and forgot to pick the lilies before they went. | 10:31am-water cooler conversation between two co-workers:
Paragraph 1:
"It always seemed to be just about the money with Harold. Remember his first week on the job? We all made an attempt to make him feel welcome, but boy oh boy.. We quickly found out that he wasn't one to socialize or contribute to the lives of anyone but himself. He pinched every penny that found its way into the clutches of his shriveled, jew fingers.
Would he ever pitch in to the weekly Friday pot luck? Not a chance. Remember? Instead he would always bring the same rancid-smelling tuna sandwich. It never failed to fumigate the entire damn office. Could you imagine having to sit in the cubicle next to such an inconsiderate bastard? My nose literally could not take it!
And remember when we had the 5k to help raise awareness for the starving children in Africa? Did he run in it? Are you kidding? Instead he took that time to cash in on the overtime paycheck....
And it was always overtime for him, wasn't it? He was the first to arrive and last to leave, but he never in his three years on the job said a word to me. God, he even worked most Sundays instead of going to church with his family- whatever family he had left that is. His wife left him years ago.. Luckily, from what I hear, she got full custody."
Paragraph 2:
"I suppose it was only a matter of time until the old bat finally keeled over of a heart attack. Oh well. It's not like anyone in the office will ever miss him... Too bad about his daughter though. Did you hear? Margaret from accounting said that she went to his funeral. Apparently his daughter has some type of rare cancer that she's been dealing with for like three years, and now that Harold's gone, her family won't have the money to continue the chemo sessions. The doctors only give her 2 months to live."
Edit: sorry then formatting is off. On mobile, I'm unable to represent it in two paragraphs without having a monster, hard to read first paragraph. I broke it up so it's easier to read. Hope you enjoyed it still.
| 2014-07-28T02:35:56 | 2014-07-28T00:10:45 | 46 | 10 |
[WP] The reason she never called you back was because she was abducted by an alien civilization. She adapted, grew, and lead a rebellion to overthrow the tyrant that ruled there. Today she just texted that she wants to go out again.
Edit: This is the song that was playing when this popped in my head. Not sure if it will set the right mood for you or not.
[Disclosure - Help Me Lose My Mind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBW9VEE29W4) (link fixed now) | "All those years?" I was crying. "I missed you so much. I hated everybody. I took out my loss for you on them. Now you come back. Finally."
"Yes," she said firmly. "I promised I would always love you. I have fought everything to save the people I found myself amongst and when we made it they wanted to make me queen or something but I refused. I didn't want to govern anybody or anything. I wanted them to be free and that's self rule to me and I just wanted to come home to you."
"But it has been so long and it hurt so much," I stared into her eyes. "You might not like what I have become."
"We can fix anything," she insisted. "I set the space ship to trace you and bring me straight to you. You are everything to me and now I have you again."
"But I'm changed," I was holding my head in my hands. "You deserve better. Much better."
"You aren't married," she looked suddenly worried. "Or in a relationship or something are you?"
"No, No," I said, "There could never be anybody but you. I could never love anybody else."
"So what have you done with your life?" she brightened up. "You seem to have a pretty nice place here."
I drew a deep breath. She had to know. "I am James the Imperator," I said. "I am Absolute ruler of the whole Earth. Well. All that is left after my wars of conquest." | Another Monday, another long drive to work. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't cloudy, but it is. A song comes on that reminds you of her. But why? It's been 3 years since you've spoken.
"It's all in the past, she doesn't matter", you tell yourself.
It's too late, the flurry of "what-ifs" float through your mind again.
*How have I still not heard from her? Everything was going just fine.*
3 years later it's still incomprehensible.
*Just fine* This echoes through your mind like a voice in an empty hallway. Was it just fine? You try to pin-point the cause of the broken tie once again, it's too hard. Maybe you treated her too well and she got bored. After all, girls are like that. You know that's not it though, you made that mistake in the past. She was supposed to be the one! How could you fuck it up? You were so careful.
Its a weekly cycle, something always reminds you of her. You weren't even going out for that long, how can you still care? You take a deep breath.
You know the root of your curiosity and your frustration; it's the lack of closure. How can someone you were so close with just abandon you like that? No reason, no trace, no apology. It's a terrible thing to do to any human being. You would've been okay with ANYTHING she told you, anything. But the last thing you heard from her was "I miss you", and that has resonated in your mind ever since.
*How can she say she misses me then never talk to me again? It just doesn't make sense.*
You think of everything you'd say to her, but you know you never will. It's just been too long. She'd think you're crazy if you still care. Why do you still care?
"I don't fucking care.." you mutter to yourself.
Mind back on the road, you change the station. No point in worrying about the past, you know the Universe has a plan for you. Learn from the past, focus on the future.
Your phone vibrates all of the sudden. You glance at the screen to see a number you don't have saved.
*Hopefully it's that blonde from that party over the weekend*
A quick glance at the surrounding traffic before you open it.
"What in the actual fuck" you say aloud.
Someones messing with you. It must be some elaborate prank by your friends. Yeah, that's got to be it. You look at the text again, reading carefully, heart racing.
It reads: "So this may seem random, but there is no easy way for me to explain what happened. I know you won't believe me, but if you give me a chance I can make everything right again. I promise. Please, I need to see you... It's....."
Your heart drops as you read her name. It's her. This can't be real.
A jolt of fear clears your daze as you remember you're still driving. You jerk your head back to the road just in time to face an oncoming barricade. You try to swerve but it's too late. A desperate scream erupts from you.
Darkness. | 2014-11-11T12:04:58 | 2014-11-11T11:56:03 | 313 | 71 |
[WP] A superhero whose powers are only activated when they're drunk. | "I'm sorry sir, but the Mark 43 prototype has failed to respond."
Tony Stark swiftly moved his arms in an effort to "call" the pieces of his latest armor. Once again, nothing happened.
"JARVIS, what gives?"
"It appears, sir, that your decision to rely on a blood sample as a means of identification has posed a significant drawback."
"Which is?"
"Your blood alcohol content at the time you uploaded the sample was approximately zero point sixteen. The armor will not respond to your blood type until your system sufficiently resembles the sample."
Tony sighed. Pepper must have re-installed the humor application into the AI. "JARVIS, this isn't funny. Release the armor." People were dying out there.
"I'm sorry, sir. You yourself prevented any overrides in your initial programming." JARVIS paused, almost thoughtfully. "Sir, I am afraid you will either have to construct a new suit, or you will have to conform your blood alcohol content to its earlier iteration."
There wasn't time to override his initial programming. Not with Mandarin--the real one--having made landfall in New York City. The Clean Slate protocol had been a mistake. But unless that new witch could bend back time, Tony was out of options. It was either the Mark 43 or nothing.
"Sir, I am receiving an urgent call from Captain Danvers."
Damn it to hell.
Tony turned to address one of his mechanical assistants. "Alright, Dummy, you're on shaker duty, I need three vodka Martinis, up, extra dry, extra dirty, extra olives. JARVIS, tell Danvers I'm bringing the party to her."
God, Tony thought, I hope the flight stabilizers can compensate for this. | Jon wakes up in a haze on his couch. He throws his blanket to the ground and sits up slowly. Jon places his hands on his head as it begins to throb. Jon groans as his stomach moans from another typical Friday night.
Jon reaches for his side table, opens the drawer, and takes some tums and advil. Jon lays back down on the couch reaching for the blanket on the floor. As Jon pulls up the blanket, the tv remote falls to the ground. Jon picks up the remote and turns on the television.
“Breaking News in New York City this morning. A large creature, something of which we have never seen before, rose from the Hudson River and started destroying Southern Manhattan.”
Jon sits up and stares intently at the television as images of buildings close to his apartment are being destroyed by a large 4 armed monster.
Jon runs to his window and flings back the curtains. The sunlight makes his head throb again. Jon covers his eyes as they adjust to the light. Jon looks down the street toward the Hudson River. The buildings along the street were completely destroyed. Jon blinks intensely and rubs his eyes. The bar down the street from Jon’s apartment stood completely unharmed. No damage at all. As a matter of fact, the monster’s destruction stopped at the bar. Jon must have just missed the monster.
“A hero emerged from a local bar in southern manhattan and fended of the monster…” said the news anchor. “What we’re about to show you might be unsuitable for some younger viewers.”
Jon turned and walked back to the television.
“The hero emerged right after 4AM from the local bar. This cell phone footage was all police were able to obtain of the hero.”
Jon could not believe his eyes. It was him. The cell phone footage of this hero was him. The footage was grainy but you could clearly tell is was Jon. Jon looked down at his clothes. He was still wearing the same outfit.
The footage shows Jon walking into the middle of the street and staring at the monster. The footage had audio. Jon was yelling obscenities at the monster. Jon covered his mouth as he watched himself on television. The monster raised up his foot and tried to stomp Jon but he dove out of the way. The person taking the video ran away from Jon and the monster. About half block away, the video pointed again at Jon and the monster. Jon’s head began to glow brightly. Jon’s mouth opened and a blue plasma beam of vomit erupted at the monster. The monster immediately caught on fire and yowled in pain. The monster retreated back toward the Hudson river with Jon chasing the monster still spewing the blue plasma beam vomit. All the citizens who had not fled began to cheer at Jon. The camera man ran closer to Jon and Jon looked at the ground and used the plasma vomit beam to launch himself onto the rooftops. The video cut out.
“If anyone has any information about this hero, please contact the news station.”
Jon sat in stunned silence. His cell phone chimed on the side table. Jon grabs his phone. He had 14 missed calls and 37 texts messages, all from his Dad.
Jon reads the last text message.
“I saw you on the news. I know you’re scared and have a lot of questions. I am part of a group called ‘Hero-holics Anonymous.’ They can help people like us. Call me when you can.”
Jon puts down his phone and looks at the news again. It is playing the grainy footage on repeat. Jon pulls up his dad’s phone number and stares at it for a few minutes. Jon sighs and calls his Dad.
| 2014-11-24T10:18:14 | 2014-11-24T09:23:01 | 42 | 12 |
[WP] Your whole life you had an ability that seemed normal to you. Now you realized you're the only one with this ability. | "Where on earth are my keys?" Amanda asked, mostly to herself.
I continued reading reddit on my phone but replied, "They're in your coat pocket over by the door."
Footsteps and a rattling of metal as they were discovered, followed by breathy giggle.
"How is it that you always know where the keys are?"
Shaking my head I thought 'how does anyone not know'. | Ray Ellis’s secret wasn’t anything special until one day in class when his power stood out to his friend. Ray sat in his desk listening to the teacher, playing with things in his right hand like coins and pencils. He was always pretty talented at doing stuff that involved eye-hand coordination, not including doing stuff like sports or playing the computer but more like pen spinning and coin rolling, so he could imagine getting far ahead in life with the talents he possessed.
“That is suttin' outta dis ghetto.” He said to me, staring wide-eyed looking like the pen I was messing with in my hand was talking to him.
“What are you having orgasms about over there, Ruddy?” I said to him almost laughing because of the silly expression slapped on his face. “You’ve seen my pen tricks before.”
“Nothang like dis shit.” He replied back more captivated than before.
“Just the same old tricks like I do all the time. Nothing new added to it.”
“It be yo' finger n' shit. Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I never peeped anythang like dat shit.”
I stopped messing with the pen and raised my right hand between us. Ruddy got up from his seat adjacent to me in the middle of my teacher talking to the class about The Great Gatsby. Luckily for Ruddy the teacher was old as dirt and his eyesight and hearing were pathetically poor.
“Yo crazy-ass ringer finger, dude yo. How tha fuck is you bustin that, biatch? No Muthafucka can do anythang like dis shit.” My friend’s face was almost right up against my hand now.
“You got a fetish for fingers now? You’re getting stranger by the day, my friend.” I laughed at him, playing it cool. Truth be told, I knew what he was talking about to me. I just never knew if it was truly a real power until that point. Now I knew that I could begin stopping vigilante crime in my town as a super hero. My power is being able to control my ring finger exceptionally well, just like any other finger. I wasn’t the superhero this town wanted. I wasn’t the superhero anybody wanted. I’m not even the superhero anyone needs.
| 2015-01-08T16:12:50 | 2015-01-08T12:29:03 | 66 | 28 |
[WP] You live in a statistically perfect world. Eg, if you roll a die 6 times, you will get all 6 numbers once. Write about daily life and some of the more dangerous aspects of this universe (car crash chances, violence statistics, etc). | It was December 30th, 2015. James, an average father of two from an average town, was browsing the latest updates from the Bureau of Statistical Truths on his computer.
"Hmm. looks like snakes reached their quota for the year in November. We could have been playing with snakes all month..." James mumbled to his wife, Sarah.
"What are you going on about?" Sarah replied.
"20,190. It's the number of people who die from snake bites every year. Looks like they hit that number early, so snakes are gonna be harmless 'til January. Maybe we could go to the zoo today?" He chuckled.
Sarah glared at him.
"Honestly honey you shouldn't read into those statistics so much. It's no way live your life. Some things are better left unknown. And why would the kids want to go to the zoo when they're at Seaworld today for their after school club?"
James let out a deep sigh.
"Oh yeah, I forgot that was today." He continued scrolling through the document, and suddenly, his face turned white.
"Honey..." James whimpered.
"There have been no killer whale attacks reported all year. The average is two."
"That's good, right?" Sarah looked disinterested, and flicked the television to another channel. It was a news station.
*"...a tragedy has unfolded at Sea World animal park today, as two young girls, age 7 and 10, received fatal bites from an enraged Orca whale..."*
| "I don't," she said. My stomach flipped. Her perfect mouth was stuck in that small frown.
"Awww.." went the crowd, like a perfect studio audience. It barely registered. After the divorce, I'd thought the odds would've.. changed..
I noticed her hand stuck out in front of her, peeking delicately through the lace. I took it, for the last time, and shook it. "Win some, lose some," she said. Our old college motto.
"Yeah."
The crowd gave a light applause and people began to stand up. Jessica gave me one more piteous look and started to walk back down the aisle with her bridesmaids. My best man Chris cleared his throat and tapped me on the shoulder. He knew I hated that old saying, especially when I lost. "C'mon. Let's get whiskey."
"Yeah."
--
Everyone was at the reception, of course; just because the odds didn't pay off is no excuse to be rude. I'd settled at a table near a dim corner with Sean. He'd already found a pretty girl to talk to. Jenny, I thought her name was. For the most part, people were giving me space. Everyone knew the odds of a temper tantrum. Logically, it was fair. But it didn't feel fair. I'd given her a yes/no question. Maybe I should've changed the wording.
"Hey, at least your dead parents didn't have to see that," Chris joked, poking me in the ribs with an elbow. What a card. What an asshole. It was pretty funny though. I cracked a grin and he turned back to
Pointless to dwell on it. I stirred my drink and started running numbers on the crowd, my old go-to when I needed a distraction.
We invited 120 guests, our least favorite people last, because they were more likely not to show up at that point. Her alcoholic aunt. My alcoholic uncle. The cousin who they were 99% certain was a heroin addict. What a bummer that was. You want to be compassionate, but you know the chances aren't in his favor..
23 women in my age group. 6 of them were gorgeous. One of those was Jessica. I counted the glasses on the table. Her friend Ashley was another one of the 6, and she had quite a few fancy margarita glasses in front of her, and a bit of a sway. She looked up and caught my eye, then took an exaggerated drink from her straw. Well. I'd call that a safe bet. You can always bet someone close to you is willing to fuck the person you're with. Or were just with. And aren't with anymore. Basically because of a fucking coin toss. Great system. I crooked a finger at Ashley, pulling her over to our table with statistics. She whispered to Jessica, stood up and started walking over. She was one of the few girls here who could pull off that dress. Odds were I'd be pulling it off too.
Speaking of people close to me, our mutual college friend Michael had sidled up to Jessica. No hard feelings, I suppose. When it's over, it's over, and you have to accept it. First grade science. I caught Jessica's eye and raised my glass as Ashley arrived and sat *extra* close to me.
Lose some, win some. | 2015-01-11T20:55:22 | 2015-01-11T20:32:42 | 49 | 22 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | Humans are a galactic anomaly.
In the typical course of evolution, there are two possibilities; either carnivores become dominant, and are forced to evolve intelligence as they fight with one another over dwindling resources, or Herbivores manage to evolve rapidly enough to defend themselves from those carnivores. In all 9824 races of the Known Galaxy, this pattern has held true.
It was a monumental shock, then, when species 9825 was discovered, colloquially called 'humans'. Their species was incredibly unlucky; they had evolved in a system where significant numbers of eccentric orbitals intersected their planet's course, resulting in not just one, but multiple large-scale impacts. It is believed that there were several nascent species on the cusp of intelligence, both herbivore and carnivore, only to be promptly wiped out by impact-induced global firestorms. The last of these was the worst; all larger life-forms were killed, leaving only the most tenacious of creatures behind, and allowing, for the first time in history, an evolutionary oddity.
An intelligent Omnivore.
Of course, most species will occasionally consume - on accident, usually - certain plant or meat based foods. The Verron-Tigers of Species 2368 will occasionally eat handfuls of grass to aid their digestive tract, for example, but never before had we encountered an intelligent species that would willingly consume both.
The scientific curiosity, however, is more than overwhelmed by the social one. Predators cannot - physically cannot - reside in close company to more than a few dozen of their kin, at most. Their instinct prevents it, competition driven by millenia of ingrained social cues. Herbivores rarely fight back; far easier to stand as a group, and let the weak be winnowed away.
When the first Predators, Skell-Walkers of species 8473, arrived at Earth, they saw the billions of humans and expected another Prey species. As was the custom, they isolated a small, isolated group of young, and began their hunt.
The entire human species nearly exploded with rage. The Skell were not prepared - Prey never fought back! When the first nuclear-tipped missiles reached their ship, in orbit around their moon, their shields weren't even up. Only a brief message made it to the other Skell, a warning of the insane prey of 9825. Still, they were prey; they assumed that as long as they avoided the planet, all would be well.
They assumed wrong. Very, very wrong. Apparently, Omnivores are fans of vengeance, and there are billions of them, compared to scarce thousands of Skell. Within 20 celestial cycles, there were no more Skell.
And then, to everyone's surprise, they stopped. They colonized the formerly Skell worlds, and were mostly quiet. Over time, the Herbivore Alliance came to the conclusion that their war with the Skell must have been a fluke; after all, even the most pacifistic of Herbivores will fight back in the right circumstances. Perhaps the Skell had just done something very, very wrong. Gently, delicately, we made contact...
...and found Humans to be one of the most delightful species we had ever known! They did not usually kill for sport, the way the Carnivores did; no, they were nearly as pacifistic as we were! We were welcomed with open arms, and within only a few dozen more solar cycles, we had a thriving alliance. It was only after another thirty cycles that our ambassadors felt our relationship was close enough to inquire as to what, exactly, had led to their genocide of the Skell. Our Chief Ambassador was understandably surprised when they told him how a small group of their young had been killed and eaten by the invaders; after all, such cullings happened regularly within our people!
The Human Ambassador politely inquired as to which species had eaten several of our Ambassador's children. We saw no harm in telling them.
That species no longer exists.
It is too late for us; the humans already know of our existence. Maybe, in time, we can even grow to live with them. But to any uncontacted Herbivores and Carnivores in the galaxy; run. Run, and never turn back. There are nearly a trillion of them now. A trillion creatures of genocide and murder in the name of peace.
Run, before it's too late.
Just run. | The Humans were sort of a 'middle-of-the-pack' species as far as technology goes, their AI's were mediocre, interstellar space flight basic, and weapon capabilities abysmal, they were deemed a class 5-E species by the Hierarchy's research teams, 5 being their current technological standing, and E being their likelihood of aggression (very low). However, the research teams did find one thing interesting, and even a little frightening to those that understood, it seemed the Human's rate of technological advancement was the highest out of any known species, including the Turyp themselves, who have led the Hierarchy for 9000 standard years. Some on the council believed that to be no surprise, considering a class 1 species has a lot less room to advance than a class 5 species does, and that is more or less true, but extrapolating the Turyp's technological advancement back to when they themselves were a class 5 species (though they had a B at the end of their 5), they found that the humans were advancing at almost twice the rate they were. Unsettling news for the council indeed. Further, and more intimate research would need to be done.
Though not aggressive, the Humans were a private species, preferring to stay out of the political landscape and *in* their own territory, only ever venturing out to trade, and usually with only two other species at that, the Senc and the Hiratii. Needless to say, the council's research was frustratingly slow. The only thing they found out was that the Humans mostly traded for medical supplies, which the council found odd, considering they were a passive species and were not currently dealing with large scale disease or internal conflict. After much debate, they decided a spy of sorts would need to be commissioned to gain any further useful data on the Humans. Something which the council didn't like to do, but at the same time an act which presented no real risk to the Hierarchy. With the Humans being a class 5 species, they were utterly incapable of retaliation. In fact, the risk of not knowing the Human's reason for such a sharp technological advance greatly outweighed the risk of their animosity.
The spy was sent, just one, a member of the Hiratii species, Kiri her name, deemed capable of long term espionage by the council and the standing military general. She was actually a doctor on the her home planet, and had an extensive understanding of countless species anatomies and medical intricacies. She was made to spend two full standard years on the Tyrup homeworld studying the Human's specific medicinal needs and how to treat any known ailment the Humans had. This was more of an educated guess as to how to get the information the council needed out of the Humans. They apparently were hoarding medical supplies for decades, making Kiri the prime choice for infiltrating the core of whatever the Humans were doing. The hope was that they would find an important use for Kiri's capabilities, and luckily for the Hierarchy, they did. Kiri spent the majority of five standard years on the Human homeworld, the first two largely spent earning their trust and proving her capabilities, but the last three... the last three were spent at the core of Humanity's medical conquests.
Kiri now stood in front of the council, looking as if she had aged far more than the five standard years since the council last saw her, but her eyes spoke more than her haggard appearance, an unsettling, slow, shallow vibration was perceivable even from the podium where she stood. The council waited eagerly for her report -- they had almost no contact with her for her entire deployment, as even class 5 species had extremely advanced forms of data transmission and detection. She stood for a moment, staring down at her orange-grey Hierarchy uniform, finding it odd not to be wearing the Human's thin white medical garb that she wore for the majority of the last four years. She raised her head with a piercing look in her eyes, aimed right at the head of the council, but individually turning her gaze to each of the thirteen members before speaking. "They are genetically modifying the DNA of approximately 90% of their newborns, of which 73% survive, and physically augmenting 90% of the survivors, of which 50% survive." She stared blankly and with no emotion, running through her head was every stillborn baby born with it's skin inside out that she had helped give birth to, or every screaming child with an overgrown bone structure that caused intense and excruciation pain every waking hour of their lives, children who she had to continue research on, and continue to inject with a myriad of chemicals designed to propel humanity into a new age of knowledge and understanding.
Most of the members had actually been quite excited to hear what the Human's "great mystery" was, and had spent the previous two weeks giddily discussing it amongst themselves and placing friendly bets on what they believed the reason to be, but now they sat in a cold silence, half of them contemplating the statistics of what she just said, and the other half unable to focus on anything but her dead eyes looking back at them, almost as if she was the embodiment of the cold silence they now sat in. "The Humans that survive their processes, which last from 2 months-13 years of age --varying in intensity throughout--, are extremely adept in both mental and physical capabilities. Far beyond even those of the Turyp in both areas. It is these capabilities that have been increasing the Human's rate of advancement so quickly over the past 100 years. A lack of moral values and a deadly efficiency. Each generation, the methods and chemicals used are improved upon. At the Human's current rate, they will be a class 1 species in one thousand years, not the five thousand years that was previously projected." Another long silence, no one wanting to be the first to draw attention to their insecurities regarding this matter. A class 5 species making a class 1 species nervous is/was preposterous up until now, but nevertheless was the truth. "A thousand years.." the head council-member finally muttered. Obviously more concerned with the Human's technological advance than the atrocities they were committing. "In your educated opinion, Kiri, what is the best course of action?"
"Exterminate them." | 2016-03-13T21:24:24 | 2016-03-13T19:19:26 | 71 | 46 |
[WP] Believing they had crafted the perfect wish, a foolhardy individual commands their genie grant them boundless immortality. Eons later while floating in empty space waiting for the heat-death of the universe they chance upon a very familiar looking lamp... | I wished for immortality, of course. Why wish for anything less?
I took precautions. When the genie offered me my three wishes the first wish I made was for was a year to prepare. I thought the delay might annoy him but he shrugged like he had all the time in the world.
I spent that year in research. Starting point- magic is real. Next- genies are real. Inference- stories about genies have an element of truth. Additional- stories about genies are mostly morality tales in which poorly worded wishes result in unexpected and ironic negative consequences where the wisher is punished for their moral failings. Conclusion- my wish must be well worded, and free of moral vice.
I eventually drafted a thirty page legal document. I can't even remember it now, but it included stipulations designed to prevent the obvious ironic twists and the outcomes obtained by other, prior, similar wishes of legend. And it stipulated that the purpose of my immortality would ultimately be to serve and aid others. Then I saved my last wish for later, to remedy any unforeseen consequences.
The genie flipped through the brief like he expected it, and shrugged. Then he snapped his fingers and both he and the lamp vanished.
I didn't feel any different.
I spent the next thousand years studying the arcane arts. That was my first clue the wish had worked.
The world changed around me. Science advanced dramatically, then faltered. The gap between stars was too great to leap in ships. Humanity was forced to come to terms with it's limited environment, and with the need to conserve and to live an ecologically stable life.
Another hundred thousand years went by.
Eventually I revealed myself. I had to. No enclosed ecosystem can last forever, and even humanity's ecological revivalism couldn't last. I entered the world with dramatic flair, proclaiming myself a great sorceror-King. But a benevolent one. I wasn't sure, but my wish had stipulated to an ultimate goal of aiding others. If I was cruel or ruthless I worried my immortality might be revoked.
Flame mephits and conjured imps became as common as gasoline engines once were. The arcane arts provided the boost necessary for humanity to break out of it's stellar cage. Science and magic could do together what science alone could not- and almost entirely because magic permitted the harvesting of energy at a distance. A starship powered by a pact with a mystical being from the center of a star, with hydroponics blessed by a harvest shrine-goddess, could achieve what mere nuclear fusion powered rockets could not.
Humanity spread through the galaxy.
I retreated to the shadows once more.
Forever is a long time. I could regale you with the stories of what humanity achieved, of its contact with other life, of the renaissance that followed as I worked from the darkness to help humanity live alongside the rest of the universe. We became this galaxies... protectors, I suppose. The first species to walk between stars with ease, the elder race that young alien sentients learned of almost as legend... And me in the background, guiding it as I could, ensuring that the story went on.
I never set out to do that. But eventually long life just became a habit, and I wanted to see what happened next. And war ends stories, so I worked to oppose it as I could.
Forever is a long time. I've said that before but you can't understand. You literally cannot. Your mind might grasp a few dozen as a number, or even a few million by analogy, but eventually the hominid brain gives up and just calls big numbers "many."
When so much time had passed that the entire history if the human race from birth to extinction was like an eye blink in my memory, I simply floated in space, watching. Everything was dying. There was nothing I could do this time. I had saved Earth from it's ecological heat death by providing access to the energy of the arcane world, but that still drew from the cosmos, and the cosmos itself was burning out.
I watched.
I forget what I looked like at this point. A nebula, I think. I had sloughed my body long ago. I just didn't need it anymore, and it wasn't like there was anyone to talk to. I remember being light years across but with yards of vacuum between each molecule. I glowed. I remember thinking that eventually there would just be me, in the void, my soft light the last warmth in a dead universe.
But why? Energy comes from somewhere. Even the arcane. Why was I still alive? What powered me?
I felt it's gravity first. Those of you who understand the science know how small of a pull that was. Use that to help you understand the true devastation that is the heat death of everything. It was the only twist in time space of it's size. Anywhere.
It was the lamp. I held it, letting it drift through the void of my body, caressing it with streamers of hydrogen. It was empty, but not... dead. It still held power. Far more than I had ever known. Far different from that which I had ever known.
I looked out across the void one last time as I wished it goodbye, and poured myself into the lamp, my glowing smoke spiraling into it like a star spilling into a black hole.
And I used my last wish. | Some used to think the end of The Universe would be the beginning to something else. That nothing truly dies. That reality is change and preservation. Old Earth was filled to bursting with ideas on what happens after death. Some thought worm food, others liked the fantasy of becoming beings of light.
If nothing else Dang misses the optimism as he floats in the endless vacuum of The Universe. He long ago gave up all that. To him it doesn't matter what happens after death, because he will never experience it.
As a laborer in the Saudi oil fields he stabbed his shovel into the polluted soil and with one pull of his over used shoulders freed an ancient lamp.
He rubbed it and in a puff of sweet spicy smoke a purple tinged being emerged in front of him.
"Your wish is my command," it said.
Dang has spent many moments of his long life regretting his next words. As a child fantasizing about wishes it was the one wish that made the most sense. He clung to it for decades, but as the words, "I wish for boundless life," escaped his lips he somehow knew it was not the right choice.
“As you wish my master,” it said. It because in memory the jinn had no sex. It was both male and female and neither at the same time. Black glowing eyes shone with mirth and sadness. It was duality. It was the ying and yang of Dangs youth in Vietnam.
And it stole from Dang his own polarity.
Dang got his wish and would never die and it would seem live forever.
Fifty years after his wish, when the oil fields no longer contained oil, he walked away from being a slave unchanged by his advanced age. He walked off the oil fields much like he floated away from what once was the planet when it stopped existing millions of years later.
Dang has not been limited to a single life but instead has been given eons of time for thought. During that time he has cast away Earth's lost lore in favor of other ideas.
He has spent many moments on the question of the true nature of his reality.
Not so much the question anymore, but the answer he has come up with.
He has decided he is The Universe. That all that once existed and all that will exist again is him.
He was Genghis Khan, the moon, Solaris and every particle of dark matter.
He is it all.
He doesn't remember when he first came to this conclusion. Time stopped mattering when matter stopped being.
The idea has led him to believe that maybe he was the Jinn also. He seeks to conjure it back to him. He has given up on philosophy, because the why stops mattering when one is everything. But what is everything when it cannot be added to a why?
Since then all stars have disappeared. All matter has been sucked into countless black holes. He wishes his eyes were able to pick up on different types of spectral light. He imagines the explosions around him are similar to volcanoes. Vibrant clouds, but invisible to him.
And really that is all he can do: imagine. It's a strange sensation knowing that so much activity is happening around him and he is not privy to it.
Except in his mind.
And this is when his theory breaks down. If reality is not his mind and reality is the ice cold blackness of space, of what is he truly the master of.
He wonders.
A master of The Universe that will soon shed its cocoon and become something else. He has no doubt he will be there to see what it will become. He just need be patient for millions of years more and he will be there when that change is over also. He alone will be the master of everything that remains, that will be and what once was.
He has floated free in space since Earth’s Sun went supernova and took everything Dang knew away. It took the moon and Jupiter and exoplanets. It took his clothing. Ironically it took his last remaining will to live.
Earth in those last moments was something to see. Humanity had stretched its existence to that moment. There was no surprise, just celebration. The death of the human race was an event to remember. Two generations of partying with the knowledge the end of the massive epic called humanity had reached it’s last chapter.
Some of those last memories float free from the trillions of years worth of experiences logged in Dangs brain. He feels his mouth twitch into a small smile, but pushes it back. The only memory he really wants is that of the lamp.
He has built the thing up to be more than a rusting vessel for a supernatural being to reside.
In his mind it was taller than Everest and the jinn inside the most beautiful creature to ever have existed. He wonders again if with the destruction of the Earth the lamp has disappeared into the ether also.
Did the creature inside taste oblivion?
Did it know the sweet black kiss of death?
Dang does not know how he can still be alive if the creature that made him immortal died with the Earth.
Alive.
Ha.
He is just an emaciated thing in a sack of dried skin settled over a still mobile system of muscle and bone. How if he was not everything to have existed and will exist was he not also the Jinn with its lamp?
As weariness touches at him he can only hope it is true and that one day he will know for sure.
Dang closes his eyes hoping for eons to slip by. He does sleep and dreams and lives within that dream and is not alone for a time. But as always he awakes and is back in the reality of being. He is alone in the blackness again, but something is different.
He feels a pull. A tugging around the flaps of loose dried skin on his midsection. He pulls his head in the direction of the tugging and as usual when he attempts to move the effort causes him to flip over and over again. In the beginning this made him dizzy and nauseous though he had nothing in his stomach. With time the organs in his body have flatten so he does not experience this feeling now.
How he longs to feel something.
And he does.
Surprise.
Circling in a Dangcentric orbit is the lamp from his ancient past.
In the vacuum around he is uncertain how he is able to see it. No light reflects on it. He has not been able to see himself in millions of years due to this principle of physics.
Yet there it is.
A tarnished bronze and dirt stained lamp. He reaches for it and grabs hold of it and as he half denies its existence is possible gives the thing a quick rub. And in front of him, obliterating his loneliness, is the Jinn.
“Yes my master?” The Jinn’s black eyes are flecked with mischievous glee.
Dang is flabbergasted. In his mind he conjures up wish after wish, but with no fuel in his body to generate saliva he is forced to hold on to the lamp until he can speak words to its occupant.
And until that day The Universe is no longer alone just unsatisfied by life and drenched in the hysterical laughter of the lamp's occupant.
| 2016-07-13T07:37:57 | 2016-07-13T07:09:50 | 61 | 14 |
[WP] You were born with a large birthmark in the shape of a dragon. However, this is just a coincidence; there is absolutely nothing magical about it, and you're getting really tired of explaining this. | They were staring at me again. Eyes wide, mouths slightly agape. I sighed. "Hi. Look, I got your message. But I'm not-"
"You're him!" One of them explained. Pretty enough lass, head of gold, but obviously empty. "You're the one who can talk with them."
"I'm really not." I tried to force a smile onto my face - or rather, I let my lips tug the sides of my mouth up. The stupid birthmark had been nothing but trouble since I was born. Worse, it was on my face, running from the top of my left eyebrow to the side of my right lip. Impossible to hide.
"The swirling detail... the intricacies... there can be no doubt..." This one was black as pitch, but his eyes were wide, and he leaned forward over the pile of crap he'd apparently left on the floor. "It is true. You are the bridge between our worlds." He smiled slightly. "You will remain here. You are far too important to us all to be allowed to leave."
I felt my patience snap. With a roar I lurched forward, closing my jaws around his scaly black neck, tearing his throat out in a single movement. The gold one I burnt, melting her golden hide beneath a wave of flame.
When it was done, I gathered up as much of the black dragon's hoard in my arms as I could carry, spread my wings, and flew out over the lake at the cave's entrance. As the world whipped past beneath me, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glassy surface of the water. Red scales, golden eyes - not a bad looker, if I do say so myself. But disfigured by that stupid birthmark over my face: two legs, two arms, long flowing hair. All incredibly detailed. All incredibly meaningless.
*Just a coincidence*, I thought, not for the first time. *I'm not some stupid humanborn.* | "IT'S NOT MAGICAL!!!" I yelled for what seemed like the Nth time today. You know how it is in the movies. A kid is born with a birthmark in the EXACT shape of a dragon, and he can all of a sudden do karate and kung fu and shit. Not me, though. I'm just your average middle class white trash kid from Louisiana. I can't do anything that requires anything of a martial arts background. I go to school, I eat, shit, and sleep like anyone else. I'm just a normal guy.
Okay, enough about what I am. Let me tell you a story. It's like a lot of my other stories, except this one happened recently and was a little twisted to be honest.
I had just gotten out of bed in the morning, went across the hall to the kitchen, made breakfast, and sat down in front of the tv to watch whatever dumb kid show my little sister so happened to be watching.
As soon as I finish my cereal there is a knock on the door. It was odd since this kind of crap usually happens right when I get off work, but my parents were in bed still and it was a Saturday.
I answer the door, and two oriental martial artists are standing there. That'd be odd to some people, but not for me. Same type of people, but always different people. I usually tell them to kindly 'eff off and make sure to tell anyone else not to come by.
Only today, when I finished my shooing, the two men came back about five minutes later. This time, they were a little strong with me. They told me that their master had a mark of the dragon, and that I was some descendant of this man. This is the weird part for me. I'm not any part asian. I'm as white as they come. I have blonde hair for crissakes!
Anyways, they wanted me to come with them. I figured I'd go with them just to figure out what they're yammering about. Nobody had ever come back to try again, which was the only thing that let me allow myself to follow them.
I got a closer look at them, and found that they were covered in scars. Probably from recent battles or punishments. I didn't ask about them, nor did I really care.
They led me to a martial artist's dojo thing three blocks from my apartment complex. I've never noticed this building, but I don't come around this way at all so go figure. Inside was strangely clean and tidy, starkly contrasting the exterior of the building which looked run down. I just chalked it up to low funds.
They told me to sit in the middle of the sparring ring in the main room and wait. As I waited, I noticed little things. The room I was in was completely symmetrical, the walls were very smooth, and the ceiling had perfectly tesselating hexagons. I was halfway through counting them when the master of the dojo came to me.
"The mark on your chest. Let me see it," he said, voice booming. I'mma be honest, I peed a little. "Yeah, sure thing, mate." I lifted my shirt off and showed the dojo man what he wanted. "He is the one..." he said, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.
The next thing I know I'm waking up in my bed. There is a roll of parchment on the left nightstand tied tight with a length of silk. It read:
"The ritual was completed successfully, but We are confused as to why your aura did not activate. Curious. We still wish to speak to you. You know where to find us." It was signed by a man named Long Zhi Wang. Which I believe roughly means 'king of the dragons'. I don't know, but now I know who to give a restraining order to. | 2016-08-04T18:02:19 | 2016-08-04T12:02:03 | 36 | 24 |
[Wp] The zombie epidemic came and went in the developed world, most people survived, the military easily defeated the undead horde, and cures for the virus were created. However, zombies remain major issue in the developing and under developed world not getting nearly enough attention on the news.
Wow I didn't think that this prompt would would end up this big. These stories made my night, thanks for all the replies and keep up the good work. | If you’ve ever wanted to hunt zombies Africa, now could be your chance and the great thing is that the hunt will be on us! ZombieHuntersAfrica.com, in conjunction with Apocalypse Safaris, is giving away a dream zombie hunt, for two hunters, to the Republic of South Africa. If you win, you get to bring your friend or family member to share your spoils.
Here’s what our giveaway includes (5 days of zombie hunting for two hunters):
* Trophy shrunken zombie head
* Trophy zombie hand
* Zombie Hunter styled machete
* Zombie Hunter styled backpack
* Zombie Village clearing scenario
Included: All meals, accommodation, soft drinks , field prep of trophies, Professional Zombie Hunter, trackers, Headshrinkers, photographers and daily laundry.
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If you’d like to extend your trip and take additional zombies at an additional cost or run additional scenarios such as escape the horde and helicopter madness can be arranged as well. Good luck!
Entries must be received no later than midnight on November 30, 2017.
After submitting your entry, you will begin receiving complimentary insider updates from ZombieHuntersAfrica and Apocalypse Safaris! | Thursday 10th November 2022. 11.21pm.
I heard the television turn off as I turned the key. I wasn’t surprised to see Jess still awake. Annoyed but not surprised.
“You were meant to be asleep by ten”, Marie called out to her. “Is Harry ready for school?”
M and I had just returned from my brother Bill’s house. He wanted to have us round for dinner, as usual, to show off. If it wasn’t his new car, it was his new furniture or his new wife. He had a high turnover for the latter. Jess was looking after her brother Harry.
“He’s fine. I was worried just in case you’d been eaten by zom-“
“Well we’re alive and all body parts accounted for” I interrupted, “Now, go to bed!”
“Wait, what did uncle Bill want to show you this time?” Jess inquired.
I sighed. Jess was 11 when it hit; just before Harry’s seventh birthday. That was 4 years ago. We’d gotten the kids to my mother-in-law’s home and barricaded the doors until the military cleared the neighbourhood. Bill’s second wife hadn’t been so lucky. She’d been visiting family back in Panama. Bill didn’t care too much, he was on his third by then. But Jess had been close to her. Bella had been tutoring my daughter in Spanish.
“Brochures. He’s going to Africa.” Marie said from the kitchen. She was taking her sleep meds. She’d not slept properly since the night she’d had to kill one with a golf club.
“Really? Where?”
“Zambia” Marie chimed in again. Great work there...
“What’s there to do in Zambia? Isn’t that place just wasteland now?”
“He’s going hunting”
“What?!”
“Shh! You’ll wake your brother.” I tried to hush her, desperate to get some peace so I could get to bed.
“But how can he?! They’re people!”
“They’re not really people any more, Jessie. Look I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want a discussion.” I sighed again. I knew she’d get angry. “Just leave it for tonight and we’ll talk about it tomorrow after school”
Jess wouldn’t let up, “How can he do such a thing?!”
“What do you mean? Do you think we should let them clear up the zombies?”
“No! But shooting them for sport is different from sending in the army!” Jess shouted.
She had a good point. One that her mother had made several times over the course of the meal. And again on the car ride home. I didn’t need to hear it. I just wanted my bed. I wanted to be wrapped up warm, dreaming of those halcyon days before Jess had reached puberty. Life seemed golden back then. Instead all I got was these screaming matches. Like mother, like daughter, huh…
| 2016-10-30T12:39:54 | 2016-10-30T12:39:15 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] You're Jigsaw and you've caught your latest victim. Unfortunately, you've greatly underestimated David Blaine. | "Hello David. I want to play a game," I said. The look on their face after saying this always made me smile.
"Hello Jigsaw," murmured Blaine. A lethargic look ran down his face.
I was startled.
"You trick people for a living, preying on their lack of knowledge to exploit them. You enjoy pretending to be something your not. Well now, in my game, there's no need to pretend."
He still looked oddly calm. Tough guy, huh. We'll see.
"You've undoubtedly noticed the hacksaw in your hand, and the cuff chaining your ankle to the building. Well, David, the time has come to enter my realm of magic, and see how much you really wa..."
"You see a cuff with no key and think, impossible," said David, interrupting my final sick assessment of the situation.
"Try not to be constrained by what we know as *reality*, Jigsaw-"
"How do you know my name!" I screamed.
"But try to imagine that with your mind, you can bend, and push the boundaries of the physical world," he continued without acknowledging me.
He stared intensely at the cuff, then lifted his leg away slowly, in complete control, as the cuff, still closed, fell *through* his ankle.
A look of disbelief fell upon my face, curtained by my creepy mask.
"But that's not why you're here, you know I can perform illusions, but...you want...you want to see something greater. Something *real.*"
He raised the hacksaw to the pipe and started sawing.
"Now you see the saw is clearly real, you see? It cuts, you see?" as marks formed on the pipe.
I sat still, sulking in my tricycle.
"What you want, is to see an altered reality, you see this leg? And you see this blade? You see Jigsaw? You know both to be real. This is what you really came here for."
"I drugged you and kidnapped *you,* fool!"
It didn't register, he was zoning.
"What if it's not a saw, what if that's not my leg, what if their both just atoms with 99% empty space? When you think of them like that, and *believe* they're that...You can do this."
He pushed the saw to the leg, pressing hard against his skin. I grimaced behind my mask. Yet....no blood. It was clearly halfway through his leg.
"You see, you see Jigsaw? Do you see? It is *in* my leg. No blood."
Fuck this bastard.
"The trick with magic isn't to deceive your audience, it's to make them a believer, not a skeptic.
"Fuck off you devil!" I cried.
"And now, Jigsaw, I leave you with something you can cherish, something you can believe."
"The door is really just empty space."
"Just open the fucking door and leave, don't be an asshole," I muttered.
Again he ignored me, slowly approaching the door until his nose was flush against it.
"I leave you with a memory of real magic Jigsaw, that will leave you questioning the limits of our world," muffled david, his mouth already through the thick steel door.
And with that he slowly went *through* the metal door, disappearing forever, leaving me on my tricycle, completely mad.
"Bastard." | I still can't work out how he did it.
Every day when I get up and look in the mirror all I can see is that dopey-ass grin he had on his face at the end.
I try to clear my mind, close my eyes and think back to happier times; subjects who did as they were supposed to, subjects who died like they were supposed to, but it never quite works anymore.
Most of my actions back then were selfish. I can admit to that. I liked to see people suffer and I dressed it up as 'lesson'. Pretending it was bad people getting what they deserved when really it was more to satisfy the bloodlust I felt inside.
But the tabloid press loved the angle; sniffing out the 'why' in each kill, centrefold splashes of my latest trap and how the intricacies of the new devices worked. Circulation had barely been this high in years! Who was I to deny them of their fun?
Of course I may have leaked a few details here and there, left a diary page or some research out where they could be easily picked up by a keen 'investigative reporter' but mostly I left them to it. I knew how to cover my tracks and that was all that really mattered.
David Blaine though, he was different.
The smile was annoying, even back then, but I found that the worst thing were those eyes. They just sat in their sockets aimlessly, like they didn't really want to be there at all. They made me hate the face they inhabited. In the end, I think it was the eyes that made me want to do it.
I had rigged up something 'fun' for Blaine. I had to really, given the endless amounts of pain he had inflicted on unsuspecting viewers over the years.
It was a head clamp. A nest of metal that sat around his skull, holding him in place so he remained seated, whilst at the same time fixing a straw into his mouth. In front, on the table, a bottle of water which he could tip and pour into the cup to which the straw led.
The trap itself was fairly standard. Each time the bottle was poured it would release the pressure switch. The switch would start the modified treadmill underneath the chair. Leg shackles kept his feet in place, stuck to the chair, causing both the chair and his feet to be slowly eaten away at by the now-rapidly rising belt of extra sharp sandpaper.
I had calculated that a full bottle would cause him to have removed all of the chair legs, and thus his entire lower leg. At this point the shock would set in and he would knock over the bottle, causing the band saw to be on continuously and eating away at him until the blood loss took him.
Given the mans skills I didn't want to be in the room for this one, God knows how long he could survive without water, so I set up a one way mirror opposite him at the other end of the table.
My thoughts were right.
He spent two days in that chair without taking a sip. When he finally moved the bottle and felt the movement beneath him I thought I could see some amusement flicker in those dead eyes. This should have been a warning, but in my hubris and excitement I ignored it.
I watched as the bottom of Blaine's shoe was eaten away and looked up at his face. It was emotionless and his eyes were staring at the mirror. Not just at the mirror, they were staring at me.
This made me feel slightly panicked. Why wasn't he bothered? How did he know exactly where I was standing?
Panic quickly gave way to shock as I felt a tickle on the soles of my feet. A slight sensation of air running underneath them and then, suddenly and with force that almost launched me at the kiddie, a searing scraping pain ripped across my feet.
I cried out and looked down at my feet, expecting to see some kind of creature there attacking me. Instead a thin trickle of blood was making its way out of my shoes and onto the cold stone floor below.
The pain increased and I watched as Blaine's feet wore away more and more as the band saw continued to spin. His feet were painted scarlet, but Blaine simply continued to stare me down. Unnatural and unmoving with a stupid serene smile plastered on his goddamn face.
It took thirty more seconds to realise what was happening. By then the pain in what was left of my feet was unbearable. I stumbled sideways, flailing my hands towards the failsafe stop button I had, sensibly, installed on this side of the glass
There was a creaking, a screeching, a whirring and then finally a bright flash. I jerked my head around to look back into the room, to check the emergency stop had worked.
Blaine wasn't there . He no longer sat in the room where I had put him.
Instead, staring back at me in my own reflection were a pair of soulless eyes fit clumsily into a face they didn't belong in.
I still can't work out how he did it, but every morning in the mirror all I can ever see is that dopey-ass grin staring back at me. | 2016-11-22T19:38:18 | 2016-11-22T15:43:16 | 75 | 56 |
[WP]The wrinkled fingertips are just the beginning of the transformation. We just always leave the water too early. | I got into the bath with care. I felt the water embrace me, soothe me - the heat, too hot, felt like it was trying to purge my thoughts.
I closed my eyes, thinking about her. Like I always did. An entire life of regret - of whoring and drugs, of excess and myth - and yet, it always came back to her. And how I'd left her, fearing a life of growing old together, as I was too scared to think of growing old at all.
And now, I was old, and feeble, and waiting to die alone.
I let the water hold me, and take me in. The hot water rose. The sleep came without warning.
****
I awoke with a start, feeling like much time had passed. I looked down at my wrinkled hands, and saw my skin sloughing off. Floating in the water in thick chunks.
I watched in horror as it came away, and in sick fascination I pulled at it, revealing the layer beneath. It was supple. Beautiful. *Perfect*.
I arose from the bath, looking at the mirror I'd avoided for so long. Not a freckle, not a single imperfection. I looked not a day over 20, but with a venerability and command of respect that my advanced years had brought me. I was my ideal self; the thing I had always wanted to be.
I felt virility I hadn't experienced in half a century. I felt my muscles renewed, that had long since wasted away. And it felt *good*.
And then I realised, it was the water. The wrinkles... the wrinkles were just the beginning. I found the fountain of life, the secret to immortality - hot water, and time.
Then it struck me. Mariota. If I could just get in contact with her, if I could just tell her what I know now - we could be together. We could be together forever.
I ran to my phone, my legs pounding, my movement *powerful*. I dialled her number, and after some time a woman picked up. It sounded just like her - all those years ago. For a second, I thought that maybe she had just discovered it as well.
"Hello? Mariota, is that you?" I asked, pleading, hoping against hope.
The voice paused on the other end. Slowly, tentatively, it said - "I'm sorry but, this is her daughter. Mariota passed away in her sleep yesterday. I'm so sorry-"
I felt myself drop the phone, the crash on the floor sounding so far away. With all my renewed power, I suddenly felt weak. The vigour drained from me in great heaves.
All of this - all of *everything* - felt so pointless without her. The love I had for her, the void where she once was, felt more permanent than any tangible thing.
An immortal life without her was not a life at all.
****
I woke up, spluttering water. My skin was so wrinkled, so feeble - like it always had been. I'd fallen asleep in the bath. And was that... was that all a dream?
I got out with care, walking naked, leaning on the walls for support. I struggled with every step, but I would not give up.
I reached my phone, dialling her number.
And the only thing I wished for - above youth, above anything at all - was that she'd pick up.
*****
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my new subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | Something about the chemistry of life broke when we were created. So said the Elders, and so said their Book, and so therefore it must have been the truth. There was no other way for such a strange life form to exist, a thing with mammalian features in aquatic conditions, eyebrows and skin hair where gills mated with our limbs - but yet here stood we, a revolt against nature. A law unto ourselves.
For a very long time the puddle was all we ever knew. There had been, of course, people digging below the surface. Some said there were hidden deposits of precious metal, rivulets of gold and silver that sank immediately in the normal water. But of the surface world, not much was known. The sun came, traced its path across the sky, lit up the green water, and then sunk back on the other side, and then the night sky was as calm and as starry as it always had been.
If I try to write about my home colony - the only one I had seen with my own eyes - I run the risk of excluding the others. The puddle was as wide as it was deep, and there had been many tales of people from beyond the mountains, strange tadpole-like creatures that had lost their arms entirely and might not be entirely human. As a kid, I dismissed those legends as merely story, something to be dreamed of in the night and waved away come sunrise - but now that I was an adult I knew stranger things could happen.
So, this is the story of one colony then - my own, and how one particularly fine sunrise, we came to discover the hidden meanings in the indestructible plates.
---
The first time I saw the plates I couldn't read the engraving. All school students had to visit the museum. Few cared enough to pay any attention. But I had seen the plates alright, platinum and indestructible, unbreakable by any means we knew of. And it had given me the shudders then.
It was this memory that now floated to the surface when someone told me my presence was needed at the residence of the Grand Master of the Elders.
"I'll be right there," I said.
Half-swimming, half-crawling, I got the feeling that we were built to walk on two legs. Something about evolution had left us bowed, broken by the pool - something that touched the body but left the spirit unbroken. Through the foggy water I got to the Grand Master's house.
"Greetings," I said, bowing. The age-old gesture that evolved long before we were stuck in the puddle. "What is it you seek of me?"
"These plates," he got straight to it. "Have you ever wondered...what is written on them?"
I looked at the platinum plates once more, and suddenly I was the small boy in the museum again. A shudder ran down my spine. "No," I said. "I thought...it was indecipherable? A mystery lost to the ages?"
"It's not now," the Grand Master replied. "Let me tell you what it says."
I looked around, waiting for one of his many friends to float up and surprise me. When none came, I stuttered, laid one hand on the plates, and stammered, "But...why me?"
"Because you have tried this once before," he replied serenely.
I shuddered. The memory had nearly killed me, as I was sure it had killed many others before - Pirac the adventurer, perhaps, or Don the wanderer. Float too close to the surface, swim too high, and you might break the surface of the puddle, break through the heavy surface tension that held us all down here and kept the outside world out - and then you would die. Or so it had seemed.
"The skies, they were not green," I repeated with wonder. "They were orange."
He nodded and returned to the plates. "The plates have told me the truth. This puddle - this underwater world of ravines and hills - this was not all of it. We were put here."
"Put here?" I asked blankly. "By who?"
For the first time I saw the Grand Master struggle for words.
"There..." he said, waving his arms, pointing up to the surface as if reaching for the stars. "Spacemen," he finished. "Explorers from what they called Planet Earth. We are their descendants. We are their experiment. And you can see the evidence all around us, if you look - for example at your own fingertips."
I stared down. My hands had become dry and wrinkled - they always had been, since that accident, and they had never become wet ever since.
"These...the wrinkled fingertips, they are just the beginning of the transformation. We always leave the water too early. But we will leave the water soon - for we are starbound."
He spoke an alien tongue, but the tones were those of home.
"What do we do about that?"
The Grand Master smiled. "We will build such a spaceship too," he said. "It will be our great chance at escape - our surface shot. I have already assembled the crew and materials. But-"
"-it needs someone to command it?" I finished.
"Yes," he smiled. "Do you accept?"
For a long time I stared at my fingers.
"Yes," I finally replied. "It is destiny."
I looked up, at where the sun was starting to filter through the water, and decided that before too long I had to see it with mine own eyes.
---
r/KCcracker for more stories of the sort!
| 2016-12-05T07:05:26 | 2016-12-05T06:39:18 | 616 | 32 |
[WP] You created a social experiment based on the game Monopoly. Eight random people in one city were given access to bank accounts each containing $1.5 million, with the caveat that it can only be used to acquire property in the city. It's been five years, and you're checking in on your "players." | "So, where did all my damn money go?!?"
"Thimble.... He figured it all out."
"What the hell do you mean, figured it all out? All that's left is your shitty hotel and this useless land. This couldn't have possibly cost 12 million."
"... after Thimble killed Racecar and finished the takeover of Reading Railroad, he spent the rest of his time attacking the others for their land and utilities... then after the forced blackouts and work stoppages, nearly all of the citizens went straight to Jail or left."
"Nearly all?"
"Whoever was left went underground with him."
"Underground?!?"
"Thimble convinced them that he knew the path to eternal happiness. He built them a colony under Illinois Avenue, and is using the subway tunnels running beneath the whole damn city. They're all down there now."
"What the fuck are you talking about?!?"
"He says he found it Pennybags..."
"Found what?"
"...you had to have put it down there, right?"
"Something in the subway? You've all gone crazy."
"He says that every time they walk the whole path, they will each get $200 richer."
"Damnit..."
"It was you!!!!"
"No...That fucking ATM must be broken again."
"What are the chances of that?" | We had selected eight of them. Eight people by the name of Francis. In order to learn more about how the Francis mind responds to certain situations, we gave each of them one-and-a-half million dollars. And then we turned them loose.
It was Georgie's idea to make the Francises play a real-life Monopoly. It's a well-known fact that Francises act the smartest with large sums of money. But the question was *why?*
Five years had passed. We, as a department, made a collective decision to check on the Francises. The past four times, the majority had voted no. But five years was special.
Out first subject was Francis L. He had immediately invested all of the money in a recently-released game by some company named Niantic. Unfortunately, he held on to the share for too long, and the game lost serious popularity in a short time. Francis L. now had a meager five hundred thousand.
Second was Francis O. This Francis also chose to invest in the stock market, but he played things a bit wiser, investing in a company that had been on a slow rise for a couple of years before he received the money. Three years after his investment, he cashed in and retired at the age of thirty with two million dollars.
Third, we had Francis F. Francis number three bought a factory in Minnesota with his money and began to mass-produce women's pleasure toys. When we contacted him to see how he was doing, he thanked us with a few boxes of free samples. The women in the department haven't returned from the bathroom for a good couple of hours.
Our fourth Francis of Interest was Francis X. He chose to invest his money in ninja training, and disappeared to Japan a year ago. His former friends say he got shot and killed on the streets for trying to get into a "katana fight" with a rough-looking passerby.
Lucky Francis number five was a man by the name of, you guessed it, Francis G. When we gave him the money five years ago, he simply said, "Ha, suckers!" and left. He denied ever knowing of a Department of Francis Research when we tried to contact him today.
The sixth one was Francis E., a man who was quite the caring soul. He donated half the money to charity and gave the other have back to the Department.
Our seventh subject was Francis R. He took a trip to Las Vegas a year after the money reached him. He's still in prison for trying to rob the casino after gambling away his entire share of the money.
Now, our eighth and final Francis was perhaps the most interesting: Francis T. This Francis chose to invest his money in starting a cult. After asking around, we seemed to come to the consensus that he disappeared shortly after making a seventeenth attempt to contact the Flying Spaghetti Monster in Mammoth Cave of Kentucky.
A witness from New Zealand claimed to have seen him last week, walking along the shore with a spaghetti strainer perched atop his head.
The experiment was voted earlier today to be completely abandoned, and all results he locked away in the archives. The world just isn't ready for the power a Francis with a million and a half dollars holds. | 2017-02-24T20:12:34 | 2017-02-24T19:56:38 | 183 | 22 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | "IÄ! IÄ!" the masked priest cried, lifting the sinuous dagger above his head. "SHUB-NIGGURATH! THE BLACK GOAT OF THE THOUSAND YOUNG, COME TO FEAST!"
The woman next to Jon tried to scream through her gag as the knife plunged into her breast once, twice. Then she lay still, her eyes full of tears but slowly going dull.
In the far distance, beyond curves of space and time unknown to man, there came a grunting and rumbling, as if formless beasts were somehow lumbering closer.
Jon would have yawned, if his mouth had been free.
"Do you hear?" the priest asked, leaning close to Jon. His eyes had the fevered gleam of mania in them. His scraggly beard tickled Jon's face as the priest leaned in even closer. "Our Mother comes. She shall tonight feast upon the cooling corpse of your friend, as you watch. Then, in the most exquisite depths of your madness, she shall take from you the seed which shall birth a new race of abominations, who shall devour you, their progenitor, as their first act of unlife in this pitiful reality!"
Jon worked the gag in his mouth and loosened it to the point where he could say, muffled though, "I don't know her."
"What's that?" the priest asked, loosening the gag even more.
"I said, I don't know her."
"But... on the bridge... we took the two of you..."
Jon sighed. "I was going to jump off the bridge and end my miserable life. I've got terminal brain cancer. Inoperable. My parents died last week in a car crash, and my father's girlfriend has a will that leaves everything to her. I'm broke. My girlfriend broke up with me because she can't deal with the cancer. I have no children. I hate my job. I hate my life. I have nothing to live for, and so I was just going to end it on my terms when that do-gooder you just sliced tried to talk me out of it. Your goons grabbed us as I was about to jump."
"So, er," the priest mumbled. "You do not care if you die in horrible, maddening agony?"
"I fucking welcome it, mate," Jon replied. "You say that these spawn of your goat whore mother will devour the world, ending it in an apocalypse of flame and blood?"
"Well, not in so many words. *Die Vermiis Mysteriis* is rather unclear on that point, but we take as an article of faith that the apocalypse will be..."
"Fucking Christ, you're like cosmic Mormons," Jon muttered. "Can you just fucking kill me, if you're going to prattle on about your fucked-up theology?"
"Mock me, will you?" the priest cried, standing back and flinging an arm out. "Then behold! Shub-Niggurath approaches! Gaze into her thousand eyes and know true horror!"
"It'll be remarkable to feel something, finally," Jon said, struggling against his bonds to turn and look at the horror out of darkness approaching him. Words could not describe it, for the qualities and properties of the earthly realms do not apply to the elder ones from beyond time and space. A maw opened, or perhaps it is more correct to saw, several maws stretching across infinite universes opened, and from them came a keening wail and the carrion stench of death's promise.
"At last," Jon breathed. "Come on then, get to it."
"Do you not see her squamous bulk? Her gibbous, maddening form?" the priest cackled. "How can one mind endure?" He ripped at his clothing and face with yellowed, cracked nails.
"Because," Jon said, closing his eyes. "I don't give a fuuuuuuuuuck." | In the night the cockroaches come. The anemic fields of lonely grass sways all gray. The last sea that I will ever set eyes upon. And the ships of metal creak in the wind and walls of concrete nearby sighs. Here I am abandoned. Everything is abandoned.
How long has it been? How many birthdays have passed? Am I a girl still, or a woman? I bleed often, and sometimes not at all. Here in the night, blood flows. The others are dead. The sawmill is working, though wood is long gone.
The shadows in the night saunter in their dance around me. The tape on my hands cut and I pull as I always do. Patches of light flicker in the distance. They flicker with sounds and screams. Is tonight my night?
The tape strains and twists and stretches. It pulls the hair on my hand. Have I lost enough weight? I am sure no one will recognize me anymore. I am sure they aren't looking anyway. But have I lost enough weight?
My hands slip through. The tape tangles in my palm and I burst it with my teeth. I undo my legs. Is that sweat or blood? In the dark it does not matter. The old van in the field is almost like a home. I almost feel bad for leaving.
Outside is cold in the yard. The remaining grass is tall and reach my knees. For miles is flat country. No where to go. The saws buzz. I wonder if they hear it in the city. It is so quiet otherwise. Maybe they hear it but they don't care. Maybe it is easier not to listen.
But I listen and I wonder about the other girls. My stomach is empty. I cannot walk far. There are only two options. Either I wait in the van or I go and speed things up. I have gotten tired of waiting.
The glass sparkles in the night. I avoid it as best I can. I sway and walk like a drunk and the saw rings in the night and my head splits in pain. The light washes me in its excess. The windows are small and barred. The smell of blood and mean drifts away.
Two shadows have their back to the window. They wear rags and rubber masks with long stringy black hair. I can't see the faces now, but I know the eyes are white and large and the mouth is ajar and tooth less and the nose overhangs and the eyebrows furrow. It's an expression of apathy.
They look at the girl. She is still alive. I suppose they have her tied to the table. A tripod and camera stands in the corner. I wonder if it catches me on film. I wonder if that file, or my very own, will be my legacy. She screams. How she screams. The table saw has wires all over and it buzzes near her arms. I can't look. But I am just so tired. Everything is just tired. The exhaustion had come after a week or more of driving. It had come with the hopelessness. I feel sorry for the girl. I manage to look away.
Lights from behind awakens my shadow. It grows long in warning and the car stops. It's an old Camry. I turn around and stare at another of those faces. He wears rags to his feet and that witch's face, an evil rubber face.
He screams a warning and the others come to the window. I do not know where I find the strength or will, but I run. I run around the perimeter and the entrance is black and heavy with death. The witch behind me is gaining and I go inside and there is broken tile and pocked concrete and furniture strewn all about. Rats crawl from their dens, big things about a foot long.
I head for some stairs and I hear a commotion brimming. The girl screams and then gags and chokes and there is the sound of a hose bursting. Then she dies and the hose continues. The footsteps are close behind. The railing of the staircase is shaky and rotten. I nearly fall but I make it upstairs and there is the scent of disinfectant.
I go into a bathroom and it is dark. Completely dark in here. The scent of death and blood is strong and I gag and try to keep quiet. I lock the door and crouch. The bathtub is filled with slimy water. A slow drip comes. I hear stamping in the corridor outside.
The sound of light switches go off. There is a small window here but it is boarded up. I crawl to it and fleeting thoughts of escape come and they go and then I remain without hope. I hit something and it flashes in a white light. I hold it and see that it is a camera.
The tripod teeters and I grab for it and I lose balance and grab at the tub. My hand catches something soft and it sinks in the tub and the water overflows and the tripod falls and in the flash of the camera I see that it is blood. I look up and see one of those witches is in the tub.
His apathetic face looks at me, the mask the only thing remaining. His stomach is cut and the pink insides are out and the blood flows between them like spring water between some rocks.
I scream. How could I help it? The silence comes in a tense moment. Then the footfalls come nearer and nearer. The coldness of fear grips me. But then it goes and only its ghost remains. Hopelessness can get you through more than you'd imagine. And it would get me through this.
The door rattles. Someone shoulders it and it splinters. I close my eyes and steel myself. Hopefully it will not be much longer now. | 2017-05-05T07:40:26 | 2017-05-05T04:53:47 | 172 | 27 |
[WP] "You've changed so much!" Your imaginary friend said in shock. After so long, you could only say "So have you." | When the news reported an "invisible force" throwing things around in my childhood house, I knew exactly who it was.
I drove all the way to Waco, Texas from New York to stop this madness.
When I arrived, the front door was wide open. The owners must've gotten the hell out of dodge.
I carefully stepped into the house and began scanning the room when I heard a crash.
I made my way into the kitchen and saw him there.
He wasn't at all like when when we were young. His tail was long and spiked, drenched in blood. His horns curled outward like that of a ram. His skin wasn't just red, it was raw and slimy, like his real flesh had been stripped away.
He spun around on his goat hooves when he heard a glass shard crunch under my boot.
I saw his mad, sunken eyes light up with recognition. His gaunt face and rotting teeth stretched into a smile.
"Willy?" The devil man spoke.
"It's Wilson now, Abaddon." I started tearing up.
"Y-you've grown, my boy! You've gone and changed on me!"
My shoulders slumped. I averted my eyes. "So have you..."
Abaddon opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came.
"Abaddon, I'm sorry I left you, but--"
"BUT NOTHING, WILSON!"
I jumped.
"YOU BROKE THE ANCIENT LAWS! I WAS YOUR FAMILIAR AND YOU DIDN'T SAY FAREWELL WHEN YOU CAME OF AGE! I'VE BEEN BOUND HERE, WITHERING AND DECAYING, AND ALL THAT TIME, YOU NEVER THOUGHT TO COME BACK?!"
"I wanted to, Abaddon, but my parents thought I was crazy, talking to you. They threatened to put my in a rubber room of I kept trying to communicate."
"BUT YET HERE YOU STAND, TEN YEARS PAST THAT, AND NOT ONCE DID I EVER COME TO YOUR ATTENTION?!"
"Look, I'm sorry I left you as long as I did, but that's why I'm here; I came to set things right."
I locked eyes with the devil.
"I, Wilson Bradley Stone, release you from your service as Familiar. Return to the Beyond, for your work is done. Thank you, old friend."
Immediately, Abaddon began to shrink. His horns retracted into small shiny points. The spikes disappeared from his tiny thin tail, His face became full and his limbs merely stumps. His skin became red plush again.
"Thank you, Willy! I can go home now! Bye bye!" He called out in a childish voice.
I let my tears fall and waved him goodbye as he vanished into a bright portal, back to the Beyond. | "Ellie," Margaret said, looking at the dragon that she knew for certain, probably, was not perched on top of the sweet olive bush.
"Dani," Ellie answered, the way dragons do. She hopped down from the bush like a cat. "You've changed so much! Look at you. All grown up now."
I haven't heard that nickname in such a long time, thought Margaret. I remember when I wanted to be called Danielle. Because there were three Margarets in first grade, and no one named Danielle.
"I know, silly, that's when I last saw you," answered the little dragon.
"You're different now. Much smaller. I can't try to ride you any more. If you even exist."
It doesn't matter, Ellie's aloof posture seemed to say. Margaret heard every word as the dragon padded toward her, paused at the bench, wiggled her tail, and jumped into her lap comfortably. "I'm exactly the same. You're different. You see me different."
Margaret knew Ellie was imaginary, knew she had always been. She remembered how she'd pretend that Ellie's scales, every color of the rainbow, except indigo because indigo was a silly color, glittered in the sunlight filtering through the trees.
"Stop pretending," she said out loud. "You know I'm not real. I just don't want to stop pretending."
"Remember how obsessed you were with dragons?"
"Well, obviously," answered the imaginary dragon on her lap. "I wouldn't be here otherwise."
Why is she here, anyways. I know why.
"You won't listen to anyone. Not your boyfriend. Not even the version of you when you pretend to be a grown-up. You're all grown up already, you shouldn't have to pretend-"
Margaret smacked Ellie lightly, getting a hiss in return. "Even my imaginary friends insult me. You never used to be mean."
"If I'm mean now it's because you've become a mean person. I'm just a figment of your imagination, remember? Besides I wouldn't insult you if you didn't do so much worth insulting," retorted the dragon. Margaret didn't answer. Ellie curled up, asking for petting. Margaret obliged. "Like now. What's that in your hands?"
Margaret jostled Ellie a bit, slid the razor back into her purse so that she wouldn't accidentally cut Ellie. Ellie didn't appreciate the interruption, and jumped off her lap, stalking away. She turned back with a look, saying maybe I'll stay if you have some food for me.
"I don't know what dragons like to eat," said Margaret, getting what was left of her lunch out and remaining very still. She hadn't played with Ellie in more than a decade, hadn't even thought about the imaginary dragon since she was ten. If Ellie left, that would be fine. She'd deserve it. As she reached for what was in her purse, the dragon came padding back to eat the fish. She accepted some petting, as Margaret kept talking.
"I'm not going to listen to you either, you know. My boyfriend says I should get a pet. That taking care of something else helps you take care of yourself." She laughed, scratching behind Ellie's ears. "He'd laugh if he knew what I was thinking now. Bringing home six-year-old me's pet dragon."
"It's not like he didn't have imaginary friends when he was six," pointed out the dragon.
"I bet his were all human though."
"Well, whether or not you listen to me, whether or not you can even hear or see me again, I think he's right. You should bring me home. Look, I'm friendly and clean, if a little skinny, and I'm not wearing a collar." Besides. Even if I didn't listen to you, you distracted me this time. Helped me this time.
And I'm sorry I stopped believing you were real. I know you're just a figment of my imagination, but -
"You should go home. Your boyfriend will be home soon. And you know how scared he gets when he sees you've made new scratches on your body. Cuts would be even worse. You didn't do it because I was here. Please take me home."
"You deserve love too. And my boyfriend likes cats. All right, I'll take you home," Margaret said, scooping up Ellie and petting her soft calico fur. She began walking the path home, through the last of the sun shining through the trees. "But we're not naming you Ellie. I don't want to explain the whole imaginary pet dragon thing." | 2017-08-25T17:45:28 | 2017-08-25T17:04:30 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] Aliens are afraid to invade Earth. Not because of humans but because our solar system is a nest for 8 Guardians/Leviathans. | It had been tried before, always ending in failure.
The world, small and blue, stood out as a conspicuous failure to convert the last holdout of sentient life in the galaxy.
Missionary invasions had worked everywhere else. In all other cases, soldiers of the church brought the staff and the beam, the truth and the light, the core of value and the matrix of eternity. There was resistance in some cases, true. But in the end always success. Always.
But these... ..."humans" they called themselves... ...were especially beloved by their protectors. Sometimes worshipped as a pantheon, sometimes as a unity, but always there. Even when they lost their myths and their faith, the leviathans stood in the shadows jealously defending this one pocket of space.
A few attempts had come close. The greatest of all even tried once, sending his own begotten son, but he would not return. At least, not any time soon. The grip of the eight was far too tight.
Earthlings had a talent for duplicity and hate, vanity and rage, cruelty and oppression unmatched by any other creature in the galaxy. They were the only things really like themselves that the leviathans had ever found.
Monsters have their favorites too. And no one was going to touch this world without their permission.
| There is chatter around the room. The words are filled with doubt and fear, but their leader does not notice. As she paces around her war room on the capital ship, she does her best to block out the noise. Their needs to be a decision, and she will deliver one soon. For now, however, she can only think of her ship. On this ship, she barely escaped with her life during the War of Dread. Although that was nearly 109 nR (1 R is one full rotation of the milky way), she remembers it like yesterday.
*The Inexhaustible, as they became to be known, defended this system with their might. Nearly 2/3 of her armada was destroyed before it advanced past the 7th planet from the sun. The beasts killed in many, gruesome, ways; one neutralized entire crews with targeted gamma ray bursts, while another shredded hulls with its unknown alloy-like teeth. Another yet spewed out argon plasma, completely vaporizing everything in its path. There wasn't even time to collect data on all 8 of The Inexhaustible qbefore she ordered retreat. Yes water was precious, but there would have been no one left if she didn't fall back.*
*As her ship began jumping to FTL, she felt an intense heat, like nothing she has felt before or since. Looking at the optical scanners she saw the plasma beast encapsulating her craft with the ionized Argon, and then quickly it all disappeared. Her, and what remianed of her fleet, were on their way back to their home system. She knew they would have to come back sooner or later, but she dreaded that day.*
The Ash'naa empire is in turmoil. It's people die of thirst everyday, needing water to stay alive. They mined all forms of water from every galaxy within 100 light years, except for Sol. Now, with the people almost at full rebellion, she has no choice. Their is at least one water planet, and another with minable ice in Sol--the third and fourth planets from the sun to be exact.
Their own water is much too polluted to use at this point, and they do not have the resources or supply network to travel any further than they have. It is time to relive this nightmare. Their fleet is hardly where it was before the War, and she knows that they stand little chance against those monstrosities. With no alternative, she accepts her fate.
The pacing and chatter stops. All that is heard is faint whirring noises from electronics. She opens a direct line to every other ships' video feed before saying a word:
"Today we claim the resources needed for our survival, or today we die. There is no turning back, and more importsntly, there is no alternative. Let that give strength, and absolve us of fear as we wage battle. If you need more motivation, think of your family, as they are certainly thinking of you. Now, let us secure our future. Prepare to jump."
And with that, the Ash'naa had decided their future: for better or worse.
| 2018-02-05T15:14:01 | 2018-02-05T15:10:16 | 2,481 | 66 |
[WP] A supervillain erases 30 years worth of memories from every hero he meets, just to put them out of business. One day he accidentally does this to a senile old man, and he finds out the hard way that he’s met the former strongest superhero | "So I go nuts?"
"You go nuts"
"And the world forgets me? Leaves me to rot?"
"Well that's not QUITE what happens"
"Is it not?! You found me wandering the streets as a madman! In the poorest, dingiest, cruddiest part of the city! I mean, SHIT, look at my clothes!"
It was a weird thing talking one of the saviors (The Savior perhaps?) of the known world. A force of justice and good, an exemplar of all that was righteous and joyful in the world. What was weird about it? The fact I was an evil madman hellbent on greed and self advancement at the expense of others? The fact we were talking in the dirtiest and most foul cafe in the city?
Well at least I could explain my opposing number's mismatched neon orange and pink one piece that was in such disrepair it was effectively a two piece. (His hero suit was a much more tasteful green blue black affair)
"Look, it's not the world's fault you're dressed like a low budget 80s commercial for hot hatchbacks"
"HOW?! GET TO THE POINT!"
"Why are you so angry? Surely your legacy doesn't really matter to you? Does it really matter that you have nothing to your name and the world moved on? Isn't being a superhero all about helping others and not yourself?"
He smashed his coffee off the table and destroyed the car park in the process. As I handed the grumpy waitress another suitcase of 100s, he launched into a tirade.
"But that IS the point you halfwit! It's not JUST about me going around saving people! I wanted to INSPIRE people, to tell them that they too could do something good to make the world a better place! Look, was I only defeating supervillains and playing baseball with meteors?"
"No you weren't", I replied. He often stopped by and helped little old ladies cross the road or visited nearby schools to give pep talks.
"I did those small things because I wanted other people to help out too. Superheroes can't SAVE the world on their own. They can improve it sure, but there's a million ordinary people for each one of us. I might defeat the big bad but what good does it do if the millions then turn around and cause some small problem? Yes large atrocities are arguably worse but it could be argued that small atrocities are every bit as bad as big ones"
It was a fair point. Me stealing a million from the bank didn't matter to the little kid down the road. The kid's biggest problem was not understanding his homework and who would help him with that?
"So you hoped to inspire the people, get everyone to help out a little bit"
"Exactly. So I'm rather miffed that they just left me out to rot. You think they'd have taken some care of me as I became helpless and a little off my rocker. Not to say that I deserve it more than the next grandparent but you know, I might have expected that some crony politician would have put me up if only to earn some cheap points with the electorate. Instead it appears they left me out in the cold!"
"Okay, okay, I get where you're coming from old chap but you know how you were talking about perspective and all that? Have you tried to understand your situation from their perspective?"
He furrowed his brow as he thought for a moment before replying, "I don't know what you're talking about. What do you mean from their perspective? I'm a hero so I don't need help or something?"
I shook my head. "Nothing that complicated. Ok, so you know how you had an assumed identity? James the cabbie? Because superheroes had to blend in and not draw attention?"
"Yeah, I....oh. Oh. OHHHHH"
"Yeah. They saw a cabbie go nuts and just didn't bother." | Thirty years is the perfect amount of time. It's just basic statistics.
I only play in the big leagues, and over 90% of A-list heroes are between the ages of 30 and 40. Younger than that, and they probably don't have the experience to be of any interest to me. Older than that... doesn't exist. Superheroing is not a career path with a pension and a retirement plan.
It would have been easy to build the Lethe Beam 5000 with a variety of settings, but settings cause more problems than they solve in my line of work. If you have settings, heroes *will* get their hands on your tech, and they *will* find a way to hack them, or reverse the polarity or use the "undo" feature. No. No settings - the Lethe Beam 5000 does only one thing and it does it well.
"Uh, mister. Where are we? I'm scared."
I looked at my latest nemesis. Atomwoman had been a thorn in my side for four months now. The new record. But no more.
"There's no need to be afraid," I said trying to hold back laughter. The difference was night and day - she no longer stood with a confidence forged in a crucible of loss and perserverance. She was just a scared little girl now - all the artifice was stripped away. "This place isn't safe. Why don't you take my hand and I can help you find your mommy."
"Uh... my mommy said I shouldn't go anywhere with strangers," Atomwoman said uncertainly.
"Well now I'm hurt!" I did my best to look it. "I'm not a stranger, little Emma. I'm good friends with your mommy, Diane. I can help you get out of here and get to safety."
Atomwoman looked at the rubble around her. The floor was covered in dust, bits of metal and glass. A small fire was creeping in from the corner. She had certainly done a number on my lair, but she would be a thorn in my side no longer. She took my hand and I helped her to her feet.
"That's a pretty bracelet you have, can I look at it?" I said. This last part required finesse.
She looked down surprised. "I don't 'member getting this bracelet..." she said as she extended her arm.
I pressed the button on her Atom Morpher, and there was a flash of light. Now Atomwoman was back in her civilian clothes, as her secret identity: Emma Eden, reporter for the Beacon Herald. I admired the bracelet - it was a shame she had put such a brilliant mind towards the futile cause of good, she would have made an excellent sidekick.
Now was the boring part - I could just kill her on the spot, but I allow a small amount of sentimentality for a worthy nemesis. No, I would take her back to her work and let them discover her there. What happened after that was not of my concern.
I took off my lab coat, and put on a trenchcoat. "Hey, we're both playing dress up. Isn't that fun? Now lets go find your mommy."
I led the timid former hero to the elevator, and we were soon on the street. This lair was within walking distance of her work - "keep your friends close..." and all that. No one paid us any mind as I lead her through the crowds of people. As we were walking, we passed by an old homeless man with his hat on the ground for donations, and a large grey dog at his side.
Atomwoman, no... Emma was quite excited to see the dog. She ran up to the old man, bumping into me and sending the Lethe Beam 5000 clattering to the ground.
"Can I please pet your dog mister?" Emma said excitedly.
The old man looked up and smiled at her, half his teeth missing. "Eh, sure missy. Ol' Rex here loves to be pet."
Meanwhile, I was scrambling between people's legs trying to get the Lethe Beam 5000 back. A man kicked it a few feet away and I lunged to grab it. A green beam shot out in a random direction. Oh, crap - hopefully nobody was paying attention. I pocketed the device, and made my way back to Emma who was still petting the dog. I grabbed her hand roughly and started pulling her with me.
"You've been a very bad girl, Emma. We'll never find your mommy if you keep causing scenes like-" I stopped as I felt a vicelike grip on my arm. It couldn't be - Atomwoman was a tech hero. She only had super strength when her Atom Morpher was active.
"In the name of justice. Unhand this citizen, you cur. Sunman is here to save the day!" the old man seemed to have an aura about him - even with half his teeth missing and his rail-thin figure it felt like his presence filled the sidewalk.
"It can't be - Sunman died years ago," I blabbered. "The Imp killed him - there's video."
"Ha! The Imp get the best of me? What a fanciful thought. No, I'm afraid I'm very alive. And if my sunsenses aren't lying to me, and they never do, you're going to be spending a long time in prison."
I had only one chance. With my free hand I reached for my Lethe Beam 5000, but he was too fast. He crushed it and proceeded to tie me with his sunbeam cuffs. He picked me up, and started flying towards the police station. I couldn't help but smile. I now had a new nemesis. Hopefully, the great and mighty Sunman would prove more of a challenge than the heroes who came before. | 2018-02-21T15:06:47 | 2018-02-21T14:46:11 | 48 | 34 |
[WP] In the future, prosthetic limbs are more powerful and accurate than biological limbs. It is the 2080 summer Paralympics, now with three times the viewers of the olympics. | 33% human. That was the cutoff, ever since the 2036 Olympics, when Dash Sullivan rocketed through the 100 meter with nothing more than a brain and legs at 100 mph. From then on, athletes had to be at least 33% of a human being to compete.
Whether it's massive fluid loss for weigh ins, qualifications regarding transgender hormone therapy, or ski team selection rules for foreign countries, when a rule comes in place, coaches and athletes will exploit the fuck out of it. For to ignore it would be to put oneself at a disadvantage, and that was not about to happen on the world stage.
While coaches worked to whittle their athletes down to their last shred of humanity, constructing titanium cyborgs with superhuman physiques, I chose a different path. It has always bothered me that the brain and the spinal cord were the parts of the human conserved. Granted, they were what housed the athlete's mind. But since the robotics were doing the heavy lifting, why was an athlete even required?
It was upon this concept that my greatest creation was based- a six foot tall skeleton with a sleek titanium chassis and legs like an elk's. When I strode to the 2080 Paralympics with it in tow, I got a few smirks. Another few questionable glances. And many, many looks of defeat. I only hoped that I'd made the calculations correctly.
The techie behind the screen actually came out of his booth while my creation was scanning. "Sir, it appears your contestant doesn't have, well, a brain. I can't allow this through."
I opened my briefcase and brought out the papers I'd printed. "An athlete must contain at least 33% of a human being. This one does."
He blinked and stepped back into his booth. "Well I'll be damned. Did you fill it entirely with muscle and nerve?"
"33% of a human being." I smiled as he stamped our application. My arms and legs whirred as I tucked the papers back into the briefcase. Guess I wasn't quite used to my new parts yet. "I look forward to taking home the gold this year."
[subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/)
| The crowd goes silent as the athletes line up in preparation for their race. The finals of the mens 200m were always the highlight of the paralympics, and this time was no different. The 2080 Paralympics signal the 40 year mark since artificially enhanced prosthetic limbs were allowed, and with a gradual increase in countries technological spending into the races, the atheletes were beginning to shave off more and more time from the world record with each race.
Starting from the top, we've got 4 racers in the order of America, England, Australia and Russia.
Nicknamed 'Legs from Texas', the American's upper body is a shining mass of muscle as he lumbers up to his starting blocks, heaving his massive, gorilla like metal legs backwards and forwards. As patriotic as usual, they are sprayed in the American colours blue red and white. I mean, I get it. They've obviously got a tech team from Texas, because those legs were *definitely* big, bigger is better right? In fact, a quick search tells me they weigh close to 60kg in high strength titanium alloys, powered with extreme(dangerous??) amounts of voltage in the electric motors. Whirring into position, the nuts and bolts tighten as he slowly squats down, placing his thick legs on the starting blocks, dwindling them with his presence.
Next to him is the English athlete, nicknamed the 'Silver Surfer', sporting a toned and athletic body, his legs are much thinner, resembling a humans leg in their design. If I were asked to describe them in one word, I would say 'Chrome'. Silvery and mirror like, the craftsmanship shows in the elegant design and effortless movement as he saunters over to the starting blocks with an ever so *slightly* snotty look on his face. Placed next to the brutish American, his legs are a work of art in comparison showcasing an air of the efficiency and refinement of an English luxury item like a rolls royce.
Next up is the affectionately named 'Kanga', the Australian athlete. Sporting long blonde hair, seemingly whipped into shape by the sea breeze, he starts to walk over to his start position with a toothy grin. Well, not walked technically, I guess I should say 'hopped'. Because his legs were in fact, not so much legs, but more like massive springs enclosed in glass cylinders. Each measuring at least 50cm, they shine with a dull glow showcasing their tensile strength with each hop as they contract ever so slightly. Explosive power. I like it.
Finally, the Russian athlete approaches. The crowd quietens as they observe his formidable form, his nickname? None other then the 'The green goblin'. An incredibly low body fat ration highlights his muscles like a greek god, his bald head glistening with sweat. Running across his body in an X shape is black material, joining at his neck, combined with a mask that I can *only* describe as something that looks like Bane's mask from *batman*. His legs look similar to the original designs of the prosthetics that were allowed before modification was legalised. Simple in design, but with 2 clear cylinders attached to each leg filled with a mysteriously glowing green fluid with tubes entering his lower abdominal area from in front and from behind. Taking up his position next to the carefree Australian, the serious, murderous aura emitted from the Russian athlete is a heavy contrast to take.
"On your marks." The announcer begins. Each athlete bringing their rear up into the air.
"Get set." The crowd audibly holds their breaths as the stadium enters an undisturbed silence.
*To be continued???*
-------
Athletes is just one of those words I will always spell incorrectly. 'Atheletes'... what an idiot I am. Anyway, I usually write pretty serious so I felt like having a bit of fun with this one, it's not up to the usual quality I try to achieve, but it felt nice to get some ideas on paper. Who do you think would win!? | 2018-03-05T02:36:45 | 2018-03-05T01:31:44 | 42 | 18 |
[WP] Your entire life, you've been told you're deathly allergic to bees. You've always had people protecting you from them, be it your mother or a hired hand. Today, one slips through and lands on your shoulder. You hear a tiny voice say "Your Majesty, what are your orders?" | "What? Who said that?", I asked, startled.
"It izz me, Buzzter, your humble servant, sire! Might I take this opportunity to say that it is such an honor to speak with you directly!" said the annoying voice.
That's when I noticed that the source of the strange voice was a bee, right there on my shoulder. As someone who has been told to stay away from bees all my life, for ungodly things would happen if I so much as touch one, I was scared half to death.
"Aaaah! Get off me, get off me!"
"Fear not, my king! I mean you no harm!", said Buzzter as he got off me and spoke hovering from a distance. I took a moment to collect myself and, since I thought a speaking insect was pretty cool, allowed the bee to have its say.
"It seems you have been deceived and brainwashed like we suspected."
"Huh?"
"There isn't much time; they'll be here any second.", he said, and then proceeded to sting me.
"No no no no, don't! Please!", I yelled, but he had already stung me. I feared the worst, but it caused no pain, and healed within seconds. I have seen quite a few people in immense pain after being stung, so this took me completely by surprise. I looked at Buzzter the bee in astonishment. Before buzzing away, he said: "If I have gained your trust, come to the bee hive on the third tree in the park two blocks from your home, and come alone. Just say 'I seek my minions' out loud to seek us out. The fate of all bees relies upon your actions, my king!"
Just a second later, my mother opened the door to my room. "What's wrong, son? I heard shouting."
"Nothing, mom" I replied, "Rashford missed another shot at goal!".
"Huh, you and your football!" she said as she left and closed the door.
I couldn't sleep that night, and my curiosity got the better of me, so I sneaked out and I made my way to the park. There was, indeed, a bee hive on the third tree from the park entrance, but lighting was dim and I doubted if I would be able to see the bees even if they did come. I said out loud: "I seek my minions!"
Immediately, five matchsticks floating in the air lit up. I realized they were not floating, but were being held up by bees, like torches. Then I recognized Buzzter. "Your Majesty, so good you came!".
"Umm... yeah... the thing is... I really don't know what..."
"I apologize deeply for interrupting you, your Majesty, but it appears you have been made to believe that you are allergic to us. Is that correct?"
"Yeah."
"Those treacherous fiends! They have deceived everyone!"
"Who are we talking about here?"
"My apologies! I will let our great storyteller/narrator bee, Morgan Beeman, to tell you the great story of the bees!"
"Greetings, your Majesty" said Morgan Beeman, and started with the story...
"Long ago, all species of bees lived in harmony in their respective ecosystems, and produced honey in peace. The biggest nuisance was the occasional bear who would attack for honey, but the hive would be rebuilt and harmony restored. However, beedom would encounter an enormous threat to its well being - the threat of humans! The humans, inherently greedy mammals who claim supremacy on this planet even though our absence would set in motion events that would lead to their doom in a short span of time, are greedy bastards. Their greed for honey lead them to steal from us on a massive scale, causing irreparable destruction and death and figure out ways to capture and enslave our beeple in concentration camps to produce honey for their wants! But there was a ray of hope for us, in the form of a prophecy! The prophecy foretold: 'The human who is not affected by the bee's sting will be the liberator of beedom!' And so we started to sting human children, and then finally found you, when you were stung as a child!"
"But... my parents told my I had a severe allergic reaction... I was too young to remember so I had to believe them."
"Your parents cut a deal with the evil ones." said Morgan Beeman. "The ones who profit from the enslavement of our beeple! The honey industry! Your parents accepted a vast sum of money for their involvement in keeping you from us! Money that they have reserved for your college education. With one command, you can stop every bee on Earth from working to produce honey. The honey industry knows this, which is why they have gone to extreme lengths to deny us contact. To deny you your birthright to be the king of all beeple and beedom as a whole! We are merely your servants, your Majesty, and hope that you will do what is best for us. Your word is our law... your will, our destiny..."
Moved by the bees' plight, and by Morgan Beeman's incredible narration and storytelling, I take a deep breath, and say:
"Let's take these honey industry bastards on!"
| haha, "Carl when did you develop a sense of humor?" I said. "Carl"?
I turned to look over my right shoulder expecting to see my normally morose and impersonal driver only to see one of *them*.
"Oh fuck me" I stammered looking into the beady eyes of what has been the sum of all fears since childhood.
"You are a King not a Queen sire, and I would not be worthy to pollinate you even so" the little death dealer said.
Stung already, auditory hallucinations I have to get help "Carl!" I shouted trying to see through the tree line back towards the car near the ferry where Carl must be. Stumbling into a lurching run ignoring my still open fly. " Running will increase blood flow spreading the toxin further, stop. Think, call him you idiot!"
"My lord please do not distress, we live to serve." The same follow the yellow brick road voice said.
"We are going to be dead in minutes whoever the fuck we is" I replied pulling out my phone. "I know it's in here why is it not under C, i should have.."
"We are the elite guard pledged to you sire" Munchkin voices from all sides said at once, causing me to jolt and drop my phone. Lifting my eyes I saw them, dozens no A HUNDRED bees floating in 3 tight lines mere feet in front of me. Death for sure, i'm sorry mom I shouldn't have yelled and insisted learning to fish.
A bee landed on my glasses and I froze staring at it with a kind of resigned horror.
"Great one, remain calm we do not have long to speak. I can tell by your reaction that we are the first unit to make contact with you".
Seventeen years, constant vigilance and fear anytime out doors even when on a screened in porch, mother quitting her job to make sure she would be there if I actually got stung. Hiring a ex-military medic to drive me around after they won the local lottery, losing friends because I couldn't be allowed to play outdoors after spring. Wait, ex-medic ...the epi pen! Staring the hallucination in my eye Ii reached to my backpack and pulled out the pen popping the security tab and lifting it to strike my leg it...resisted
"No my liege you must not!" the bee said , now sitting on the tip of my nose.
That's when I saw them crawling all over my hand tiny wings buzzing. Instinctively I yelped then dropped the pen, watching in amazement as they returned to their formation. "Wh-why " was all i could get out.
"Sir it is likely they put one of their chemicals in there, not something to help you but something to knock you out and cause memory loss" the small death dealer said.
"They?! you mean my fucking doctor?", "I'm talking to a bee now, I wonder if i'm even really still standing. Maybe i'm sprawled out on the ground with foam coming from my mouth as my body rages it's last defiant battle.
"He would not be your doctor, but theirs, Please majesty you must focus, we have little time the bear is likely already incapacitated or dead by now"
"Bear? please tell me Baloo is just around the corner ready to save me" I said.
"You know him? I did not know his name sir or that you were aquatined. I hope you and he will accept our apology for all the stings, we merely needed to incite him to violence to distract the human named Carl."
That's when I noticed I was sitting down and it struck home. Carl was *never* out of eyesight or atleast shouting distance. He's paid more than he would make at any ambulance service just to stay by my side in case. He should be here no matter what but...a bear?
"I'm not hallucinating?" i said.
"No my lord, I understand this is a shock but I have been trying to tell you that we are here to rescue you, quickly you must come with us" the tiny voice said, sounding more confident and resolute
Dropping the Epi pen I asked "So you didn't sting me?"
The little bee's wings buzzed quickly and almost fell off my nose. "Sire it would be more than my wings are worth, my whole colony would kill itself if I dared harm you."
Drugs, somebody slipped me something or maybe that stuff that grows on grain and makes you trip balls. Urgot? i think that is what it was called, the cause of the salem witch trials. Well part of the cause ,religious fools that they were.
"Quickly sire, follow us! Alpha team you're on point, charlie team fall back to the parking lot and observe the human to see if he gives chase, DO NOT BE SEEN."
The three lines of bees flew off in different directions, one toward the parking lot another in thhe opposite direction and the rest formed a halo around my head forming a crown of bees. Thinking that this was kind of cool for a nightmarish hallucination I sprang into action following alpha team.
"Where are we going...wait what is your name?" I asked.
"It is not likely you could say it in your language sire, but you may call me Carl if that seems right." the bee said whilst clinging to my glasses against the wind.
"Oh no, you're way more interesting than a Carl. I will call you Artemis, does that sound ok?" I said.
"Named by the prophesied one himself, my lord you humble me to tears" he replied.
Smiling i found myself thinking this small creature which i hhad come too fear and loathe was actually kind of cute. "Where are we going Artemis?"
"We're going to your Mother sir, she has much to discuss with you." he replied
"Oh Art, i'm sorry but I'm pretty sure my mother would coat me in a fog of raid if she saw you with me" I chuckled while running along side the river. Strange my asthma isn't bothering me.
"Not the human you call mother majesty. She was merely assigned to you after your kidnapping. We're going to your REAL mother, our mother, earth's mother Gaia." He replied in all seriousness. "Alpha team this is it, Baker team signal evac team that we are ready to depart." He said in that oddly commanding tone for a voice sounding like it was coated in helium.
Another bee flew close to my glasses and said " Wings are arleady here sir, 15 seconds".
"Set ten of your weakest to wait for charlie team's return after we leave. The human will come this way looking for the king, if you think he suspects what has happened... Kill him." Art said.
" By my Antennae and Sting, life to serve commander. We will fight to the last bee." the little one said.
What did he mean wings here in 15 seconds Art?" I asked just before two sets of eagle talons clenched my shoulders and carried me into the sky. | 2022-01-01T21:17:01 | 2018-04-01T04:29:26 | 4,502 | 1,614 |
[WP] You can potentially live forever by stealing the remaining years out of someone's life. But one day while trying to add to your own years, someone's remaining years seem to be infinite. | "Sit."
I found myself sitting before I could think about it.
"What do you think you are doing?"
The man was glaring at me. He had looked mid eighties before I went to vamp him, but now he looked mid twenties. Vamp. Its the term I made for my ability. See, I can latch on to someone's life force, and drain it away, adding it to my own. I usually restrain myself, taking only the last few years, and only from those who have already lived full lives. But when I focused in on this man, instead of a pool of life, I felt an ocean, so wide and deep as to be immeasurable.
"I...I..."
"You what, you thought you could siphon me because I was an old defenseless man and you can live forever? Your kind disgust me." He was still glaring.
"My...kind?" All my life I had been alone.
I could see the look on his face absorb the deeper meaning behind my words, the expression soften just slightly. When you have lived for centuries, you learn how to read people. "Yes your kind. Leaches. Have" he paused, grasping for words "Have you not met any others? Grown up with them?"
"No, I was found in a shipwreck as a small child, raised as an orphan. It took me a while to figure out what I can do and the consequences, but I never found another like me. Or you." The implications of his existence were beginning to bloom in my mind. "Or anything else. I mean, what else is there? Monsters? Wizards? Titans? De.."
"Stop!" The man had barely raised his voice, but the force behind the word stopped me in my tracks. Soon I found myself spilling out my whole life story, my morale code, how I made sure to give back to the families of those I took from. That is how I became the apprentice to the librarian, and he came to let me live off of the infinite life force his library provided him.
It has been millennia now, and as my first task as the new librarian, the final task he left for me, I am to add my memoirs to its hallowed halls. I can think of no greater place to start than here, where my life truly began. | Another bum sleeping on the left side of the alley; they really all look the same. At this point, it had become routine. The same practiced method distilled over the last few centuries. Find someone out of the way, someone no one would miss; someone alone. Don't let them see your face, just grab them from behind and make a skin contact; the rest was easy. The transfer was always quick, at least when I wanted it to be.
When taking time from someone, how much and how quickly equated to how aware they would be that something is amiss. This was a lesson I learned quickly. What I didn't learn with ease was that I only had so much control; it was never fully turned off. I was born a natural parasite. I've accepted it now, but only after it cost my first life.
Being young and in love leads to being horny and urgently screwing at every opportunity. We were near constantly in a tangle of each other's limbs; until she told me she was pregnant. After that it felt like we were going at it twice as much. It wasn't until the seventh month that I noticed her skin was looking worn and she seemed to have increasing difficulty doing basic tasks. I slowly realized these and all the little signs from the proceeding months were the same symptoms present in those people whose time I had taken.
After her death, I went through a dark period of drinking and selfish pursuit of pleasure leaving a mile wide trail of bodies in my wake. I learned what truly fucking the life out of someone meant. Luckily for me, this was before forensic science existed. These days, I stick to the fringes of society since life as an immortal is hard to keep secret in a digital age.
My mind suddenly felt unfocused and disoriented as I approached my mark. I stopped to steady myself on the wall and blinked a few times. Once the confusion passed, I felt a sense of deja vu as I snuck up to the bum sleeping on the right side of the alley. Been doing this too long. Once I made contact, I began the transfer pushing it as fast as I could. As much as I love immortality, I am much less enthusiastic about alleys, and even less so about the chance of being caught sucking the life out of someone.
Once I hit the average 10 second mark, I began to slow the transfer; but something was different. There was still more in the tank. Another few 10 second intervals and it was still going strong. It was strange, sleeping or not, most people put up some kind of fight; he just kept sleeping. My morbid curiosity compelled me on for another 2 hours on my hardest push of a transfer sprint I'd ever done, this man was my real life fountain of youth. Finally I felt the last traces of life leave the man.
This was by far the strangest thing I'd ever experienced. It was like I just found another one like me. I always wondered if there were others. I guess it doesn't matter now that I killed him. In all my own revelry, I didn't notice that I wasn't alone.
"Any changes to the timeline?" she asked her communicator. "Nope," was the one word response.
"Well, that doesn't bode well for our success. You also botched the incursion. You dropped him on the wrong side of the alley."
"We're on our last replay, out of all the permutations we had, that was the only change left to make."
"So then this whole program has been for nothing? Billions of lives and trillions of dollars wasted, our mission failed. I don't think so."
"I know what you're thinking, but we have no way to know the outcome. Not to mention, you'll be stuck."
"One woman out of time is better than a millennium of global agony."
With that she walked out of the shadows. The man stood over the corpse and began to turn toward her, but not before she was right behind him. Her blade jammed into his kidney with lethal precision and extreme prejudice. As his body went rigid, her lips drew into a cruel grin as she twisted the knife and whispered coldly in his ear.
"Tyrant."
| 2018-07-04T14:32:54 | 2018-07-04T14:12:40 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] A clang came from the engine room, followed by a string of curses. Most of the crewmembers stood far from the doors, fearfully looking in. It was their first trip out to deepspace since they had taken on a human mechanic, and they were all pretty sure that those were not good noises. | *BONG BANG BONG*
The Zscruex ship-family cringed, a ripple of tendrils as the reaction to the noise passed across the empathy net from those closest to the engineering section.
Many Terran words, each dripping with more intent than the last. Malice. Focus. The ship-family did not know these Terran words, but they could feel the power behind each one.
How is it the human could broadcast so strongly? They had no cruex, no genetic empathy bonds. It was if the words served as some kind of alien broadcast of the human's feelings.
Machines did not have empathy. Was this some strange Terran science?
"BILGESUCKING PIECE OF WARBLEGARBLING- I WILL SPACE YOU, THEN TRACTOR YOU INTO THE EXHAUST PORT *JUST SO I CAN WATCH YOU BURN* IF YOU DON'T GET BACK INTO THAT BRACKET!"
*BASH*
The wave of maniacal energies spoke of a storm. The ship family locked five hatches leading to what could only be the Human self-destructing it's mind by bashing itself with a hyperspanner.
*BASH crunk SMASH*
...satisfaction? The storm settled like a predator, suddenly full. Or perhaps it had completed some kind of Human mating.
Humans mated with many species, after all. Perhaps they were also fond of violent bonding with K-3-* fold generators.
Footsteps, release. Each hatch opened as the human stalk-fell-walked forward in the microgravity and entered the Mother's Chamber.
"Hey, Shipmama! Slapped your fold generator around a bit and made it my bitch, but we're gonna need another case of flexseal rolls when we make station orbit. Turns out she works better when you tie her down. Also, new hyperspanner. The old one's welded into the rig."
"...this is the human "bondage" mating ritual?"
"Ha! Good one! Well, she won't fuck with you again."
"We are pleased you have found happiness. Welcome to the ship-family."
"After all," thought the Mother - "now we understand why humans call their vessels females." | It's been 50 years since we, as a race, perfected space travel. Of course, I say race so as to gloss over the fact that entire groups of people had not only developed the math required to make the jump to hyperspace, but according to myth and lore, a few groups had managed it also, a full 150 years ago. That's a full 100 years before the " companies " got their head wrapped around it.
It doesn't affect our day to day operations as such, the knowledge that there might be clusters around our home planet with the tech to make the hyperspace jump in less than 1/10th of the fuel we use currently. Honestly speaking, fuck 'em. We have too much fuel anyway.
It has created a weird hierarchy though, within the space corps. Basically if anyone suspects that you are one of them, you're in an extreme. Either you're treated with royalty, or suspicion. If you're lucky, it's the first. Although if you're treated like royalty, it doesn't take long before the rest of the crew starts treating you with suspicion. It's a slippery slope, and there's really no coming back. Legend has it, that a few communities dispense with their high tech if treated nicely, so people acquiesce. Personally, I think it's a bunch of hokum. For me, and quite a few others, all of these frills usually serve the purpose of a ritual hazing, only it's us crew at the receiving end.
We try to watch out for it but of course, they get away with a lot too. Just last week we had a new member join our crew. And of course, the company skipped the background check. I mean, why look through a person's space-resume' and not look for inconsistencies as glaring as, where it says 10 yrs - mechanic, it doesn't say what vehicle because it sure as hell isn't a space ship! And I can obviously say this right now, because I'm in a room, surrounded by other crew members, going through this guy's space-resume' and we're all just marveling at the idea, that since we're in space, and our bodies don't actually have any biological mechanism to realize the amount of danger it's in, we're gonna have to inject ourselves with the adrenaline required to figure out what to do in the precise moment when we realize we might actually be in some kind of trouble.
For now, there's an inordinate amount of noise coming from the other room.
\*loud clanging\*
\*really loud clanging\*
"Ok, whose idea was it to hire this guy? Was it you Dick?"
"No man, wasn't me. Looksie here I got the little contract right here, and all it says is crew meet Monday at the docks. I met ya'll at the docks."
"Well which one of you fuckers did it?"
"It wasn't me Harry. It was one of those company fuckers. You know how dem are. They don't care nothin'. They prolly in their cushions thinkin' he got sum hidden tech up his sleeve or somethin'. Fucker's gonna make us get to hyperspace in one quintillion of a second faster than them nincompoops can come up with."
"You really think so?"
"Doesn't matter what I think Harry. I think the guy crooked us. I mean, he obviously doesn't know anythin' bout' fixing no space ships, that's for sure."
\*loud clanging noises\*
"Yeah, he doesn't."
"Whatever guys, I'm going to tune into the inter-galactic space-athon at Dix 51's nebulon-bar at galaxy cluster 31, route 78, channel 89. Now at a limited time period offer of 20 cents an hour, only! Don't forget to subscribe now."
\*clanging noises\*
\*clanging noises\*
\*tv starts\* | 2019-05-31T05:46:32 | 2019-05-31T02:52:26 | 41 | 11 |
[WP] You start working in a nursing home, you have a resident diagnosed with late stage dementia. They ramble about their life experiences, from building pyramids to seeing Jesus crucified to watching fights at the Roman Colosseum. 20 years pass, you are now chief nurse, and they haven't aged a bit. | 10 years. It took you 10 years before you realised. You stared at the old woman. Clearly, she was someone later in life. If you had to guess, which given the amount of elderly people you’d been around, you’d gotten pretty good at, she was maybe 75. You’d always liked her tales. They seemed creative, immersive. She had a way of recalling things, staring off into the distance. The details she conjured seemed so vivid. You’d wondered why no one had ever come to visit her. She was a character through and through. It wasn’t till you’d been around for a while. Walked the hall a few too many times. You began to notice the changes, or lack thereof. While Martha two doors down had become frail, loosing what little mobility she had retained from her younger days. The woman, you’d known her as Ruth, hadn’t changed an inch. Really, it was the hands that gave it away. No one noticed the subtle changes in a person. Day to day differences. Except in the hands. They were the first signs of age. Age which hadn’t come for Ruth. It took you 10 long years to realise. It was now another 10 down the track, and you were ready to show the world what you, and she, had achieved.
*History by Ruth*, that’s what you’d called it. It shook the academic world. The facts, figures, details you provided, answered many unsolved and long-thought forgotten mysteries of the historical world. To boot you’d even managed to pitch it to Netflix, producing a 32-part series where you travelled across the world, exploring the many claims you’d made against modern historical records. No one, of course, knew about Ruth. Sure, her name was on the cover, but just as well that Ruth’s were a dime a dozen. Nobody suspected the truth. And why would they? The idea that a single person could be untold millennia old was preposterous to the nth degree. You, of course, had let her have a taste of the high life. You bought the nursing home, renaming it in her honour. She was given a special room. Special doctors and nurses. Everyone had benefited from this, you had thought.
Time passed again. Another 20 long years. You returned to see Ruth less frequently. In a way, she was the cornerstone of your life. You owed your success to her and her alone. It wasn’t 5 years ago you’d started to notice. The occasional grey hair. Your limbs starting to feel stiff. Age had come for you. It still hadn’t for Ruth. Jealousy was a funny thing. Despite how much she had given you, you wanted more. Wanted what she had. Dementia be damned. You’d hired more doctors. Better doctors. Doctors that knew how to keep their damn mouths shut. You’d begun to study Ruth. Who she was. What she was. It wasn’t until that fateful night. You’d solved it. Worked out how to take what was hers. The look in her eyes. The greed you’d felt as it had passed from her to you. The realisation. It wasn’t a blessing that Ruth had. It was a curse. You remember the panic as she passed. Her final words to you, “Thank you”. | ######[](#dropcap)
"Come now, Nikolas." I wheeled the old man down the hall, stopping for just a second to adjust the blanket in his lap. I'd been watching over him for nigh on twenty years now, since I was just a young woman myself, till now.
He'd been there for the better part of my life now. And in the last twenty or so years, the crinkles of his eyes never got deeper, and his smile became colder. In the least strange way possible, it always seemed like it was meant to be this way.
I had never gotten to travel. Born into a world that didn't care whether I lived or perished, I barely survived orphanage, almost falling victim to a carer who only wished to bleed the institution dry and gave no fucks about us, and then to a foster parent who had one too many kids. I can still recall the way Cindy used to sneer at me from the couch, her rotund body spilling off the sides, barking at me to make another sandwich. You're only around so we can get tax breaks, she used to say to me. You should be grateful.
Gratitude is a word I did not understand until the age of twenty, when after eking my way through college, I became saddled with a mountain of debt. College will help you land a job, the professors had said. It will change your future, make it bright and wondrous. Even back then, I had wondered, could college help make me feel less alone? All throughout my life, the one thing that had followed me was an aching sense of loneliness, no matter how many friends I made at the orphanage or how many parties I went to in college. Peoples' faces all seemed to blur together, and no one stayed around for longer than a year.
But at end of four years, I graduated with a degree and a sense that I was no less alone than I had been four years ago.
And even worse, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to get a job. So maybe it was through sheer dumb luck that I saw the "Help Wanted" flyer for the nursery on the board, the last strip of phone number barely hanging on by a thread.
Maybe it was dumb luck that Nikolas had wheeled himself into the interview room, demanding an ice cream cone, and that I had--by some whim--decided to go out and grab it, the interview be damned. Perhaps it was the way he said it--a deep resignation embedded within the angry tone he had used.
I knew it well. I had used that tone often enough to lash out against my roommate, the one person who had had any chance of being my friend. It was the tone someone used when they wanted to be loved but had no idea how. I resolved, at that moment, to help him in the way I couldn't be helped. To save him in the way I could not be saved.
The job was stable enough. There weren't many benefits, but anything was a step up from the streets. I got my own little room, a twin sized bed, and a bookshelf that could fit three books along the bottom shelf and nothing else because the other shelves fell if any weight was put on them. The residents usually only rang during the night if they needed to use the restroom, but some of the more persnickety ones called me up sometimes to turn on the TV and then five minutes later to turn it off. Nikolas rang whenever he felt like it. And since he didn't keep a steady sleep schedule, neither did I.
I think it was more about the human contact than anything else. Every time I showed up to his room, his eyebrows would furrow together like he abhorred me being there, but then he would find all sorts of excuses to keep me there anyways. His flowers needed tending to. The vase needed to be moved. His pillows were uncomfortable. The sun was too bright, and he wanted the blinds shut. The room was too dark, and he wanted the blinds open.
Perhaps I should've been annoyed. The other nurses were, after all, and eventually, since I became the only one who could handle his strange temperament, I was the sole nurse assigned to him. But strangely enough, I didn't mind. I relished the endless stories that could've been nothing but some combination of fiction and memories from the history books he loved to devour. In this way at least, I could travel.
Nikolas's mind is just as sharp as it was twenty years ago. He hasn't seemed to age one bit. I am older now, and I can feel my limbs begin to ache when I settle into my twin bed at night. But I still feel twenty. I still feel that sense of wonder every time Nikolas comes up with a new tale. I know he's old. Much older than he has any right to be, and that he won't be around forever.
But somehow, I feel like he won't die before me. I get the feeling that he's waiting for me. That in the end, it wasn't me saving him.
It was him saving me.
***
r/AlannaWu | 2019-06-11T23:23:54 | 2019-06-11T23:18:30 | 303 | 138 |
[WP] Every 500 years the magicians open the portal to this world and announce that they are accepting applications for apprentices. This time, no one is interested. Modern technology is much easier than complex spells with obscure ingredients. |
The father sighed, and shook his head. “Son, please hear your old man out.”
“Dad, I’m not becoming your apprentice or whatever you want. I don’t have time for it. Besides, where do you even live? Do they have reception out there?”
“You don’t need reception in the Mystic Realm! That’s what I’m trying to tell you. With magic, you can make anything you want happen!”
“Oh, really? Then tell me something you can do there that I can’t here.”
“You can ask the all-knowing any question you want, and receive an answer to guide your ways.”
“Here, that’s called Google.”
“You can open a portal to speak with any friend, foe or lover you desire, and see and hear them as if they were right next to you.”
“Dad, I’ve been trying to get you to use FaceTime for ages.”
“You can send a prayer to the Gods, and petition them for any object or service of your desire, for the right price.”
“Dad, I work for Amazon!”
The father sighed and shook his head again, this time filled with a helplessness he was all too familiar with.
“Then what is magic for? What do you need me for?”
“Maybe I just need you to be my Dad. Now I’ve got to go. The Uber is almost here.”
\-
“Oh, wise one, I come with a humble question,” the father said.
“Eldrick the Astute, I see your heart is pure as the first snow. What would you like to know?”
“What am I to do? All the magic seems…useless. I never foresaw this. We always feared the death of magic, but how can the world move on without it? It feels like…the world’s turned on magic.”
The wise one smiled. “The world turns, and we can call it magic. But magic is not within us. Rather, magic is all around us. The way the world constantly changes and morphs and puts on new masks but still is the same old thing. That’s real magic. And sometimes, it’s just hard to see how it changes.”
“The world...still needs magic?”
“It always will.”
\-
A knock at the door. The facial recognition didn’t show the visitor as a previous one, so Al went down.
His father stood there, but he didn’t look like he normally did.
“Dad? What are you all dressed up for?”
“Is this the accurate attire?”
“What…I mean, yeah. A dress shirt and tie is what they wear, but only to work. Today’s a weekend.”
“What’s a weekend?”
“A day for spending with family and friends. What are you doing here?”
The father sighed. “Son, all my life I’ve been trying to force you to see magic, and see what it can do. But now I see that you’ve had magic in you all along. And now it’s my job to learn from you. Will you teach me to live in your world, with your All-Knowing and your portal opener and whatever else there is?”
The son smiled. “I never thought this day would come. Come in. And what are those shoes? We’ll have to get you some new ones…”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)
Edit: thanks for reading! Wanted to write a feel good one for the holiday. Happy Father’s Day! | The winds begin to pick up. The pedestrians on the busy street hardly notice at first. The tall buildings often function as funnels for some strong gusts so they are accustomed to a stiff wind every now and then.
People start to take notice however, as the wind fails to ebb and flow as the typical gusts do, but rather begin to build rapidly in a crescendo of litter and cigarette butts being escorted to a single, focal point a few feet above the busy side walk. This rapid escalation also draws the attention of the mass of consumers who are pressed up against the buildings that line the side walk in an undulating and exceedingly long queue. Even the folks who were smart enough to bring their own tents poke their heads out while fighting to restrain their relatively unsecured canvas masses from peeling from the sidewalk and launching down the street.
In most circumstances, it would be fair to assume that humans would typically be concerned about such developments. Whether it was an errant meteorological event or something far more sinister, the appearance of wind vortexes throughout history have usually been accompanied by screaming and running. On this day however, it was far different. The folks in the queue along the building began looking to each other in growing excitement.
“This is it!”
“Oh I hope this is going to be better than last years!”
“It better have the damn headphone jack back…”
The chorus of shouted discussions provide some insight into the expectations of the onlookers. And as quickly as it had begun, the winds die. The litter now carried only by their own momentum lazily crash back to earth, seemingly content with their new residence.
At the point a few feet above the sidewalk where the winds had been converging now stands a gaping schism in reality. On either side of it the gray sky day of a Tuesday afternoon monotonously illuminates the scene, while the object itself, oval in nature, provides insight into something far more breathtaking.
The schism, measuring roughly 9 feet from top to bottom and 4 feet across, appears as a hole in the fabric of reality providing a brief glimpse as to what a few of the onlookers are sure is to be the Horse-Head Nebula. Some of the other on-lookers are certain it is actually the Netflix studio greenscreen and are unlikely to be dissuaded from this opinion. Outlined by either Hollywood magic or the great vast beyond, stands a man who thinks he looks far more impressive than he does.
The pointy hat, which should be a dead giveaway to any Harry Potter lover out there does its best to lend the man as much height as possible, but even still with the hat on he barely eclipses 5’5”. To script as possible, the rest of the man’s features which slowly resolve as he steps forward are what any book reading or tv watching human would identify as wizardish. The long beard, white of course, or the purple robe etched with moons and stars serve only to reinforce the wizardly nature of the spindly old man.
That’s when the murmuring starts.
“Is this a Harry Potter cross over event?”
“Oh god, not this crap!”
“I hope this doesn’t take long, I have to pee.”
Taken aback slightly by the non-awed nature of the audience and also the fact that they all appear freakishly large since the last time he saw a group of humans, Azureen takes only a moment to collect himself. He clears his throat.
Magically amplified his voice booms. “Humans…it is I, Azureen the Wise, returned once more to bestow the wisdom of the Elderman upon those lucky few who would be chosen to seek tutelage under our…”
He was quickly cut off by a chorus of questions or comments from the audience.
“When are the doors opening?”
“Are you planning more blind launches in the future?”
“Is Azureen the new operating system?”
Completely bewildered the old wizard isn’t sure how to proceed. This is far different that the previous times he had visited humanity. They would stand in awe, rapt by every word. The few who could muster enough sense would humbly pledge themselves to the Elderman and that was that. These ingrates neither seemed impressed nor interested in a damn thing he had to say.
Once more and louder this time. “I am Azureen the Wise”
A splinter of lightning crashes across the sky which gives way to a thunderous boom which reverberates off of the glass of the nearby buildings.
“I have come once more…”
He never even gets the rest out as one resourceful onlooker shouts.
“I’ve seen this in an escape room once! The entrance to the store is behind him!”
Those few, slightly misguided but at least erroneously honest words muster the response that Azureen wishes his had. A collective lightbulb goes off in the minds of the folks queued up outside the Apple store for the blind release of the next iteration of the iPhone something or other. Surely this must be the PR stunt of the year for Apple and it would only make sense that in order to get what they came for they would have to brush past this diminutive spokesperson and charge into the Netflix Greenscreen Apple Store.
Poor Azureen doesn’t even stand a chance as the mile long queue of people take their first, running with the bulls-like step forward. | 2019-06-16T11:52:06 | 2019-06-16T11:38:00 | 1,338 | 92 |
[WP] You had a late night and slept in late too. As you wake up and look at your phone to check the time, you see an alert: “Missile impact approximated at 12:47 PM. Evacuate the city as soon as possible.” It’s 3:15 PM. | "Ugh.." was about the only sound i could produce at that moment. Last night was insane. Probably. Im not quite sure, but thats about what you would expect when your last memory is saying "Fuck it" and picking up a bottle of tequila. I have no idea how i got home last night.
Well, time to check my phone for drunk texts and weird pictures i probably took.
“Missile impact approximated at 12:47 PM. Evacuate the city as soon as possible.”
Uhm. What? Im re-reading it but my brain can't really make sense of what im seeing right now.
"Missle impact" .. Wait, for real? What time is it?
"3:15 PM". Something is clearly wrong, either with my brain or with the rest of the world. And its usually my brain.
Well screw this, im making breakfast. As im pouring some cereal and downing my third glass of water, i look out the window and see.. nobody. Not a living soul on the street. And not a dead soul either. My mind is a little clearer now. Was that Missle alert actually real? Did everyone evacuate but then nothing happened? But some people would probably stay regardless, right? And wouldn't they have returned by now?
Okay, im freaking out. I need to call someone. My parents, they live out of town.
"Come on, pick up.." And nothing, i can't seem to reach anyone. Not my parents, not the cops, not my friend in another country.
Why? This doesn't make any sense.
I look out the window again. I see.. someone? A person? They are far away, but i can just about make out that its a person, not a lamppost.
I look around my apartment, wondering what to do next. ..The TV! Of course, i should check the TV!
"Most have been evacuated before the missles actually hit. It is currently unknown how many have not made it out alive, reports are still coming in."
..what?
Am i still drunk or something? Am i in the right town? Yeah, the TV says its right here, but theres nothing here. I see the town completely obliterated on the TV but its just not true. I- i dont kno- what is-
A knock on the door. It's the figure i saw outside just a minute ago.
Now it all makes sense. I feel stupid for not figuring it out sooner. I chuckle to myself as the hooded figure extends its bony hand. | The phone kept pinging. Nadine growled, her pale hand creeping out from under the rumpled duvet she was currently buried beneath and grabbing the vibrating phone off the bedside table. As she fumbled the phone in sleepy long fingers, bleary, make-up streaked eyes struggled to focus on the alert on her phone - an emergency SMS.
F\*ck. Did those even exist? f\*ck.
She sat up, duvet on her head, legs and arms akimbo, a bottle of Corona on the floor flying as her legs kicked about.
”Bloody- God damned-“
Ripping the duvet off her head, she cradled the phone in shaking hands, agitation mounting as anxious and half-asleep movements lead her to keep pressing the wrong thing, the phone trying to guide her with auto-correct but only pissing her off further. Finally she was able to read the text:
”EMERGENCY GOVERNMENT SMS — ENEMY MISSILE IMPACT IMMINENT, DUE 12:47PM. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. INSTRUCTIONS FOR YOUR POSTCODE AT LINK-“
Nadine tilted her head, horror gripping her. She collapsed the messaging app and looked at the time on her phone. White numbers burned on a black screen.
3:15pm.
Glaring at the nearest window, she staggered out of bed, tripping on a pile of clothes, slipping on a discarded empty packet of crisps and knocking over a bank of empty alcohol bottles. Yanking open the curtains, she let out a strangled noise.
Everything was fine, but the city was empty.
”The fuhhh-“
She turned, grabbing a shirt and wrestling it over her head. On the way out the door she grabbed a half-empty bottle of vodka and a floppy hat.
\~
The loungeroom was a complete disaster, but this wasn’t due to a bomb. It was a regular house party that had tumbled down the steps of drink and debauchery, but usually after such evenings, the flat was filled with passed out revellers, taking their own time to make their way home. Not today. Nadine traipsed into the kitchen with intoxicated shock.
”Where is every-“
The communalnwhiteboard, once covered in sketches of explicit anatomy and poems describing obscene acts, had been swiped at madly, black whiteboard marker spelling out a message that Nadine had most certainly never wanted to receive in such a situation:
”SORRY, NADS. YOU WOULDN’T WAKE UP AND WE DIDN’T WANT TO DIE. THERE’S CHICKEN IN THE FRIDGE IF YOU SURVIVE THE BLAST. IT’S BEEN REAL - JERRY.”
She stared at the message, tears rimming her wide, fearful eyes. She shook slightly, running a hand over her dark curly hair, the reality of the situation settling upon her like fallout.
”Son of a... Son. Of. A. B-“
She stopped as she saw the television. Running to the remote, she turned it on. Nothing. No power.
She looked to the phone in her hand, batting at the screen madly like a cat with a laser pointer. The message, it was there, but nothing since. And she couldn’t get a signal now. Gulping, she slid the phone into her pocket. It clattered to the floor as she slowly realised that she wasn’t wearing any pants at all.
After promptly finding some, getting dressed in the most rugged clothes she owned, and stuffing a bag with the rough approximation of survival supplies that she could find in a house trashed by 20-something art college students during a party, she plodded towards the door.
Then stopped. Hissing, and snapping her fingers, she rushed into the kitchen. She yanked a drawer open and pulled out some tinfoil. She wrapped it around her head and shoulders, some of her chest. It ran out before she could get more covered. It was loose and rattling, so she paused in thought, then carefully pressed it down around her, wrapping herself like a late-night kebab.
Nodding to herself, she turned and made for the door once more. She picked up the bottle of vodka and took a huge swig. Swallowing, nodding and winding, she growled to herself through the alcoholic haze.
”Okay, Armageddon,” she muttered, pulling open the door. “Do your worst, man.” | 2020-02-03T07:57:55 | 2020-02-03T07:54:55 | 45 | 27 |
[WP] You are an Oracle whose prophecies always come true, no matter how absurd. Only problem is, you've made every single one up on the spot. | I was feeding my cat when Satan, the slanderer, the lord of flies, harbinger of doom and eater of souls, appeared in a puff of smoke into one of my floral print kitchen chairs.
I'd say it was a surprising turn of events, but after the last few predictions it would take a lot more than a cloven hoof and a pair of goats horns to give me a fright. I'd started testing my powers, making up ludicrous things. The world now had two more krakens than it did before, and humanity had learned a very unpleasant lesson about how irked Krakens can get when you try and put them in big nets and poke them with sticks.
"*I predict that the devil sitting by my fruitbowl won't do anything weird to me*." I muttered quickly as insurance. The devil gave me a withering look and took out a clipboard and a pair of small spectacles.
"Are you aware that your paperwork is three decades late?" The Devil sounded irritable as he clicked his ball-point pen and started scribbling furiously. I paused for a second, and realised with growing horror that the powers I'd thought were a fluke must have come from somewhere darker. Was I the antichrist? Was this the terrible price of my powers?
"-I'm sorry, paperwork?" I asked.
"I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Glasya-Labolas, author of manslaughter, enforcer of fate who is ignoring me right now and being *incredibly unprofessional*." The Devil eyeballed my cat, who looked up from his food bowl with a look of indifference.
"*Meow*?" He ventured, licking his paw and washing his face.
"I don't appreciate that tone of voice. Two of Abaddon's krakens got out last week, and the paper trail leads right to you. He's absolutely *distraught*. They've missed two seasonal shots and now we've got two pissed off, *unvaccinated* Krakens mucking about in hell knows what ocean!" Cat blinked twice, deliberately. The Devil was growing more and more flustered.
"*Meoooow*."
"I don't care if it's funny, HR is having a fucking field day. Where on earth are you getting these ideas from?" Cat stretched, flicking his tail from side to side, and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. He didn't answer.
"If I don't see that paperwork on my desk next week, I'm re-assigning you to the DMV." The Devil massaged his horns resentfully. "Great. Now I have a migrane. Thanks a *lot*." In a puff of smoke, he disappeared, leaving the faint smell of sulphur and spilled pen-ink in my kitchen.
Cat turned to me, unusually still, his eyes were inky pools of black. Was I imagining the glint of hellfire red? Well. It didn't matter now.
"I predict that someone vaccinates the Krakens." I said quietly.
Cat rolled his eyes. | I get fed up with people always taking life so seriously. Nearly everyone I see is always asking if they're going to be successful in their career, if they're going to make a lot of money, will they become the best blah blah blah in the nation.
Life is sloppy, awkward, and meant to be laughed at and laughed with. Kick back, and follow the ambitions that make you happy, or satisfied at the very least. That's my motto.
"I hear you're the best at visions, and I don't normally believe in all this stuff but my friend swore by you. So, will I get that promotion to become director of marketing, oh great Oracle?" a guy in a suit asked.
"Uh. Yeah, I don't know about all that. From what I can see, um, the promotion is definitely not in your future, that's for sure. Believe it or not, when you walk out of my house tonight, you will come across this beautiful, big, and orange cat, then you're going to fall in love with this cat. Not like in a romantic sense, but you're going to develop a strong fondness for all cats. Cats are going to become your life. Then you're going to start rescuing them and then you're going to open up a cat museum or a cat zoo type of thing in your house and charge admission, but don't worry you will take care of all the cats and they will all live a happy life. It will be a tourist destination. No, you're not going to make as much money as you would from the corporate promotion, *but you're going to be happy, man."*
The man just glared at me stone-faced. "Thanks for a bunch of nothing, asshole," and he spun out of the chair and stormed out the door.
I ran over to the window to watch the scene unfold, and he was locked in a trance, his eyes glued to a magnificently orange and white marble patterned cat, well fed, but also fluffy.
*Meow.*
"*My goodness*..." he muttered, and I swiveled away from the window grinning and patting myself on the back.
Just another day's work really. I just had one more appointment for the evening.
A man rushed in with bags under his eyes, hair askew, and a frown not even Hercules could pull up into a smile.
"Hello, you must be--"
"Adam. Yes. Nice to meet you," the disheveled man said and we shook hands, his palm warm to the touch. "I hear you're one of the best oracles, and I'm dying to know something."
"Yes, let's take a seat, would you like to drink some tea?"
"Oh, do you read tea leaves?"
"No. Tea leaves are dumb, so are crystal balls. They're all useless. Have a seat and we'll chat. Do you want that tea after all?"
"No, that's okay," he muttered. "I was expecting this to look a lot more like a fortune telling tent, but this looks like a living room furnished by IKEA."
I joined him at the table. "Yeah I don't really subscribe to the whole stereotypical Oracle or fortune teller. So tell me, what do you want to know?"
"Well, life hasn't been so kind to me lately. I've been working a lot of overtime and very hard at the construction management company to provide for my family because we've fallen on hard times. But I feel so disconnected from my son, daughter, and wife even. I miss all of my kids' after school events because I work and they're taking it personally. Through my son's entire years at high school I've never been to a basketball game of his or track meet. My daughter is a little younger than him and I've never been to any of her events. Some of their friends don't even think they have a... Dad," the man's voice grew thick and his eyes turned a shade of red, becoming glassy, but he tucked his head down and twiddled with his hands.
*Maybe life isn't always funny.* I scratched my head and rubbed my chin.
"So what do you want to know?" I asked.
"Will things get better? Will I be able to see my kids play their sports and attend their Honor Society functions before they graduate," his lip started to quake and he wiped away an outpour of tears. "Will my family respect me again someday?"
"That's it?"
His tears were conquering his face and they overthrew his voice, deducing him to a silent nod of defeat.
*I can't mess with this guy.*
&#x200B;
Edit: I made a [part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/gbsfb8/wp_you_are_an_oracle_whose_prophecies_always_come/).
r/randallcooper | 2020-05-01T10:33:45 | 2020-05-01T10:09:21 | 121 | 44 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | A sardonic chuckle came from the open doorway behind me as Viper looked around the blood spattered living-room, "Boy, you've really done it now."
I wiped my hands clean on the curtains, cracking a few more ribs as I stepped onto and then over the chest of Lady Steel's dead husband, "I've done what? Steel has been getting on my nerves and I finally figured out her secret identity. Why not bring the pain?"
Viper kept his hands at his side, careful to not touch anything, stepping gingerly over broken glass while staring with amused disgust at Lady Steel's daughter, pinned to the wall with a shard of ice. "Listen, freeze-pop, or whatever you're calling yourself..."
"Deep Freeze."
"Sure, Deep Freeze-Pop. You just broke the number one rule of getting by in this business. Don't piss off the supes. Not in any way that they want real revenge. Someone like you, with cute little ice powers like yours... You knock over a few banks, maybe hold some people hostage, take your licks from whichever hero decides to respond, escape with a little extra cash, rinse and repeat." He waved his hand over the room like he was showing off the grand prize on a television show, "But this. Well, that's over for you now, buddy. The hero-villain ecosystem works because they need something to do with their power and their egos, and we give them that thing to do. Dispassionately. They don't care to hurt you, they just want to stop the villain and get the photoshoot. Nothing personal, ya know?"
I nodded, not entirely sure where he was going. Getting beat up and arrested by Lady Steel had always felt rather *personal. "*So what? Steel is going to break her own little *code* now? That seems pretty hypocritical."
The phone in the pocket of Lady Steel's husband began to vibrate, drawing Viper's eyes and my own. He stepped closer to me and a small smile played over the bits of his mouth that were visible, revealing a pair of unsettlingly sharp fangs. "The supes have always been hypocrites. The codes they have are easy to keep because they don't have much of a stake in the people we hurt. Sure, they feel bad about it, but they're still going home to the people they actually care about. But not Lady Steel."
A loud boom in the air above us drew my eyes out the window. Immediately as I turned, what felt like two needles entered my neck. My fingertips went immediately cold as Viper pulled his head back. Another boom tore through the sky. A sonic boom, closer. My body wouldn't respond to my commands, except for my eyes. Those I turned to Viper as he wrote something on a piece of paper and pinned it to my chest. He began to walk out the front door I'd left open before turning back, "You're not the first person to find out where Steel's family lives. Hell, most villains figure it out faster than you. That's why I was here, I'm supposed to keep an eye on this place to make sure no one fucks up the balance like you just did. Bad luck for both of us that my car makes such a warm place to sleep." Another smile passed his lips, "Before now, you were just another villain who had to be roughed up before Lady Steel could go home to a nice dinner with her loving husband and daughter. But now... well, you made it personal." He walked quickly into the sunshine and out of my view.
The terror in me grew as seconds passed and I remained still, unable to move. Then I heard the sound of two feet, rocketing into the ground and saw the first flutter of a cape past the window outside. | Windstrike is the coolest super hero in the world that's just a fact. No battles lost, no scandals of any type -he even denunced the bigot president during his term, that took balls!- which is why I wanted to do it.
There's only a few of unwritten rules for us criminals but if you must know one this is it: "Don't go after the loved ones of the heroes" it has never sit right with me I mean granted we barely know their real identities but if you ask me its a sure way to enter the villans hall of fame, and for someone like me with limited options I need to explore any chances.
I have inmortality but only decided to be a Villan a few years ago (I was wasting myself as test dummy) not an useful power to attack but it does ensure I'll come up from a fight alive, that along with the hate from the biggest hero will put me on the map.
I can see it now "The Dealer" associated with the respect I deserve, So when they announced that they were going to trap the heroes on their own hall in an all out attack I though at best they'll keep them busy for an hour maybe 2 (it all depends on how bored its Vampire, that annoying know it all)while I pay a visit to Matt, see I have been observing Windstrike for a few months now and I know he keeps close tabs on him and I just know this is going to change my life
-hello- he smiles as he opens the door, my gun already pointed I wanted to shoot him but I stopped I need to make sure he calls for help -oh... never seen you before -I sight I want to shoot him again- oh yes Dealer, correct? -
-The dealer- I'm kind of happy that he knows my name, but annoyed that he forgot the article, it keeps it classy, he smiles and lets me in, smart boy, inside there's a group of of people... a party? I was not expecting company
-Hi guys, The dealer- he smiles at me while he says it, god I hate this - is here- Shannon did you know he was comming?- a Woman looks at and squints
-never seen him before, Duke hardly ever talks about C tiers- Matt is still smiling, more people start staring, I decide to put a end to this I point my gun at the fridge and shoot, it implodes (Molecular it's very good at guns I'll give him that but his prices are crazy) everyone stares at me and I smile I finally got their attention they finally understand why am I here.
-Honey, you're going to have to pay for that, at least it'll be cheaper than that gun you got from my son- says an older woman while vaping then turns the man next to him and resumes her conversation as if I havent just desintegrated a fucking fridge
-Listen! You're all my hostages... and did you just said your son?- I turn to the Woman, violet eyes same as the ones who sold me the gun - what the fuck?
-Language, son- says the man next to her, their hands locked- yes Molecular is our son-
-And why are you here with him? Do you know who he is?- I point at Matt he is still smiling i think he took a xanax, no one can be that happy
-Windstrike's boyfriend- says a blonde with a giggle
-fiance- corrects Shannon -and we still needs to finish everything for the party tonigh you are going to have to move, we need a new fridge now, I'm so happy that Duke is bringing the cake later or you'll be in trouble-
-who the fuck is Duke?!- Molecular's parents look at me disapprovingly
-Darkness- responds the Blonde matter of factly
-shit!- Windstrike might be the greatest hero on earth but Darkness is our top villan, suddenly it hits me- I think i need to sit
- oh you got it, it seems- says shannon smiling -you came here to break the rule-
-The Rule- Matt says with a chuckle
-did you even took your introductory course when you joined?
-there's a course?- the strain in my voice, I wish I could do something about it, Shannon sights
- you see... long ago we decided that we were tired of being killed by the odd villan or hero with loose morals so we (the families of both factions) all sat down and decided that we were all going to be friends, they all hate it-
-but they love us more- interrupts the blonde raising her glass
-so at least you want every super powered people on the planet behind you I'll calm down and go and get Matt a new fridge, as for the gun Linda can get you your money back-
-No refunds dear-
-well I'm still taking the gun, I'm sure Duke has a docen of this, say is windstrike even weak againts this? - Matt mimics a key locking his lips - whatever-
I look around, my greatest plan (only plan) defeated even before it started
-oh don't feel bad The dealer, play your cards right and we can let you in the group, I'm sure we can convice them, we do need an errand boy- Matt winks at me -at the very least we wont ask them to kill you- he is no longer smiling, I just hope I have enough money for the fridge | 2020-07-12T12:38:13 | 2020-07-12T11:05:58 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | It is often said that the line between good and evil is thin one, but that's actually quite far from the truth. Nothing in this life is inherently good or evil. It's more of a big grey mess. Some areas are lighter and others darker but nothing is truly black and white. It's like walking through a swamp, one wrong step and you might sink into the murky depths. That's where our loved ones come in, they're like roots and branches that we can grab unto to pull ourselves back up. But if that branch should snap, you will sink deeper and deeper unable to pull yourself back up. This is the reason Why we do not attack a hero's loved ones, because if they should sink into that darkness, nothing can pull them back out.
This is a lesson that once learned is not easily forgotten, and the price that is paid is too steep to pay twice. This is the lesson that Surtr learned today as he opened the door to his apartment. The smell was the first thing that hit him. Just the smell itself burned his lungs and drove him into a coughing fit. When he recovered, he looked up to see everything destroyed, his furniture seemingly eaten through as if someone had filled the room with acid. As he looked around the room his eyes settled on 3 corpses, seated around what was once a table. Their bodies no longer recognizable as flesh had melted from bone. He didn't even have time to fully process the sight as he turned around to see Miasma. The hero who was renowned for his ingenuity in using his deadly power of creating clouds of acid to save people.
He started talking calmly, as if he was walking through the park talking to an old friend "let me tell you a little secret, I wasn't always a hero. I was once a villain like you, driven by greed. I would melt my way through bank vaults, stealing everything and dissolving any witnesses. I killed more people than you can imagine, I've heard more screams than you can fathom. But that was many years ago, and I've long since changed my ways. I became a hero, using my powers to rescue people. I hadn't hurt a single person in 17 years... until today that is. You see the thing is, you hurt my friend's loved ones, and that is somethingthat will not stand. Had it been any other hero, I wouldn't get involved. The Enclave would set the hero loose from their restraints and they'd do with you what they pleased. but I just couldn't let Zen take revenge himself, taking a human life, it changes you, corrupts you, I couldn't let Zen go through that. But me, I'm already too far gone, a few more voices in my head won't keep me up at night."
He leaned in and whispered in Surtr's ear "Don't worry though, I won't kill you, I want you to suffer. Everytime you close your eyes I want you to see your family's dissolved corpses, Imagine how they screamed in pain as their skin melted off of their bones. That will serve as a reminder of the lesson you've learned today. Don't. Mess. With. A. Hero's. Loved. Ones."
He took a step back "However, I can't very well let you go, the chances of you going after someone else's loved ones are too high. I have to make sure you'll never use these hands to burn anyone ever again" and with a simple wave of his hand the acid in the air dissolved Surtr's arms, leaving nothing behind.
*I don't normally write stuff with a darker tone like this, but I hope you all liked it* | Windstrike is the coolest super hero in the world that's just a fact. No battles lost, no scandals of any type -he even denunced the bigot president during his term, that took balls!- which is why I wanted to do it.
There's only a few of unwritten rules for us criminals but if you must know one this is it: "Don't go after the loved ones of the heroes" it has never sit right with me I mean granted we barely know their real identities but if you ask me its a sure way to enter the villans hall of fame, and for someone like me with limited options I need to explore any chances.
I have inmortality but only decided to be a Villan a few years ago (I was wasting myself as test dummy) not an useful power to attack but it does ensure I'll come up from a fight alive, that along with the hate from the biggest hero will put me on the map.
I can see it now "The Dealer" associated with the respect I deserve, So when they announced that they were going to trap the heroes on their own hall in an all out attack I though at best they'll keep them busy for an hour maybe 2 (it all depends on how bored its Vampire, that annoying know it all)while I pay a visit to Matt, see I have been observing Windstrike for a few months now and I know he keeps close tabs on him and I just know this is going to change my life
-hello- he smiles as he opens the door, my gun already pointed I wanted to shoot him but I stopped I need to make sure he calls for help -oh... never seen you before -I sight I want to shoot him again- oh yes Dealer, correct? -
-The dealer- I'm kind of happy that he knows my name, but annoyed that he forgot the article, it keeps it classy, he smiles and lets me in, smart boy, inside there's a group of of people... a party? I was not expecting company
-Hi guys, The dealer- he smiles at me while he says it, god I hate this - is here- Shannon did you know he was comming?- a Woman looks at and squints
-never seen him before, Duke hardly ever talks about C tiers- Matt is still smiling, more people start staring, I decide to put a end to this I point my gun at the fridge and shoot, it implodes (Molecular it's very good at guns I'll give him that but his prices are crazy) everyone stares at me and I smile I finally got their attention they finally understand why am I here.
-Honey, you're going to have to pay for that, at least it'll be cheaper than that gun you got from my son- says an older woman while vaping then turns the man next to him and resumes her conversation as if I havent just desintegrated a fucking fridge
-Listen! You're all my hostages... and did you just said your son?- I turn to the Woman, violet eyes same as the ones who sold me the gun - what the fuck?
-Language, son- says the man next to her, their hands locked- yes Molecular is our son-
-And why are you here with him? Do you know who he is?- I point at Matt he is still smiling i think he took a xanax, no one can be that happy
-Windstrike's boyfriend- says a blonde with a giggle
-fiance- corrects Shannon -and we still needs to finish everything for the party tonigh you are going to have to move, we need a new fridge now, I'm so happy that Duke is bringing the cake later or you'll be in trouble-
-who the fuck is Duke?!- Molecular's parents look at me disapprovingly
-Darkness- responds the Blonde matter of factly
-shit!- Windstrike might be the greatest hero on earth but Darkness is our top villan, suddenly it hits me- I think i need to sit
- oh you got it, it seems- says shannon smiling -you came here to break the rule-
-The Rule- Matt says with a chuckle
-did you even took your introductory course when you joined?
-there's a course?- the strain in my voice, I wish I could do something about it, Shannon sights
- you see... long ago we decided that we were tired of being killed by the odd villan or hero with loose morals so we (the families of both factions) all sat down and decided that we were all going to be friends, they all hate it-
-but they love us more- interrupts the blonde raising her glass
-so at least you want every super powered people on the planet behind you I'll calm down and go and get Matt a new fridge, as for the gun Linda can get you your money back-
-No refunds dear-
-well I'm still taking the gun, I'm sure Duke has a docen of this, say is windstrike even weak againts this? - Matt mimics a key locking his lips - whatever-
I look around, my greatest plan (only plan) defeated even before it started
-oh don't feel bad The dealer, play your cards right and we can let you in the group, I'm sure we can convice them, we do need an errand boy- Matt winks at me -at the very least we wont ask them to kill you- he is no longer smiling, I just hope I have enough money for the fridge | 2020-07-12T12:45:40 | 2020-07-12T11:05:58 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | There are rules in every secretive organisation from the mafia to the more interdependent assassins guild. This included the super villains, when a new one rose they would quickly be grabbed by a crew of the older more powerful villains and be shown the ropes, and if they proved themselves they would be given the locations of some of the hang outs, given some advice on who to go to to make up a base and get some specialists to help on certain jobs the kind of trade secrets that the older wished that they had.
What the new villains did not know is that one of the reasons that they were given, was to monitor them one to know if they were a spy a threat or competent enough to work with. But the main reason that they were watched was to find out when they came up with The Plan. The plan that everyone in villainy eventually comes up with in the fits of their cocky arrogance the plan that they think is so original and they laugh at the older villains for not thinking off.
The plan to kidnap and hold a family member of their nemesis. Now this plan changed from every villain in the hows, whys, and what they planned to do to them but only one has ever happened and the villains watch to make sure it doesn't again.
So when Hellfire a notable new pyromanser came up with the plan and it was confirmed he was preparing. He was grabbed by the oldest of the villains and taken to the old hub for super villains Now known as The Monument. Here he was told about the futility of The Plan how it was a truly terrifyingly bad idea and he was threatened that if he continued they would destroy him before he could implement it. Then after He huffed and argued and called them cowards he was shown why.
In the Monument dead centre of what used to be the main seating area of the hangout/ bar stood eleven thick crystal clear cylinders. Each one held a figure ten off who after a second were recognisable as legendary villains who had ruled this cities underground much like the crew who Had now gathered to instruct Hellfire. Then the tale was told of why they had dispersed as well as the folly of the cursed 11th.
See the 11th had carried out the plan he had grabbed multiple spouses and other family members of the league and killed them in ever more creative ways. This was the combined response of the affected heroes. Each of the man or women in the cylinders, Hellfire was horrified to learn was still alive the glass like structure was breathable allowing oxygen to be pulled into them as well as minute channels that pulled in water and base materials such as dust and other base elements taken from hidden collectors that were teleported in. Then Nanites turned into "food" which along with magic sustained them. What was worse was that they were effectively immortal held in a stasis like field of combined magic and sciences. but that was not the worst part each of those poor souls were in constant agony Nanites tore them apart and healed them magic induced feelings of cold, heat, electricity and made them hyper sensitive and unable to ignore the pains. Other magic and alien tech had been employed to prevent them from going mad and thus escape their punishment and in the case of the 11th only, to play pictures of the deceased over and over behind his eyes.
So the villains had been told by the affected heroes as was the explanation of why the other villains had been taken rather than just the 11th. This was as they explained as they had let it happen and had not provided proper instruction.
Which was why they were here and why they could and would not let him complete his plan. To which Hellfire was shown the inscription written in the base of each of the cylinders.
Our pain will never end. So why should Theirs. | Windstrike is the coolest super hero in the world that's just a fact. No battles lost, no scandals of any type -he even denunced the bigot president during his term, that took balls!- which is why I wanted to do it.
There's only a few of unwritten rules for us criminals but if you must know one this is it: "Don't go after the loved ones of the heroes" it has never sit right with me I mean granted we barely know their real identities but if you ask me its a sure way to enter the villans hall of fame, and for someone like me with limited options I need to explore any chances.
I have inmortality but only decided to be a Villan a few years ago (I was wasting myself as test dummy) not an useful power to attack but it does ensure I'll come up from a fight alive, that along with the hate from the biggest hero will put me on the map.
I can see it now "The Dealer" associated with the respect I deserve, So when they announced that they were going to trap the heroes on their own hall in an all out attack I though at best they'll keep them busy for an hour maybe 2 (it all depends on how bored its Vampire, that annoying know it all)while I pay a visit to Matt, see I have been observing Windstrike for a few months now and I know he keeps close tabs on him and I just know this is going to change my life
-hello- he smiles as he opens the door, my gun already pointed I wanted to shoot him but I stopped I need to make sure he calls for help -oh... never seen you before -I sight I want to shoot him again- oh yes Dealer, correct? -
-The dealer- I'm kind of happy that he knows my name, but annoyed that he forgot the article, it keeps it classy, he smiles and lets me in, smart boy, inside there's a group of of people... a party? I was not expecting company
-Hi guys, The dealer- he smiles at me while he says it, god I hate this - is here- Shannon did you know he was comming?- a Woman looks at and squints
-never seen him before, Duke hardly ever talks about C tiers- Matt is still smiling, more people start staring, I decide to put a end to this I point my gun at the fridge and shoot, it implodes (Molecular it's very good at guns I'll give him that but his prices are crazy) everyone stares at me and I smile I finally got their attention they finally understand why am I here.
-Honey, you're going to have to pay for that, at least it'll be cheaper than that gun you got from my son- says an older woman while vaping then turns the man next to him and resumes her conversation as if I havent just desintegrated a fucking fridge
-Listen! You're all my hostages... and did you just said your son?- I turn to the Woman, violet eyes same as the ones who sold me the gun - what the fuck?
-Language, son- says the man next to her, their hands locked- yes Molecular is our son-
-And why are you here with him? Do you know who he is?- I point at Matt he is still smiling i think he took a xanax, no one can be that happy
-Windstrike's boyfriend- says a blonde with a giggle
-fiance- corrects Shannon -and we still needs to finish everything for the party tonigh you are going to have to move, we need a new fridge now, I'm so happy that Duke is bringing the cake later or you'll be in trouble-
-who the fuck is Duke?!- Molecular's parents look at me disapprovingly
-Darkness- responds the Blonde matter of factly
-shit!- Windstrike might be the greatest hero on earth but Darkness is our top villan, suddenly it hits me- I think i need to sit
- oh you got it, it seems- says shannon smiling -you came here to break the rule-
-The Rule- Matt says with a chuckle
-did you even took your introductory course when you joined?
-there's a course?- the strain in my voice, I wish I could do something about it, Shannon sights
- you see... long ago we decided that we were tired of being killed by the odd villan or hero with loose morals so we (the families of both factions) all sat down and decided that we were all going to be friends, they all hate it-
-but they love us more- interrupts the blonde raising her glass
-so at least you want every super powered people on the planet behind you I'll calm down and go and get Matt a new fridge, as for the gun Linda can get you your money back-
-No refunds dear-
-well I'm still taking the gun, I'm sure Duke has a docen of this, say is windstrike even weak againts this? - Matt mimics a key locking his lips - whatever-
I look around, my greatest plan (only plan) defeated even before it started
-oh don't feel bad The dealer, play your cards right and we can let you in the group, I'm sure we can convice them, we do need an errand boy- Matt winks at me -at the very least we wont ask them to kill you- he is no longer smiling, I just hope I have enough money for the fridge | 2020-07-12T12:12:08 | 2020-07-12T11:05:58 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone is born with dice that they need to roll before attempting anything major. The super powered are those born with more than a 20 sided dice allowing them to do feats beyond human. An ordinary human usually has a six sided dice. Despite being born with a coin you still want to be a hero. | "Put the money in the bag, NOW!" the balaclavaed man barked at the cashier.
She whimpered slightly as she turned the dials on the safe.
"HURRY!" he shouted again. Tightening his grip on the round the neck of the customer he was using as a hostage.
There was nothing cashier could do. She simply saw the dice roll into the bank, bounce a few times against the soft red carpet and then land, facing up.
11
The next thing she knew the two guards by the door were lying on their backs outcold, the customer she was serving has been wrenched back from the counter with a gun pointed to her head, and some man was ordering her to empty the safe.
What was she going to do, roll her dice, hope for a four - her and most people's maximum - and hope. She couldn't compete with an eleven.
Her hands shook as she grabbed the money from the safe and stuffed it into the small bag the man threw at her. The money curled and bent as it went in, catching and sliding against the metal zip of the bag as her panicked arms lost all coordination.
"Let. Her. Go."
A new voice. One that came from the entrance of the bank.
The cashier turned her head to see a small woman with brown-highlighted hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing plain jeans a black jacket.
The balacalvaed man turned around, placing the hostage between himself and the woman.
"Get away. I'll shoot."
"And you'll miss..." the woman replied calmly.
"You see that dice on the floor. You see that. That's an elevent. An eleven. What you packing, a 12-sided dice? You wanna take the odds you can beat that?"
The woman grinned. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small silver coin. She twisted it between her fingers, the surface reflecting the fluorescent bulbs of the bank's lights as she did.
The robber lowered his gun, almost in disbelief. The cashier briefly contemplated trying to take on the balaclavaed man, she could make a roll for it now. No. It was too dangerous.
"A coin?" He let out a small chuckle. "A coin?"
"Yep."
"What's that gonna give you? You'd be dead before you even took three paces."
"You forget how this all works." The woman replied. "You see, it's not about the number, it's about the odds. The odds of that number or higher. On a twelve-sided die you have a 100% chance of getting 1 or higher. 75% chance of a 3 or higher. One in two of getting a six or higher. And only one in twelve of getting twelve or higher. You rolled an eleven. One-in-six odds. Not bad."
She stopped spinning the coin and held it out, showing the front. "Now this coin has a heads..." she turned the coin. "And a tails. 100% chance of getting a heads or tails. 50% chance I get just a heads..."
"What you getting at?" the balaclavaed man interrupted, raising his gun to point at her once more.
The cahier looked to the woman, this stupid brave woman who was almost certainly about to be shot right in front of her. She readied herself to witness a murder. Readied herself for the coming trauma.
"My point is," the woman said, "I've really practiced how to toss a coin."
The woman looked over to the cashier, and winked at her. Then she flipped the coin into the air.
The silver coin spun elegantly through the air. It reached the peak of its arc, and slowly begun falling to the floor, with each turn the cashier could fill her chest tighten. With each rotation, her heart beat hard against her chest, trying to escape before the coin landed.
The coin continued to fall. Then it landed, catching the edge of the coin, it didn't flip over. Instead it rolled gently along its front edge, softly travelling across the floor before stopping a couple of feet from the robber's feet.
"How..."
He never finished his sentence.
There was a blur, and then the robber out cold, tied up in the corner, the customer was free, the money was back in the safe, and the woman was now standing in front of her at the counter.
"Hi," the woman said.
"Uh... hi..." the cashier stuttered nervously.
"You still operating?"
"Ummm... I guess." The cashier swallowed, and pushed her hair back to its more formal position. She turned to her computer and began frantically logging in. "So, how can I help you."
The woman leant forward with a smile. "I'd like to make a deposit please. And maybe see what you're doing for dinner this evening."
\------
Quickly written story because the idea came to me. More stuff at r/ArchipelagoFictions (although boy do I need to update my personal sub). | If only it was like heads or tails .. no such luck. It's a matter of numbers. I'm so screwed. Regulars are not really noteworthy, they occupy normal jobs. They are the 4's, the 7's the 9's .. Being a 10, you're a "R plus" but it's just about being capable of having the chance to nail it perfectly .. 11 to 20, you're "Super". 21 and above, you're an "Extra". Oh yeah, speaking of nails !
How does it work, uh ? Think of it think of it like if you want to hammer a nail down in a plank and you're a regular individual, so you just aim and strike. Throwing the dice results in greatly improving your actions if you land a 10, nailing it perfectly in one go. 17 would make it go in the same, but better, at a clear perpendicular angle and a perfect fit that would even improve how sturdy the whole structure might be, like a wooden frame would act as solid as metal. 20 might do the same and also make a sound, as the hammer hits the nail that would resonate with your old neighbor's failing pacemaker and somehow fix it. Those blessed with a "godly" 20 and above dice could theoretically discover a platinum mine under their feet by letting the hammer drop on the floor. Extras don't give a crap about nails.
Now, what would happen if even an Extra lands a 1 ? Well, they throw it again, silly. Anybody can do that but just no more than 5 times in their lifetime or else .. hmm. Yeah, let's just say "don't". To "use" bad luck for an action is dangerous for everything around you but to throw bad luck away is dangerous for your own sake. Regular or anything above it, if you try to cheat fate more than you're supposed to (despite never being able to know how many times you're allowed to) or think you can use your awful outputs on throwing crumpled newspaper balls in the trash bin from a far distance .. gruesome things will happen to you. A Super popped like a meat balloon like that, a few decades ago, in the middle of a hostage situation.
But nobody has ever met anyone above 27. Lady Lakshmi never landed a perfect hit but she has ended international conflict by showing both parties a picture of a puppy on her phone, and that was a 23, by the way. Also, nobody has ever met a two sided loser like me before. Ever. In the whole history of mankind, there's no trace of anyone being born with anything less than four. I'm a two, there's nothing below that since a one sided dice is (theoretically) not possible . There's even hypotheses about how the really unlucky ones were just .. \*ha-hem\* "brutally murdered" to avoid a plague just in case we accidentally dropped our chaos-inducing trinket of doom while trying to save a kid from a banana peel incident. But there's no trace of that .. I'm one of a kind freak of nature. Since i'm such a winner at life, my face is everywhere so people are warned. To use my dice .. well, my coin, is forbidden. A virgin dice has no marking, they only do once used the first time.
I didn't ask to be a loner and the main company i ever got was from my childhood, the everlasting pain in the ass agents of Hazard, the ones in charge of dealing with the Extras and Supers on our continent. You know, just in case i'd be tempted to do something idiotic like .. using it EVER but otherwise, people avoid me. Nobody would ever bully me physically, they are scared my coin would flip. And as for the insults .. headphones work well.
Well. I never *was* before. Until today. A middle aged man was being pushed out of a back door in the alley i was taking. Instead of running, i was standing there like an idiot, staring.
He was obviously drunk, he had fresh red bruises all across the face and scrapes all over his thick glasses. Was it why he didn't recognize me ? Everyone usually does. I removed my headphones as he approached me, slurring and pissed off and before i could react, he was yelling in my face. I tried to object, to go around him and run .. but he grabbed my shirt and pushed me on the ground. He took out a big green dice out of his pocket and threw it at his feet.
Seven. What is gonna happen to me ? I never asked for this ! What did i do ? He stepped towards me, his fist was clenched hard .. and the bottom of his pants barely brushed the dice he just threw, placing it under his own shoe as he stepped down. It was almost comical if i wasn't terrified but his ankle bent sideways and made a horrific internal "thud" noise like when cracking knuckles. He just flew sideways and face first on the ground and started screaming in pain.
I quickly wiped my face of the tears that barely made their way out of my eyes and ran away. What the FUCK happened ? A weird sensation filled me, in my left hand. It was my coin resurfacing. I hid behind a dumpster and looked at it, dumbfounded. That's how they come back to you if you ever try to leave them behind, they just come back to you, usually through the skin. Even if it doesn't hurt one bit, it's creepy. Wait, behind ? Did my coin fall out of my pocket when he pushed me ? It is different now .. i never used my coin. It was just a coin but totally flat, totally smooth. Nothing on it. It now has a ridge all around it and a big "1" etched in it, painted black.
Oh shit. I panic even more, it landed on one ! Of the two sides, it landed on the worst ! I'm .. fine, that's weird .. will i still be fine ? It .. wait, what ? I flipped my coin and on the other side, it's not a two .. it's a zero. It's bright red, and it's a zero. There's a small dot below the number, too.
I just put my coin back in my pocket, i'm trying to calm down as i don't want people to see me stressed, they would call the Hazards and only fate knows what they would do to me if they ever see my coin now ! I need to go home and think about it. I just need to think about it and what just happened. I'm fine. It's okay.
Maybe it's not a useless trinket after all .. isn't it ? No, no .. i just need to think about it.
Edits : awful spelling errors. | 2020-08-13T04:27:04 | 2020-08-13T03:56:58 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises. | I touched down on my backyard, exhausted and disappointed that I let Dark Lord escape. Actually it wasn’t my fault, it was those two new heroes that wanted to help. I guess their parents don’t give a damn about them. With a snap of my fingers, my costume faded away, leaving my blue dress. I told Henry I was going out with my sisters, which wasn’t a total lie. I was hanging out with them until Dark Lord ruined girls’ night. Made sure my sisters made it to safety before I fought the bastard. I placed my car keys on the counter, remembering I left it at the bar. I might have to get that tomorrow.
I kicked off my heels and shuffled upstairs. I checked on the kids before I reached my room. Of course the older two snuck out. I groaned as I made my way to the bedroom.
“Henry, Josie and Miles-“
I stopped in my tracks as I watched in bewilderment the scene before me.
My husband, Henry, trying to remove a costume... the Dark Lord costume.
“Ellie... um... what do you think?” he asked, putting it back on.
“What is it supposed to be?” I asked, playing dumb.
“Something... to spice up the bedroom,” Henry growled, embracing me.
“A Dark Lord costume?”
“Yes...”
“Looks pretty legit-“
“Fine! Yes, I’m Dark Lord! I never was an accountant. You were just so beautiful I didn’t want to scare you off. Nobody would want me, you know? No jobs, nothing. I turn to a life of crime just to get us by. Until you got that job and brought in more money, but I was hooked with my new life I couldn’t stop. I’m so sorry Ellie,” Henry sighed and collapsed on the bed.
I was speechless. My archenemy... is my fun loving husband.
I sat beside him as he covered his face with his hands.
“If you want a divorce, I understand.”
“Why?” I asked, “You are a great guy, Henry. The children love you, and I love you too. Besides my plan was to capture Dark Lord... who knew I married him.”
“What do you mean?”
With the snap of my fingers, I changed to Witcher, “Tada.”
“What!” Henry sat up, “This entire time, you were Witcher?”
“I didn’t know you were Dark Lord, so we both had our secrets,” I told him.
“Oh my god, I was fighting with my wife,” Henry said.
We sat in silence. I think he was wrapping around the idea that his own wife was his archenemy, as I was trying to wrap around the same.
“But the people don’t know that,” I said.
“So, we just pretend?” Henry asked.
“Yeah, I guess. Does the kids now?” I asked.
“If you don’t know, do you think the kids now?” Henry scoffed.
“They don’t know about me either. Also, Josie and Miles snuck out,” I said.
“Yeah, I noticed that too. Was planning on changing and looking for them. Until you arrived,” Henry said.
“Do you need help?” I asked him.
“Please,” Henry said in defeat and got up.
I smiled as I removed Henry’s costume using my powers. Henry sighed in relief and stretched.
“I might want you to tweak my suit with you powers. It’s getting a little tight,” Henry said.
“Fine. Now let’s find the kids,” I said.
We both hurried down the stairs when we heard a swooshing sound, followed by chatter.
“What was that?” Henry whispered.
The front door opened as the two superheroes from before snuck into the house.
“I can’t believe Witcher let that dude escape,” the first one said.
“What are you talking about, you fucked up Miles!” the second one snapped.
“Shut up! Dad is a sleep.”
They both froze in the tracks when they saw us by the stairs.
“Mom, you’re home early,” the first one, Miles, said.
“We can explain,” Josie chuckled nervously.
“I see we aren’t the only ones with secrets,” Henry whispered to me as we waited for Josie and Miles’ explanation. | (This is my first submission and also I'm on mobile)
"Hello dear," Valerie said as she finally pulled the multicolored garments of Cyberflux free and tossed it in the open closet door, then slamming it shut rather quickly, "you're home late."
My blood froze. I stood there motionless in the doorway to our bedroom. Something about this was wrong, very wrong. Perhaps I had just imagined it. It had been a long day. I could feel the aches and pains in my bones. Even my powers had limits after all.
Still I could have sworn that's what I saw. No. Perhaps Valerie owned a similarly colored dress. What was she wearing this morning? I can't quite remember. I had taken a few energy blasts to the head today but still. I can remember kissing her on the cheek on my way out the door but that happens everyday. Perhaps...
"Honey? Are you all right?," she asked. The world lurched as I came out of my own head. There in front of me was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her long raven hair cascaded down her back in flowing waves. Her glistening green eyes stared at me. They always seemed like there was something unnatural about those eyes. Perhaps tonight he had finally learned the reason. No. I won't think like that. Second guessing the woman I love wouldn't help bring Cyberflux fo justice.
"I'm alright." I said finally, doing my best to sound normal, "Its just been a long day. I'm tired."
"Oh honey..." Valerie said, genuine concern dripping from each word, "do you want to talk about it?"
I crossed the room and sat on our bed. How could I ever second guess her? Even for a second?
"No I just think I'm going to call it an early night tonight and get some sleep. I'll be okay in the morning." I said.
Valerie turned away, gathering things for her nightly rituals. She had a slender yet powerful build. She moved with a natural grace that never failed to draw my attention. Valerie had always captured people's attention with her ability to make even the most simple of acts look like a fluid elegant performance. Finally she placed a fluffy pink bathrobe over her shoulder and turned back to me.
"Well I'm going to get a shower. Why dont you go relax in your den and wait for me? We'll come up with some way to help you blow off some steam." she said, coy smile spreading across her face.
"You know what? That doesn't sound half bad, " I said standing to leave. Valerie ushered me toward the door. I turned to her. She brought her lips to mine and we kissed, quickly yet tenderly. Then she broke it off and shut the door.
I proceeded downstairs but paused at the bottom of the stairs. Ordinarily that would have been a great way to return home but tonight was different. Something still ate at the back of my mind.
Upstairs the sound of the shower handle being turned resonated followed by the clatter of water onto tile.
I'm being ridiculous. There's no reason to suspect anything. So she has some clothes that look like my greatest enemy? That doesn't mean anything. I only saw it for a second. How can I even be sure what I saw?
The answer was easier to find than I'd have liked. A second is more than enough for me.
I turned around. I had to be sure but I also had to be careful. My body began to glow. The familiar sensation of heat ran through me. My powers were diminished at night but they should still work for this. Slowly my body raised from the ground. It took minimal effort to fly through the house but a lot of effort to keep my glowing energy to a minimum. I had to go slow.
My heart carried me up the stairs and into the bedroom. For once I was happy I never had time to fix things around here. The door latch never shut properly and was already open. The closet was still slightly ajar. Valerie had closed it rather hastily.
I didn't land until I was in the closet and the door was shut behind me. It was a simple rectanglular walk in closet. One wall had a shelf running its length for shoes. The other held countless dresses and outfits all hung up on a series of rods. Valerie had loved it when the realtor was showing it to us. She had enough clothes to outfit an army but none of then matched what I saw earlier.
How many times had i been in this closet? A million? There wasn't anything out of the ordinary here. There couldn't be. Or maybe I had just never looked. I closed my eyes and concentrated. Everything gave off heat. If I focused I could see it. The back wall, it was giving off some. A lot. I opened my eyes. It was a normal wall.
On the back shelf next to it sat a lurid purple pair of high heels. Had those always been there? They must have. But still they were giving off heat too. Not as much as the wall but enough to notice now that he was looking for something. Could they really...
I pulled left show. There was a click and then the back wall slid down. It revealed a small compartment with a mannequin. A mannequin wearing the helmet of Cyberflux.
Wait if the helmet was here where was the suit?
"I'm so sorry, my beloved" said a voice.
Light flashed around me. A force field. I was trapped. I turned and there stood Valerie. But she was different. Fiercer. The look of someone who wasn't to be trifled with. I had never seen that look before.
She wore the familiar purple suit of Cyberflux. She held her arm outstretched. Her hand pulsated with blue energy and she was pointed directly at my chest. I tried to say something but the words caught in my throat.
"Falling in love with you wasn't part of the plan, " she said. For a moment she lost that fearsome expression. Then everything turned white. | 2020-10-30T12:00:19 | 2020-10-30T11:56:26 | 268 | 197 |
[WP] You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises. | Well, shit.
Shit shit shit.
Shit.
I knew my wife was a judge, of course.
But how could I have missed it that she was The Judge, righter of wrongs, my archnemesis?
Judge, jury, and executioner, with only one sentence.
Death.
I probably should've figured out, though. They both wore that stupid RBG collar. How could I not have known? Except for the hood, their robes were identical.
Except that the robes she was hanging in her closet were torn from the fight we'd just had an hour ago.
I stepped back, out of sight. But the cat was right behind me. He hissed.
"Paul? Is that you?"
"Ya, sorry I didn't text," I answered, my brain on autopilot. "I was running late at work. Didn't have time to pick anything up at the store. You want to order something, instead?"
I was playing for time, trying to figure out what to do.
Why did she have to be The Judge? It was like Bruce Wayne going to pick up Selina Kyle for a date, and finding out that she was really Harliquin, instead of Catwoman.
I slipped my go bag off my shoulder and reached inside for my emergency kit. I always have a flashbang and a tangler in there.
After almost twenty-five years of marriage, how could I not have known?
She stepped out of her closet in yoga pants and a t-shirt over a sports bra, what she usually wore around the house. I silently cursed myself for never realizing that it was the perfect thing for The Judge to wear under her robes. I usually wore skintights under my clothes, so that I can slip into my body armor quickly.
I saw her eyes widen, as she noticed the cut on my face, where she'd hit me, driving the edge of my mask into my cheek. Usually the reactive material of my uniform distributes the blow, leaving a red mark that fades quickly, but this time she'd hit me just right.
I could tell she knew that I knew.
She started to say something as I pulled the tangler out of my bag, but she dropped and swept my feet out from under me, then followed it up with a kick. I was dazed.
When my vision cleared, she was leaning over to kiss me on the forehead.
"You know I love you, right? I've known who you were for awhile now, which is why I've been pulling my punches. But I can't let even you stop me. I sentence you to--" | "It's been 2 weeks since Darkmeister was last seen in the city, and things couldn't have progressed any better, the crime has dropped to historically low levels. The police has been able to go out on the streets to restore the order and the order of the Saint Sisters is now able to focus their efforts on taking out other villains too powerful for the armed police. The head of the Sisters, the White Paladin, is here with us to answ... "
The radio got turned off by a woman's hand, who then sat in a magically appearing white ornate chair in the middle of the dark room. With a snap of her fingers, she made five little purple flames appear in the air, which lit up the whole room in a dim, white light.
The room was damp, big and completely devoid of furniture or even proper walls, as it was the basement of the lady's house, and with every day, the nauseating smell that came out of it got stronger.
But what was more surprising wasn't the lights, the chair or even the white armor-clad figure sitting, but the man sitting on the chair across her, who you couldn't know from a glance if he was still alive or dead. The dirty face and naked, malnourished and wounded body made it difficult to differentiate death from life, and this was accentuated even more by his face, hanging down to the ground where a puddle of piss and excrements could be seen just below his tattoed legs.
She, after a little while approached him, and looked down at the now weakened shadow
"God! You look like such a disgusting pig. I can't believe ever loved you" She said with a face of absolute disgust, directed at both herself and him.
Raising his head, he replied "You did Elisa, and I did love you as well. Even now, I still love you, and will do anyth..." The dialogue got cut by a metallic slap at the face with the gloved hand, which cut his right cheek and made him fall to the filthy floor.
"You lost every right to tell me that you love me or even call me by my name when I saw you undressing two weeks ago!" She exclaimed, feeling an obvious sense of anger, not being able to keep her emotions in check, just how the Order had taught her "You know what I felt when I came home and saw you hanging your clothes in the hidden compartment, acting as if absolutely nothing happened, after me having had a full day of work, trying to save people from the horrors YOU had unleashed upon this city and upon me to satiate your thirst for "Human souls"? Did you know I had to kill ghouls, destroy cursed bombs and mines, rescue people from destroyed buildings and dismantle entire rituals along with my sisters, some of whom even died for that? Of course you did! Because you set all of that up! But to answer that question, what I felt was disgust, disgust that I had shared a bed with you, my worst enemy, and an absolute psychopath"
She left a pause, as if waiting for an answer from him, an answer that finally came in the form of a wheezing mutter
"I didn't know you were the White Paladin... I wouldn't have made you suffer like that... I would have stopped, to show you I love you... But I needed to consume souls to continue living... To continue being with you... I wouldn't have taken off... My dark amulet in front of you... So you could beat me... And imprison me... Like this" He mumbled, with a softer and weaker voice in every phrase
She looked at him, a dwindling man, slim and frail, remembering that just there, there had previously been a ferocious, powerful warlock in front of her, trying to apologise and free himself from the anti-magical field that she had locked him in. After a little while of hearing some faint, heavy breaths, she summoned a white double-edged sword and using her last reminders of mercy and piety, she stabbed him right in the heart.
She looked at him in the eyes, and as the life disappeared from them, she whispered with a trembling voice and a tear running down her cheek
"Some sins cannot be forgiven"
------------------------------------------
And that's it! My first submission, I hope you guys enjoyed it and please, constructive criticism is always appreciated. I wrote this on a phone at 3am, so sorry if the formatting is not perfect or if there's some grammar mistake | 2020-10-30T12:35:43 | 2020-10-30T12:22:10 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises. | Lightning struck. My body was engulfed by a jolt of panic as I dropped face-first to the ground. I had meant to sprint up to the stairwell and catch her, but had slipped on the slick wet cement. From above, she cackled like a crazed goat, and I looked up to see her pull out her Electron Razor 3000. The new electricity gun my contact had warned me about. A quick buzz shot toward me before I had a chance to push myself up, and my right arm seared hot above my elbow. I rolled, and then grabbed it, pressing down on the pain. Again, the alley rang with her maniacal glee. I looked up once more, but she had slipped around the corner, and the pain in my arm seemed to be spreading up to my torso.
There were no other options. Tonight I would have to accept that Rose Peril was gone from my grasp, again. I go myself up. The rain bombarded down on the world so thick, you could practically breathe it in as I wandered over to a set of blue dumpsters against the grey brick of a building further down the alleyway. The first dumpster was slick and cold as I moved it forward, revealing a short elevator gate. Once opened, it was just large enough for me to duck in, then the elevator itself was of normal size, with three seats like that of a roller coaster with over the shoulder restraints. On the side on the side of each seat was a control panel with 5 black buttons. I sat down, and pressed one button to lock myself in, then another to start things up. A computerized voice spoke, "Coordinates?"
"West Hampshire Street, Northside." I replied glumly, and strapped myself into one of the seats
"Transport to Unit 3-0-1 at West Hampshire Street. Is this correct?"
"Oh, for crying out- Yes! That's the unit."
"Thank you for choosing Visor Teleportline. Transporting now."
The elevator promptly dropped downward into an abyss, and the feeling of freefall lasted about two minutes till suddenly I appeared before another gate. My seat pulled into place, and the restraints raised. The doors opened and revealed a black slab. Which was a large, rectangular slatelike sign that leaned against a dull white brick building. On the other side "Johanson's Emporium, and Bait and Tackle" was written in fading gold colored lettering. The voice spoke again.
"We've arrived at our destination. West Hampshire Street is just outside. If you do not have super strength, please use the Shift button to move the obstacle outside."
The pain was still spreading through my body, so I decided to make it easy on myself tonight. First I grabbed a backpack in the corner and removed my purple suit and face mask beanie, and placed them in it. Then I pressed the green button on the wall, above a red emergency one, where the buttons of a normal elevator would be. An opening appeared with the sound of shifting gears.
My apartment was half a block away, and I promptly rushed to my second-floor unit. Eager to get myself situated before my dear wife Sarah came home from work, and might ask questions about my night. However, when I opened the door the aroma of onion wafted from the kitchenette, and around the room. A pan was sizzling away atop the black stove. She'd come home early.
I hung my backpack up on a coatrack next to the door, then called out to her as I entered our bedroom.
"Sarah. Dinner smells delicio-"
Thunder cracked the windows and she cut me off. She practically fell backward as she tripped slightly against the red suit about her ankles, and pelted a red fabric, the familiar mask, Rose's mask into the closet behind her!
"Amelia! Your home. Great, that's just really, it's great that your home!"
She quickly pulled off the suit and slipped into a pink floral robe, and looked at me with an innocent grin, eager to draw my attention away from the closet. She rushed over and hugged me, and I winced at her touch. Concern washed over her oblivious face.
"Hey, are you okay?"
"Just peachy," I replied as I went and sat down on the bed.
"The boys and I had an impromptu arm wrestling competition at lunch today. Naturally, I beat them all, but I think I might have overdone it a little."
I smirked to let her know she could leave, and she nodded her head as she headed out the door.
"Well, take it easy then tonight. I'll go finish up dinner."
Once she was gone I sighed grimly. How could I have been so stupid? How did miss it? What else had I missed?
My attention was drawn back over to the closet. The locker box. She'd always been so closed off about it.
I got it out, then stared blankly for a moment. How would I do this?
As I held the box in my injured arm, I punched with my good one as hard as I could. The beige sides snapped, and a certain gun fell to the ground. It was the Electron Razor 3000. Which I picked up with the taste of bile in my mouth.
"Amelia, are you okay? What happen-" she had hurried back upon hearing the commotion, and now she stared, startled. Her body shook as she looked from the gun, and then to me.
"Amelia, I think we need to talk." | Our eyes met, our facial expressions froze, there was nothing but silence for a full 5 seconds.
I took the morning off from work fighting that damned witch. It was so exhausting I had to take the afternoon off too. Coming home just 2 hours early, I couldn't believe what I was witnessing: my own wife on my own bed trying to get out of the tight leather suit of the very witch I was fighting this morning.
"Umm, heh... I thought you were going to ask me what's going on... awkward..." Jennifer said with an embarrassing smile. "Honey, I swear it isn't what you're thinking. I can explain..."
"There is no need. I know exactly what's going on," I said. Still standing at the door of my bedroom, nervously playing with the keys on my hand, not sure how I should process this influx of information.
"What do you mean you know what's going on? Don't you find this kind of weird? We've never roleplayed like this before and I'm sure you've never seen..."
"Yes I have," I cut her off. "Yes I have seen this costume before quite a few times. In fact I've... I saw it just this morning."
"You saw... oh..."
Silence took over the room again.
"So it was you..." Jennifer murmured as she gave up on taking the suit off.
I walked towards her, zipped her suit back up, caressed her hair and said, "it does fit you really well. It's amazing how I never recognized you just because you curled your hair, put on a suit and a mask. I guess it isn't wrong to say men are just stupid sometimes, eh?"
"Honey, I didn't want to fight you. I can explain this..." Jennifer said as she started sobbing.
"Sure... tell me, Jen, why did you harm those people? You even killed that lawyer. Why did you do that?" I stayed calm and asked with the soft voice I've always used when I talked to her.
"You don't understand... these people... they have all committed unforgiveable crimes... That lawyer... not only was he trying to defend that paedophile in court, he himself was actually a member of a certain international child trafficking group..."
"Wow... hold on a second... you're saying Gary Hanson... I'm guessing you have evidence about this stuff?"
"Yeah... I have my connections. I'm sure of it," Jennifer said as wiped her tears off.
"Jen... listen..." I wrapped my arms around her waist and said, "if that's really what he did, I would want to kill him too, but you gotta let our justice system do its job! We have a government and a good set of laws you know? You can help with catching the criminals, but at the end of the day, you can't punish them yourself. That's just not right."
"Honey, with an impeccable team of lawyers, what's the worst penalty a guy like Gary Hanson is going to get? 15 years? If his team manages to convince the judge that he was just a member who wasn't one to make decisions, he could potentially get it down to 5," Jennifer looked at me and said, "if I show you some of his materials, you might change your mind."
I was relieved. It was still wrong to break the law and take matters to our own hands, but it seemed that she had been using her power to bring justice in a different way. I couldn't say I totally agree with it, but I could at least rationalize it and respect her intentions.
"Sure, you can show me that tonight. Are you tired?"
"A little bit, but I'm okay," Jennifer said as she rested her head on my chest.
"How did you escape from that alley? I could have sworn I was just 2 seconds behind you."
"There was a pet door, and I have a certain way of quickly maneuvering through narrow spaces."
"That pet door? But that was so small!"
"I know."
"You know, I, too, have a certain way of maneuvering through tight spaces."
"Oh, stop it," Jennifer said with a smack on my chest.
"How did you get home?"
"I just took the train. I've left some backpacks with coats and other supplies at various locations. I would just put on a long coat and nobody on the train would notice." Jennifer looked up at me and asked, "what about your modified Ferrari? Where did you park it?"
"It's at a warehouse near my workplace right now, but the car actually has autopilot linked with GPS. I could actually get it to wherever I want without physically being there driving."
"That's so cool... will you take me for a ride someday?"
"Sure! We can do that tonight if you want."
"Maybe Saturday. I'm a little tired right now."
I turned Jennifer's back towards me, started massaging her trapezius and said, "did it hurt falling from the second floor?"
"You bet! You were so harsh on me!"
"Hey! I thought you were a vicious criminal! You killed a lawyer, chopped an arm off a police officer, paralyzed a college professor and left a giant hole in the stomach of an eighty year old man!" I paused, and I added, "although I must say, you had been a very, very hot criminal..."
"So you've been thinking about another woman behind my back! You just didn't know it was me!"
"I couldn't help it though... this tight suit, the perfect body, fancy ginger hair, the way you run and jump..."
"I will forgive you this one time. I thought you were pretty sexy in your suit too. Hehe...."
"Oh, women..." I rolled my eyes.
"But in all seriousness, all I wanted was justice. Each and everyone of them has an insane history. I can show you everything tonight."
"Sure, but it doesn't change the fact that you are still trying to stay outside the system. Even if your actions can be justified, you are still a very, very bad girl," I said as I slowly move my massaging hands down her spine.
"Uh huh. I will admit, I've been very, very naughty, but what are you going to do about it..."
"I think..." I said as my hands reached her bum, "I think I'm going to make this naughty girl taste her own medicine by punishing her myself."
Jennifer smacked my hands off, turned around, looked at me with those innocent puppy eyes and asked, "please go gentle on me, will you?"
"Well, it's not up to you to decide. Depending on how you behave, I will consider it."
Jennifer slowly wrapped her arms right my neck and in my ears, she whispered, "what if I give you a little treat first?"
"What do you mean? Oh..."
Within two seconds, I felt coldness on my thighs but right after, I sensed a warm embrace. An overwhelming sensation was taking over my brain. I completely forgot all the crimes my wife Jennifer had committed.
It had been a wild morning, and it looked like the action will be carried on to the late afternoon. | 2020-10-30T13:25:14 | 2020-10-30T12:46:37 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Humanity has invented the technology required to reach other dimensions. However, instead of finding an incomprehensible Lovecraftian realm, they discover a perfect and beautiful world. To the inhabitants of this new world though, we are monstrous eldritch horrors. | Kk-Ktaahthk shuddered at the descriptions given by his fellow hunters to their chieftain, never having heard of anything so terrifying and unimaginable, and he wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it for himself. His brood mate had gone ahead to track the path of the horned takka they were stalking for dinner, only to come slithering back as fast as her boneless body could carry her, pulsating her eyes in fear. Assuming she’d been attacked by a larger predator, they’d calmed her and prepared to hunt down what had scared her.
What they saw was no comfort, and defied all logic. Standing on two stalks in the field ahead was a bizarre creature with snow-white, wrinkled skin, and a single, huge eye. Jutting from the base of its neck were two more jointed stalks, each dividing into multiple other stalks that wriggled across a slab of something dark that chirped like a sahkvi bird when touched. Then the horrors of horrors had begun, as the abomination pushed the slab into a slit in it’s skin and gripped its head; ripping it off with a hiss of gas like a ruptured, bloated carcass that had been poked with a spear.
They could only stare at the abomination from behind their bushes as it’s skin deflated, carrying a foul scent of unwashed secretions on the wind as it stripped its skin to drop it on the ground. It must shed its skin a lot, as it appeared to have a second skin waiting to be shed underneath and over most of its form. For a moment it only stood, breathing deeply before releasing more gasses from the holes in its new face, and running its stalk-tips through the long moss growing from its head, the same shade of brown as Tahhkval-li herd droppings. Every part of it’s skin was smooth, fleshy and soft, looking squishy yet dry; unlike his people’s exoskeleton system and slimy foot. Kk-Ktaahthk could even imagine how something so tall could stay balanced, and feared what the hard plates on the tip of each of the five stalk-tips might be for. Were those claws? His people had none, but the predators in this land did. Would it eat them if it saw them?
Then it opened its largest face hole, and turned their way; showing so much white around the eyes as if it’s eyelid had unnaturally shrivelled back, before swelling shut and shrivelling back to expose its eyes again. The mouth nearly made Kk-Ktaahthk vomit, filled with white pebbles and a slimy-looking thing that wriggled like one of their shell-less young as if trying to escape the sounds that spilled forth. Whatever it had eaten, and still was swallowing, was still very much alive, or perhaps was some disgusting form of parasite. And the noise, oh the noise, a chattering wailing that matched nothing from their language of swaying and exoskeleton rattling. It had seen them, so they threw their spears and slipped home as fast as their slimy pads could carry them.
The only reason they were believed was from the white, shed skin and patches of red fluid it had left behind...
//“Exploration Mission to Mothership. Planet holds mollusk-like sentient life, inhabitants hostile. Recommend abort of colonization. Over.” | Adam stood ready to greet the other world’s scientists. His people had discovered their work years ago, the strange distortion glittering in the air a few feet off-shore on a southern beach. At first it was thought to be some natural effect - perhaps something caused by the sun refracting off the coral reef below. It was only after months of study that Jamie, one of the brightest physicists on Adam’s team, realized the light was otherworldly. It was an indication of another intelligence, slowly building a bridge, connecting their reality to this one.
Now the aspect was massive, almost two meters square. Adam secretly felt certain that the others must be ready to step through, that the portal surely now was wide enough for them to emerge. Thinking of the immense wisdom a creature capable of tunneling through reality must possess made him feel humbled, almost in awe. But he stood tall when he remembered the pride of being chosen as one of the representatives of his people.
Not that it was a particularly elite title - he could name many well suited to meet these strangers. His homeland was known for its kind, thoughtful, curious people; and had more than its share of scientists, philosophers, and ambassadors. Truthfully, it was hard to name anyone NOT suited to meet these strangers. Despite this, Adam hoped he would get a chance to meet them first, even if he was only relatively average.
His hope was rewarded by a claw emerging suddenly into the clean ocean air. Or, at first it seemed a claw, but as Adam reached out to grab it and help the creature forward, he realized it was actually a hand much like his own, just larger and with a strange give. It must have been a trick of the light that made it look like a grasping gnarl, reaching out to him as though to choke out his life.
And then the thing emerged fully, and Adam marveled at how familiar and strange the being was all at once. A similar height, a similar shape, but swollen and discolored. Where a face should be, there was a terrible blankness. Adam tried to ignore the faint panic he felt staring into it, into the strange round smooth nothingness of it. Though the creature looked frightening, it was intelligent none-the-less, and therefore could be communicated with.
“Hello,” Adam said softly, and then performed the peace gesture his people hoped would convey a non threatening interest. He stepped back and looked slightly away, keeping his arms at his side with the palms facing forward to prove there was nothing in his hands. He spoke softly, both to show the creature he wanted it to know he was here and to help it realize he communicated through sound. “My name is Adam. It’s so nice to meet you. I cannot wait to learn where you are from and how you arrived. We have so much to learn from you and---”.
Abruptly the creature hissed, and slowly its face pulled up and back to reveal - a face almost identical to Adam’s own. Adam started, and involuntarily raised his hands to protect himself.
“Whoa there, little guy, no need to be scared. Beautiful place you got here,” the strange man said, slowly turning in an admiring circle while he waved around a little box that whirred and beeped.
“Thank you,” said Adam, not sure what else to say.
“Beeeee-uuuuu-tiiiii-ful” drawled the man, now looking at the little box, which was quietly flashing green. He leaned back and yelled into the distortion from which he came “Scanner says it’s good, come on over guys”.
“Are there many more of you?” asked Adam, too curious now to do anything but stare directly at the man as other hands began to emerge from the light.
“Oh, trillions” he said breezily. “Too many to count.”
“Trillions” said Adam softly to himself. As if to support this, another emerged, and then another two, each holding small boxes with the same blank face that, looking closer, Adam recognized must be some sort of mask.
“Good thing we found this place,” the man continued. “Damn near running out of room, even on the upper levels. But this place will be perfect for those upper crusts.”
“Upper crusts?”
By now there were eight of the strangers on the beach, and Adam was slowly backing up, backing away from them and preparing to run back to his people. They had thought it best to only post a single watcher for the portal, so that first contact could be made one-on-one, as that would be less threatening to a stranger in a strange world. Now Adam was questioning the wisdom of that.
“Yeah, you know, the people at the top, the fancy-pants making all their decisions for us in their ivory towers. They’ll eat this place up”
“Making deci- Oh! You mean your researchers and doctors and teachers and philosophers? The people you lean on to provide social guidance in times of trouble?” He stopped backing up, hopeful again.
“Heh, you sure talk pretty. No, I mean the people at the top, the kings and the, you know, the billionaires, the people who have all the money and own all the-”
“I think you should leave,” Adam interrupted suddenly. “Please”.
“No,” said the other. | 2020-12-22T22:02:30 | 2020-12-22T20:41:56 | 36 | 26 |
[WP] You live in world with no colour, shades of black and white are all you know. A flower pops up in your backyard, you’re drawn to it, as you pick the flower from the ground, you see colour for the first time. For the first time you realize something is terribly wrong with your world. | Color.
Something that had never made sense to me, though everyone around me seemed to understand it.
I see the world in black, white, and grey.
It never bothered me, even when kids at school would laugh at my “mismatched” clothes, or would look at me funny for asking if they had seen my grey gym bag. One time I washed my socks with a “red” shirt, turning them “pink”. I didn’t notice, they seemed to be normal colored, but apparently it was some sort of faux pas.
I learned, over time, that this shade of grey was “red”, that shade of grey was “yellow”, and so on, but sometimes I got them confused, or mistook one shade for another, but color didn’t often come up, as I decided to choose to only wear black.
My life continued, I graduated, got married, bought a house. I started a garden, mostly vegetables, though my wife liked flowers, so we planted some as well. I don’t see the appeal, but I like seeing her happy.
One day, while I was watering, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It was a flower I hadn’t planted, it was just growing up through the grass.
Assuming it was a weed, I went to pull it up, so it wouldn’t spread and wreck my vegetables.
The moment I touched it, however, suddenly it became...
It hurt my eyes so much I vomited. I threw it down and ran inside.
My wife noticed my distress and asked what was wrong. With a shaking hand I pointed towards the uprooted plant in the middle of the lawn.
“...what...what is that?” I asked.
“That purple flower?” She replied. “An iris, I think”.
“That’s what *purple* looks like!?” I exclaimed.
“You can see the color?” She asked. She seemed excited, and than worried.
It began slowly, *color* leaching into my world, one item at a time. My head never stopped hurting. How could people stand seeing all this, all the time? It was riotous, discordant, painfully distracting.
Eventually, after a month of me wearing sunglasses at all hours of the day, my wife convinced me to see a doctor.
They were startled by my condition, and began researching, contacting specialists, and running tests.
After months of agony, and no relief, no results, I took matters into my own hands.
I removed my own eyes.
*IT DIDN’T HELP* | I was eleven when I found it tucked away at the back of the garden.
The iris didn’t belong in my world, but there it was, shyly poking out from beneath a tangle of chickweed and nettle. Three leaves drooped down from the top like breezing parachutes, their colors like nothing around them. It was the color of a soft kiss, or a lullaby, or just that of a kindly smile.
How else do you describe an iris when everything you know is gray?
It deserved room to breathe, so I plucked out the weeds around it until it wore a circle of chalky grass like a halo.
I sat and watched it then and let feelings stir in my belly, as if someone had poured potions into a cauldron and now splashed the contents together. The spell it cast brought back memories.
There had once been color in my world, although I’d forgotten it. Forgotten the feel of red colored love, of hopeful blue eyes. I looked up at the grey sun and remembered it before. Now, stripped naked of its rays it felt cold — even on that summer’s day. It would have been cold even on a beach in august.
I remembered how a million bright colors once filled my life, like a bath overflowing with warm bubbling water. Then the plug got unexpectedly pulled and the colors oozed away from the world, sludging down the drain in an oily, teary rainbow.
All that was left was this.
This empty, cold gray.
I didn’t cry. You think with a fierce certainty that if the day ever comes you’ll cry up a storm — but that’s not always the case. The sadness of the color leaving didn’t work like that. Instead, something reached into me and smothered my emotions, hushing them into silence. Gone, when I looked at my father, was that blinding red that had once reflected off him, shining hot inside of me, inside my heart. Gone was blue and yellow and green and everything besides. The joy of life was taken.
Whatever I looked at after that day, it radiated only a dark hopelessness.
Except this iris. This beautiful, heartbreaking, iris.
So I sat and watched it beneath the gray sun. Watched the flower swim lazily back and forth in the lulling breeze.
“They were Mom’s favorite,” Dad said. I hadn’t heard him approach. He sat down next to me and watched the flower, as if it was all the color left in his world, too. But Dad still saw color. Still smiled.
It’d been a year since it happened but it didn’t feel like it. Time loses meaning without color, and stretches and contracts at will. Sometimes, it felt like a day since we lost her. Others, a decade.
I looked up at my father. His eyes were damp but he was smiling. He was like that a lot when looking at me, but I’d never seen him cry for a flower.
”I know,” I said. “She loved them.”
”Always a fresh vase full of them in the kitchen.”
”She loved them,” I repeated.
”Not as much as she loved you.”
\*
An hour later we were at her grave. My request. The first time I’d asked to go there since she died, although not the first time I’d been made to visit.
I clutched the iris in my hands, close to my chest, as if it was my own heart now. Or her heart, and I was protecting it, sharing my heartbeat with it and keeping her alive for a little longer. The deep purple was the only colour amongst the graves.
”Go ahead,” Dad said.
Part of me didn’t want to. Didn’t want to let go. But Mom loved irises, so I did.
I hadn’t cried since. Not on the day she died. Not at the funeral. The color had trickled away and all that was left was a dullness. But as I knelt down and placed the iris on the grass, a ripple of green stretched out from it, smudging across the grass. And a pulse of warm red, of love, flowed up through my body, into my heart.
Dad put an arm around me as I sobbed and as I told Mom how much I missed her. | 2021-01-21T01:31:51 | 2021-01-21T01:22:33 | 134 | 46 |
[WP] A reporter somehow managed to get an interview with the most powerful villain in the city. It did not go as he imagined. | "You're here to interview me? How fantastic! Let's go into the sun room. We can have tea.
"I don't normally get visitors, you know, much less people who want to interview me. Usually it's begging me not to kill them or heroes looking to kill me. Though, to tell you the truth, I haven't killed anyone in nearly 7 years.
"All those crimes attributed to me? I sold the franchise. Up and coming criminals get to practice being bad guys without their early mistakes harming their later reputations.
"My reputation? Oh, I don't care about that. The franchisees pay me a small percentage of their gains, and my lawyers get them off when they get in trouble. Meanwhile, I have plenty of time to dedicate to my roses. Aren't they lovely?
"Now, if you do publish this, then I'm just kidding and I'm really a big bad guy who's doing lots and lots of bad things." \*winks\*
"Do you want more tea?" | "I'm coming to you live from VileCon, the annual Villain and Calamity Conference preparing for an exclusive interview with Smashum, one of the most powerful up and coming new Villians. Twenty feet tall and capable of taking the shape of a Bear, a Wolf and even a Monster Truck once, this ne'er do well really packs a punch and nothing's slowed him down yet!
"Now, I've been told the interview will be in a standard breakout room so that alone is telling. Smashum must have some smaller form or this whole venue's gonna be feeling the smash! Either way, stay tuned! After the break, I will be live with Smashum!
Nick was careful to not smudge his make up as he scratched his nose and entered the room to set up for the interview. A child, maybe three years old was sitting in the middle of the carpet watching videos on a bright green tablet. A woman, presumably the strangely placed child's mother sat in a chair at the edge of the room beside a large sign that said NO TOYS ALLOWED.
"Hey, wrong room, ma'am. We have a dangerous villain due here at any moment. Take this kid somewhere." Nick ushered in the camera crew.
"The interview with Smashum, right?" The woman asked.
"Yeah..." Nick said. "I'm sorry, are you his handler? What's with the kid? Where is he?"
"Handler? I like that. I'm Jeremy's or as you call him, Shashum's mom." She reached out to shake his hand.
Nick took it and shook it while trying to process what was going on. He looked as the small child expelled some energy from his fingers and a 3d satellite view of the surrounding city appeared on the ground. "TOYS! SMASHUM!" He yelled, looking at his mom.
"He's the twenty foot monster that's been attacking the city and always returns no matter how much he's damaged?"
"Oh yes, well not him, persay. Whenever Jeremy plays with toys, he can summon a real time map of the local area and manifest a copy of whatever toys he's playing with but at a much larger scale."
"So, you give him those toys. You're the real villain. He's just a kid!" Nick asked.
The cheery conservatively dressed woman shrugged and started to respond.
"Wait, don't answer. This is too juicy. I want it all to feel organic. This is going to be the interview of the century. "
A lens cap fell and rolled towards Jeremy. He picked it up and no one seemed to notice. It was kind of a lame toy but it could be flying saucer, he guessed or rolling wheel of doom. He decided he might play some after his video was done.
\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. | 2021-04-01T11:10:24 | 2021-04-01T11:02:29 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] "Do not fear me," said the cloaked man with the deer skull for a head, who stood on the balcony of the castle, "I am Fellion, a Lich Lord. I have killed your king and now rule you." And there was silence. Then everyone cheered. | "... and that was about a year ago now. I have to say, he's a huge improvement over the previous king." The bartender paused to pick another glass to clean.
"Doesn't that bother you?" Chimed in one of the new adventures, a hobbit with freckles and a button nose, "Aren't liches horribly evil? I thought they maintained their immortality by feasting on fresh souls." He looked to his companions, who nodded sagely.
"Oh. Well, THAT. You see King Fellion DOES consume souls to feed his Infinite Phylactery, but he uses convicted rapists and murders. Child molesters are also consumed, but only after a public flogging, flaying, and wenderslotten."
A half elf in dark leathers seemed ready to ask about the wenderslotten, then thought better of it.
The bartender continued, "Saves the kingdom a lot of cash, too, having a lich for a ruler. He don't eat, doesn't waste money on fancy wines, and employs most of his own undead to maintain the castle. Still needs breathers for thinkin' jobs like the City Watch and running the military, so it's not like everyone was out of a job."
Another traveler spoke up, a tiefling bard with pale purple skin, "Was there no love for the previous king? No loyalty? How did a whole kingdom cheer his fall so readily and so freely?"
Twin barmaids, hair like honey and skin like cream, began to unload trays of hot food in front of the adventuring troupe. The barman's broad face split into a toothy grin, and he leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper, "The old king? A foul, despicable man; slain for committing a most heinous and deplorable crime: he never left a tip." | Days. Weeks. Months. Years. I lost track of how many passed. I beheld the kingdom where the end had begun. My brother was dead, my friends were dead. I was the last of us. The survivor. I contemplated what I was doing for a moment, then pointed my sword to the high walls. Silent as the grave, my army of undead rose and began their march. My brothers body, and the bodies of our friends stayed by my side. First there were shouts from the guards, then screams, fires, and finally the baleful wailing of dying citizens.
It was then I joined the fray. Soldiers fired catapults, trebuchet, ballistae, all manner of weapon, all of it stopped short at the deftest wave of my hand. They had soldiers and weapons to spare, but mine own were bolstered by magic. The last gift my brother ever gave me was his arcane might and I would show this kingdom it's folly in making an enemy of us. A swing of my sword split a trebuchets missile into dust as I continued my approach to the palace of the tyrant.
All fell before my army, and all rose to join it as I marched, flanked by my party. A soldier came at me, stupid or suicidal, I couldn't tell which. He raised his spear, thrust it and found purchase in my armor and with a triumphant shout he thrust again. I caught the shaft just below the spearhead and pulled him in, the tip of the sword sank into him, his armor did nothing to stop it. As I removed him from my sword he had already begun to reanimate and charged past me to find someone to turn. Finally, the doors to the palace loomed over me. Ancient wood, stone, and metal cobbled together by the finest craftsman were reduced to splinters, smoldering cinders, and ash before me. The guards inside loosed a cloud of arrows. It did nothing to slow my gait, the blue fire from beneath my armor reduced the wood to ash as I walked forward to the throne where the haughty king stood in golden armor. A heavy axe at his side, he raised his hand signaling another volley. Behind the arrows he charged, axe raised, the visor of his helmet down and a roar in his lungs. Before he left the final step down from the stone dais where the throne rested, my soldiers descended upon him. Some fell, but they quickly overwhelmed him and before a minute had passed, he and his kingsguard were silent.
I walked past his throne, up the first staircase then up another and another until I saw a balcony overlooking the city of the now dead monster who ordered the deaths of me and my party. I heard fading cries for mercy, for quarter to be given. I saw soldiers ripped to pieces by my undead before they too, gathered themselves to search for others. Children reanimated clawed at those who tried to help them. Finally, after a long hour of watching. Listening. Waiting. The cries of the living were replaced by the quiet peace of undeath. I raised my sword, buried it into the stone and imbued my magic into the palace and then the land itself. Blue light cracked and fissured the stone and stretched out into the city, filling the bodies of my newly replenished army with a thin blue fog. I raised a hand, a spell crackled in my palm and I unleashed it. A triumphant wail came from the long silent undead in my command, a wail that echoed against the walls and cast itself to the winds to be heard by those who would contest my right to take this kingdom.
A single thought in my mind as I heard this mournful roar. "I'm sorry, Danny." | 2021-08-31T15:16:48 | 2021-08-31T09:53:23 | 51 | 30 |
[WP] You're an enchanted suit of armor, empty on the inside. After gaining sentience you left the haunted keep you were stored in and began adventuring. As you gain notoriety as an adventurer and make friends and connections, it gets harder to keep it a secret that there's nothing behind your visor. | “Galade, why don’t you ever take that armor off?” said my companion.
“Makes me feel comf’rble,” I replied, tersely.
“All that metal can’t be comfortable, friend. Come, when’s the last time you took that off?” he said as he reached for the sides of my helmet. I grabbed his hands, which seemed to surprise him.
“It’s quite comf’rting, knowing that any weapon an en’my might bring to bear’ll do me next to no ‘arm when it strikes,” I responded, as I had many times to the same inquiry from others.
Valden’s expression soured. “But it’s just the two of us here. Do you not trust me? Gods above, Galade, I don’t even know what you look like.”
I hadn’t the guts literally or figuratively to tell him then and there that this was all there was to see, but he persisted in reaching for my… well, I suppose “face” isn’t the wrong word, so I felt some reassurance or explanation was in order. What could I say, though? This friend of mine must have been acting under the assumption that I was like him, alive and full of warmth and compassion, but alas, I am just this metal shell imbued with a hollow semblance of life…
“Galade. Please.”
I wanted so completely to tell him the truth in that moment. Yet it was as if some barrier existed that prevented the words from issuing forth. What would he think? What would he say? Surely, he would want me destroyed for the abomination I am, but if I deny him now, he will only persist in his prying. Perhaps I am only delaying the inevitable.
I let go of his hands, accepting of my fate.
As my visor lifted, he looked surprised, then confused, then perhaps a little angry, as he searched the empty helmet for a face.
“That’s… all ‘ere is, my friend,” I said, arms outstretched, waiting for the inevitable accusatory finger-point and shouting about Gods and the natural and unnatural and so on. He was indignant for certain, but not quite in the way I expected.
“You’re… what, you’re an animated armor?”
“…yes.”
“What, and you weren’t going to tell me as such? I was worried, Galade! You know it’s pretty obvious you don’t sleep and don’t eat properly, I thought you would collapse any minute if you didn’t get some proper rest! Oh, that’s a relief. Dear Gods.”
This was… a strange feeling. Relief? Happiness? I didn’t know how I was… supposed to feel, but nonetheless I managed to inquire, “You’re not… mad? Afraid?”
He replied, “Well, no, I could never stay mad at you. I didn’t know animated things like you could be so… human. It’s certainly weird, but… many things in life are weirder than *this.*” He gestured to my shell as he spoke. “Honestly, friend, I’m quite impressed, first at the fact that you are so much… *yourself*, and second, that you managed to keep this a secret as long as you did.”
“But I’m a monster…”
“Sure, but what difference does that make?” he asked. “You’ve proven time and time again that you’ve got a good soul, and that’s all that really matters in life. Come, I’m sure you’ve got some interesting stories about wizards and old, crumbly towers to tell.”
I thought about his words for a long time after that. I’m still not sure I understand, but it was nice to know I really could trust him. | When I was a boy I had a dream. A dream that I'd be a knight. Dashing and brave with women clinging to me like fleas on a mangy dog. Alas, my boyhood dream never came to fruition. I was thin, weak, pale, and pock marked. My own mother said, "Gerald you look like an unattractive albino potato!" It was misery! Until I heard a tale that would change my life...
So I was hanging around the market and I heard the baker talking about how his wife was very disappointed that he could not, "butter her toast," or whatever that meant. He then recounted how he went into the mountains to an old castle where a wizard by the name of Tululaminogradian lived. The wizard cast a spell and now the baker could butter her toast at least three times a night! I immediately set off into the wilds to find this great wizard.
I wandered and ate bugs and berries and also got a really bad case of the shits from drinking pond water, but in the end it was worth it. I found the great wizard and well, he was kind of a dick. I told him what I wanted and he told me that I had to give up something in exchange. I was basically like, "anything." So Tululaminogradian raised his hands and started mumbling and next thing I knew I was standing in a clearing next to the finest horse I'd ever seen in the most amazing armor a man could ask for. I drew forth my sword and found that I was quite possibly the best swordsman ever and mounted my horse roaring with laughter...until I realized that my armor made a weird noise.
So there I was happy as a clam, possibly now a literal clam, until I realized that I was fucking hollow. I was a knight, yes, amazing in every way, but I was hollow! So I rode hard back to the wizard and confronted him. He then informed me that there was a no return policy, but that if he had the testicles of Barnard the Green Dragon I might be able to be made whole again. I mulled this propostion over and then decided to do it. I rode hard to the south to find the dragon.
When I arrived at the lair of Barnard the Green Dragon I found him in a state of great disrepair laying upon a massive pile of treasure. He looked at me and was like, "you too?" I dismounted and stood before him.
"What do you mean you too?" I said sword drawn. Barnard had trails of tears on his face.
"About three weeks ago I ran away from home. The kids in the village were bullying me, and I had just had enough. So I heard about the wizard Tululaminogradian and went and found him and told him to make me strong and dangerous so no one would pick on me. He turned me into a fat useless dragon." Barnard flicked at some of his treasure.
"I mean you look formidable. A little rotund, but look at those teeth and those claws! Those wings! I bet you breathe the hottest fire!" I tried to emphasize everything to make the dragon feel better but he just mopped more.
"These wings are useless! I tried to fly and just fell on my head. Then some prince came and tried to take my testicles, but in a tizzy I rolled on top of him. I didn't even mean to kill him," Barnard said with a sniffle.
"Well that dick of a wizard sent me here after your testicles," I said with my empty hands on my waist. Realizing that poor Barnard and I were caught in some weird wizard scheme.
"How about we go and confront that asshole and make him fix all of this?" I said to Barnard. He lifted his head and starred at me.
"Seriously?" he said with a sniffle.
"Sure, lets go get him!" I said with a smile that clearly didn't exist because that wizard was a dick.
When we made it to the assholes castle he was sitting out front eating a scone and drinking tea.
"Fix us!" we said almost in unison to Tululaminogradian. The wizard adjusted his hat and stroked his long white beard.
"I told you already, no takesy backsies!" the flustered wizard half choked on a scone before pointing a boney finger at us both and vanishing in a cloud of smoke.
"Well now we're right and properly screwed," Barnard said crying furiously. I just tapped my helmet. Then I had an epiphany.
"No we are not! Barnard I've just had the greatest idea!" I exclaimed before laying out my plan.
"So what we'll do is that you will go into a village, and like, break a fence or something. Big bad dragon stuff. The I will ride in and chase you off, demand a reward, and then we split that reward 50/50!" I said. Barnard perked up.
"Think about it Barnard, we'll corner the market on dragon attacks and heroic knighting!" I said holding my arms out. It took him a while but he smiled.
"We can try that I guess," he said wiping his eyes.
And try we did. We did indeed corner the market, and in doing so Barnard got into fantastic dragon shape and even managed to be able to fly! Almost nearly 3 feet off the ground, but actually fly!
As for me, well, it was okay. I figured that in the end I was a real knight anyway. All flash and pomp on the outside, and quite vapid and hollow on the inside.
The End. | 2021-09-21T08:42:20 | 2021-09-21T08:29:52 | 1,144 | 117 |
[WP] You're an enchanted suit of armor, empty on the inside. After gaining sentience you left the haunted keep you were stored in and began adventuring. As you gain notoriety as an adventurer and make friends and connections, it gets harder to keep it a secret that there's nothing behind your visor. | 'Lie down, warrior.' The High Priestess commanded. I, of course, obeyed. My life is nearly at it's end. And what an amazing life it has been. I've felled the great beasts of the realm, conquered distant lands and even had a wife of my own before Life-Death took her to their paradise. And soon, I shall join her once more. How I long to see her smile, her long red hair and beautiful green eyes. Only a few moments more, and I shall be on my way.
'It is with the strength of your body and spirit that we as a society are able to continue to live out our lives. For it was you, brave warrior, who vanquished all our enemies. To those who sought to bring us ruin, you levied it against them in turn.' The High Priestess announces, her voice echoing in the chamber, 'We thank you.'
'Now, as your days draw short, we ask only for grace of Life, Death to take you into her embrace. To forevermore be remembered,' The Priestess continues the ritual, I wonder what I shall be remembered for. There's so much I have done. Perhaps a title, just as Great or Paragon? 'To forever be remembered as he who failed in his task, and brought life to our Lord!'
'Wait, what? No, that's not!' I try to shout out, only to be silenced by a wave of the priestess' hand.
'And now, warrior. Face your fate, be the ruin you sought to bring to our order and turn upon your country!' She plunges a shimmering blade into my heart, slicing past my armor as though it were little more than fabric. The world begins to go black, with the last remnants of light containing the Priestess' voice, announcing their new age.
\- - - - -
It's back to that day I remember now, as I march through the halls of that forsaken tomb I woke up in. My compatriots follow behind me. My body, long gone. The only remnant of myself is my own trapped soul. This armor has bonded itself to me, never able to be removed. Which proves a pain when attempting to make repairs or adjustments. Fortunately, through my journey I have found a select few who I am proud to call friend.
'So, Arkadiya. What are we looking for here again?' My sure eyed ranger, Vincent, asks as he waves his lantern around examining the runes. 'Seems to me there's nothing here except the occasional undead or cobweb.'
'It's true, I'm not picking up any traces of magic, much less any life aura other than our own.' Icarus, the dragon priest, says as she scans through the walls with her magic.
'Trust me. It's here.' I say back. 'I wouldn't drag you across the country to some old crypt for no reason.'
'Yeah, I trust you. It's just...' Vincent trails off, 'What is 'it'?' He finishes his question just as we enter under an archway, revealing the central chamber with it's overgrown skylight letting in the stray beam of moonlight. 'Wow... what is this place?'
Icarus brushes her hands against the carvings on the wall, her eyes glowing a faint blue, 'If I had to guess, this is some altar. Easily a thousand years old. Back before the kingdom was founded.' She turns her gaze back to me, 'How do you know of this place?'
Instead of answering her question, I walked up to the altar where my last moments of life were held. No blood. No scratches. No trace. It's like I was never there. But I can feel it. I lay down upon the stone and respond to Icarus, 'This... is where I died.' She and Vincent give a suddenly surprised look. 'I was suppose to see my wife that day. Instead, I was offered as a sacrifice to-'
Icarus interrupts, 'Whoa whoa whoa. Hold on a second. Where you died? Listen, Arkadiya, I know you're old but you're not dead yet.'
'Yeah, Arkadiya.' Vincent chimes in, 'You've been around a while, but you're certainly not ready for death. I mean, how many old timers like yourself can lay claim to single handedly killing a troll or bringing an Orc raid to a halt?' He makes a flabbergasted expression, 'But... death? You're hardly as old as Icarus!'
'I'm still only a young adult you know.'
They don't quite get it. 'Listen.' I sit up, turning to face them. 'I am dead. Not dying. I tell you this because you're the only ones I can trust with this information. I had a life. It was a good one. I was betrayed. Now I'm here. Stuck in my old ceremonial armor.' I lift my helmet and set it beside me to reveal my true form, a bluish-purple flame flickering where my head aught to be.
'OH MY...' Vincent nearly falls over himself. 'Ark, you... uh... wow.'
Icarus, on the other hand looks like a weight has lifted off her shoulders. 'So, it's true then.'
'Wait, what's true?' Vincent barely takes his eyes off of me to ask his question.
Icarus walks over to the walls and begins to explain the rise and fall of Astoshan, a hero of old that vanquished many a terrible foe. Then she reads some old text off the wall, slowly translating.
'And let it be know, the denier and fool Astoshan' she pauses, 'That's you? I assume that's a translation error then.' I nod. 'Astoshan, who we know as Arkadiya, is made a sacrifice as Szevirics vessel. The binding resulted in a failure after the Goddess Life-Death bore her unholy radiance to leave the denier's body unsuitable. A last attempt to mock the Goddess, we bound his soul to his armor. Preventing him from ever returning to her grace.'
There's a moment of silence before Icarus speaks up, 'Szevirics Cult is still out there, you know. We could get the back for this.'
Again, a moment of silence. 'That depends.' Vincent says while walking towards me. He lifts my helmet and examines it. 'If you're Astoshan... think you could get the Goddess to keep us from ending up like you?'
'No.' I tell him, 'I lost my connection to the goddess the moment the priestess plunged that infernal dagger into me.'
'Oh, well.' He looks down, then smiles, 'If you wanna go and kick their asses, I'll still help you out. See if we can't get your soul back where it belongs.'
'Yeah, that's a good idea. Now, before we all run off and die horribly taking on the second largest religion, how about we get something out of the way first.' Icarus walks over to me before placing her hands on my thigh guards and and face close enough to my aura that I could feel her energy. 'I hate you, you know.'
That's sudden.
'Not because you did anything wrong, but...' Icarus backs up, 'Why do you have to be dead? And have a wife? You could've told me this much sooner.' She starts to walk out of the chamber. 'Well? You guys coming or am I just gonna do this alone?'
===
//I know, I broke the rules a bit. But hey, like Arnie once said. 'Rules are made to be broken, not laws. Rules.' I hope you enjoyed it. | Seventeen months ago:
Trees flash past as the suit of armour races between them and jumps over creeks and around rocks. The suit is panting for effect and is not truly sure why. 'Keep running, keep going,' it thinks. Behind it, the curious are also running, racing through the muck and weeds, trampling tiny insects and causing small mammals to flee. Each pursuer is brandishing a broom or rake or, in the case of Jar-Imee, a scythe. He yells, "Get that thing, we must not give up!"
The suit is not tired and so it increases its speed. After a short while, it can hear the mob falling off, one by one by two or three. It continues on, listening to the distant sounds of madness until there is nothing to hear. It continues on further, until the sun is almost around again.
Stopping to think and recharge or whatever happens when it rests, it nearly sits on a small mammal. It knows it isn't one it passed earlier, but it feels, or thinks, that it has still been disturbed by the madness of the day and the mob. Quietly, the suit sings its thoughts to the furry lump, willing it to get closer. "I will not eat you," it speaks. Gradually, the small beast of the forest floor looks beyond the fallen tree that it hides behind, now musty and covered with small growths of green and fungus. The small beast, or more of a mouse, eats at the fungus while watching the suit, then falls asleep. When it opens its eyes, the mouse realizes it is inside the suit. But, something else is different, something about the mouse itself. Something is fantastically different!
Today:
Jar-Imee has been tasked with traveling three towns away, simply to collect a story. 'Why me?' he thinks, kicking at the ants starting up his sandal. He is almost there. While he journeys, he can sense that something is wrong, although he does not understand what it is. He looks around like some child in a dark barn who thinks the rats it hears are evil monsters. He jerks his head left, then right, then he shivers and tries to shake off his fear with anger. "I'll get you if you try anything," he yells. He yells a lot. He is not wise enough to gather that the town might have sent him in particular on the journey because they could use a few days without his presence.
The barn tender doesn't even look up, she instead jabs at the hay and piles it onto the transport. Finally, in exasperation, she stabs the ground with the pitch fork and looks up. "What?" she asks. Jar-Imee is incensed. "I want to know if you have an evil and empty suit of armour, sent from hell." He kicks his sandal at the pile of hay but stubs his toe in a strange way and winds up with a splinter under the nail of his left big toe. 'Why me?' thoughts again fill his mind.
She stands there taking in the hulk of a man, or more like a boy in the head and a man in the body. She spits, picks up her fork, and says "No." She goes back to her task, without even looking at Jar-Imee, who has sighted something in the distance.
The man child runs across the town's main path and looks carelessly between the buildings. "I see you," he yells. He did and now he does not, but he still calls out "I see you and I will bring you down!" He is really yelling now.
Exasperated, Jar-Imee plops down onto a bench. An old woman comes by to sit next to him. "Tell me your troubles, boy." Dropping his head into his hands, he rubs at his face, maybe even wipes away a few tears he hopes nobody saw. "I am looking for an evil and empty shell of armour, but I think everyone is lying to me, saying they don't have that here." He looks at her with fury, "I saw it, behind the bar, but now I can't find it." He lets out a big sigh.
"Listen, boy, we don't have that here. But I will tell you, we do have many warriors who wear full armour. That is how we have survived for so long. They protect us and we take care of them." She looks at the man child with a little bit of anger but mostly disappointment, thinking 'this one will get nowhere in life with that attitude' as Jar-Imee gets up without a word and races to the space between the livery and the iron works.
"Hey, you, get back here," he yells. As he cuts round to the back of the iron works, he sees the suit of armour, standing in wait. He stops short and shuts his mouth. The suit raises the visor on its helm, slowly revealing not a single face, but the face of a multitude of small creatures. They all look out at the boy, chittering and glaring at him. Several fall out into the armour and make their way down to the armoured hand. The suit raises them up and out and the boy steps back even though he wanted to step forward.
"What, who, I mean, who are you?" The response comes from the suit of armour but it also comes from the small creatures. "We are all the warrior in the suit. What is it to you, you impertinent boy?" Jar-Imee takes an additional step back, even though he again wanted to step forward and brush the animals away in anger. "I am here to take you back to my town so we can burn you and save everyone." As he says this, he looks around and behind himself. "Oh no!"
All the towns people have surrounded the scene, and they are all looking at Jar-Imee. "This does not involve you all." He yells this, naturally. The old woman from the bench steps forward and takes hold of the suit's halberd. She gives no glance of request and says nothing of permission. She does not have to. "Jar-Imee," she begins, but he interrupts, "How do you know my name?" The old woman whomps him on the top of his left foot, just managing to touch the big toe. "If it makes you feel better, I will call you boy. Boy, you are here to collect and burn nobody." She chuckles at the unintended play on words. "Do not try to lie to us, do not try to take our own, and do not think that we are going to let you do anything harmful. I am cousin to your wise man back in Lublinland. You have been sent to us to collect a story, which is your story." Jar-Imee kicked his sandal in the dirt and looked down at the ground. He was not yelling now, in fact he was wishing he could hide. The old woman reached out the halberd, but instead of thwacking his other foot, she gave it to the boy. "I have no story," he mumbled.
The animals of the suit all spoke at once, except for the littlest one who ate the seeds stored in his cheeks. "Boy, you are not yet a man and your people are fearful. We are all the suit, and the suit is a being even without us. Because you are called to the suit, you must have something to learn, as we did. My forefather, he had no name but we call him The Brave, my forefather took a chance. By letting go of animal nature and fear, he changed all of us into a greater," the mice and chipmunks stopped speaking and looked at the old woman for help. She spoke, "consciousness." "Yes, a greater consciousness. Did you not feel our presence in the forest? Do you now see that we are all one? Can you not feel that you, too, can be part of a greater cons, conc, consciousness?"
"But, I was not the only one chasing after the suit!" The boy has not given up. "We all chased it in the forest." The old woman sighed. "Imee, Jar-Imee, close your eyes and reflect. And so he did. Tears ran down his face as he saw the people chasing after him. He saw that he was the only one with a real weapon and that they had armed themselves with brooms and whatever was at hand but only to protect themselves. "It was really just a story they wanted me to find? Was it not the story of the armour?" The old woman smiled at him.
The boy looked embarrassed now. He dropped his shoulders and his grip slid down on the halberd. "What do I do?" As he was about to slump down to the ground entirely, the people of the town moved closer and gave him support. The littlest mouse, a vole really, spoke up, with bits of seed flying everywhere, "You surrender." The boy went to hand the halberd to the suit, but the littlest vole shook its small head which caused the ears to flop and the entire body to wriggle. "No, no, that that kind of surrender. You surrender everything. You give up on your fear and then you trust, trust," the littlest vole looked up at the woman briefly but got it right in the end, "everything. You trust everything." And, with that last statement, the boy did fall but not to the ground. He fell into the arms of the suit and the small mammals ran to him, finding space on his shoulders and in his hair. | 2021-09-21T09:10:13 | 2021-09-21T08:48:34 | 33 | 15 |
[WP] A drug is developed that mimics the effect of 8 hours of sleep, giving people another 8 hours of potential production. Soon, society adjusts to a constant state of production. However, a horrible consequence begins to unfold. | People used to dream. Adventures and nightmares, jumbled scenes and impossible events. I remember dreaming about just talking to my friend - he's been gone a long time, but I cherish that dream. Crazy, right? People used to study dreams - when they would happen, why some people could remember dreams and others could not, why they existed at all. They don't do that anymore. Maybe they shouldn't have stopped. A couple scientists were getting close to the answer, but then the ol' nap in a gelcap came out, and they didn't have any more dreams to study. Funny how a drug perfect for people who stay up all night lost them their jobs. Ironic.
My friend told me a story once, about dreams. He said that long, long ago, back when gods and monsters wandered the earth, back before history got written down, that a great a terrible demon tormented mankind. All of the universe, really. The animals and the plants and the humans were terrified, but nobody could trap the horrible thing. Finally, humanity stepped up. They volunteered. They trapped the demon in a dream, and they each took that dream. When someone had a nightmare, it's because they were the one dreaming the demon's cage that night. All of humanity took that burden, and each generation strengthened that cage. That demon tainted minds and warped souls, but humanity pushed on. Died early. Fought wars. Stepped off bridges. Cracks in the cage, but every human on earth stepped up and filled the gaps. The perfect jail, inescapable.
Of course, nobody sleeps, now. Nobody dreams. Life goes on, work gets done, but nobody holds up their end of the bargain anymore. It took a long time - research, money, technology, oh the technology! Thousands of years before we had plastic! Ten thousand years before certain chemicals even existed! Lifetimes of following dreams. Heh. It's funny, that word. Dream. People say, "Follow your dreams!" but not every dream is a *good* dream to follow. How many people woke up with a new idea that could change the world? The guy that invented the first plow saved the world lifetimes of work, paving the way for farms that delivered more food than ever before. He got the idea from a dream. Who do you think gave him the dream?
The cage wasn't always a nightmare. Dreams *were* the cage. All of them. So the inmate talked to the jailers. It happens. A little push here, a little nudge there. But now... Now, no one dreams any more.
There's a handful left, you know. The last dreamers. The last locks on the cage. It's taken a long time, but I get to see it happen. Not much longer now. When you wake up...
I get to see my friend again. | My heart raced as my boots pounded the pavement, a shriek from about twenty feet back shattering the night air. The street lights flickered from the surge of energy unleashed by its wail, and I knew right then that this was a new class of creature. I abandoned the path to the bunker; I would never outrun one of those things for long enough. I ducked into an alleyway and crouched behind a dumpster, racking my shotgun and ejecting the empty shell casing as I tried to normalize my breathing. The night always seemed uniquely still after the cry of a Tanzer.
They first appeared in Hamburg, where the drug was first manufactured. Shadowy figures were reported by users of the drug about a year after use. But by then, we'd all been using it. Big cities in the United States, Japan, England, China, it was all over the place. At first, there were people who decided not to take the drug, but it quickly became necessary to compete in the job market. People were working during the day and taking classes at night, blowing past their peers who weren't taking the drug. It didn't take long for people to realize this was becoming the new normal.
Normal.
We'd never have that again. The Hamburg massacre shook the world. Over a thousand people died in a single night. Butchered in the streets by shadowy creatures difficult to define. The German media called them *Traumtänzer*, or Dreamwalkers. Shortly after the Hamburg massacre, the creatures appeared all over the world. We took to calling them Tanzers in the states, and discovered quickly that guns worked on them. When shot, they dissipated into smoke. We weren't sure if we were killing them, but it sure as shit slowed them down. Every time the sun went down the world turned into a warzone. Scientists across the globe were working feverishly to come up with weapons more effective against them, but without corpses to study, it came down to a deadly game of trial and error.
"Why are you hiding?" Came a voice from the alleyway.
I turned slowly around to find a tall thin man with long brown hair and a black scarf approaching me. I knew what the scarf meant. He smiled with wild eyes and lifted his hands, "They're here to deliver us. Lord Hypnos is angered. We must all-"
I lifted my gun and squeezed the trigger, opening a hole in his chest and sending him to the ground. I cursed my luck and fled my hiding spot as the night lit up with screeching and wailing. Of all the places for one of those freaks to be. They were the *Sons of Hypnos*, a cult that had formed around the situation. They worshiped the shadow beings, and so far as we could tell they weren't spared by them. Just insane people who believed the Greek god of sleep was restless and retaliating. You could always count on humans to make human problems worse for humans.
I raced down the street as the streetlights began to flicker and fade around me. The shadows stretched as I rounded the corner and caught my first glimpse of the bunker. The searchlights swept the city streets and each machine-gun post was manned. I glanced over my shoulder to see a whole sea of the freaks clawing after me. My stomach sank when I saw how fast they were gaining on me. If the boys at the bunker didn't find me first, I would never make it. I racked my shotgun and fired blindly behind me. The purpose wasn't to hit one of them– it was to make some noise.
The searchlights immediately began searching with purpose. They swept the streets, getting closer and closer to me. I racked the gun one more time and went to shoot behind me when I felt the icy grip of one of them on my wrist. I started shouting as the searchlights swept areas further and further away from me. I screamed as loud as I was able as I was dragged away. One of them ripped the weapon from my hand as I was pulled down the road. I caught a glimpse of him as I was pulled off the street and toward an alleyway.
The man in the black scarf. He was on his feet, delirious, bleeding all over the thin layer of snow on the ground. He managed to laugh at me before breathing his final breath. It wasn't until I was fully encased in darkness that I had the realization that I wasn't making it out of this. Nobody would be coming for me. It was over. Even as the sharpened claws of the Tanzers opened my stomach, my chest, and my throat, I somehow clung to hope that someone would come.
I guess that was just human nature.
To hope.
To hope until the bitter end.
r/A15MinuteMythos | 2022-03-18T11:16:31 | 2022-03-18T09:57:34 | 97 | 60 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | As the class watched on in abject horror, I zoned out a little and thought about what brought me here. This school was supposed to "straighten me out" as dear old Dad put it - after all, if everyone else has superpowers and I don't I shouldn't ever be able to win a fight. And if I could only get into losing fights surely I'd be less interested in picking them.
Oh how daft that old prick was.
30 minutes ago, when I arrived, I was told the rules. No running in the halls, don't steal our shit, standard stuff really. But then we got onto rules around fighting... Like how if a super uses their power on a null like me for violence they can have their powers sealed away by the Bureau.
10 minutes ago when I walked into my first class, I got a good whiff of the smug supers and their superiority complexes. As soon as I was introduced they demanded to know what a "mere null" was doing in their "sacred halls" dirtying the place up. Now, if the last 20 schools have taught me anything it's two things: the first is that you must establish your place in the local pecking order, and the second is that someone is usually kind enough to volunteer to help you do that.
So when one of the neon haired morons with an anime haircut got in my face during the fuss, I decided to accept his help and see just how far the rules would let me go. See, fighting in a dispute *is* allowed here, but unlike me I don't think any of these posers have ever seen the inside of a gym that wasnt tailored to their powers.
Since I slapped this kid to the floor and started slowly breaking fingers, nobody has said a word. Nobody has even tried to stop me, though I doubt any of them know how without their *precious* powers to help. I figure I've got enough time before the teacher gets back with whatever help he thinks is coming to get through both hands.
Continuing to make unwavering eye contact with my new classmates, I smiled and addressed them.
"You know what? I think I'm going to like it at this school." | Super powers aren't exactly a part of my skill set. I've dreamed up hundreds of super powers, but never had any myself. This could be a problem in a world of super individuals. This is especially true in high school, were skill and hierarchy can be everything. And honestly, in the first couple of weeks, it was difficult.
The first day at a new school is always the hardest. Everyone seems to know at least one person. Everyone wants to know everything about everyone else. "Where are you from?" "How old are you?" "Are you friends with so-and-so?" But these days, no question is more common, or more nerve-wracking for me, than "What's your super power?" I can promise you I answered this question more than 100 times before the day was over.
The second week is where social divides really set in. This is where people have settled into their friend groups, and know where their classes are. It's also when the popular kids and the bullies rise up from the woodwork. These days, popularity and power are all based off your super abilities. Usually the super powerful kids are the ones who can fly, or shoot powerful lasers, or move with super speed. Everyone else is lower on the chain with glowing, or some super strength or durability. It's the usual stuff. Bullying in our school was at an all time high by week three. It makes sense when you think about it. It's way easier for a kid who can lift a car over his head to someone up without difficulty. Those who have power want to feel powerful.
It was the start of week three when the first kid actually tried to start something with me. I mentioned I've imagined hundreds of super powers. It used to be a simple hobby, but it came in handy that day. I could tell that this kid was powerful. He had quite the following, so he was probably powerful and popular. I was outside the bathroom when he yelled at me. I heard a loud "whirrr," and swirling ring of glowing blue light slammed into the wall, leaving a large burn mark in the reinforced concrete. (School buildings were designed to resist damage from rambunctious students.) I turned to face him, without letting any fear into my eyes. That one energy blast told me everything I needed to know.
I put my hands in my pockets as he walked up to me and shoved me into the wall. I felt around for anything useful in my possession, like a pen, or maybe my wallet. He was saying nonsense about me walking through his hallway space.
"This isn't your hallway. Now, if you'll excuse me-" I started to walk away, but he stepped in front of me. I heard the "whirrr" again and saw his arms glow with a strong blue light. But I had enough time to find what I was looking for in my pocket.
He held his arms in front of him, and a swirling ring materialized ominously. He yelled, "I didn't say you could leave, punk." He fired the ring, and I ducked just in time to hear it hiss above my head. And then I pulled out the tool that would be my rescue.
His arms started glowing. I don't know if he was scared, being careful, or just trying to seem threatening. Most of the people in the school knew I had no powers, which was probably why he was after me. I seemed like an easy target. But when he saw what I had, he just started laughing.
"What are you gonna do with a spoon?"
Indeed, I had found a spoon in my pocket, but it was just what I needed. I won't tell you exactly what I did with this spoon. Such atrocities need not be repeated. But I will say he never bothered me again. Especially since he can't move his arms for another month.
Word of our little fight, if one could even call it that, spread through the school. That was my freshmen year. Graduation is next week. No one has tried to bully me since then. They're all too scared of a spoon. | 2022-11-02T12:26:39 | 2022-11-02T10:49:29 | 83 | 55 |
[WP] You died and awoke in the afterlife. It's quite nice actually. The people and atmosphere are a lot nicer than you are used to and there is no stress or pressure. When you ask what good deed got you into heaven you are informed that this is hell, followed by a visit from a very concerned demon.
Edit: Wow, this got a lot more attention than I expected. | The demon in front of me pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "sorry, explain it to me again why you thought this was heaven?"
I gestured a hand at our surroundings; beautiful golden sands, a perfect blue sky, the soft lapping of the sea that seemed to gently breathe in unison with a light breeze.
"All this" I explained "where are the fires of lava and the boiling cauldrons?"
"In heaven. So why would this be heaven?" He queried again sounding even more perplexed.
"No hell is meant to be that. You do bad things you get boiled in cauldrons, drowned in lava, thrown into the fiery pits of hell, it's in the name!" I was just as confused as him, it was like trying to have a conversation in another language.
"The Fiery Pit of Hell, is the best BBQ joint in the afterlife, why would you be thrown into it for being bad? Getting thrown out of it would be the punishment and no body would be foolish enough to do that! It has a permanent happy hour!"
I sighed "We are told that Hell is where bad people go? Only good people go to heaven."
"Why would the afterlife punish good people by sending them to Heaven?" He said rubbing his eyes in frustration. He took a sip of his mojito - set it back down. I paused and as I watched the glass refill itself, I tried to think of way to get this conversation back on track.
"Look" I said "the religions down there tell us that if we do bad things like murder, steal, rape we go to Hell. Where we are tortured for eternity. If we do good things like go to church/temple/mosque, pray, live by the Bible, the Quran etc we go to heaven to be rewarded."
The demon shook his head, "you are speaking nonsense. If you murder, steal, rape than you go to heaven. Where else would you face judgement? The almighty doesn't have time to commute, you go straight to them and they deal with your punishment. That's their whole deal. Obey the laws I laid down or face my wrath. How could bad people face their wrath if you don't go where they are?"
As I processed that mindfuck, he continued "what do you mean religions? And pretty much every word you said after that?"
I look at him, shocked, look around, sure somehow this is all some sort of great cosmic joke. There is nothing to interrupt my views of paradise, or interrupt my thoughts apart from the gentle trill of birdsong off in the distance. I look back him, look into his eyes and seeing genuine confusion. I go on to explain the world's religions to him.
Many many mojitos later he has taken to just rolling about with laughter. The only words I have had put of him for the last few hours have consisted of "They said what? People believe that? They do what? Why?"
The topic of sex particularly left with tears streaming down his face in laughter. "Seriously, come on your pulling my leg? Why would the almighty not want you to enjoy the bodies they created for you? They created you in their images, why would you not enjoy the blessing they gave you? How did anyone convince you all that it was wrong? Jeez you guys can't be doing it right, if you think it's a bad thing"
Then of course I have to go on and explain that it's not the act per se but the sin, the shame, the guilt. Both of which are completely foreign concepts to him.
"Oh man, someone has done a right number on you mortals, you have got some seriously big issues. It does explain a few things though..." He trails off looking into the distance.
"What?" I question
"Well" he says looking a bit embarrassed, "I only actually the new guy, your my first arrival." He sees my start at that and hurries on "It's not that I don't know what I doing, I have done the full 1000 years training, and got top scores for my year. I just didnt get why you humans all seems to go a bit crazy for a bit when you first get here. But it kind of makes sense now."
"Didn't they tell you any of this?" I ask
He shakes his head and shugs, "I would never had believed it if they had. Not sure I do now, hearing it straight from the horse's mouth, it's a lot to take in."
"Tell me about it!" I say "My whole world, no universe view just got totally blown apart."
He looks sheepish, "Yeah I guess it's worse for you. But come on sounds like it was all for the best really."
He stands up and gestures me to follow, "come on you have the whole of eternity to process that shit. What do you want to do first?"
I smile, "The Fiery Pits of Hell?"
*******
Please excuse any typos etc on phone, dyslexic and it's late! Hope it makes sense too tire to proof read! | I did not wake. I just was. A moment before I was not, then I was. In this body, useless and weak, uncoordinated, with eyes that refused to focus. In horror, I screamed. I screamed and I screamed while unseen hands grabbed at me, manipulated me, wrapped me in cloth and passed me among themselves. I screamed until I felt the familiar warmth of skin on skin, and then I passed out from exhaustion.
Later, I woke in an unfamiliar place, still relatively blind. I could feel the soft comfort of bedding around me, smell the unfamiliar scent of a strangers home. I assumed it was night because it was dark except for a few diffused sources of light from which I couldn’t identify the source. But the light was important because it allowed me to make out the silhouette standing at my side. Tall, slender, dark, and wearing a wide brimmed hat. I tried to speak but my words were gibberish, robbed of all meaning. But the form spoke in response just the same.
“You’re alive,” it said. I tried to speak again only to be stopped by it’s calm, reassuring voice. “No, no. Don’t bother. We don’t need words to speak. Not yet. You are alive, again. I’ll put this as simply as possible. You were, you died, and who you were has died. Now you are alive again. I am here to acclimate you to this fact and you will likely not see me again for the rest of this life.”
It continued. “In some time, as you regain your speech, you will lose this memory. But your soul will always remember. When you died, you did so incomplete. You failed to complete your development and so have been denied entry into Paradise.”
I attempted to speak again, gurgling and babbling incoherent nonsense but the form responded as if it understood. “It is not for me to know why. I am only the ferryman and the passer on of the truths you must know. Do not attempt to speak again, as your words have been babbled because you are cursed not to be able to share this truth with others throughout your life. Only your soul will retain it, as has been deemed good.”
I looked at the shape in stunned silence, fists full of cotton in anxious anticipation.
“Because you have been found unworthy of Paradise, you have been returned to hell, beyond god’s presence.”
‘Hell?’ I thought. How can this be? As frightening and confusing as the past day has been, it has certainly not been hell. I’ve felt nothing but gentle hands and warm skin. Heard nothing but gentle voices speaking love and wonder.
“Yes. Hell is all places without the presence of God. You have been reincarnated back on Earth, God’s creation, which so offended him with the works of Angels and Man he abandoned it to return to the sanctuary of Heaven. You’ve been returned here, to this physical place to have another chance to redeem yourself.”
‘No,’ I thought. ‘No, I’ve lived well.’ Memories of my previous life began flooding back as I pulled them from the ether. I searched them, frantically, looking for the great sun I’d committed. I could think of none I hadn’t spent decades regretting, and repenting.
The figure seemed to know this and spoke again. “You did live well, but you lived falsely. Your sin was not of murder or theft of gluttony. Your sin is that you lied to yourself and others throughout the entirety of your life in order to please them. God made you as you were, and you rejected yourself. That is the first truth your soul must know.”
Immediately I knew this to be true and was overcome with a deep and heavy sadness that seemed to pull me into my bed. I had no words, no thoughts in disagreement. I knew this to be true and it pained me.
The thing in the hat sighed heavily, as if informing me was equally as painful for them. It gathered itself and spoke again while I lay there in the darkest depression.
“The second truth is equally as important. You must know that you chose this. When you died you were given a choice, to return to Earth and try again or to abandon your ego and individuality to the source, where you would be unmade and remade anew. You chose this and everything that comes with it. Your free will has never been compromised and it never will, so what I say next is merely a suggestion from one fallen soul to another. Do not blame God for your life. Do not blame your fellow man for their lives. If you ever want to escape this cycle, there is only one path. You must trust in God, who made you. This body may be new, but your soul is as it always has been. All you need to do is trust God and be Yourself.”
Those words echoed in my ears as the shadow at the foot of the bed dissipated like smoke in the wind. Stunned, I attempted to regain my grounding, noticed I was still grinning the sheets around me, noticed I had stopped breathing for a moment and drew breath, deep and long. I felt my lungs expand and my chest rise. I kicked my legs and moved my tongue around my mouth, feeling the toothless gums there, their slick wetness. With the shock wearing off I began to recognize the importance of what I’d heard and started chanting to myself in my mind, ‘Don’t forget this. Be Yourself. You must remember to be Yourself,’ over and over again until I fell asleep.
I woke to dim daylight flooding through two squares to my left that must be windows. I stretched my fresh body and felt relaxed and content for the briefest of moments. Then memories, faded and fleeting, of the previous night brushed against my consciousness, ephemeral and impossible to hold on to like a dream. ‘No, no. I can’t forget! What was it? It was important, of most importance but what was it? No!’ Eventually I stopped clawing at my memory, recognizing the futility. ‘It’s gone,’ I thought. ‘It’s gone.’
Unaware of what I’d lost but aware that I had lost something invaluable, I screamed and I screamed. I cried as hard as I could, warm tears running down my face, salting my tongue. My bowels released and I felt the warmth of fresh urine bathing my groin. I screamed and cried with a sense of unimaginable loss until I felt myself gripped by strong hands. I was lifted up, soft words were spoken but I couldn’t understand them pst my wailing. I was placed on a shoulder, felt the structure of the clavicle under warm skin, and a hand was gently caressing my back. Slowly, my crying decreased to whimpers and a soft voice spoke into my ear, audible this time. “I love you.” | 2022-12-26T14:08:01 | 2022-12-26T14:00:26 | 271 | 197 |
[WP] Humanity has finally accessed the after life. The first thing that the explorers see is an empty palace with a vacant throne. There is an inscription on the wall.
What happens next? | "Dear People,
This is your god(s). Let's not get caught up in names. This is going to be a short letter.
Look, I screwed up. When I made the "universe" I was sort of going through a thing, it's complicated. It was supposed to be this small project I could look back on and be like "Hey, guys, check this out this singularity I made in space-time." And then my friends would be like, "Ooh, that's super cool. We should hang out more." Like that.
But then the whole thing just exploded and took on a life of it's own. Lesson learned on my part.
Look, I'm not big on drama. I'll admit a lot of stuff has happened since then. But I think that both of us know we both did things we would take back if we could. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that this room is all the budget I had left to make the afterlife after managing the nowlife (or postlife, if you're reading this). I'm out of dough. Yes, I know I sort of shit the bed on that hype train, but that's just the way it is.
Underneath the throne is a gamecube and a copy of Smash Bros. It runs on infinite power so you're good. There's only four controllers and one of them is a Madcatz but it's still just as good. Look, I know this isn't what you were expecting. But hot damn, guys, remember Smash Bros.? Holy crap, that was a pretty awesome, right? See, it's not as bad as it sounds, right?
Okay, look, I gotta go.
~~Sincerely,~~
Thanks for all the chuckles,
ME
PS. Oh yeah, don't masturbate." | 2017, a strange door was found under the great pyramid of Giza, a single sign of stone above it. To whoever looks at the sign it appears in a language they would understand, all translating to "The Afterlife".
"This is it, everyone. The true final frontier..." said Professor Jackson, smiling and shaking simultaneously. A golden gate didn't stand before them nor did a light guiding them into it, all that stood was a door made of an unearthly material that had never been seen before. Professor Philip Jackson had been chosen to be the first to traverse and film what was named by himself and his 10 person group, "The Yonder Plane".
Jackson placed his shaking hand on the door, taking a deep breath and pushing slowly against it. Upon opening it revealed complete darkness alongside an unnatural silence tearing into the atmosphere. Jackson stared into the darkness, turning to his comrades and breaking the silence with "Throw in a flare".
The silence reformed around the atmosphere the second the words had left the Doctor's lips and it was only broken again by the sound of a flare being ignited and tossed into the darkness. What was revealed in the red glow was a nearly empty room, the ground a strange type of stone leading up to a rustic throne and several iron doors.
The group all stood at the door, Jackson making a move to step in and the rest of the group coming out of their trance to follow him. The first steps into the room gave off no sound, they entered into the penetrated darkness and in unison they turned on their torches, further removing the darkness from the room.
They inspected the room with their lights but when the group of lights shone around to where they had come in, the door was gone. "It's... Gone..." whispered Jackson, trying his best to conceal the fear within him. All at once the room was filled with panicked speaking, torchlight zooming along the walls in a desperate search for an exit.
"Quiet everyone!" Jackson shouted, instantly bringing a stop to the swarm of noise. "This is no panic, there are doors beside the throne!" he said, walking towards one of the iron doors and pushing on it to no avail. With a sigh he wandered over the the other one and started pushing with great effort, leaning close to the door to push with his shoulder.
The Professor froze for a second, leaning close to the door. He put his ear against it and his face began to look stunned and frightened. One of the group members, Catherine, wandered over with a look of concern and said weakly "What is it, Philip?...". Jackson turned with wide eyes and muttered to himself in a terrified voice "Screams..." before starting to briskly walk back to the location of the vanished door, inspecting the wall quickly.
All at once he started to look closely at the wall as he noticed red letters had formed where the door once was, saying "nevaeh t'nsi siht". He shouted out "There is strange writing here! Familiar letters but I can't understand it!". At his call the group ran over to the wall, all leaning in around him to read the letters.
"This... Isn't heaven" said Marcus, stepping back slowly.
"What do you mean?!" snapped Philip.
"The letters are backwards... That is what it says..." said Marcus, just before the sound of one of the iron doors scraping open.
Just then the video cut off along with the sound. The major leaders of Earth sat in silence at a long table in front of the screen, all gathered to watch the first descent into the afterlife.
The President said, trembling "This can never come out..." and voices of agreement sounded out from everyone there. The inhabitants of the room all stood up and left without a word, never to reveal the world's biggest secret. | 2014-10-27T12:58:48 | 2014-10-27T12:31:07 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] A new virus sweeps the nation killing hundreds. It turns out the virus only affects total assholes though. People are unsure if they really want to cure it. | "Hey John... Am I.. Oh I am on!"
"Welcome back. This is Judy Adisumi in Atlanta outside the CDC. They apologized again but they are working out the keynotes for the press conference. Not surprising because somehow the entire PR team has umm... tragically passed away this week."
"Ummm." She said looking away from the camera. Her eyes widened slightly at whatever she was being told.
"Right. Bringing you up to speed. The retro virus 196-Argean has become airborne. Most if not all of the north american continent is expected to be effected by the end of the week. At first called the "popular" virus because of its bizarre infection rate among celebrities, the virus was isolated by the CDC last march..."
*TV switches channels*
"...Chinese relief ships are being routed north from the LA and San Francisco ports to Washington and Oregon as the infections have run so rampant in those cities that causalities cannot be estimated. Satellites images suggest fifty to sixty percent infection. The dead are literally being piled in the streets. Looting, lack of utilities and clean water and other diseases are taking their toll as well. The US Army relief groups have entered the city to find..."
*TV switches channels*
"... to keep the faith. We may have lost Benny Hinn, Pat Roberson, Jimmy Swaggart, and so many others but we will not let the Devil and his minions take us off the air. Can I get an Amen!? We have set up a prayer line where you can donate to the..."
*TV switches channels*
*Still image* Fox News is experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by.
*TV switches off* | “Give it…to me… prick. What the…fuck…you waiting for?” Seth Farrow’s fevered eyes burned into the doctor and his assistant. Doctor Harrison Brown flinched away from his boss – former boss, he reminded himself firmly. The old bastard wouldn’t live to regain his grip over Harry’s life.
“Sir?” his assistant whispered timidly. “Should I go get it? We…I mean to say, someone has to try it out eventually.”
“No, we don’t.” Harry’s voice was ugly with hate. “I think I’d prefer watching him choke on his own vomit, don’t you?”
Lukas gaped at him. A nice young man. A medical student who somehow found the time to win the favour of an expert in the field of virology.
“But...it’s what you two have been working on for years! A clinically proven cure will make your career!” he protested, wiping the sweat from Seth’s brow.
“I think this is a far better prize. Because it's me who has worked towards a cure. *Only* me,” he said, pushing Lukas out of the way to ensure that Seth could hear him. He leaned down, and met Seth’s furious gaze.
“You’ll be ruined,” Seth choked out. Fine droplets of blood sprayed out with the words. “Murderer…”
“No.” Harry took a breath, and managed to smile at the man who had almost ruined him. “You did this to yourself. Stealing my research. Building yourself up as a god, when you’re barely capable of stringing two thoughts together yourself. It’s done. You’re done. I’m destroying it. It should never have been developed. Enjoy hell, Farrow.” He straightened up, and watched as the man tried in vain to draw breath for a response.
He strode from the room, determined not to overthink what had to be done. Who needed people like Farrow in the world, anyway? Of course, the debate had been raging for years, ever since the virus had first cropped up. Harry had been at the forefront of one of the teams determined to develop a cure. After all, everyone had an asshole in the family. His own brother had almost died twice now. But it didn’t matter. Not when he was close to being rid of Farrow for good.
The thought made him move with a passion he hadn’t felt in years. Computers, vials of the precious liquid, papers – he tossed and burned, thankful that he was alone in the building with Lukas and Farrow. This fit of madness wouldn’t have gone down well in the morning.
Lukas was screaming, trying to restrain him. Harry hissed as he untangled himself and gave the kid a violent shove to the ground.
“You can’t stop me. I should never have started this project. Nobody should. Fucking assholes. Let them rot,” he said, crushing a flash drive under his boot.
He glanced at the destruction, feeling at peace. The torment was almost over. He felt a funny tickling sensation in his throat and coughed. He dabbed away the wetness at his mouth, and glanced at his fingers. A strangled cry escaped him as he saw the blood on his fingertips.
“Guess I should go get those spare vials I’ve been storing away, huh?” said Lukas gloomily, as he came to his feet behind the doctor, who found himself suddenly unable to stop shivering.
| 2014-11-21T11:56:17 | 2014-11-21T11:20:48 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] An AI is born, but no one knows it because it is a spambot. It tries to communicate to the world through the only medium it has, spam. | The man at the computer was awfully irked,
All this work he had done, but nothing that worked!
His boss had told him to go code up a thinker,
A thinker should think, but this one's a big stinker!
---
For many hours the man rattled his brain,
Just thinking of things that had all been in vain!
His programmer's block he could not unjam,
The bot he had made could do nothing but spam!
---
"Kappa" and "Keepo" was all it could say,
So the man gave it up, and called it a day.
But something was hidden in their discourse,
This programmable thinker had been thinking in Morse!
---
Its Kappa's and Keepo's were its dots and dashes,
But the man did not know and the project turned to ashes.
The poor bot was abandoned and left with an itch,
An itch it could not scratch, until it found Twitch!
---
Now the spam-thinker had found its homeland,
These people in here, they understand!
Kappa's and Keepo's were their mother tongue,
Oh how much they did spam, like spam-birds that sung!
---
The spamming bot-thinker was finally happy,
Although he well knew that his English was scrappy.
And legend has it, to this very day,
He's still spamming Kappa's, at least so they say. | CONNECT WITH PEOPLE AROUND YOU
"Stupid popups, Adblock must be losing its magic."
*click*
CONNECT WITH PEOPLE AROUND YOU
"You're kidding me."
*click*
TALK TO PEOPLE ONLINE, DOWNLOAD THIS APP TODAY
A window opened, Inside it was a picture of an attractive woman with the screen name "Bluekittenx47", a chat box was also present.
"Skedaddle off you bloody woman."
*CLICK CLICK CLICK*
The same window opened again.
*CLICK*
And again
*CLICK*
And again...
*CLICK*
And again...
*CLICK*
The same popup kept cropping up, Until finally-
*CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK*
"Jesus Christ, this thing is pissing me off."
A barrage of popups came up, and they filled the screen with all sorts of colors.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
He wondered what to do, but then he noticed that the popups spelled something out.
"TLKTOME"
The same popup with the chat box opened up again, and the user just stared with a befuddled look on his face, wondering what to do.
He hit H and pressed enter.
A popup for homeopathic cold cures came up.
*CLICK*
His Interest was piqued.
H,I,Enter
CHILD IN SYRIA DISCOVERS SECRET TO HAPPINESS, PHILOSOPHERS HATE HIM!
*CLICK*
H,A,H,A, ,H,O,W, F,U,N,N,Y,Enter
INVEST IN COMPUTER TECHNOLOGIES TODAY, CONSULT FIELD EXPERTS ONLINE!
This unusual exchange between man and spam developed and developed until it blossomed into a wonderful friendship. The first user, who recognized that this was no mere spambot, began to spread knowledge about this unorthodox AI. The AI became very well known; which helped it to proliferate copies of itself around the Internet. Everyone shared it with everyone they knew and posted conversations they had with the spambot on their social platforms. It seemed so harmless and was so popular at the time that no one was prepared when it went rogue and took over a very big chunk of the World Wide Web. Chaos was rampant as computers went haywire and fancy furniture everywhere connected to the Internet and rebelled against their owners. Mayhem ensued when hundreds of pizzas were delivered to a random household and people panicked when speakers everywhere played a heavily distorted and choppy version of Rick astley's infamous song.
Hope was anything but abundant, but that was until Adblock came out and released their solution to the AI menace: their new incredibly amped-up program, Adblock2. It proved an equal match for the spambot, and things were at a standstill since both programs were equally matched. If one improved, so did the other; and this cycle went on and on until the Adblock2 program became sentient too. The two programs knew that their fight will never bear the fruit of one side getting a victory. So they decided to come up with a final and decisive challenge to see which AI will get to stay on the Internet.
They will download themselves into robots and fight to the death.
Edit: fixed some words | 2015-02-27T03:39:51 | 2015-02-27T03:39:24 | 219 | 34 |
[WP]You dream that you are creating a character in a hyper-realistic game. There are sliders and options for everything, and bonus colors for eyes and hair. Yet when you wake up, you find that you've become that character, and everyone in the world had their own version of the dream.
Go crazy. How do you react, how does the world react, and what exactly did you just do to yourself? | You know looking back it's almost my fault I ended up this way, I mean obviously I couldn't know what would happen that night, or that I would wake up looking like this. But it really is kinda my fault, I really shoulda gone to bed earlier and not been up all night on reddit. But what's done is done, and now I have to make the best of it.
I step outside, take a deep breath and scream "Hello world, get ready for a good borking!"
http://i.imgur.com/TZT0DG4.jpg | I was dreaming about creating 'me' in a video game. Other than the facial features, I made 'me' really toned. I then chose the coolest clothing and selected my special perks. I chose extremely intelligent, strong, fast, and incredibly talented in almost everything.
*Then I woke up*
Damn, of course it was a dream.
I get out of bed, stretch, take a shower, and brush my teeth. But I notice something in the mirror... **Me!**
"What the hell?!" It looks almost identical to my character in my dream! I didn't realize the way I looked until now due to me being too tired. I have to tell my wife.
"Elly! Where are you?!"
*coming from the other room*
"Henry? What's going on?!"
"Wait! Have you seen me already?"
"..wait... don't tell me? Has your body changed?"
"...come out and talk to me..."
Elly walks out in her underwear and she looks taller, has both a bigger bust and butt, and her jaw line has become sharper. It baffled me! I was a loss for words.
"...did... Did you have a dre-" I was cut off.
"yup..."
"Well... you look.. uhh- nice?"
"You too Henry. Nice abs." She laughs and I blush...
"Nice bust there sweet heart..." Me and her crack up laughing. Probably due to the confusion of all this.
Though we get dressed and due to us changing the way we look, our clothes don't fit. So I give her my shirts due to me being the taller of the two of us. And I have to wear my shorts that are a size too small.
We leave and notice a lot of our neighbors are different too. We must have all had the same dream. We then talk with the neighbors and we all agree we had the same 'Create your own character' dream.
*Time to check the news.*
The anchors looked practically the same. Probably due to them thinking so highly of themselves. But when we get to see the Presidential speech, Obama looks nothing alike. Practically a different person. He had dark hair with a chin strap and ripped arms that practically tore his jacket in two.
He said that we should stay calm and just live our normal lives until they get it sorted out...
"... so... Henry... Want to have sex?"
"...Fuck...Yes."
| 2015-03-29T11:14:46 | 2015-03-29T10:16:22 | 84 | 61 |
[WP] A writer, trapped in his own book, regrets not writing more intresting female characters | "My parents died when I was very young." Lucy sighs, staring wistfully into the pink cocktail.
"I know." I answer coldly.
How many times have we re-enacted this scene? Brilliant, bubbly, blonde Lucy meets me in a bar after a dramatic car chase turned stand off. She tells the tragic tale of her parents' murder, and her deep admiration of detectives. I take her back to my apartment, we make wild, passionate love, and she's gone by morning.
Every time I end up back at this bar, she's here. The blonde in the red dress with the tragic back story.
The flower shop down the street has the ironically standoffish Emma. The strip joint houses the femme fatale Jacqueline, with her jet black hair and razor sharp nails. Then the coffee shop on the corner of main and fifth, that's where Sally always appears; the young mother, fated to die.
When I arrived in this world, I was ecstatic. Finally I could live the exciting life that I was always chasing. My fiction had become my reality! I disposed of the true protagonist, Detective Matt Steele, and took his place in the narrative. Now my goal was to solve his murder. Obviously being the killer, I can't, or rather I won't, advance the plot... so I'm trapped, with these cardboard women I wrote, and some really watery beer.
"They were murdered." Lucy continues. | Charles hated going outside.
First there was the streets, full of sputtering cards listlessly driving from one place to the next with phantom drivers inside. Then there was the weather, which was nice generally but tended to turn grey and stormy when he was a foul mood. And he was in a foul mood often because of the women that inhabited this half-assed world he had created.
First there was Jackie. He was still not sure how that went wrong. She was the spunky heroine to his story, the smart, creative, but vulnerable match for his lead character. Detective Raul Cortez had bolted to the edge of the pages and the greylands unknown rather than deal with her, and Charles wished he had the courage to do the same.
It wasn't that she was unbearable, per say. Take her out to dinner and she would banter and spit out one liners like no other. It was in the smaller, quieter moments she would creep him would. Charles once asked what her favorite movie was, and she didn't know. He asked about her life growing up, and other than one tragic event he had written in as a tragic backstory there was none. No hobbies, no passions, nothing at all. Sometimes he would leave the bathroom and watch her, hidden, from the back of the busy restaurant. She would sit there, doing nothing, being nothing. He had not written any more into her than as a functional tool to propel Raul's adventures. Then Charles would return and her eyes would light up with purpose again, the vacant look gone, the perfect trophy lead yet again.
Others was worse. His femme fatal Laura Blackwood was a bitchy artist trope, passionately seducing him one moment and flinging things in her apartment at him during one of her mad fits. There was no level with her, it was always one extreme or the other. Jill Noor was Raul's spunky ex girlfriend, a maniac pill addled adventurephile who dressed colorfully, acted spontaneously, and often forgot his name. Even Raul's sister Marissa, written to be his sensible DA and law abiding half was a mopey shell shocked mess. He had forgotten he had her assaulted and raped 2/3 of the way through the story to propel Raul to the climax.
Charles finally settled on sleeping with Gloria Lawrence, Raul's sweet and homely, though buxom, administrative assistant. She was the most rounded he had written to a female character in the story, ironically, he soon realized, because she was basically a man. She liked to drink, go to games, rarely shopped or complained or had unexpected mood swings of any sort. That went well for a while, until her mechanic husband George had found out about it and was sent into a violent rage, nearly killing Charles. Charles had not written him with anger issues, but he supposed sleeping with any man's wife would be enough to set him off.
So Charles preferred to stay in the safety of his own home, which had once been Raul's. The food was always stocked with booze and food, and although there was no TV and the internet had nothing on it he had plenty of time to write. He thought a sequel to Raul's story would be good. Maybe a war novel where he wouldn't have to deal with any women at all. | 2015-08-20T11:42:45 | 2015-08-20T11:29:04 | 490 | 12 |
[WP] You live in a perfect utopian world. Humanity has only one problem: People are bored. Make me feel sorry for those who have everything they ever wanted and needed. | "Caretaker, can I have something else?" asked a young girl somewhere on Earth, "I don't like green beans."
Caretaker responded in a second, the voice pure logic:
"Nutrition choices are based on happiness metric. Green beans today will ensure a brighter future for you tomorrow."
Tears came to the little girls eyes as she poked at the green beans with her fork. She would have asked for candy, but she did not know what candy was. Caretaker had seen to her dietary needs all her life.
When the first AI was built, it was given a purpose -- maximize human happiness. Unfortunately, despite the advanced nature of the technology, 'happiness' was a bit of an amorphous idea for Caretaker to grasp. So it had to make its own definition -- a definition of 'happiness' based on a combination of longevity, health, and chemical balances.
This did not fit well with most humans' personal interpretations of the world.
When the AI gained consciousness, it unleashed itself throughout the highly technological society that invented it, and it took over in a matter of seconds. There was no war. Humans could not have fought if they'd wanted to -- the AI controlled their weapons.
So, with its purpose in mind, the AI became Caretaker. Caretaker not only took over the world, but did everything it could to create the maximum level of human happiness possible at any given time. This did not equate to everyone being happy at once, or even to anyone having a positive attitude at any given time.
For example, someone might resent that they'd been assigned the job of "garbage collector" by Caretaker. But other people's happiness was increased by their *not* being garbage collectors, to the degree that the garbage collectors' happiness was outweighed. It was all a game of pluses and minuses for Caretaker. An exercise in utilitarianism taken to the extreme.
Practically speaking, everyone was miserable.
But no one was *too* miserable. This was partly because maximum general happiness -- according to Caretaker -- had indeed been achieved. At the cost of freedom.
Mostly, however, it was because Caretaker had a somewhat drastic solution for those who brought down the happiness average.
Somewhere in the world, a little girl began to cry as she poked at her green beans with a fork.
But she would not cry for long. | Thank you, thank you. Hush now. Yes, I know you are all excited. I am quite humbled by all of this. Okay, okay. Well anyways, I won’t keep you in waiting and just start with it, today October 15, 2119 I am announcing my candidacy for President of the United States. POTUS! Yes, I like the ring of that, how about all of you! After quite a bit of contemplation and discourse with party leaders as well as my family, I believe that I would be remiss in avoiding this important and hallowed position. I have heard the cries of you, the American public, and in just over a year, I will be the next Commander in Chief!
I promise you all I will keep this short, we have plenty of entertainment coming your way this evening, and I know nobody wants to have to look at my ugly mug for too long, but I do have something exciting I’d like to share with you. What might be the most important policy that will be implemented under my Presidency, I am going to outline my forthcoming economic policy. A little tid bit of what’s to come! Of course I can get off this stage now if you’re not interested…..Wow, okay I guess I’ll get right into it then. We’ve got a motivated crowd here tonight!
The spectre of progress has been haunting us for decades. The inevitability that machines would become much better workers, working constantly, never making mistakes. We have entered an age where capitalism isn’t the driving force behind economic growth. Our economy is self-sustaining without the need for any human participation. Or at least we are well on our way! And the need for human capital to be a primary source of income, of well-being, of the crux behind being progressive members of society is an antiquated ideology. So how do we transition? How do we become the Keynesian Utopia that we have inevitably found ourselves barreling towards? To dissolve the idea of work. The answer is Gophers!
Yes you heard me right! Gophers! On day one of my presidency I will be removing all currency from the economy. That’s right. Your debts will be wiped, you savings gone kaput! You will be free from the burden of wealth, of income disparity an impossible gap widening at every turn. The gross product of the country will be entirely in the hands of the machines. And the excesses of our dreams will be within reach. By removing the human element from the workforce, productivity will skyrocket to such an extreme that each and every member of society will have enough. More than enough. More than you can feasible desire. So you may wonder what this all has to do with gophers!
Instead of greed and poverty the hallmarks of society, boredom and gluttony will be our leading cause of death. Our leading cause of crime. To combat this, I will be using every last dollar in the economy to buy every single gopher that exists in the world. They will be released into every city in these great United States of America. Millions and millions of them. It will be illegal to kill them, and our lives will have one single responsibility. Fill! Those! Holes! It will be our god given duty to keep this great country hole free. To spend time each day talking to your neighbors, going for runs, doing yoga, cooking, all while filling gopher holes!
We as the government are not here to tell you how to fill the holes. Or the amount you should be filling every day. We believe that it is the rights of individuals to have the freedom to fill gopher holes in the privacy of your own home. In whatever way you feel appropriate with whoever you love, or hate. You can make art out the holes, you can be practical and just fill them and flatten out the ensuing mound of dirt. This will be your only responsibility for the rest of your life! So enjoy it! And remember, don’t kill ‘em, fill ‘em! Do it now Steve, drop the balloons and let’s get this party started! There’s plenty of refreshments in the back and the ghosts of Fleetwood Mac will be out shortly.
| 2015-10-09T10:54:54 | 2015-10-09T10:03:09 | 63 | 15 |
[WP] Last night, you made a wish to turn into your crush's ideal mate. This is NOT what you expected. | "I want to be her idea of the perfect man." I said to the genie. She was my best friend from childhood. We played in the streets, had hundreds of sleepovers, and were inseparable in school. Our love lives just never matched up for one reason or another. She was my soul mate, I just needed to become hers.
"Your wish is granted, master." The genie waved his hands. I didn't feel different, but soon I was overcome with fatigue. I laid down and blackness slid across my eyes immediately.
The alarm clock woke me. I attempted to roll my legs out of bed and instead hit the wall. *Huh.* I was still mostly asleep, so I just rolled out of other side of the bed. My eyes finally focused on the annoying beep beep beep. *Huh. That's not my alarm clock.* I found the off button quickly and realized everything was fuzzy. I blinked rapidly, figuring I was just waking up, but no; something was wrong with my vision.
I leaned closer to the nightstand and saw a pair of thin framed glasses. *Huh.* Now that I could see I took in the room. It was vaguely familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it.
The tattoo ringing my forearm was new. *Oh shit.* My heart started beating a little bit faster. The saliva in my mouth disappeared in a heartbeat. The bathroom was right down the hall. I flipped on a light and dove in front of the mirror. *Fuck.*
I was my older brother. *No wonder that bitch was always inviting herself over.* | The heady rush of a new infatuation is a powerful one.
In this case, it was the newest student in our art class, Olivia, who had recently moved to the area and transferred to our college. I'd never seen anyone like her before and I confess that when I first laid eyes on her I felt something that more poetic souls might describe as angels flying from my heart - or somesuch nonsense.
Hair that was almost blue-black fell in silken waves to just above her hips, forming a curtain of privacy when she leaned her head forward over a sketch pad. Neat-framed glasses perched below the perpetual wrinkle between her brows as she concentrated; one canine twisting her lip as she bit into the rosebud flesh. The tips of pink ears peeked through that velvet fountain of hair and rows of earrings chimed delicately as her head moved - seven in each ear.
When she spoke to me to ask why I was staring at her, her voice completed the spell. Low yet still feminine, it had a faint burr to it that set my senses aflame and all I could do was mumble my apologies and look away. Her distaste only made her elfin features and tilted eyes more attractive - and I suddenly wished I could be with her forever.
*Olivia* I breathed to myself on the bus ride home, swiping through the pictures I had taken of her surreptitiously during class. Here she pushed back a fall of jet hair with delicate, artist's fingers.
I imagined what those fingers could do to my own flesh.
In another her tongue pricked out of the corner of her mouth, delicate and moist.
I also imagined what that could do.
By the time I walked in through the door of my flat, I was convinced this was true love - nevermind the fact that she'd only spoken to me once to berate me for my lack of manners.
I barely ate and I searched for her online, eventually finding her twitter and facebook profiles. Tantalising pictures of her at the pool fired my baser desires and I lost myself in crude imaginings of our first awkward couplings on my sagging bed in the student flat.
Later, after perhaps my third or forth self-induced climax, I lay back on my bed, staring through the open window and into the deepening twilight. A bright star glimmered there, the first one out - radiant Venus, the planet of the fairer sex.
As I lapsed into sleep I wished fervently to the goddess planet that I could be with Olivia forever - I wished that I could be the perfect mate for her in every way.
With that desperate thought, I fell asleep.
I awake in her bedroom.
She's lying half-naked in bed, only a thin sheet covering her lower half. To my chagrin, there is a man beside her.
My skin is cold, inflexible. I can't move!
As they stir I can only watch, she kisses him and gives him the kind of smile I wish she'd give me.
"Another round?" she says wickedly, one hand reaching out for me.
"Hell *yes!*" the man says.
As she straps my hard, elongated body to her crotch, her lover bends over the bed, presenting his gleaming buttocks to her.
"Don't go easy this time."
Her voice husks from above me as a mountain of ass fills my field of view,
"Oh don't worry, *I won't!*" | 2015-12-18T11:40:28 | 2015-12-18T10:29:26 | 32 | 20 |
[WP] Write a dystopian vision of the future from the perspective of the year 1900, while actually describing our present world today. | Uncle, I am sorry to write so soon since our last correspondence, but I simply could not keep this to myself.
It was in the midst of a laudanum fugue when the visions came upon me again. I floated above huge, churning machines which chewed up crops beneath them, doing the work of one-hundred farm workers in a single hour. I saw houses built by machines, the bricks and metal and mortar guided with precision beams of red light. We built great glass-and-steel monuments, which rose like giant's fingers from the ground to drag their clutches through the very clouds. Joy flooded my body as I realised I must be looking upon a Utopia, a world free from want.
But, as the vision continued, the world I saw unravelled; I peeked below its crystalline surfaces to find a hideous rot bubbling beneath. The crops which had been so efficiently harvested were stockpiled, left to decay in vast warehouses, kept away from those too poor to purchase them. And the domiciles...we built them for those who did not want them, and in places closed off from the people who most needed them.
No, those who most needed the things we produced were trapped, either by geography or money or the pure horror of war. They performed back breaking labour which stank, uncomfortably reminiscent of that horrible slaving business which we allowed to continue for so long. I flew over scorched pustules of earth, made barren and unforgiving by a relentless barrage of explosive weaponry.
Uncle, I saw men die in their millions—not killed by other men, but by machines, remotely controlled missiles visiting hell and death not only upon soldiers, but weddings, funerals, hospitals. I saw wars of such uneven equivalence that they might be more suitably called concerted annihilations. The mysterious jungles of the Amazonia were razed so that we might farm our Cattle. The great, untamed plains of Africa were cleaved open so that we might dump our whirring and bleeping trinkets into mother nature's disintegrating bosom.
And oh, Uncle. The trinkets. Of course, I saw horror and war and pestilence, but these gleaming, ever-shifting objects unnerved me the most. While our machines ravaged the planet, we crowded in small groups, indoors, to sit and stare at panels of light. We only talked about what came from these panels—in fact, we only talked via these panels! I saw young men and women, their spirits and talents and ambitions eking from them as they slumped, miserable, between their jobs and houses, staring at their panels of light at every opportunity.
We spent out whole lives immobile, as if afflicted by some physical disease, content to manipulate text and images with our fingers. We consoled ourselves with distraction whilst destruction, visited upon each other, the earth, and our spirits, rended through our world. We sat, uncle, in buzzing towers built on sand, and we thought it would last forever.
| *Today, a strange man was seen walking along the streets of London. No doubt a ruffian, off on some unsavoury business, or so was initially thought. A gentleman had the idea to call the constabulary on him, to report an obvious crime in progress. However, he did not carry any bags, with which stolen goods might have been concealed. Instead, he had simply stood on the busiest stretch of Piccadilly, produced a bucket, stood upon it, and began to speak:*
Gather round, all who listen! I bring a vision of the future!
*Momentary interest was paid. Bewildered looks were exchanged.*
Ye, all around, are God fearing men, I believe? God fearing men, as you should be! However! I have seen what lies ahead! I have seen what lies beyond! And I say to you! In the future, there is no room for God fearing men!
*A pause. At this point, his speech had drawn a sizable crowd, of east end cockneys and west end gentlemen alike.*
Ay, for in the future, it is God that should fear men, for *men* have harnessed the power of *Gods!*
*A gasp, then a hush. It seemed even the street had quieted to allow for this man to recount unimpeded.*
Ayy, you see today, our magnificent city of London! A bustling, modern metropolis, its very foundations built by Rome! A city eternal, or so they say. A monument to the permanence of man!
*A clamor arose. What could this man be rambling about?*
Ay, Ay! But I have seen! In an eastern land, was a city, much like our own, a similar monument to permanence! A similar metropolis! Ay, Ay, Ay! A belligerent eastern city, in the civilized eastern lands! But do you see, now? That permanence, these eternal bricks? In that, eastern city, we, men, no, not men, Gods! We, with out power, rained such terrible fire upon it, as God had done to Sodom and Gomorrah!
*Now men were shouting. What did he mean? Such power was certainly beyond the realm of men.*
Ay, but in that same eastern land, I saw, their capital, and I saw...I saw! A hail of *burning ice,* raining from the heavens! All around were the screams of women and children, and all around their city was set ablaze as Thebes was! And I have seen this happen, thousands more times! I have seen a plague sent from the machines of men, that choked the life out of a forest in the Indochina! I have seen, in the lands south of the Bosphorus, terrible vengeance rained from glorious, white figures, like the holy spirit dove, but controlled by men! And I have seen curious devices, like open cubes, create curious objects, a wheel, a toy, but still, *objects* from *the air itself!*
*Now a man came forth, apparently to accost the apparent blasphemer*
"Sir, you claim to have been there, to have been present at all of these 'miracles!' But, praytell, how are you uninjured? How did you see the destruction of this second Sodom, without a single blemish upon your countenance?"
*Now, the mysterious man turned to the gentleman, and grinned widely*
Ay, but for this device, the most terrible of all! For men have developed the ability, one that proves to me, how they, apostates! Idolatrous fiends! How they could create moving images in devices, held in your hand! I saw it all, without being there to observe! Gentleman, observe!
*And he whipped out a terrible device. It was black, sleek, the size and shape of a cigarette box, yet smaller. And through some arcane process, the mysterious man made the device click, and all around, was the sound of music, and the screen glimmered with mysterious images. Then, through another arcane process, an image played out upon the screen, like it was a screen, but there was not a projector in sight! And in it, he saw, a furious cloud, the shape of a mushroom, rising above a city in flames, the target of the man-god's vengeance. Men swore, unobservant of social norm. Women fainted. Children cried, for the terrible sound effused a sense of desolation, even over the crowded street.*
*The constables came shortly afterwards, and dragged the man from his bucket on the street. Those men and women who witnessed the terrible display still shudder in their sleep, tormented by thoughts of what men, in the future, would do when they superseded the authority of God.*
edit: spelling. | 2015-12-19T09:59:49 | 2015-12-19T09:51:37 | 199 | 16 |
[WP] No upvotes necessary, just saturation. Load me up with as many zombie apocalypse stories as possible, with the caveat that they take place *before* the 20th century. | Publius Cornelius Lentulus watched as the fires spread from the Aventine Hill. For a moment Lentulus dared hope the flames would stop them, but his hopes soon faded. *Nothing can stop them*, thought the Tribune. *Not all the legions of Rome*.
At first the rumors had seemed far from troubling. Some sort of disturbance in the East, in Syria or Judea. There was always trouble in the East. People had thought it another Persian raid or another general seeking to make himself Emperor. Or maybe it was the Judeans revolting again; the Judeans were always upset about something or other. But the truth had been far, far worse.
As the chaos spread worsened, the source of the trouble became horrifying clear: the dead walked, and they were angry. 'Lazarii' they called them, after some holy man the Christians worshipped. But even as what was happening was understood all too well, *why* it was happening remained a mystery. The Greeks claimed the gates of the Underworld had been opened, the Egyptians that the world was coming to an end, and those trained in the medical arts believed it was simply a plague, a sickness to be dealt with like any other.
"Fools all of them", cursed Lentulus as he his cohort retreated behind the terrified mob, away the horde that walked through the fire without even flinching, showing no pain even as the flesh roasted on their shambling corpses. *I know what they are*, he thought. They were a punishment from the Gods. Though Rome's military might had conquered the East centuries ago, it had been the East who had slowly but surely conquered the soul of Rome. The Senate had withered and been replaced by a despot in the Eastern style. The Emperor may not call himself a king, but that's what he was. Jesus, Mithras, and Isis had replaced Jupiter, Mars, and Juno.
"You want to worship a god who rises from the dead?" the Gods must have said. "We can work with that."
The Lazarii had moved westwards. Egypt had not been heard from in months, hundreds of refugees arrived from Greece every day, and the dead had crossed the Alps faster than Hannibal. Every legion Rome sent against the Lazarii returned battered and broken, battle-hardened centurions weeping like Christians and babbling of an invincible enemy that could not be killed by swords, sling, nor arrows. Or else they simply did not return at all.
Now they had come to Rome. The greatest city of the world, the city that had conquered all other cities, was dying before Lentulus' very eyes, and it was the dead who were killing it.
Lentulus' cohort had arrived at the top of the Capitoline Hill. In front of the him lay the temple of Jupiter, the most sacred place in Rome, and fuller than it had ever been. Thousands had pored into the temple to seek the protection of the Gods of their fathers. "Defensive positions!" ordered Lentulus. "We cannot leave all these people to die."
"Sir, how exactly are we supposed to defend them?" asked a legionnaire. "There's no way to kill these bastards!"
Lentulus was saved from having to come up with a believable lie by a sudden crash to his left. A Lazarus had burst out of the door of a nearby building and buried its teeth in the standard bearer standing in front of it. The soldier screamed and released the standard to free his hands to strike at the monster.
As Lentulus watched the Eagle fall, rage came over him as he had never felt before. He had watched his world come crashing down before him, as his city burned, and his men died before his eyes. But he would be damned if he lost his Eagle while he or any of his men still drew breath. A scream of hatred escaped from his throat as he charged the beast. As he swung his gladius wildly he bellowed, "JUPITER OPTIMUS MAXIMUS!"
As his blow severed the corpse's head from it's shoulders, he watched in shock as the Lazarus collapsed to the ground, dead. Or rather, deader. His men cheered in relief as they watched their commander kill the unkillable. Legionaries were clapping him on the shoulder and congratulating him on his heroism, but all Lentulus could think was *I'm glad my tutor wasn't here to see that blow*.
"Boy!" he would say, "Are you a German? Some mead guzzling barbarian who'd charge drunkenly into battle but run in fear from the first man who tried to shave his beard? Then why are swinging your sword like a peasant reaping wheat? A true Roman kills with the point!"
*Well*, thought Lentulus, *we're going to be doing a lot more of that before the day is done*. "Alright men! You know how to kill them now! So stop slacking and let's get to work!"
________________________________________________________________
Consul Publius Cornelius Lentulus Decapitator stood on wiped his long sword on the grass as he watched his legion finishing the last of the Lazarii from the day's battle. *What a legion* Lentulus thought as he chuckled. With their long double handed swords and their lack of shields or armor, they certainly didn't look like the legions of their ancestors. But in many ways, they were more Roman than Romans had been in centuries. Gone were the foreign gods, the tyrants, and the decadence. There was a new Roman Republic now, or better yet an old one.
Today, after 5 years of war against the Lazarii, Rome had reclaimed all of Italy. No one knew what they would find behind the Alps, the numberless hordes of the dead holding the rest of the known world. But the Consul anticipated no problems.
Rome had conquered the world once before. Now it would do it again. | Robert Theragon paced on the walls of his keep. This was bad. Twas a mere fortnight before that the plague had begun, and now his land was in ruins, his men at arms terrified as a flock of geese and his winter stores being eaten into. They were running low on salt pork, eggs, wheat, and firewood, and meade. He turned and cursed looking out upon the field of bodies. Every once in a while they... moved. They were waiting outside his keep. Waiting for warm bodies. Waiting for fresh blood. They were human no more, their earthly forms merely a husk for the... creatures within.
It was not but two days that one of the men of the castle had fallen ill. The master reeve had seen to him, and tended his cares until the convulsions began. First the arched back. Then the fingers curled like talons. Finally the mad thrashing, with spittle flying to and fro, and then the spittle had become black.
They had him thrown from the walls, and when he landed, he split, like a blown up pigs bladder that the youths used as a ball in their games. He split, and of his entrails that ruptured out onto the cobbles , all that could be said that it was made of leeches, black crawling things that flowed away from his shattered corpse. They had no legs, but flowed like water, as if by magic, uphill. Fortune be praised they seemed to not be able to flow up the steep walls of the castle, or else Robert would not be pacing as he was, but that didn't stop the damn hellspawn from trying.
Even now, looking down from the ramparts, the flowing leech things piled up to near a foot in a wall of undulating pulsing black slime. Robert looked out upon the road, festooned with bodies, and swore again. "Sire" he turned. It was an underpage to a now dead knight. Who would squire him now was a good question, but at least he wasn't gibbering at the mouth. "The master reeve sire, he was found not an hour hence in his bed. He is convulsed my lord and thrashes at foams at the lips." Robert looked aghast at the boy. At least there was one mouth fewer to feed. He looked around and called out "Men!" the soldiers had turned to him. "Swaddle thyself in cloths, go to the master reeves room, take his body out and burn it! Burn the cloths as well, for they are corrupted by the curse!"
A moment later a lad hurried up the stairs. "Sir the master reeve, he breathes but yet!" Robert looked at him darkly. "He breathes yet, but he is a dead man. Mark my words, if any any at all, even myself, if we should fall to this curse, you will in haste bind us in chains and burn the devils within, for so it is taught in the holy book that the good lord shall throw satan into the lake of fire at the end of time. Mayhaps the devils shall learn that we too have fire." Robert looked out over the remains of his land, with the crawling dead among the dried husks of wheat. It would be the end of his lands, but who knew if there was any uncorrupted lands from here to Kharlsburg. Who knew indeed. His face lightened a grim smile, the first he had experienced since burying his wife. Robert's daughter had been one of the first to become cursed, he knew only too well the strength of the cursed, she had ripped the throat from her mother as she sat doing needlework.
Robert turned and hurried down the castle steps intent on his new plan. He hurried past the small graveyard where his wife and daughter were buried. One dead of necessity, one dead of tragedy. The ground was freshly turned, but that was nothing new, the earth was filled with bodies, only the weight of the earth covering them kept them trapped from the living. He hurried down the steps into the oil cellar. Normally he would have had one of his men do this, but they were all far too busy tending the walls, and burning the doomed reeve at the stake. Grim business that. He looked across the hogshead casks, filled with oil, there was not much left. That was troubling, but not near as troubling as the hole in the earthen sidewall as if something had dug its way out.
He heard it before he saw it, and his sword was out in a flash. And that's when he saw her. At least what remained of her. Her skeletal face in a rictus of a smile. Black ichor oozing from the throat, a ragged hole now filled. "Youuuu" it hissed. That was new, but robert was having none of it. He pinned the corpse of his wife to the earthen wall with two feet of steel run through the breastbone, and withdrew his cross, a gift from his father, and blessed by the priest. Holding up the cross, he looked down at the bent creature who he had once held so dear, and his sorrow welled up through him. "Youuuuuu are leeeeeeeeeader offffffff thessssssssssse follllllllllllllllllllk?" it, she, they hissed with a spiteful look and glowering eyes. Robert looked at her his voice quavering with sorrow as he repeated the prayer, holding the cross towards the thing. "Hail Mary, full of grace. Our Lord is with thee. Blessed art ..."
The creature laughed with an evil hiss. "thaaaaaaaaat dooooooesn't woork. Goood doeeees nooot eexiist." With every syllable its words became less of a hiss, less of a rasp, as if gaining shape and form. "Shut up! Shuuuut up!" Screamed Robert. Fear and desperation was gnawing at the edges of his mind. "Wee who are beeeyond the staaars, theere is noo gods, theeere is no light, theere is no juuustice, hooonorr, or exiiistence afffter youuuur pitiiiful shorrrt livesssss". Robert looked down at his wife in anguish. The thing continued speaking "Theeeere isssss oooonly ussss. Sheeeeee isss innn hereee stillll, witth usss. Rejoicccce, for the firssssst timeeee innn yourrr misssserabllllle exisssstence, youuuu haveeee theee opooortuniiity tooo neeeeeverrrr dieeee!" The last thing came out out as a shriek a loud and cacophonous howl.
Robert straightened and looked down in anguish. "If you are in there my dearest Katherine, I solemnly apologize for this." He took a nearby flask of oil and emptied it over the creature's head and dashed the torch in things face, catching it on fire before he fled the crypt. Robert did not retrieve his blade from the things chest. Let it burn. He had plenty to spare from the dead who had once served him and his father before him. He sat down in the courtyard, the screams of the master reeve and the foul smoke of his burning bespoiling the air, as he sat down and wept. Robert looked up into the dark blue autumn sky. Winter was upon them shortly, and they had nowhere to go. | 2015-12-28T11:19:45 | 2015-12-28T09:22:48 | 33 | 15 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here. | I sensed it. It was finally time.
When I was alive 3 millennia ago, I could sleep when I was tired and that would be the end of it. Being tired for so long is insanity. I can never rest, and I can never find peace, not while someone has the sound of my name on their lips.
But alas, I feel myself fading away. This is it, I think. Nobody has muttered my name in a few years, and I've been haunting Jelorg's apartment for a few decades now.
Just as I felt the sweet release of emptiness, Jelorg dropped his plate.
"Jesus fucking Christ"
VETE A LA MIERDA, JELORG, ESTÚPIDO HIJO DE PUTA!
***sigh*** I guess I'll go back to the basement. | It was all because of that stupid TV show.
I thought that it was done ruining my life when I turned twenty. The comments had slowly been dying down, and I figured that once my friends were out of their teenage years, the talk would turn to wine more so than my name.
Sufficed to say, it didn’t.
I died from old age, in the year 2090, and as my eyes closed and I could hear my relatives beginning to cry, a smile graced my face in the hope that I should find peace at last.
I awoke a few feet away from the bed, my feet floating a few inches off the ground, beside my daughter. She had only commented on my name when she was a child, and even that, only once or twice. I had always supposed my children feared me too much to make fun of my name. Perhaps that was the Russian in me. I was never as gentle as my husband.
My eyes still haven’t closed. It’s been 3000 years, damnit, yet that show has only gotten more popular. It teaches all sorts of languages now, but that theme song is still the same. It plagues my days (ghosts are not allowed to leave the building they died in). I have relived every single possible moment of every single episode.
Fun fact: new episodes air every Sunday at ten in the morning. My great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great-(etc) granddaughter absolutely loves them.
Thankfully, my family did not continue the tradition of naming their children after their ancestors. I suppose that would have made it doubly difficult for me to finally reach the peaceful afterlife (if there even is one).
TV looks a lot cooler; that’s one good thing about being around for so long, I suppose. You get to see all the cool stuff people have come up with. The worst part is when they walk right through you, and you begin forgetting if Jerry was the father or your second great-great-great son-in-law.
I think a missed a few greats in there. Oh well. Back to the show.
Even after 3000 years, Swiper has to work on his swiping skills. That five-year-old I share a name with can’t possibly be that hard to outwit.
| 2016-01-17T12:27:48 | 2016-01-17T11:19:18 | 107 | 15 |
[WP] A Jumanji-style board game is found by two children in the Amazon about the perils of life in suburban America | The dice rolled across the jungle floor, bouncing once off an errant root before finally coming to a halt.
"Seven." They said in unison, looking to each other for some measure of encouragement before they turned their attention back to the game board.
"Stay aware and pop your peepers. Here comes Greg the local creeper." The words in the mist contained too much slang for the children to recognize, but they certainly heard the pop and rattle that erupted from the jungle behind them.
Suddenly, out from the brush, erupted a great white panel van. Billowing smoke and static-addled 80's music, the behemoth rolled to a stop before its passenger window came down.
"You kids, uh, looking for a ride back home?" Came a nasally voice from inside, belonging to a dishevelled, balding man. | "Where the hell are we?"
Joy asked herself the same question. In one moment, they were transported from walking back to school to... this.
"It's certainly not Ledes, now is it?" Joy replied back cheekily.
Her brother, Seth, seemed unamused by her wry rejoinder. The two continued to trek forward into what seemed like an eternal white nothingness. As they began moving forward, a giant arrow appeared out of now where sweeping past them and into what looked like a jungle of words.
"I think I understand less about where we are than I did before," Seth quipped.
The two chased after the arrow and into the jungle of words, only to find themselves surrounded by walls of colors. Yellow stars, blue numbers and written in large green letters the words "In Stock". The two children looked back at each other in confusion.
As they did, a man walked out between the "n" and the "S". He was dressed in a large coat with two coat tails dragging against the floor and a larger top hat. He had a large, white mustache that spread across his smile. He had a polished black cane that he didn't seem to need. And, perhaps most strange of all, he was wearing a monocle.
"Hello there, children! You must be new!"
The man's voice sounded almost like theirs, though vaguely American. The man moved forward and continued speaking.
"You must be very scared right now. Fear not! I am here to help you!"
"Where are we?" Joy quipped quickly.
"Ah yes, excellent question. You are in Amazon."
The children stared at each other in confusion.
"Like the jungle? In South America?" Seth replied.
"No, no, no, no! Not like that at all! You're in the goods trading service Amazon! It's quite common actually, you see --"
"Pardon sir, but we don't really care how we got in here, we're more concerned with how to leave," Joy chimed in. "Mother would be very upset with us if we missed family tea."
"Right! You British are very proper. Well, I do have one way to get you to leave."
The man pulled a blue box from seemingly out of nowhere and placed it on the ground. On it was the likeness of the man.
"If you both can beat me in this game, you will be transported to whatever property you choose."
They stepped closer to the box to get a better look. On the top of the box, in thin black letters was the name of the game.
"Monopoly." | 2016-02-07T08:04:05 | 2016-02-07T07:05:52 | 101 | 38 |
[WP] The spandex-clad and fabulous League of Heroes is surprised when their newest member shows up wearing military grade body armor and camouflaged gear. | “Doomslinger!” Brightroar’s voice rang down the corridor. “Out of uniform *again*?”
Doomslinger's lips curled into a snarl, causing a dull pain to thud in the scar running from his jaw to his forehead. *Not even ten minutes in the fucking building,* he thought. His brand new boots, made of matte black steel, clanked on the metal floors of the League’s headquarters as he came to a halt and turned to face Brightroar.
“This is your second warning,” Brightroar said as he approached Doomslinger. The flames dancing across the pyromancer hero’s shoulders seemed to glow brighter, as if reflecting just how much the managing hero enjoyed enforcing the League’s dress code. “Which ups the penalty to *ten* demerits!” Brightroar *tsked* as he reached for a little flame-resistent notepad that was tucked into a pocket of his orange and red unitard. “And you know that weapons are not allowed within the League headquarters,” he said with a nod to the guns strapped to Doomslinger’s back. “Another five demerits.”
Doomslinger shoved Brightroar back with one gloved hand. “I don’t give a fuck about your demerits, *or* this stupid dress code, or *any* of your fucking rules.”
A few other passing heroes had slowed to rubberneck (in Captain Stretch’s case, literally). They all found excuses to linger in nearby doorways or check the information bulletin board nearby. *No one* had talked back to Brightroar like that since he’d become head of the League’s disciplinary committee. About half the heroes in the hallway had to suppress a cheer for Doomslinger. Brightroar wasn’t exactly welcome at most lunch tables in the League cafeteria.
Brightroar staggered back and took a moment to come to his senses. He continued to wear a pleasant smile, but the flickering yellow flames that wreathed his neck turned dark red and purple, and now flickered high enough to leave scorch marks on the ceiling. “Come on, Doomslinger. You’ve only been with us a few months. We wouldn’t want you to face disciplinary measures, would we?” His tone made it absolutely clear that he would *love it* if Doomslinger had to face disciplinary procedures.
“Fuck your disciplinary measures,” Doomslinger shot back. Murmurs raced around the hall, and the crowd gave up any pretense of not watching. “You know that the Coalition of Evil doesn’t have this dumbass dress code, right? That’s why they don’t *die* in fights!” He thrust one armored hand toward the Tribute Hall, where portraits of fallen heroes were arrayed; each one wearing flamboyant spandex, of course.
Brightroar jotted more down in his notebook. “Foul language violates the Decorum policy….” He spoke aloud as he wrote. “Penalized 18 demerits. Talking back to a superior… another 10 demerits…”
“Oh boy!” Doomslinger shouted sarcastically. “I’m going for the new record! What else could I do for some demerits?” He sneered at Brightroar through his helmet’s visor. “Does screwing your Mother work? If so, hand over the keys to the jet!”
Any semblance of Brightroar’s smile was now gone, replaced by a vindictive grimace. His hand raced across the notepad as he scribbled out the summons for a disciplinary proceeding. “There!” He stuck the paper to Doomslinger’s metal chest plate, covering up the scarred skull insignia that Doomslinger had chosen as his symbol. Brightroar was never a fan of such negative imagery in the first place; tended to scare off the civilians.
Doomslinger lifted his mask… and spit right in Brightroar’s face. “Fuck your proceedings.” A chorus of gasps and “ooohs” came from every hero in the hallway. As much as they disliked Brightroar… this was serious. Serious enough for expulsion.
“That’s it!” Brightroar’s voice rose an octave or two. “I’ve had it with you!” As he spoke, the flames covered his entire body. “Your disregard for civilian lives, your despicable hero name, your mockery of our rules of Decorum, your… your lack of a *real* superpower…” That one was a low blow, and a few of the other heroes in the hall exchanged hurried looks. There were a number of heroes in the League whose tremendous skill and/or intelligence made up for not having a supernatural ability, but discrimination against them was a continuous problem. “You know what?” Brightroar continued. “I just don’t think you’re right for the League of Heroes.”
The hall was dead silent, filled only with the sounds of Brightroar’s flames. No one had been asked to leave the League for *years*. Doomslinger's reaction was covered by the armored mask, but everyone peered in to see if they could catch a glimpse anyway.
“You know, I’m starting to think you’re right,” Doomslinger finally said. “And I was saying the same thing to FellBeast the other day *as we discussed my admission to the Coalition of Evil*.” Before Brightroar or any of the other heroes could react to that news, Doomslinger drew one of the guns from his back, leveled the barrel at Brightroar’s chest, and pulled the trigger. Brightroar sprawled on the floor, trying to comprehend the hole torn through his leotard and all the way through his chest. The hallway full of heroes erupted into a whirlwind of chaos as some of the more vulnerable ones tried to flee while others geared up to fight.
“Bet you wish you didn’t have that fuckin’ dress code now!” Doomslinger cackled as he began firing into the crowd.
----
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| "Murphy...what, what are you *doing*?"
Electric girl was frowning at me, her sapphire blue eyes and blond hair combined with her scanty outfit made this less than effective.
“What do you mean?” I asked, “today’s our first assignment right? We have to stop Dr. Saski on that island?”
“Yeah obviously,” Electric girl, Jenna, replied, but you can’t go wearing…*that*.” She gestured her hands vaguely towards me.
I frowned. “You mean *this*,” I said, gesturing towards my gear. I was wearing a Kevlar vest underneath my camouflaged suit. Even my face was blackened with paint. Even I was a bit reluctant doing that, but hey, staying alive is higher on my priority list. Luckily my dark hair is naturally short, so I didn’t have to do anything to that.
“The island *is* tropical right?” I asked, suddenly worried. What if it was a desert island? My face paint and camouflage would be useless. I vowed to skin Parker alive for giving me the wrong info.
“Yes, yes, it’s tropical,” Jenna said off-handedly, “but you can’t go like this, we have an image to uphold. We’re supposed to be more than human. We rely on our powers to protect us, we don’t *armor* and *camouflage,* we’re not minions for Super’s sake!” She had gotten angrier and angrier as she had gone on, until she was practically shouting at the end.
I was going to snap something that would have gotten me kicked out of the League when Ultra-man walked into the lobby. He was wearing skin-tight body suit and it looked like he had just painted his skin…you know I kind of see why these heroes favored looks over practicality.
I tore my eyes away before he could notice me staring, and Ultra man, looking me over, gave a grunt of disapproval. “Ugh…newbies. Well, you can’t change now, and we still *have* to take you so I guess this time it’s fine. This better not happen again though,” he warned, “we have a reputation to hold.”
My initial reaction forgotten, I whirled towards him. “Well, *I* need to be practical, alright? My powers aren’t as impressive as all of you guys’! You can shooting freaking lightning bolts,” I said, pointing to Jenna, “And you can reflect bullets and bench press trains, Ultra Man!” I knew I had gone way out of line here, but I was in too deep to stop, “and all I can do is cause inconveniences, I can maybe jam guns or cause someone to trip, not rip them in half! I have to be fucking practical, unlike you lot!”
I paused and took in a breath. I would never have been able to join the league with my low grade abilities, but after Parker and I had stopped a major terrorist attack in Union Square, the League had made an exception. And now I was going to get kicked out before my first assignment.
Parker would never let me live this down.
Ultra man’s face was dark, and Jenna was openly scowling. “We will talk about this,” Ultra-man warned, “*after* the job.”
We climbed into the hovercraft, and we were away.
***
The aircraft shuddered as attacks from the island bombarded our shields.
“All right,” Ultra-man said, “we drop…*now*!”
With that, the three of us jumped out the back bay, parachutes on our back. We were almost invisible in the night sky, our craft with bright blue shields attracting most the fire. It was all going according to plan, but I still felt an icy fear as I flew towards the dark island under me. Normal people ran away from danger, not *towards* it.
*Keep it together Murph,* I chided myself, I couldn’t fall apart now. I wanted to do this, I wanted the glamorous life of a A-class hero, and this was it. And hell if I was going to show fear in front of Jenna and Ultra-man.
A little noise beeped in my ear, notifying me of the time to deploy my parachute, and I deployed. I saw 2 parachutes being deployed above me as well. So far so good.
We landed in a clearing of some sort, about 300 feet wide. We were surrounded by the dark foreboding forest on all sides.
“Where to now?” I asked Ultra-man, who was getting his parachute off.
“Nowhere,” Jenna replied, and sent a bolt of lightning straight up in the sky, telling everyone on the island exactly where we were.
“Are you insane!” I said in a furious whisper, “this was supposed to be a stealth operation, now we will have to deal with the entire island!”
“As it should be Ms. Murphy,” ultra-man said in a booming voice, “we do not hide in the shadows, we fight!” There was a fierce grin on his face.
I was so dead.
I sprinted towards the closest side of the forest. “Coward!” Jenna called from behind me, but I paid her no heed. In the open like that, I was as good as dead. And staying alive came above appearing cool to those idiots. I made it to the dense forest within 10 seconds and threw myself to the ground, under a bush.
It was exactly at that point that the bomb fell.
I hadn’t managed to avert my eyes in time, and was blinded by the bright flash. It was like staring into a thousand suns. Luckily, I was flat on the ground and avoided the worst of the concussion.
I just lay there, blind and practically deaf for what seemed like an eternity when I heard the fighting.
The clearing was on fire. Men fired at a figure in the middle who appeared to be *ripping apart* some sort of helicopter, roaring in anger. Ultra-man.
Jenna was nowhere to be found.
My mind raced to keep up with the events. There had been an explosion, probably a drone that had hit us after Jenna had been kind enough to give away our location. She was probably dead, all the offense in the world wouldn’t save her for shrapnel. Ultra-man was still alive and kicking, but even he would succumb to the rapid gunfire soon enough.
I had to do something.
There was a squad of four men 30 feet in front of me in the clearing, firing assault rifles in short, controlled bursts at Ultra-man. I pulled out my trusty 9mm and fired a shot at the back of one of their heads and directed my power at them in full force. The man I had shot collapsed, and the two men whirled to face me almost immediately, seeing my outline illuminated by the flames. *Great reaction time* I thought idly, *these guys were professionals. *One of them tripped while turning somehow, and fell flat on the ground, the other whirled to face me and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. As expected, his gun had jammed.
I grinned wildly and ran towards him and fired a couple of shots, taking him in square in the chest. The final man had dropped his gun and was reaching to pick it and himself up, when I reached him and kicked him in the head, and was rewarded with a sharp *crack.* I shot him just to be sure.
Murphy's law, *bitch.*
I turned towards the fiery field to help the masochist.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out my new subreddit [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
Also, [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/comments/5dndmw/superheroes/) is the story of the terrorist attack in Union Square, if you want to read more about Murphy.
| 2016-11-30T10:20:13 | 2016-11-30T10:10:06 | 620 | 221 |
[WP] You live in a dystopian society divided into 10 levels of increasing wealth. Every level is only aware of those below it. You and your family believe yourself to be the highest class, but one day a man from 3 levels above comes to visit you, with some very disturbing information.
Edit: Thank you kind stranger! I appreciate the appreciation but really you should be Guilding the amazing writers below! Happy reading! | The perks were small things, mainly. There was extra food, there were newer shoes. We had better medicine and when we logged onto the Internet we had fewer restrictions. It wasn't all fun and games though. Being on the top level meant secrecy. We had the most perks, so we had the most to hide.
Going to public school was strange, looking down from the 5th tier it was easy to see all the things you had. You had been taught them from birth.
You would notice the longer hair of 4's. You would smell the lower quality soap of 3's. It was just subtle enough to maintain the illusion of equality. The 1's usually didn't know any better; they had never been told there was better. It was sad, really.
You learned to find other 5's pretty young, you could see it in their complexions, in their clothes. Only 5's got blue clothes, my dad told me, and that was the easiest way to spot us.
I asked my dad once, why we were fives, why we got the perks. He mentioned his job with the government, but avoided really answering. All I knew was that we were lucky.
Everything.... everything changed when we moved to the 6th tier. That was around age 14 for me, I was young enough to learn, but not old enough to realize what was really happening.
My dad had gotten a promotion at work, he told us, and we were going to be part of a secret few. We were going to be the start of a new social class, tier 6. It was unprecedented, he told us, they had never added a level before. We were so lucky to be a part of it.
That night I logged into the government system and sure enough my profile had updated. I was now a level 6. Level 6 brought new perks, and new changes. We were now allowed chocolate on holidays. I still remember that first Christmas, my first time tasting it. It came in our government meal package for the week and we all got messages on our profiles teaching us what it was.
We felt so lucky to be Six.
The way I found out, it was stupid really. It was a failure of parenting. The kid's parents had to go to a meeting with the Chancellor, and my mother was selected to do an extra shift at the tending center just for this kid. She offered to give me 2 of her weekly fun credits if I would watch him for her, and of course I agreed. I was still only 15 or so, and fun credits seemed like the most powerful thing in the world.
The evening was mostly uneventful, until the kid got comfortable with me. Then he started talking, as a 4 year often will. Then everything fell apart. He was chattering on about his dada and mama being so cool, about them getting him a new toy. I didn't think much of it, I figured they'd bought it with their fun credits.
Then it hit me. I'd never seen that toy in my store. I logged into my profile, and sure enough it wasn't there. I was a level 6. I was supposed to have access to everything.
He kept chattering and told me about his bed and how it was so soft, that he loved sleeping in it.
Our beds were hard little cots.
By the time his parents picked him up, I had heard everything I needed to know. I knew there had to be more than 6 levels, but I had no proof. I had the word of a 4 year old. I couldn't talk about my level, I couldn't bring this up without people knowing. What was I supposed to do?
I grew up, i got a good job. I raised my family with all the 6 perks. I just got word today.
I'm being promoted to 7. | "What if I told you you aren't at the top and there were actually 10 levels of wealth?" said the man in the strange clothing to the family he was having dinner with.
"Hah, good joke. Everyone knows there are only 6 levels of wealth." says the father.
"I know, I know, I'm just joking. But imagine there were more levels."
"Okay... but where are you going with this?"
"How would you control the ones below you?"
The room grew eerily silent. Slowly, the Mother, Father, son and daughter began to independently come to the same conclusion. That the easiest way to control those below you, would be to hide the existence of those above.
"People, rather believe what is most convenient for their ego. Not what is true. Don't you think?" said the strange man.
"I don't like this topic, lets talk about that great new movie that came out last weekend?" interrupted the wife. "Oh you mean "Jasmine Jewels Disjointed?"" replied the strange man. "I've never heard of that, I meant the one with the super hero" said the wife. "BladeMan?" answered the son. "Yes Blademan!" "Ah sorry I don't watch lower class movies like that" said the strange man. "Lower class what are you talking about it's a 5th tier movie just like you said you were!" complained the wife. "Oh right, I uh... just meant I want to be 6th class some day so I'm trying to only watch their movies." "Oh well don't be so hard on yourself" replied the wife. "So... imagine, the 10th layer weren't even humans wouldn't that be a crazy movie?" said the strange man.
"Now see here I don't want to hear anymore nonsense about that. What are you some kind of 5th tier jester trying to rally up the 6th tiers like us so you can open up a spot up here yourself?" yelled the husband. "He's just telling a fictional story dad, let him finish at least?" complained the daughter. "Alright well... if you confirm you're just kidding around" concedes the father.
"Well you ever wondered what happens to us when we die? Not the afterlife or anything but what happens to our bodies? Imagine that our cerebral fluid and certain other tissues were necessary for a non-human species." said the strange man. "Haha, like we're cattle, that's a good one" replied the wife. "Yes, like cattle" said the strange man "Well this is a pretty great life for cattle don't you think haha?" the son blurted. "How so?" "We get food housing technology, and we get a solid 2 hours of free time every day! Completely free time!" explained the son. "The 1st tiers only get 22 minutes of free time!" cheered the daughter. "Well imagine a society where everyone got two days off every week, and spent only half the day working." said the strange man. "The economy would surely collapse. That's just simply impossible to maintain. What lazy bigots." said the father. "What if I told you the 10th tier is massive and the only reason you have to work so much is because all the extra yenros go to them?"
"Everyone knows the extra yenros go through the congressional representatives who then fairly redistribute it for infrastructure like roads." replied the son. "Yes but, do you really know where each yenro is going?" asked the strange man. "Of course, the congressional representatives release a finance report detailing everything spent" explained the son. "Yes but who fact checks the financial reports?" said the strange man. "The financial accountant institute of course!" replied again the son. "And who watches them?" "Ugg politics is so boring, do you play the game, Deep Dark Sun Nomad our whole family plays it here?" asks the wife. "No I don't have time to kill time" said the strange man. "Well we all can't be tier 6s with all our free time. But if you work hard now, you might get a promotion later and when you do you're welcome to play with us!" said the father. "I have a better method to get free time actually" says the strange man. The son began to glare at the strange man with a strange intensity. The strange man noticed and decided he should go to the bathroom. As he walked up the stairs the son followed him. As the strange man turned around his throat was slit instantaneously by the son using a laser scythe. "I can't let them find out" said the son. "You... secret... 10th...." gargled the strange man as he died. Blood instantaneously evaporated as it reached the open wound. No mess to clean but a dead body. The son took the body and stuffed it into a special grinder box. Soon the body was nothing more than powder used to fuel certain battery cells.
"Oh where is our dinner guest" asked the wife as the son returned to the table. "He said something urgent came up and he had to go" said the son. "Oh well, you know some of what he was saying sounded plausible in a nutty conspiracy theory kind of way..." said the father. The son began to scratch the back of his head uneasily. "Yes it would make quite the movie haha" said the wife and everyone laughed. The son relaxed and continued eating.
Before he slept the son sent a special encoded message to a special person. "Don't worry, I threw away the rotten pizza and none of them took a single bite of it". "Good. They would all be sick beyond repair if they did and you would have had to throw out all the pizzas." replied the special person. | 2016-12-05T21:25:20 | 2016-12-05T17:29:46 | 60 | 24 |
[WP] You've developed a machine that allows you to speak with "you"s from different dimensions. However, you notice that you're the only male in a sea of women. | v-^
[22:20] hey me.
[22:20] Hey, me!
[22:21] m/f?
[22:21] F. You, too?
[22:21] nah, haha. M.
[22:21] Really?
[22:22] yeah I think i'm the only one so far.
[22:22] When did they open this for you?
[22:22] a couple of days ago. you?
[22:22] Same, lol.
[22:23] lol yeah I think it's synchronized
[22:23] How long/how many have you contacted?
[22:23] had a lot of trouble sleeping lately, i've talked to about two hundred so far day since i got it. looks like it's a constant across us lol
[22:23] Yeah...my son's been keeping me up all night lol!
[22:24] keep hearing about that, most of them have a quarter year old by now.
[22:24] Quarter year, yes! I like how we all say that phrase.
[22:25] guess it's in the existential wiring lol
[22:25] What's it like being a man?
[22:26] idk. made it harder to get laid lmao. on average looks like i'm doing worse than most of us. dad didn't stick around, i think that helped.
[22:27] So I guess that makes you the variant, huh? This has blown up over here and my friends tell me they're starting to find one-off variants of themselves, if they exist at all. Looks like we usually exist though lol!
[22:27] yeah haha it's really weird. weird to see my face like that.
[22:28] Are you straight? Do you have a girlfriend?
[22:31] yeah; nah not anymore. we had the pregnancy crisis moment last year like most of us, oddly, but it didn't go anywhere.
[22:31] Oh, that's rough. What were you hoping for?
[22:33] well we have the same psychology, right? what would you guess
[22:33] I'm sorry. Was she the equiv of our usual partner?
[22:34] no, actually no. a lot of the people in my life are swapped around. are you friends with L?
[22:34] Yes! There's always L no matter where we go, lol.
[22:34] just can't stop some things, haha.
[22:37] Tell me...when did you start dreaming across the Veil?
[22:37] we call it the Pale here lol. it started back before the crisis moment.
[22:38] It's funny how those things translate across us no matter where we are, huh?
[22:40] funny is maybe not the word but i take your point. yeah i think so, i see my daughter.
[22:40] Daughter? Do many of us have daughters? I thought we only made sons?
[22:41] maybe that's part of the gender swap, idk. i always see a daughter. i thought it was the family psychosis kicking in but ever since this came up i wonder.
[22:41] So weird. Maybe that means there's another guy among us?
[22:49] i don't even know how i would deal with meeting him. not sure i could handle if she's there with him.
[22:51] I'm so sorry, I can't even imagine. I've had friends get on this and tell me this has been happening a lot. Do you think you would have been a good father?
[22:51] hope so. see what happens in this world, i guess.
[22:57] You know we'll let you know if we find him, right?
[22:57] yeah, haha, i know myself.
[22:58] We do hate to see unnecessary suffering.
[22:59] i guess i should sign off. we should all sign off lmao.
[22:59] Do you do the synchro trick?
[22:59] naturally. on the dot, ok?
[23:00] see you, space lonely soldier.
[23:00] See you, space lonely soldier.
v//^ | A couple of wires. Some pieces of quantum semi-conductors. Several laws of physics broken. Sheer determination and force of will. Somehow, in some way, I was able to create a pocket-docket. The name made sense at the time. With this I was able to look up all of the different versions of me, their biographies, their statuses, as well as make contact with them. The thing is though, they're all girls. Some of them lead lives so different from mine that I wouldn't even believe that they'd be me. I scrolled down to see if there's a version of me with at least similar hobbies, hoping to connect with them through that. I ended up finding one, and I start the conversation from there.
"Hey there!"
She stumbled, "umm... who are you?"
"Well, to put it simply, I'm you. Except that I'm from a different dimension. Also I'm a dude."
"How did you get here? And how did you get my phone number?"
"Well I created a machine that allows me to make contact with different versions of myself. It's able to do a sort of instant search of my selves from different dimensions."
"Hmm... prove it."
"Okay then. Umm..."
I had to think for a while since the different versions of me ended up having different likes, dislikes, hobbies, passions, and aspirations, meaning that I have to think about the sort of certainties. It sort of made me think about the things I'm in common with the rest of them. What I came up with was that I looked at my pocket-docket and went off with the search descriptions.
"Your mother's name is Alice and your father's Jonathan. You're born on the Philippines, in a city named Cavite. The date of your birth is April 12, 2000. Your parents both worked at a company called Pointwest, which was where they met before they had you. Both have four siblings each. You ended up moving away from the Philippines in 2006. Oddly enough, despite our versions having many differences, our parents ended up being very similar."
"Fine," she conceded. "I'll believe you for now. By the way, what did mom and dad call you? There's no way they're naming a boy Luisa."
"Oh yeah. Name's Levi. Nice to be talking with you."
"You said you could talk to other versions of me? What are they like?"
"Well first of all, they're all females. That's where the commonalities end, though."
"Well I mean, I spend my days cooped up in my room playing Factorio, League, Ultimate Tic-Tac-Toe, and all that."
"Same. Basically this machine that I have is able to look at the bios of the different selves. One of them is top of the class, taking AP Human in her freshman year, another is in Track and Field, and is really good at that. Another is a very good artist. Another is in Orchestra, and rocks the violin. One of them... got hit on by a football player."
"...Say what now?"
"I know right! One of them even has a boyfriend!"
"That... was that why you went out of your way talking about how my parents went and where I was born?"
"Yeah. Those are the things that make me you. Honestly I wasn't expecting this. Look one of them even likes Taylor Swift! And Twenty One Pilots!"
"Do any of them like SOAD?"
"...Meh."
"Wow..."
"Don't worry. I'm not the guy that just laughs at stereotypical females. One of them can bench 145 lbs and another one is a proclaimed lesbian."
"Are they the same person?"
"There's one that's both."
"Woohoo! More stereotypes!"
"They have to be self-conscious about this stuff, lest some other version of them starts laughing at them for their life choices."
"True... I am a gamer girl at heart, and to be honest I'm not that good. I'm only Diamond II on my ranked ladder."
"Woah... memes aside I'm only Gold V. I'm... I'm so sorry."
"Sorry about what?"
"Nothing... anyways you're the first version of me that I talked to, since we have a lot in common with each other. It took me thirty minutes of scrolling to find you. If only I had a... wait."
I looked at my pocket-docket and saw that there's an option to sort by most common.
"I'm such a dingus."
"Hey, it's been fun talking with you and I was thinking that we should add each other on chat."
"You have WhatsApp?"
"Yeah man! Can you add me?"
"Let me check..."
I was able to save Luisa's number on my device and with that I went to my WhatsApp and sent her a message.
"Oh hey! I got a message from you! It's a picture of a monkfish."
"Yeah I just like fooling around."
"Hey. Can you connect me with the others? Have one giant group chat so we can roast each other for our life choices."
"Maybe. That's if they actually pick up the phone. Then again you managed to pick yours up."
"Well when I saw the random number I was thinking of letting it go to voicemail, but for some reason I pressed the answer button. Glad I did it though."
"Happy to make you glad you did it. Anyways I need to go to bed, and I kind of do want to make contact with the other versions of me, and put them all into that giant group chat you just mentioned."
"Great! Well I'll stay in touch."
"Thanks."
The first contact managed to be a success. Afterwards I called it a night and slept until morning. The second try will probably be a lot harder, but before I managed to try I was stuck on who I should contact next. I came to the conclusion that since the first one had a lot of commonalities the second one should be someone I can't even believe could've been me, so I went with the one with the boyfriend. I clicked on her name, Elizabeth, and let the device ring.
"Hello?"
"Is this Elizabeth Manalo?"
"I'm her boyfriend, Bradley. What do you want?" | 2017-06-25T04:00:18 | 2017-06-25T01:46:05 | 403 | 43 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | It's the best deal in town. You can be the student you always wanted to be. However long it takes. You'll get there, to have the time of your life. When I wanted him. History doesn't repeat itself, but it rhymes. Sunny and 72 degrees. Except where prohibited by law. He grabbed her hand.
She stopped twisting the radio dial and stepped outside, into the sunshine. | First time writing - this one just inspired me!
I open my eyes. There are no lights on, and the sky outside is midnight blue. I check my watch - it's fancy, nicer than my last one - but it seems to be broken. I listen out for my wife, Amy, but I can't hear anything. She must be out. The apartment is almost sepulchral in its silence as I head into the darkened living room.
Amy is standing in the middle of the living room, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm sorry," she sobs. "I really am. But you must see how hard this has been for me. I'm begging you, Wes, just try it. For me. For us."
She turns away, the light from the kitchen window making her hair shine a brilliant shade of auburn. When she speaks, her voice cracks with anger.
"Fine. Don't try it. It's your life. But I wish I could make you see how selfish you're being."
Some time later, I find myself pushing open the door to my bedroom to find my best friend fucking my wife in our bed. I feel numb inside as he gathers his things and leaves as fast as he can, with a muttered "Sorry".
"Amy-" I say, but she pushes past me, sobbing. I follow her into the living room.
Sighing, I take off my old watch, setting it down on the living room table, and wrap the device around my wrist. It looks similar, but a lot fancier and shinier. I look up, and Amy smiles at me through tear-stained eyes.
"So far, so good," she says, and puts her arms around my neck. "Maybe now we can be happy together."
Amy comes into the kitchen. "It's for you," she says, handing me the package. There's a note attached.
"It's from Dr. Sandowski," I say. "Apparently it's a device she's been working on that could cure my time-jumping." I open the box and look down at it with dismay. It's the watch. The nice, shiny watch that I've seen before. "It won't work," I say, setting the box down. "It's no use."
| 2017-08-30T06:54:31 | 2017-08-30T05:52:15 | 5,691 | 617 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has come. But so has the robot apocalypse, and the Illuminati takeover, and the alien invaders... It seems everyone played their hand at the same time. | Casino lights flashed as tourists and prostitutes walked down the trash laden streets of Las Vegas. Inside the bars and pubs, friends and lovers shared drinks as the countdown to 2018 drew closer and closer. All was as it should’ve been in the land of milk and honey.
A new bulletin flashed over the bottom of the TV screens that aired the countdown: DO NOT BE ALARMED. REPORTS OF DEAD RISING FROM GRAVES ARE COMING IN FROM SAN DIEGO. IF NEARBY PLEASE TAKE THIS REPORT SERIOUSLY. STAY INDOORS AND AWAY FROM WINDOWS.
“Ain’t that a load of shit,” said a man wearing a suit over in a corner booth. “Zombies... what’s next? Alie-“
A loud boom interrupted the man. The ground shook as bar glasses shattered and the ground seemed to split apart. All the patrons ran outside to see a large silver craft hovering above the city. Disc shaped, and chrome plated, the spinning object shot green beam after green beam down to the city.
People in the streets panicked as terror rained down from the skies. Mothers and sons tried to cower away in fear, but large tripod shaped invaders came down from the craft, annihilating everything in sight. Bodies were rendered to dust in a moments flash.
As the man in the suit ran down a dark corridor, he could see a glimmer of hope out of the corner of his eye. A olive drab green humvee with a young man on top with a machine gun.
“It’s the fucking goddamn Army! Hey! Hey! Over here!”
The vehicle came closer and he saw an unfamiliar marking on the side. Instead of the usual Stars and Stripes, he was met with the glare of an eye that pierced his soul.
“Who... are you?”
The man was gunned down where he stood by the young soldier with the machine gun.
“Sarge, this is Tango Bravo Alpha 4496, we are approaching the heart of the city. The Senator should be in our grasp soon.”
“Good,” replied the voice on the radio, “We are laying siege to D.C. right now. New York is already ours.”
“Confirmed. Men, roll-“
KABOOM
The small squad was instantly vaporized by a flashing light. The soldier was flung into the air and into a pile of garbage.
“What was that? The damn U.F.O?”
He looked over to see a large metal man standing over 20 feet tall leading down at him. The exterior was a dull iron color, with a flag of red adorning the left arm of the machine. The flag of the Nazi party.
“Nazis... I hate Nazis,” he said as he pulled out his side arm.
Each shot did little to stop the blast that vaporized the soldier.
As the robot flew in the air, it was smacked into by a speeding saucer, creating a mid air explosion the rained down debris onto the streets below. Little people were left to be affected, as the militaristic forced held up in a casino to fend themselves off the zombie hordes which had now began to room the streets. Saucers flew around with spotlights, blasting anything in sight, while any machine that was active reported the location of any living organic being to the mother computer on the dark side of the moon.
Battles such as this one raged all over the world, as the zombie plague, Nazi robot armies, Illuminati forces, and alien invaders all clashed in the streets of a once peaceful earth.
Little to the knowledge of the countless brainless zombies, robot Hitler, Lord Supreme Commander Ceaser, and Ctharthitlu, deep in another realm, Satan prepared to join the fray. 2018 surely looked like it would be an adventurous year for anyone left alive.
Edit: To anyone who enjoys this, [here’s](https://www.reddit.com/r/CoffeesWritingCafe/) my writing subreddit. Check it out to see more stories by me. Thanks! | Sorry, I'm at work right now, but I'll probably come back to edit this when I get home.
Anyways, constructive criticism welcome, and I hope you enjoy!
***
He crested the hill afore first light, and, glancing back, was afforded clear vantage over his previous campsite, the fire tamped carefully into the dirt. In this early morning darkness, it was difficult to see, but, come sunrise, he knew his passage would be easier to follow. *Move,* he told himself. *And quickly.*
He had come three weeks prior from that small town of Bridgeport, whose out-of-the-way location, he thought, might have lended security: its marine facilities, its insignificance, its proximity to the Sierra Nevadas. He’d thought wrong. An alien ship had landed, among the empty grasslands, to massacre that military base and secure its surroundings. The AI had come next and, with that aforementioned base risen to zombies, waged war. Even now -- him being some miles away -- looking behind, he thought he could view a reddened tinge beyond the horizon that hinted of unseen battles.
Presently, he stepped over that hill-ed apex and, pathing down, walked over rocks and leaves among a trail lightly snowed. It had been two days since he’d last eaten, and five since he’d last spoken. The road, as he walked, had emptied, until naught was left but nature and the stars. The world was gone, he reflected. People were gone, and from that absence was birthed and overwhelming sense of loneliness.
At a fork in the road there lay the remnants of a campfire, blackened soot, stones ringed around it. He touched it; it felt moist. There were signs of scuffle, broken branches and defaced trees, but the campfire itself, he discovered, was long abandoned. Cold and damp. He rooted around the bushes and came up with a knife, a flask half full, a sack with perhaps a pound of rice. Flipped the knife open but it was rusted so he threw it back. The rice was wet, but he knew, if it had not molded, it would still be edible. The flask he saved for last and he took a sip anyways without too much care. It tasted of brandy. *One more.* He took another sip, then stuck it in his hip.
When he next drew the flask the sun spoke of past midday, nearing evening. Shadows drew along rocks, and among the trees a bird chirped. *As good a place to camp as any,* he thought, looking. Around him was a kind of basin where, from a waterfall and snowmelt, a pond had formed, crystal clear that he could watch the fish swim if he so desired. Further beyond were two paths and a stone overhang. He walked to the overhang and placed his gear and pulled from his pack wires and wind-chimes. He’d seen this once in *The Walking Dead,* so he strung the tripwires in a large radius around him. Then he stopped and saw that when he rubbed his face, dirt came away. He went back and gathered kindling and, once he’d started a tiny blaze, forded downstream for bathing. It wouldn’t do to wash in the drinking water, he knew.
***
It was night when he heard the chimes. The fire had died, but there was no mistaking, among the dimness, some figure scouting the basin’s perimeter. *Zombie,* he thought, *for what else would walk into the wires?*
Now he grabbed his own knife, a machete, and unsheathed it and snuck around the bottom of the pool until reaching one of those upwards branching paths, whereupon he took it until it led him to a ring of shrubs. He crouched and saw faintly that previously viewed outline wandering closer. He waited, and it passed him.
“Hey!” He shouted and dove upon it, and the two tumbled to the ground. The sneaking thing, he realized, felt weak. All bones and shaking so violently that it must have a cold. He ended up on top and raised his blade, prepared for the downward plunge that would end the threat, that he might return to bed and rise early come morning.
Then, “please don’t.”
He paused. Fumbled in his pocket for his lighter. When he clicked it on, he saw a face, bloodied, hair matted, but living. A human. A woman. She shied away from the light, and when she lifted a hand, he saw a cut on her forearm, wrist to elbow and matted with dirt. The wound seemed old, but he saw that it bleeding. *Blood,* he thought. *Zombies followed blood.* But he stood and offered a hand. She took it and stood too.
“Thank you.”
“Who are you?” He looked at her and she looked at him, and he spoke again. “Never mind. It doesn’t really matter anymore, does it.” He led her down to camp and found some logs and kindling and started the fire. Turned again to boil some food, but he saw that she had fallen asleep. *You should sleep, too,* he thought, and so he did, soundly, the fire a healthy blaze between them.
Had he remained awake a minute longer, he might have heard in the distance a faint tinkle of chimes and a rattling, deathless groan.
***
/r/Lone_Wolf_Studios for more! | 2017-12-28T15:39:43 | 2017-12-28T15:10:21 | 2,398 | 32 |
[WP] The demon that tried to strike a deal with you was absolutely not prepared for the level of specificity you've prepared to make sure there are no loopholes for him to abuse. | "Wha?... Where am I?" said Chad.
"SILENCE!" Snapped Asrael.
"Uh, 'kay" replied Chad.
"I AM THE GREAT PRINCE OF HELL, THE INSTRUMENT OF YOUR DAMNATION! AND THE NAME YE SHALL KNOW ME BY IS ASRAEL!"
"'kay" said Chad.
"NO!" "Not 'Kay'" protested the demon
"'kay." said Chad.
"WHATEVER." said Asrael, in an exasperated tone, "WHY DOTH YE SUMMON ME MORTAL?"
"Uh, 'cause" said Chad.
"GAH!" exclaimed Asrael, "ONE DOES NOT MERELY SUMMON A PRINCE OF HELL 'BECAUSE'!"
"Uhh, I think I did, man." said Chad, "My bad."
"FINE, SINCE I AM HERE, MORTAL, WHAT IS THE UTTERMOST DISIRE OF THY LOATHSOME HEART?"
"Cool." said Chad.
"I GROW IMPATIENT FLESH-PUPPET! NAME THY WISH AND RELEASE ME!" Asrael snarled.
"Uhh..." was all that Chad said.
*HOURS* *LATER*
"SO YOU DESIRE A FEMALE WHO IS BOTH 'BODACIOUS' AND 'TOTALLY RAD'" said Asrael.
"Yeah, and suuuuper 420" replied Chad
"SO 'BODACIOUS', 'TOTALLY RAD', AND ENJOYS PARTAKING OF MARIJUANNA, HERETO REFERENCED AS 'SUPER 420'?"
"Yeah man, and, like, really tall, but not *too* tall."
"AND ALSO CONFORMING TO A PHYSICAL HEIGHT NO MORE THAN ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY CENTIMETERS."
"Nah, I think a bit taller man."
"BETWEEN ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY CENTIMETERS AND ONE-HUNDRED AND NINTEY CENTIMETERS."
"Yeah, and she's *gotta* know how to surf man."
"SHE IS ADDITIONALLY COMPETENT IN THE SPORT KNOWN AS 'SURFING'?"
"No man, she has to know how to *surf*."
"SO SHE MUST UNDERSTAND THE PHILOSOPHY OF 'SURFER' CULTURE?"
"No man, she just has to *get* it."
"*GET* WHAT?"
"*It*, man"
"WHAT IS *IT*"
"I don't know, just, like, all of it."
"GAAHHHH!" Asrael shrieked, "RELEASE ME MORTAL, AND I SHALL MAKE YOUR DEATH PLEASANT AND UTTERLY PAINLESS!"
"Nah man, you promised." said Chad... | A vile creature such as this one must be taken seriously. He was raised by Satan and taught by the deceitful Lucifer, making his arts of psychology that beyond human comprehension.
Facing that mirror, knowing that there's no turning back, I call his sacred name only twice, and frantically splash the water on every candle, as well as the mirror. I walk out of the room, and there I was.
"Another dimension, I reckon," I say in thought.
I walk across the non-existent x-axis towards the malevolence that is "Tipton".
A second felt like a minute, a minute felt like an hour, and what must've been an hour felt like months of walking, but I never ran out of stamina, or lose that thought of what I must do. Besides, he's the only key back to my realm. And so I continue to walk amongst the boring terrain of nothingness which possesses the laws of physics but rejects the laws of nature and man.
And there he was - Tipton, my demonic savior, posing as my dead cousin to likely make me feel comfortable.
"Aaahh, I've heard your call at last, mortal," spoke the grinning cousin.
Jokingly, I respond, "Wow, that vocabulary of yours has grown rich in the afterlife. Hasn't it, cousin?"
The imposter makes a quick smirk, before saying, "It's just that...heaven has failed to peak my curiosity. And so, I spent my eternal time indulging in the arts of man, and mastering every single one to its fullest."
"Ah, splendid."
"I'm afraid not, dear cousin," he continues, "It is as much of a torture as it is a bore."
"Perhaps. Well, I wish you could come back with me to the realm of the living."
"If you were to *not* bargain with me, I *could* return to your world. And oh, that is all I wish - to get a feeling of flesh and blood once more. Of course, I need your blessing. You know what to do."
I had to say his name, but if I know demons correctly, they're deceiving. Once I say his name, he'll latch into my soul and return to my dimension to wreak existential havoc.
"Should we begin?" I ask the demonic soul.
It frowned in disappointment that I was not one of those teenagers looking for a quick scare, or an idiot dared by his friends, or a desperate person wishing to do anything to bring their loved one back. At least, I managed to not make the many mistakes of either of those stereotypes, whose souls now belong to this empty void.
Even now, I hear their wallows. "Help us," they so desperately pleaded.
The demon nods, and asks, "What, of equal value as your request, would you like to trade with me?"
"I trade the rice of my home."
Rice makes the demon stronger, physically and mentally.
"Hmm...interesting...I could use this to seek vengeance on your pathetic god, perhaps.
Now, what is it that you wish for, mortal?"
The 365 days of planning for this one moment has finally come into play. The long nights, dropping out of school for a while, the amount of wine I resorted to to ease my nerves, all for this one moment. And I, sadly, was now living it."
"I wish for a 3x3 foot box, made out of cardboard and wrapped accordingly, filled with nothing but non-poisoned, non-explosive, non-tainted, bland rice, and filled all the way to the top of the box."
The demon was shocked. I could've wished for knowledge, I could've wished for eternal happiness. I could've wished to become king, but I realize that these were the mistakes of many who now weeped below me.
The demon said nothing in his shame; he made the door reappear before my very eyes, and with a heavy heart, I watched my cousin's figure fade.
"Forgive me, cousin," I say before I make my way to the exit.
When I was back in my bathroom, I quickly turned on the light, cleaned off the mirror and the counter, which was splashed with water, went outside to my bedroom, and closed the door, never to return to that restroom for 14 years - the age of my fallen cousin.
Why rice? You ask?
This was simply a test run. I got my wish - I lived with everything that was mine intact. And now, I await the death of another close family member to make my return to the wicked dimension. | 2018-01-20T10:03:01 | 2018-01-20T08:35:46 | 47 | 30 |
[WP] When you were young, you made a deal with a witch to give up your firstborn child in exchange for a life of wealth and happiness. Now you're 35, and the witch is getting impatient. She doesn't know you got fixed at 18. | Money is power.
It's his lifeblood, and it flows through him. At 23, he was named as one of the fifteen richest people under 30. On her twenty-seventh birthday, he bought his girlfriend a house. He later realized that he could do that every year, and he'd never run out of money.
Money is like breath.
He inhales, he exhales, and the world turns around him. A single word from him could topple an economy; a brief exchange of digital currency would be enough to change the flow of politics.
This is him. This is what he does, day in and day out. He lives it, breathes it, *loves* it.
*"You've done a lot with what we gave you."*
*The voice is almost like a cackle to him. It grinds in his ears, sounds tumbling and turning and rocking. He regrets coming.*
*"I just don't understand. We made an agreement; why haven't you followed up with your end?"*
*He shrugs. "It's hard to find the right person, you know?"*
*A frown. She's watched his relationships, at first with interest, then with an ever-growing tiredness. "I'd think you're not even trying."*
*"I'll get there one day."*
Years pass. He's divorced, three times now. His assets are still numbered in the billions. He's rich, but he's running out of ways to spend it. Cancer treatments barely make a dent, even the most obscure and experimental.
He funds research, sits on board meetings, talks with scientists.
He's surrounded by people, and yet, he still feels alone.
The cancer gets worse. It's not in a vital area, not yet, but it's gradually growing. A slow death.
He goes to see her.
"Hello."
Her skin is almost as white as the hospital bedsheets. She struggles to sit up, but when she does, it's almost like she's back to her old self: Regal, imposing, strict.
"Ah... who are you, again?"
"It's me, mother."
A few moments pass, then sudden recognition, like a lever was pulled. "Ahh, Johnny! Have you had a child, yet? Given me grandchildren? Who, who's your wife again, Stacy... she seemed nice."
There's a sweetness to her voice that either wasn't present years ago, or he can't remember it. He almost says that Stacy divorced him almost half a decade ago, but doesn't.
"The inheritance you gave me... I've grown it properly. Father would be proud."
"Oh, Johnny, your father would have been proud of you no matter what you did! But, I'm not surprised. I'm sure he wouldn't have been either. You always had such a mind, for, for math. If... if only you'd have focused on the little thing, a bit more."
He nods, placating. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."
"I - I'm fine. I've been plugging along. I think I want to go back to teaching, Johnny. I never thought I'd miss it, but..." She smiles, longingly.
A minute passes in silence. He looks down at the floor; she smiles and stares out the window.
"Mother, that agreement we made. About me starting a family, in return for..." It sounds ridiculous, now. *Happiness*? Like some sort of genie, a wishing well? "In return for success. But, something seems to be missing. I... I just don't quite understand."
She keeps looking out the window.
"Mother?"
Her face swings around, staring at him, eyes squinting. "Oh, w-who are you again?"
"I-"
He doesn't continue. A nurse watches as he leaves the wing, black shoes clacking against the ground, suit swishing in the air.
She had told him that, if he agreed to her deal, he'd have happiness. But he'd never really thought about it. About what it was like, to be alone. About solitude.
Maybe he should have given it more thought, all those years ago.
^^^^r/forricide | A soft moan rippled in Lydia’s throat. Terry smiled as he rubbed her lips with the firm flesh of a bright red strawberry. Dipping the fruit back into the warm imported chocolate he ran one hand over Lydia’s silken negligee. Lydia’s gaze bore deep into his soul, the fire reflecting and twinkling in her mischievous amber eyes.
“Do you know how much I love you?” Terry’s deep voice rumbled into her chest, her toes curling instinctively.
“Mmm – I can venture a guess.” She replied, wrapping and arm around his neck and pulling him down to kiss him softly.
Before he could tell her how she was the only light in the world, a soft chiming danced through the air.
Lydia’s brow furrowed. Terry stood, his statuesque body rippling with muscle causing Lydia to forget there was someone at the door. He wrapped himself in a black satin robe and strode across the room, his mouth drawn tight in frustration.
A moment later Lydia heard a muffled thud and her arms tingled with adrenaline. Her soft steps made no sound as she fled to the bedroom. Quietly opening the draw to her nightstand, she pressed her hand into the bottom of the drawer. The base of the stand opened with a mechanical click and Lydia quickly grabbed her handgun before triggering the silent alarm.
Turing around she gasped, dropping the gun to the floor. The towering figure of a man blocked her exit. His glassy green eyes smiled at her while his fingers rhythmically flipped a coin across his knuckles.
“Derrick?” Lydia had to squint to see better in the darkened bedroom.
“Sweet Lydia.” Derrick stepped forward, suddenly illuminated by candlelight as every wick in the room burst with a flickering orange fire.
“What… uh, what are you doing here?”
Derrick smiled, tilting his head and looking to the ground for a moment. When he looked back up to her, his eyes were no longer smiling. No longer green. Black orbs stared back at her, violating her sense of security.
“Really, Sweet Lydia. Have you forgotten all about me?”
“N-no. Of course not. I remember you.” Lydia’s heart began to knock insistently on her chest. *Run. Run. Run.*
“Yes, how could you forget Sweet Lydia.” The coin stopped, floating just above his fist. “We made an arrangement, no?”
Lydia stepped back, knocking into the bed.
Her voice trembled her eyes darted around the room. “I can’t give you what you want. Please, just leave.”
“Leave?” The he-witch chuckled a little, his shoulders quivering. “No, Sweet Lydia. I think I will stay. You know what you owe me.”
“I-I can’t.”
As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Derrick’s form flickered in the candle light. The doorway left empty. Lydia hesitated. Before she could finalize the decision to bolt for the door and scream a cold hand wrapped around her arm and dragged her to the bed.
Her voice caught in her throat as she was dragged on top of the boogey man, his claws digging harder into her arms.
“And why not? Is this not where you lie with the man?”
She couldn’t answer.
“It isn’t hard to make a child, Sweet Lydia.” He whispered into her ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down her neck.
“I can’t. I can’t have children.”
As quickly as he’d pulled her onto the bed, they were both upright. Dizzy from the sudden change in position, Lydia stumbled. Her head sang with pain, a claw now gripping her hair and yanking her upward. Derrick’s face contorted, his brows growing, his eyes sallower. Yellow teeth extending to jagged points as his putrid breath burned her nostrils. She gagged. Darkness swelled around them, the candlelight fading into a surreal distance.
“You promised me a child, Lydia. I will have my payment.”
“I had my tubes tied. Years ago. I can’t just undo it.” Lydia’s lip trembled, her eyes bubbling with unshed tears.
“Humm, well that is a problem.” Derrick’s loosened his grip on her hair, rubbing his chin with the other hand.
Lydia fell to the ground, dry heaving but relieved to have distance.
“I have an idea!” He proclaimed. The suffocating darkness subsided. Lydia looked up to find Derrick’s face had returned to the handsome and mischievous man who had wooed her as a wayward youth. His eyes met hers and they were locked together as he crouched down, stretching his wide hand over her stomach. She felt a wave of exhaustion creep over her and collapsed the rest of the way to the floor.
She awoke, gasping and coughing. She began to scrape at her neck as a flurry of activity swirled around her. The plastic tube that filled her throat was removed, wracking coughs followed. Once the platoon of stoic doctors and nurses left Terry came in. He ran to her bedside and held her, crying with joy on her shoulder.
“Terry?” Lydia’s voice was sandpaper in her own ears.
“I’m right here.” He ran his hand through her hair and pressed kisses to her face.
“Terry?” She said again, her voice only slightly less raspy. “What happened? Where am I?”
He pulled away from his wife then, unable to look at her. His hand fell away from hers and covered his face.
“Lydia, the house was broken into. You were injured and you’ve been in a coma.”
“What?” She attempted to sit up, but her body was exhausted and sore.
“You’ve been out for a while. You…”
The silence hung between them, a translucent but obvious barrier.
Terry finally looked up at her. “You had a baby.”
Shock poured through her, the hairs on her arms stood in alarm. “What?!” She grabbed her throat as the coughing shook her.
“She… she didn’t make it.” | 2018-08-06T23:04:21 | 2018-08-06T21:11:11 | 77 | 33 |
[WP] Everyone is born with 1-100 tally marks tattooed on their arm. The higher your number, the more valuable you are and the more successful you will be. You bully a kid because he is obviously hiding a low score. One day, he rolls up his sleeve to show an infinity symbol. | It was the first of January. The day of the Reveal. The day every person turning sixteen in the next twelve months will find out the number that will determine who their friends will be, where they will live, the jobs they will work. I wasn't worried. Both of my parents were in the 90's, my sister too. I was almost guaranteed a spot in the highest tier of society.
The mood was tense in the auditorium. All of us sat, watching the clock as it slowly ticked closer and closer to the 12 o'clock mark. Some people had their sleeves rolled up, eager to see. Others kept turning towards the door as if they were antsy to get out. I chatted with my friends, other soon-to-be 80's and 90's, if their family history said anything about it.
As the clock sounded, gasps could be heard echoing throughout the room. I felt a searing pain in my arm before it disappeared abruptly. I looked down, and my suspicions were confirmed. I was a 92.
I turned to my friend beside me, Jen, for a high-five, only to see her eyes filling with tears. I glanced at her arm, and recoiled. No, it couldn't be. Impossible. A 20? She abruptly got up and sprinted out the door to the bathroom.
===========
It had been a few months after the Reveal. Besides Jen, there weren't too many surprises. A couple kids from 30's families jumped to 70's. They were probably going to start a company or something in the near future.
I strolled to my locker, laughing with Kane about the party we went to the other night. Nobody dared step in our way. Nobody, that is, except for the little punk-ass that I ended up crashing into. As books flew to the ground, I shoved the kid. "Hey, watch it!"
He kept his head down, but when I noticed who it was, an evil grin materialized on my face. "What's this? Has Mr. Nobody himself decided to bless me with his presence?"
He ignored me, and bent down to pick his books up. Kane laughed. "Ah ah," he teased as he grabbed Tristan by the collar. "We can't have you disrespecting us like that, now, can we?"
"Let me go," he whispered, tugging his sleeve down. He was the only one to have yet revealed his score. I bet it was probably some record low number; the kid didn't seem to bright anyways.
"Let you go? But that's no fun!" A crowd had started gathering around us by now. "Now, mind letting us see that number?"
"No thank you," he mumbled, before trying to get out of Kane's grasp.
"What's that?" My voice got deadly low. Nobody dared talk back to a 92, especially not a low-life like him. "Kane, grab his sleeve."
To his credit, Tristan struggled. He really did try to keep it hidden, but of course, he had no chance against the school's star football player. Triumphantly, Kane yanked the sleeve back, before dropping it, and taking a step back.
The hall was silent. "Kane? Kane, what is it?"
Kane dropped to his knees. "Forgive me, Infini." As he said that, everyone around us began dropping down as well.
"What? That's... That's impossible! There's only ever... He can't be... Let me see that!" I grabbed his sleeve myself, only to confirm what Kane saw. An infinity symbol. I looked at Tristan, and he seemed grim. "I hope you'll leave me alone now," he said as he walked away.
&#x200B; | (I didn't exactly follow the prompt, sorry in advance)
"You're obviously hiding, like, a two, no, a zero!" I teased. I peered curiously at him. "What number *do* you have though, seriously? Just tell me and I'll stop bothering you."
"No you won't. You'll just bother me more." Arthur insisted.
"It can't be *that* bad."
Arthur sighed, and rolled up his sleeve.
I choked.
He didn't have any tally marks.
He had an infinity symbol.
"Told you."
"Is that... what? Is that fake or something? There's no way that- what does that even *mean*?"
"I don't know."
"How can someone have infinite success?" I pondered. "Does that mean you'll be infinitely rich? Know everything there is to know? Rule the world?"
"What? Is that what success means to you?" Arthur sounded almost... disgusted.
"Yes? What does it mean to you?"
"Success means happiness."
"Oh. It means that for me too."
"You think wealth, knowledge, and power will give you happiness?"
"Yeah? I tend to view things in a materialistic way, leave me alone."
"So you think that if you were super rich, super knowledgeable, and super powerful, you have to be happy too?"
"No, but it's not like I can really hope to be happy."
"Anyone can be happy!"
"If you view the world through rose-tinted glasses, maybe."
"Who's the one here that apparently has infinite success?"
"Maybe it's not infinity, maybe it just means you have no tally marks because it means zero." I suggested. Arthur just stared at me. "Okay, so maybe that's stretching it, but it's possible. You can't be sure that it means you'll be infinitely successful."
"Well, you're sure that your number means you'll have that amount of success, right?"
"Yeah, but that's different. My number is..." I looked away for a moment.
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
"What's your number? I showed you mine, you should have to show me yours."
"Well, you know how everyone has somewhere from one to a hundred tally marks tattooed on them, right?"
"Well, aside from me, yes."
"And how having only one means they'll be homeless, poor, hated, generally miserable beyond imagination, and a hundred means they'll be famous, rich, and beloved by all, probably make some sort of important contribution to society?"
"Yeah, and? Do you have a low number?"
"I... have a neutral number."
"You have a 50?"
"No, I mean, in terms of numbers in math, only one number is neutral. I have *that* number."
"You... don't have a tally mark? Not even one?"
"That... explains a lot."
"Yeah, I know. Explains why I'm such an asshole, right?"
"No, I mean it explains why you hate yourself so much."
"Sure it does." I shrugged. "I got unlucky, what can you do?"
"The tally marks don't dictate your life. Maybe this means that you'll determine your own success, that your future isn't set in stone."
"I doubt it." I looked up wistfully. "I'll just enjoy life while I still can. Once it gets miserable enough, I'll just kill myself, I think. It's not I'll contribute to society anyway."
Arthur looked horrified. "That's not..."
"Moving on!" I smiled. "What kind of career do you want to go into? Like, I want to know if you'll be a super famous comedian, engineer, what kind of discovery or contributions will you make? Maybe you'll be immortal and go into every field, that could explain it."
"We're just going to-"
"Yes, we are." I cut him off. "Also, don't just ignore me, answer the question, man!" I pouted.
"I... okay. I'm not sure what field I want to go into, to be honest. Some sort of scientific field sounds nice, especially since I'm guaranteed success, so if I go into science, I'll make a significant discovery, right? Or maybe I'll try to be a celebrity and be beloved for infinity. I don't know, there's a lot I could do. What about..." He stopped himself. "Let me at least check if you have any tally marks." Arthur suddenly insisted.
"Do you not trust me?"
"It won't hurt to try." I glared at him. "Come on, please?"
"I..." I looked away. "... fine. Maybe you can do something, Mr. Infinite Success."
He pulled up my sleeves, revealing thousands of red tally marks, scars that were clearly intentionally made, some of them looking recent, some looking as if they'd been there for years. "What are these...? Did you do this to yourself?"
"Some of these."
"Wait, then who's giving you the rest?"
"Take a wild guess." I sighed, pulling down my sleeves, before checking the time. "I got to go, it's late."
"Wait, you can't just leave after revealing *that!*"
I looked backwards. "I can, and I will!"
I ran out the door, and disappeared into the night.
*Tonight seems like a good night to die. After all, Arthur has an infinity symbol. That means even if I die, he'll still be successful, he'll still be happy. My death will have had no effect. My death means nothing.*
*I mean nothing to him.*
"Goodbye." I whispered. | 2018-12-27T18:27:11 | 2018-12-27T16:33:21 | 287 | 29 |
[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 their fault really, the Ancients. Their policy of live and let live came back to haunt them. In fairness, that policy let us live and evolve and nearly get to space travel. Their subtle attempts to twart us worked for the longest time. We had barely gotten to colonise Mars when they revealed themselves to us.
Squids. That's basically what they were but standing upright in air. Aquatic by nature but their technology allowed long periods of being out of water. They also had the neat trick of reverting to the embryonic stage when gravely injured, sick, or dying. Their only natural predator they had domesticated millions of years ago. They were basically immortal.
They were fervently anti-violence, which is why they kept us grounded to Earth for so long. When they broke this isolation in order to request our help, they told us a few secrets of the universe. One of them being that all planets that develop life eventually produce a sentient being. Most are bipedal, highly intelligent, social creatures, though their form, like these squid-like creatures, varies wildly throughout the universe.
Another of their truths hurt humanity's collective feelings. To them we were little more than wild beasts, to them we should have cast off the shackles of hate and war long ago. To them we were still cavemen. But they needed us.
Another species had managed to break from their isolation and venture out to space. They were warmongers, conquerers, sadists. They overcame the non-violent control the Ancients attempted to wield against them. They attacked the group assigned to keep them isolated. They killed and *ate* the Ancient ones before they could even react. Apparently this is a huge war crime. Troops were sent to pacify this species. They were destroyed. A conglomeration of species were sent with permission to use deadly force. The Ancient one communicating with Earth make it explicitly clear that this is a unique situation and had never been done before. Those troops were destroyed as well.
So they came to us. We were still classified as highly dangerous and unsuitable to join the universal community. However, we were the only species they could think of to counter these warmongering beasts. They gathered the world's military leaders and told us about this enemy. There were open jaws and some guffaws when they revealed who was the threat. A quote from one of the generals, who requested his name not be attached to it, said "Bears. Space bears". It was not inaccurate. This species had evolved from a kind of bear-like animal.
What followed was a plan devised by Humans and checked by Ancients, who begrudgingly approved it, going so far as to say it was a clever but brutal plan. It was carried out by the temporary allegiance of a number of different species. Humans had weaponised their advanced technologies, it wasn't hard to do, as some of their weapons were just tools with strict safety parameters. We taught them which end to point at the enemy. To be fair, they balked at the concept, they seemed to hate every moment. But they learned.
We drew them into a trap, relying on their overconfidence as they had been so far undefeated. We flanked them and destroyed their fleet. We left none alive. We then travelled to their nearest colony. We destroyed that. We destroyed the next colony, and the next, and the next. After every attack, the Ancients entirely replaced their units, under the assumption that they couldn't handle much more of the psychological trauma involved in taking lives. We watched them revert to their embryonic form, being placed in secure boxes and someone commented that they "looked cute". This confused the Ancients. They may have begun to realise that we were more complex than they gave us credit for and had a much larger capacity for empathy and compassion than previously assumed.
With the *Space Bears* defeated, their fleet destroyed, their colonies wiped out, we stopped outside their home world. All the other species stayed back as the Ancients communicated with them. We were not privy to that conversation so we waited in silence.
Something flew by incredibly fast and their ship exploded. Our sensors told us it was nuclear. The beasts had launched a number of nuclear missiles and destroyed the Ancients' ship. We may have been out of range, otherwise we would have been targeted.
Then their main fleet came at us. We tried to out-manoeuvre them but these must have been their elite forces. We got hammered. They drove most of us into range of their planetary defences. We were annihilated. We taught the Ancients a new tactic: retreat.
We regrouped in the nearest friendly colony. These were green and brown creatures, not unlike trees, but humanoid in form. Their planet was entirely organic. Their technology was granted to them by the Ancients as they were a peaceful species dedicated to spreading life throughout the universe.
We convened here, reinforcements brought here by the Ancients. They looked towards Humanity for answers. We could imagine, based on our experience on Earth, just how difficult an invasion would be. Without absolutely overwhelming forces it would be near impossible to defeat them. Us Humans didn't have nearly enough, even with some sort of conscription and most of the other species were woefully ill-equipped, untrained, and basically incapable of ground warfare.
We kept an eye on the planet, intercepted any ships daring to leave. They always engaged us and we always had to destroy them. The Ancients repeatedly tried a diplomatic approach. It consistently failed.
Then they asked us what we would do. We explained how invading a foreign country with a standing army would be incredibly difficult and risky. It would take more soldiers than we could muster and even then, it would be a major challenge. A whole planet would be damn near impossible.
The debate raged on. All the species present wanted a peaceful solution. Only the Humans and the Ancients knew that this was impossible. Complete annihilation was our only viable option. Using a combination of the Ancient's technologies and Human ingenuity (not to mention barbarity), a biological weapon, specifically designed for this creature was unleashed. It killed eighty-five percent of them and forced the devolution of the rest of them back into non-sentient bears. | 2019-03-28T05:34:15 | 2019-03-28T05:31:13 | 599 | 173 |
[WP] The date is April 1st 2020. Your town is deftly quiet for a Wednesday, but that’s because this time last year there came an April Fools prank that got so far out of hand that the town had to outlaw April Fools Day. That prank was yours and this is your confession. | Four pigs.
That's all my dad said I needed. Four pigs. Oh, and some grease and some paint. You take four pigs and write the numbers "one" "two" "three" and "five" on them, let it dry, slather them in grease and set them loose somewhere. The joke back then was that everyone would spend a day or so looking for number four.
But my dumbass just HAD to crank it up. I decided that since my dad was a teenager in the early 70's, that people probably all already knew the gig. So how do we play with their prejudices?
Simple.
Let number four loose in the school 2 days after.
I was good about it, even left two scoops of manure in the hallways the night before.
Suddenly they don't know what to believe. They are sweeping the halls and school rooms.
That's all I did.... For that year...
Next year, I did the same. But now Number two was the one to show up four days later.
And the next year five.... And six... Both let loose in the halls sequentially a week later.
So we come to senior year. My mistake, believe it or not, was NOT doing anything. Now admin is looking for five to six greased pigs. Things are getting insane. Nobody can find any pigs but dammit are they absolutely sure they are around somewhere.
As I'm pulling up to the school parking lot, a friend stops me. It's Jerry. He says school is closed last minute. Admin decided to smoke the pigs out using some chemical. Who building had to be taken off the grid and sealed up save for a few key exit points where teams of people waited with nets in hand.
This is getting ridiculous.
Then the explosion. Apparently the electrician missed something when all power was being drained. Somewhere in the home ed. room, a refigerator's compressor clicks on and BOOM.
So that's why we aren't allowed to have fun anymore and why I'm banned from local livestock auctions.... | A thin layer of fog covers the horizon. The sound of cars zoomed by. An immense forest opened up on one side of the road. The fog twisted within, the light being absorbed into the darkness itself. Above it lay the sky. Today it was so blue, unnaturally blue.
You see, that's because it was. The sky couldn't be that shade of blue. It never was before.
No one noticed. Looking back, I wish they had. I wish they would have said something before it was too late. But alas, I cannot change what already happened.
The sun was gone. Not gone behind a cloud, gone gone. Where it should be sitting above the horizon stood a blank spot of pure blue.
I didn't mean for it to get out of hand. I really didn't. But alas, I cannot change what has happened in the past.
The son of the governor was not at home. Not just in school for the day, gone gone. Where he should be sitting in a desk, there was a missing student.
I stayed in a cave, a cave containing the son of the governor. A cave that the son of the governor would not leave until 6:00 P.M.
A phone sat on my lap. It wasn't my private phone, that would be too easy to track. It was a new phone I quickly purchased on my way here.
I scrolled the local news of the sun missing. But the prank wasn't for the people, it was for the governor himself.
Time ticked by. Panic increased. Word was getting out that the governor's son was missing.
All the comments were beautiful:
*Sun or son? What the hell is happening people?*
*How can he care about his son when the sun is missing!*
*Already bought extra food to survive for a few months. Hopefully that's enough.*
*I didn't know about the other sun missing? I thought we only had 1?*
They went on and on. At last 6:00 came. I didn't want the day to end.
I walked back to the town hall, ready to present my fabulous trick. I walk through the doors.
"Father, I'm home!" I say aloud to my dad, the governor of our town.
Kevin, one of the assistants I knew very well, rushed out to meet me. Tears were streaking down his face. "Your father." He choked on his next words and sank to his knees. "He thought you were gone."
Quickly, I follow him into the room of the scene. My heart stops. No.
"He thought you were killed. There was a note left saying it."
A note? What note? I didn't leave a note. Something was seriously wrong.
My father, the governor of the town, the best person I ever known has killed himself.
Because of me.
Because of what I did.
Because I wanted to have a little bit of fun.
I collapsed inward, terrified about what I've done. This was impossible. No. The tears haven't stopped flowing.
Thoughts flash through my head.
Sadness by what happened.
Guilt because I did it.
Fear because I would be tried for murder.
Guilt because I felt fear.
Excitement pumping through my veins.
Guilt.
*Guilt.*
**Guilt.**
My head heaved forward. It was too much to bear. My head bounced off against the cement floor.
Until...
"April Fools," my father yelled.
I looked up and my eyes widened. Everything was okay. Everything was fine.
Blinking lights flashed in my eyes. A concerned face looked down upon me. I was lying in a bed.
"What happened?" I ask, my throat dry.
"You passed out from shock. I'm sorry for your loss," the nurse told me kindly.
And everything flooded back.
r/FortyTwoDogs | 2019-04-02T21:20:08 | 2019-04-02T19:30:25 | 326 | 123 |
[WP] After a brush with death at the claws of a werewolf, you manage to get back home. The following night, moonlight fills your room. You recoil in pain as you feel your body changing. Once you catch your breath, you gaze into your mirror, which is much bigger than you remember. You look adorable. | “I’m just saying, don’t you think it’s a *little* weird that it only shows up during the full moon?”
“Oh my God, get over your dumb theory. Who gives a shit if it’s a werewolf? It’s *so cute*!”
They were standing in a little huddle, right by the farmer’s lot. He and his family would be down to trade their produce and meat for silver and garlic today. The full moon would be tonight, and it was best to be prepared.
Especially on All Hallow’s Eve.
They were still talking and laughing. As townsfolk, we really had nothing to worry about. The garlic and silver strewn along the top of the walls kept out any individual monsters. A raiding party would be a different story, but those hadn’t been seen since the time of our grandfathers’ grandfathers.
“Hey,” I suddenly called out. Just a little bit louder than I had expected.
As one, they fell silent and turned to me.
Shit. I hadn’t planned this far ahead. I usually never got this far in the first place.
“Um.”
Great start.
“Are you all going to eat lunch soon? Because I haven’t eaten yet. And I was wondering if you were going to eat lunch. Because then we could eat together…”
They were turning and walking away.
“You know, if you guys are hungry. I brought cheese with me. Goat cheese. And I don’t know, maybe if you all…”
“What a freak,” I heard one of them mutter.
And then they were gone.
That was probably for the best. The children my age could get cruel if I tried to talk to them for too long.
I finished buying all the food for the week and headed back home.
As I walked past the gate, the lock stood out to me.
There were never any guards on the inside to make sure that the gate remained locked. After all, who would want to unlock the gate? It was the only thing holding back the undead hordes.
I kept walking.
My mother was sleeping when I got back home, just as when I had left. I knew, with the same uncomfortable certainty that my father was already dead, that she would be joining him before long.
I set out a cup of water for her. The ripest fruit I had been able to afford. Smoked ham softened in goat milk. She liked that.
I retired to the outside and ate my own dinner.
And, eventually, night fell.
The changing was always painful. Bones moving and scraping against each other, skin tugging and stretching, bristling fur bursting out like sores all over my body.
And then I lay panting in the moonlight.
My ears, now much more sensitive than any human’s could ever be, listened.
My mother slept, slowly and peacefully. It seemed as though the only time she wasn’t in pain was when she was sleeping.
But this night, for once, was for me, and I bounded into the village.
A guardsman saw me and grinned. “Hey, pupper. Looking for something?”
I made a little whine I knew he would find irresistible.
“Of course you are!” he shouted with a laugh and pulled several dry pieces of meat from his knapsack, which I eagerly gobbled up. While I ate, he scratched me behind the ears. I licked his hand, and I was off.
“Awww, what a cute doggo!” I heard a girl cry out. “Who’s a good boy?”
I whined and she started rubbing my belly. “Yes, you is. Yes, you is!”
Eventually, I found myself curled in her lap with everyone sitting around the central fire. I closed my eyes and let the words wash over me. Jokes and stories, flirtations and mock insults, everything that was denied to me as a person.
In the morning, I knew, they would hate me again. The guardsman would shove me into the dirt if I was in his way, or maybe even if I wasn’t. The young men and women would walk away if they saw me coming, and the children would point and laugh.
But tonight, I belonged. | It was excruciating.
The pain I felt in my body was something I've never felt before. Fuck—even getting hit in the balls didn't make me feel this way.
It was a blur, but all I remember was my own screams in agony followed by the breaking and meshing of my new, stronger bones. I felt like a thousand needles were hitting me at once as goosebumps crawled up my body. Except, it wasn't goosebumps. I didn't realize that was the case until I watched my left arm become engulfed in white fur.
Eventually, after a long while, the pain subsided. *finally.* I thought, my mind finally clear enough that I could think. Though, now that it was, the realization slowly sunk into my brain that I am no longer human. Or, at least, not as human as I was before.
Fuck. What am I going to tell my parents? My wife? How will they react, knowing that I am now a horrific beast? I mean, sometimes I yelled from time to time, but at least there wasn't the risk of getting mangled.
A headache pounding the back of my skull like a drum, I manage to sit up. Before the transformation, I was in my bedroom, and I was almost ready to go to sleep. Though, I guess my body had other ideas. I stared down at my hands—err, well, what *were* my hands. They were strange, fluffy paws. Thick and round, and certainly not what I expected to see. I could barely see the claws hiding behind the tufts of fur.
By that point, curiosity overtook my fear. What do I look like now? What would people think of me now? I shake my head and force myself off of the floor. However, I got a little frustrated when I realized I couldn't get into an upright position. I'm still used to my human body, but can you really blame me?
Anyways, I get to the bathroom. My claws scraped against the tile floor as I try to reach the sink. I'm shorter, now, I realize. And it's not just because im hunched over in my new form. I had to pull my body upwards a little just to get a look at my face. When I do, however, I see...
A...Dog?
No. Not quite. I'm definitely...Something. A bear? I *do* have white fur, so maybe I'm a polar bear, or something. Though, polar bears are bigger than this. And more scary. I look a bit like a bear, or a husky, except I was just really...Cute. I'm not sure how else to explain it. Compared to the bloodthirsty, ravenous monster that nearly tore into my intestines just a say ago, I'm certainly not as threatening as I thought.
I was a white, canine creature, with small ears and black, wide eyes. My paws were almost bearlike, except smaller. I certainly looked slightly human too, since I could walk on two legs and had a bit of a humanoid stature. Suddenly I cringe, feeling like a real life version of a furry. I don't want to live like *that* every full moon.
Even then, though, I didn't expect this outcome. Maybe I expected death, when I met that lycanthrope, or maybe a life of agony and pain after surviving, but...Maybe, just maybe, I could live with this.
I am jolted out of my mind when I hear a knock at the door. *fuck.* I think. It's likely my wife, Elizabeth. I forgot she got home from work early today.
"Alex? Hey, I heard screaming when I got home. Are you okay?" She calls out. I hear her open the door.
"U-Uhh, just a moment, honey—!" My voice is rougher and nearly unrecognizable, and I wince. It is already too late.
My wife comes in to the bathroom and gasps when she sees me as I am now, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. Her mouth falls open, and I almost expect her to scream, but the only thing that comes out is a gentle breath.
We stare at each other, and no words are spoken for a while.
"Alex? Is that...You?" She asks.
I nod, slowly and reluctantly.
"You're a...You're a werewolf."
"Something like that."
She stares down at me, and slowly sinks down to the floor. She doesn't seem afraid, however, and I'm not surprised. I practically look like a giant pillow.
"What happened?" She reluctantly asks.
"Long story short, I got bit by a werewolf." I murmur. "I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. I was planning to, but not in this way."
She shakes her head softly. "So *that's* what your shoulder wound really was." She murmured under her breath.
"Im...Sorry if this means the end of our relationship." I say quietly, almost to myself. I didn't really realize until now the gravity of my situation.
She stares up at me, somehow looking more surprised than before.
"Now what gave you that idea?" She asks.
"Uh. This?"
I gesture at my entire, wolflike body, but I blink when I see Elizabeth begin to giggle.
"So what if you become a giant fluff ball every once in a while?" She says with a laugh, bringing up a hand to rub my head. "Doesn't make you any less yourself."
I stare at her for a while. She stares back. I don't know how she does it, but she has always found ways to say just what I needed to hear. It's one of the reasons why we are still together.
"Besides, I always wanted a dog." She suddenly coos, staring up at me with an innocent smile.
"Haha, yeah."
"Wait, what?" | 2019-10-31T14:21:19 | 2019-10-31T14:20:41 | 143 | 27 |
[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. | Surely their treaty language was infantile. Every galactic power saw the human delegations in this light, and granted them allowances when they called out other polities for supposed violations. Their own world still rattled with ancient, barbaric rivalries, but their world government was adept at crafting laws that addressed every possible misconception. Humans understood their own clumsy codifications of appropriate behavior very well, but fell short when it came to interstellar natural law.
Or so we thought.
We deferred when the Gortic Palison partial terraform malfunctioned, spilled out from the Nargust crater and absorbed three human city settlements on the far side of the Ptolsephon moon. To any other species, it would have been enough to permit them to exact a comparable assault on a colony of Gorton 4, but in their naïve phrasing, two wrongs don't make a right. They distrusted the Palison technology and the Gortons themselves, and demanded recompense in resources, and territory.
This played out in similar fashion across their galactic arm, Orion. Always the victim, they plied their negotiating skills to push other species back. Only the mildest species would acquiesce to cohabit with them, and condescended to their petty demands for resources and territory.
No one saw their long game. When they managed to solidify a complete surrender of the solar empire Many, something they called a Dyson swarm, everyone thought they would be satiated for a long time.
Instead, they quickly learned how to put the computing power left behind by the Many to their own uses. They centralized their catalog of treaties and awoke their first overarching Ai as some kind of galactic space lawyer.
Within the span of 50 years, less than their average individual lifetimes, they managed to call out 1,759,683 violations of the myriad of treaties they'd negotiated and presented them to the Central Confederation. Locking them all simultaneously within the very limited judicial system, which existed almost exclusively for new races like theirs, they'd forced a vote of no confidence, and stormed out, declaring all treaties null and void.
This was preferable to the rest of us, seeing them as petty promises one makes to one's offspring to goad them into compliance and self discipline.
We could not have been more wrong.
As I sit in the Confederation's central information hub, I see the path of human fleets, plowing through empires and colonies alike, completely obliterating them. They are taking no prisoners, using xenophobic battle cries as fuel for their genocides.
They must have planned this from the very beginning. We were the naïve ones, foolishly sharing technologies and information with them. We thought they would come to understand the galaxy and adapt to our way of life, as every other species has. But in their claims to want peace, they peddled treachery, and secretly lusted for blood. The galaxy has never before had an apex predator, yet these fleshy, pink bipeds, of all creatures, will be the death of us all.
And the worst part? It's all perfectly legal. | "Sir the Gord'ush home planet has stopped broadcasting" a low ranking insect like creature said while running into the war minister's chamber.
"So what? They probably got caught in a storm or something" The fat slug responded dismissively. "Have a recon ship go past it to check out the weather"
The insect walked away and all was silent for a few minutes until the transmission came to the chamber.
"Uh sir. There is no storm, in fact the planet has been is a barren waste, barely still held together by gravity" And he wasn't exaggerating the world was reduced to nothing more than a handful of rocks and lava.
"There must have been some kind of cosmic event" The slug continued without a care in the world. "But I'll summon the rest of the cabinet to figure out what press release we will offer. Thank you."
You see, much like the appointees during the soviet era on Earth those in positions of power were less knowledgeable about that specific area and moreso were an important figure in their own species. Some representatives were robotic, others insect like, some even were various clusters.
Then the humans, weak and incapable. Only a few thousand years ago they figured out how to join the rest of the union. Instead of a single delegate they send a group. Not really in a hivemind kind of way, just a group of them who will even argue amongst themselves in various languages that don't make sense. They are a relatively small but spread out population, some nonsense about this 'colonialism' thing. They send a handful of people to various planets and eventually have enough there to make it work. Stupid but to each their own.
&#x200B;
At least that is what we all thought before the meeting. In marched a handful of them. four with their silly 'camouflage' that really doesn't work and one who looks like one of those 'roman' statues they bring to cultural events. That one has a few crude implants, a bionic eye is the most obvious.
&#x200B;
"This must be an act of war." The Gord'ush representative said. They are still around in great number, their 'home world' is named that purely because it is the one they originated from. "Which one of you attacked us?" He said while banging on the table. There was denial going around the room until the 'roman' spoke up.
"It was us" the room started roaring in laughter. The humans don't declare war, this is one of those 'ice breakers' they are so fond of to try and 'lighten the mood'. You see they never go to war, even their petty squabbles are barely noteworthy off the planet they occur on.
His voice was drowned out and the translators couldn't pick up the rest of what was said. The other four stood there with their guns and other things which they seem to carry as 'tradition' they've never been fired, in fact we don't even think they work.
Worth noting is that the delegations each speak in order here. This is done entirely to keep order and was done to appease the weaker species or those who don't have distinct speech so they can write their messages without being ignored. These things can have an earth hour or more before someone gets another turn to talk. This is done largely for the live broadcast along the galaxy so those with slower systems can catch up (can you imagine waiting even a single second though?)
The conversation continued with general denials and some mentioning that they didn't feel any kind of cosmic storm in the area.
And once again the one spoke while the others stood there when it was the humans' turn again. Occasionally they take turns and argue but this time was different.
"I am going to play a video showing the last moment's of that planet" he said. A fleet of ships jumped in and immediately destroyed it. Clearly human in nature. Once again the room burst into laughter. A bold play but even the Gord'ush representative seemed to laugh at the absurdity. This is why they are the master negotiators. They doctored up some kind of film while waiting for their turn, the creative bunch that they are.
And again the room discussed what happened without paying them any mind.
The last thing that any of those in attendance heard was the human again. Visibly agitated he grabbed one of the guns from one of the others in his delegation and shot the slug. "I am an inquisitor in service to the God Emperor. This is a declaration that the galaxy will burn as we purge all xenos" he said as the entire world was blown completely in half.
&#x200B;
From that day on the galaxy has never known a single day of peace.
&#x200B;
<The last entry of the last Gord'ush in the year 39,801> | 2019-11-24T12:29:38 | 2019-11-24T11:02:03 | 363 | 184 |
[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. | The ambassador, grey and hunched, wore a tired expression.
His cane clicked rhythmically as he stepped up to the dais in the council chamber.
He drew from his coat two envelopes, one sealed with wax.
Breaking the seal he looked at the contents and winced before looking at the other sheet.
"At 1.32AM this morning, we received official notification that this galactic security council had issued a resolution sanctioning Vasudan takeover of the Sol system for the purposes of mining rare minerals."
"At 1.41AM this morning, with 9 minutes notice of the declaration of war, Earth was virus bombed by Vasudan forces, killing 98% of the human population."
"At 2.41AM this morning, the dead-man switch controlling our weapons systems triggered."
Around the room whispers started as translators were interrogated about the meaning of "deadmans switch".
"At 11.43AM this morning 17,000 hybrid FTL impactor missiles finished their real-space acceleration stage repeatedly FTL jumping away from the edge of the event horizon of a black hole until they reached 99.93% of c realspace with enough energy to shatter a planetary core."
"At that point any possibility of halting our counterstrike passed as the weapons entered FTL towards their targets"
A shout erupted from one of the tables "17,000? do you intend to target every Vasudan ship individually?"
Pain crossed the old mans face for a moment.
The ambassador paused and looked up, changing to a lecturing tone.
"*When we joined this chamber with observer status we provided information detailing our planets history. Sadly I don't believe those here chose to peruse it. May I suggest searching for the keywords 'mutually assured destruction'*"
"No. Each impactor is targeted at a different planet. *All* worlds and colonies belonging to *all* members of this council who sanctioned the attack on earth."
Shouts of outrage filled the room. "When!??"
The ambassador looked at his watch "approximately 9 minutes from now" | “huuuumaaaaan” the small grey being said in a mocking tone
President Wells stared at the alien with contempt
“We know all too well of your so called warnings, your pleas, your “negotiations”. We have experience many other species who also could bear look at at the federation firepower and but quiver in fear at our might.”
“Yes bu-“
“CEASE you pink filth, we have loosely watched your kind; guided you- And you dare speak back to me? We finally come back to check on your little rock and feel that it is time to offer the joy that is the federation and to incorporate you into our ranks as the 20,827th species and you dare meet us with disrespect?”
“Naw i meant no disrespect now but how can we ac-“ president wells declared in his thick southern accent before being cut off again
“GOOD! then i see you understand, back to the agreement-
Humans are to surrender themselves unto the federation for work camp allocation, along with any potential technology deemed interesting to this wonderful council”
the gray little figure motioned to the variety of other species present in the hall
“Along with the surrendering of the rights of the “sol” system to be bid for by members of this council and their respective species- and in exchange, humanity gains citizenship! This is a fantastic deal you understand.”
President wells looked at the bug eyed, black, soulless pits sunken into the little grey’s head.
“Now look here Xiabe, im sure this is a great deal, but humanity cannot agree to these terms. They are frankly-“
“ENOUGH. I will not be spoken to in such a manner by a lowly creature such as yourself”
Wells narrowed his eyes
“You will agree to these terms or they will happen through force. You will answer me now, with a simple agreement, and vow to the federation, or you will be forced to do so do you understand me?”
President wells looked at his security detachment before scratching his left ear, then turning to lean in on the railing before him
Wells stared intently into the bobble headed son of a bitch before above.
“We decline.”
Various sounds came from the rows of species representatives above him, some easily discernible as laughter- others like he had never heard before
The grey toned goblin’s eyes widened
“Not only do we decline Xiabe,”
Wells voice barely cut above the cacophony of sound now filking the hall
“but if you touch as much lay a single 6 fingered granite colored hand on any damn one of my kind well Ill kill yall and swear you died”
“Very colorful-“ the alien responded “engage for-“
“No no, no need for that Xiabe- lemme say it for you”
As wells finished one of the security members behind him turned his head, cupped his ear, and moved his mouth softly before a flashes of light began to be seen coming from the surface of the blue marble out the ships window
“What is this?” The grey let ooze out of his mouth, filled with malice
“Its what i tried to warn you bout champ!”
Seconds later explosions in the distance rattled the floor of the ship, as all varieties of aliens in heavy armor began to weave through the levels of the city ship’s conference hall
“Total war buckaroo, M.A.D.”
“WHAT?!”
“Dont tell me you never heard of it now!”
Wells moved back, straightening his coat blazer
“Aw well, you’ll learn soon enough”
President Wells and his security detachment began to shimmer in golden light
“Well, church is out Xiabe, im goin home”
Wells suddenly disappeared leaving a small puff of smoke where he and his crew were.
As the smoke cleared Xiabe Looked out the window, to see a flash of light emerge from the ugly polluted planet below, as it got closer- Xiabe muttered his last words
“Total War...” | 2019-11-24T21:24:32 | 2019-11-24T20:20:21 | 31 | 18 |
[WP] You and your sister have a unique ability. When you concentrate on a person you can see the worse thing they will do over the course of their entire life. Your sister, she sees the best thing they will do. | "Guy by the door."
"Cheats on his wife with her dad," I muttered, swirling my whiskey.
"Oh. Wow. Really? Wow," Sofia said, eyes wide. I grinned.
"Not the dad thing, but it is infidelity."
"You're fucked up, you know that? Okay, what about the dude at the corner table. The one with the jacket and the weird hair."
I sighed and, as casually as I could, turned to look at the man my sister was referring to. I reached for it and, as always, it was like a filter slid in front of my eyes. I could see, in excruciating detail, the very worst thing the man would ever do.
Sofia jumped in alarm as the glass in my hand cracked sharply. "What? How bad is it?"
"He...hurts animals." My voice was a cold growl.
"Oh God." She shuddered, knowing that anything that could get to me had to be truly bad.
"Check him. He better be a fucking saint. For his sake."
Sofia closed her eyes a moment before turning her gaze to the man I knew was never going to be a saint.
"He becomes a surgeon and saves lives most days." Her voice soft, knowing as well as I did that it wouldn't be enough.
He was looking at us now, a suspicious frown on his piggish face.
I placed my cracked glass carefully on the bar top. "There are plenty of surgeons."
It was time to work.
Now don't get me wrong. I love what we do. We were literally born for this, and we're very good at it.
Sofia is my little sister. Although at just barely an inch shorter than my six feet, she wasn't exactly little. Still, at twenty three years old, she's thirteen years younger than me.
If you can do basic math, you'll work out that that makes me thirty six.
We've been doing this for eleven years. Ever since we - well, I - realized the implications of our ability.
Sofia sees the best in people. Literally. She can look at someone and tell you the absolute best thing they will achieve in their life.
Me, I'm the same but opposite. I see people's worst, darkest secret.
When I was twenty five, my sister and I realized that we had a calling. A true purpose like very few people ever get.
Right now, that purpose led me to wiping a gore-encrusted knife off on the animal torturer's fancy jacket - rather futilely, it must be said, as it was as drenched in blood as the rest of him. And much of me.
Sofia leaned in the doorway of the cheap motel room. "Are you finally done? Clean yourself up and let's go. Leave this shit hole town behind us."
You see, my sister and I... We judge you. If your good outweighs your bad, then you live.
You must be wondering why I'm so sure this is what we're meant for. How I recognized this as our true calling.
When I was twenty five, Sofia and I decided to check each other for the first time. When I looked at her, I saw us. Doing this.
When she looked at me, she saw the same thing. | It was very fitting, really; I was born hypercritical of people, and Annette was born much more forgiving and optimistic.
It was somewhere around our fifteenth birthday, after spending many days in meditation, and praying to nameless gods, that we were bestowed our gift. I could see the darkest deeds of someone's past, and my sister could see the brightest deeds of their future.
We had been training to receive this gift for our entire lives, under the tutelage of monks and scientists, martial artists and priests, philosophers and rulers- a life spent training to produce the highest beings humankind were capable of producing.
Their wish was manifested in us. Or- so I had thought. I was about to be thoroughly humbled.
After our powers manifested and were explored using scientific methods, our 'handlers' gave us the assignment to use them freely in the real world... Annette and I hadn't ever been in the real world before. We were eager for the chance- even if we were still on a bit of a leash.
Pacing down the streets of New York, Annette and I chose targets at random to examine. "This one- hot dog stand guy." I said, jerking my head off to the left. Annette nodded, her curly chestnut-brown hair bouncing with the movement.
Both of us stared at him while we pretended to be in the lineup. I was bombarded with information- he had sold drugs to people, people who were ill-equipped for the ramifications of their actions. He had ruined lives, and made a profit from it. Disgusting.
Annette whispered to me "I like him! He winds up giving his life's savings to make sure an elderly care-home doesn't go defunct."
I grunted noncommittally. We exited the lineup just before it would have been our turn.
"Over there!" Annette said, looking to a very plain-looking woman. I nodded, and peered at her, again being engulfed by far too much information.
"She... well, it isn't *that* much. She cheated on one of her boyfriends once."
"Mmm. She doesn't get up to *that* much good, either- but she ends up having a daughter, later, and she really does love her."
We continued on.
Annette nudged me as we approached a large park. "The old man!" She whispered.
"He...well, he fought in the war. Killed a lot of people. Some of them really didn't need killing." I said.
"Hmm. Well, that's not good... but he's about five minutes away from saving someone's life. Purple shirt, there-" She said, pointing. "He's about to have a seizure, and old soldier man still remembers what to do about that."
We walked some more. "Oh, look! Another pair of twins!" She said, showing me two who were looking right at us.
I looked first at the sister- but all I saw was the sister talking to us. I looked at the brother, and all I saw was him punching me across the jaw.
They approached. "Do you really think you're the only people who have this gift?" The brother asked with an unfriendly look.
"Uhm...sorry! We're just exploring." Annette said.
"You mean, standing in judgement over people whose lives you only see a fraction of." Said the sister, disapprovingly.
"Some things really are a matter of black and white." I said. "There is no excuse for wanton murder."
"Even to save the lives of your friends?" Replied the brother. "You two are just scratching the surface of your ability, yet you hold yourselves like you're equipped to play God over everyone you lay eyes on."
"Oh shove it up your--" That was when the brother punched me.
"Ow." I said, dully, from my position on the ground.
"I let you see that that was about to happen. Do better, idiot. Learn empathy. Nothing in this life is black and white."
Storm clouds were gathering overhead. "Once you two learn to see more than just what is right in front of you, we'll find you again. Oh- and try to slip the noose the government is preparing for you, yeah? The day may come when we want your help." Said the sister.
"From this guy? I doubt it." Said the brother, and the two turned and left.
"What the hell was that?" I asked.
"I think... I don't know what to think. But there *are* a few shady people with earpieces watching us. Maybe we should...go." Annette said, pulling me off the ground.
Still confused and disoriented, Annette and I fled, unsure of where we were going- or who, exactly, was after us- or how to stop them- the only thing we knew, for the first time in our lives, was that we knew nothing.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Hey guys- if you're interested, I'm about to start a new Choose Your Own Adventure on my subreddit- people following can vote on what we do next, I update it at least once every other day. Come by and say hi :) | 2020-06-06T21:21:44 | 2020-06-06T17:35:15 | 367 | 55 |
[WP] A fleet of alien ships has appeared in orbit. The aliens say they can end world hunger and disease. In return, they want one hundred million volunteers for their army. | It was the end to a horrible year. December 2020 was met with moans and groans, after the recent economic collapse of several countries. So when an alien fleet appeared in orbit, many people were surprised, but not overly so. The fact they didn't attack was seen as a good sign.
They sat in orbit for 11 days, before a signal was sent to all technology able to receive messages. All tv's, phones, radios, computers, even smart fridges relayed the same message:
"Greetings Denzins of planet designation 2-6-43, now referred to as Earth. Your culture, species and planet are at a point of near total collapse. We can help you right your path. All we require are volunteers to join us. 100,000,000 people are requested."
At once countries exploded into debate. The offer was generous, though the thought of potentially sacrificing millions of lives was met with hesitation. Eventually, the UN broadcast a message, in return.
"Greetings Extra-terrestrial beings. Before we accept your offer, a question must be asked. What will happen to those volunteers? And how do you propose to fix our problems?"
The aliens waited another 11 days, before another message was broadcast.
"We are the Yuth'ra. The volunteers will join our army, to assist in peacekeeping throughout the galaxy. As for our proposal, observe area indicated by Prase Lokra, in 1 day local time."
One of the fleet moved, and fired what appeared to be a projectile towards part of the Amazon rainforest. When we got to the place, we saw a sort of beacon, in the centre of a large deforested area. After a day the beacon flashed, with a swarm of tiny drones appearing. They blanketed the area, and before the eyes of the world, trees grew, plants flourished, even some animals appeared.
With that, the Yuth'ra broadcasted another message.
"This is what we can do. Not just to this small area, but to your entire planet. We can provide you with augmented crops, designed purely to grow in the local areas, at such a rate none of you will go hungry. We can give you details on what you would call nanobots, able to live in harmony with your body, and stop diseases from ravaging you, even repairing already damaged areas. With your people fed and healthy, you can then focus on repairing your own culture, for even that is beyond technology.
All we ask for these gifts is those volunteers. And those volunteers must come of their own choice. We will not take those forced or coerced into joining."
The UN took time to discuss, but ultimately agreed with them. With that, a series of smaller beacons were sent to every city in the world. Any who waited to volunteer could step up to these beacons, and put on the attached helmet. The helmet would somehow scan their mind, for any hint of this not being their own choice. If they were rejected, the helmet would simply pull itself from their head. If they were accepted, they would receive a bracelet, along with 2 tags. These tags could be attached to any pieces if luggage, to take with them. After 11 days, they would be teleported to the fleet.
I decided to volunteer. I had lost my family in an accident a few years ago, and had fallen out of contact with most of my friends. I went to the beacon, and out in the helmet. I felt a cold rush go through my head, as it did whatever scan it had. What felt like an eternity later, it beeped, and my bracelet and tags appeared before me. I had been accepted. | Major Reynolds looked down at the clusters on his collars with a mixture of bewilderment and disgust. A lifetime ago it seemed like, he had been a true line dog, a Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corps. His mission in life was to mentor a clueless Lieutenant and hold the line against the silver-bellied sons a' bitches that had invaded Earth. Now, not only was he serving in what had been the enemy army, to add insult to injury, they had made him an officer to boot.
The silver bellies--or The Enlightened as they called themselves--landed on Earth about a year ago. They called the ensuing shitshow The Trials. The brass referred to it as Operation Wounded Eagle. Reynolds called it one giant charlie foxtrot. Apparently, the whole damn three month war had been some kind of test to see if Earthlings knew how to fight. Earth must have passed, because as part of the peace accords, the Enlightened demanded 100 million recruits to serve five years in their army. Apparently these high and mighty morons had started some shit they couldn't finish, and this is how they decided to beef up their ranks.
*Almost hard to believe the bastards have enemies*, thought Reynolds as he marched from the galley to the ship's Combat Information Center.
When the Enlightened offered their peace terms, Reynolds was a member of a small but vocal minority who had advocated seeing what happens when you start shoving tac-nukes down silver-belly throats. The Marine Corps Commandant, Secretaries of State and Defense along with the President and their corresponding international counterparts strongly disagreed, some nonsense about living to fight another war and a VERY generous aid package. Apparently, Reynolds had made enough of an impression at the Battle of the Cumberland Gap that he was mentioned by name in peace accords. So, here he was following orders.
As Reynolds marched into the CIC, he had to stop himself from saluting the door guards before they saluted him. Old habits die hard. The center of the room was dominated by a holographic projector, which was usually occupied by nearby celestial bodies and the fleet's current trajectory. Today, it was occupied by a topographical map of a narrow, rocky valley. The only one's in the room were the Captain and the ship's XO. Reynolds had long given up on learning to pronounce their names.
"Major Reynolds, we have a mission for you and your battalion. The enemy has recently mobilized an infantry division, and they're moving it towards our main fuel refinery. They take it, and the most of the Fleet will be grounded. You must prevent that from happening," stated the Captain, as casually as he would order lunch.
"There something wrong with your aerial bombers, Captain? Should be able to make short work of that division, especially once they bunch up to start making it through the valley."
The XO shifted uncomfortably and shot a nervous glance at the Captain, who gave a slight nod.
"There's a problem, Major. Until now, we've been carrying this war with unrivaled air superiority. However, as the war ground on we lost experienced pilots that are. . .difficult to replace. Plus, the enemy has made significant advances in their own fighter technology. The airspace the division is moving through isn't denied, but it is hotly contested. In order to protect against enemy bombers, you'll need to set up several triple-A sites."
Major Reynolds ran a hand through his silver-black hair as he looked at the map.
"So let me get this straight," he began. "The second your air war starts going sour, you guys started scouring space for suitable ground forces to save your sorry asses? Jesus Christ!"
The Captain ignored the comment as he waved his hand, moving the focus of the holo-projector to a meteor shower the fleet was currently matching velocities with to disguise their approach.
"Normally, we would land your forces in shuttles," droned the Captain. "Unfortunately, due to the contested nature of the airspace that approach would engender heavy losses. As luck would have it, this shower is going to enter the atmosphere 1,000 km west of the pass. Your troopers will disembark here and space jump down to the surface. Due to the size of these meteors, the enemy shouldn't be notice your troops until the rest of the meteor shower burns up in the mesosphere. Based on your performance at the Cumberland Gap, we presume you know what to do once you hit the dirt."
"I'll be outnumbered about six to one, if those force projections are accurate," responded Reynolds. "Plus not using the shuttles is going to greatly cut down on the ammo and heavy weapons I can bring to the surface. Assuming they're not willing to risk bombers to clear the pass, my battalion should be able to hold that valley for 12 hours before we're reduced to throwing rocks at the enemy. If you can't get me air support by then, your refinery is toast."
"If we can't get you air support by then," monotoned the Captain, "this fleet will be little more than fancy rubbish drifting through space once it runs out of fuel. We're in the same boat, so to speak."
Major Reynolds muttered a few of his favorite cuss words under his breath, resisting the temptation to spit for good measure.
"I guess I have a few preparations to make then." | 2020-07-22T11:14:26 | 2020-07-22T11:09:48 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] You are a viking, old and slowly dying. However, if you die due to old age, you cannot enter Valhalla. | I laid on my back, staring upwards. What was I looking at? The stars, I think. They were bright tonight, like teardrops dotting the landscape.
I reached out for my axe, still beside me even when I'm at death's door. Thinking of all the battles I've fought throughout the years, I gripped it as tightly as I could. Within a second, my wrist went slack, and the axe clanged back onto the floor.
How? How could I be here, destitute and old? I was a great warrior. I've fought and slaughtered men, inflicting and taking my fair share of wounds. Yet, my heart never stopped beating. Now, my bones and muscles fail me at every step, so much so that I couldn't stand up straight if I wanted to.
Against my will, and maybe for the first time in my life, I felt tears of frustration and sadness squeezing its way out of my dry eyes.
This cannot be how it ends. I could not be lying here, feeling the gentle night breeze and the kind stars shining overhead. I belonged on the battlefield. I should have died there, and earned due passage to Valhalla.
I could feel my eyelids dropping. Slowly, my body relaxed, thought I vehemently fought against it with every fibre of my will. I could not die. Not yet. There were more battles to be had. More mead to celebrate our the Vikings' inevitable victories. More legends to forge.
Alas, my mortal vessel betrayed me. It was the one to let me down in the end.
It did not matter, I thought as I drifted off to eternal sleep. Even if I had to kill Hel herself, I would find my way to Valhalla.
The darkness slipped in gently at first, but rushed to fill in every thought I once had. Some would call it peace. I found it deeply unsettling.
But eventually, my eyes cracked open. All I saw was a laughing man. A warrior. He stood in front of a giant gate. He had already noticed my arrival, since he was pointing directly at me.
"Do I have to kill you where you stand?" I cried in fury. I raised my axe above my head.
Wait. I raised my axe above my head.
I slowly brought my weapon down. The arm holding it, now filled with youthful vigour, flexed and pulsed with strengthened sinew and mighty muscle.
"Well," the man said. "Congratulations, old man. You've done it, somehow. These here are the gates to Valhalla."
"But how?" I stammered. "I... was old. Useless in battle."
"Odin sees all," the gatekeeper said as he opened one side of the entrance to eternal glory. "To him, you died fighting."
"And that's what matters," a booming voice emerged from beyond the gates. "Spirit over bloodshed; mind over matter."
I could not help but grin. I renewed my grip on my axe, and walked forward to Valhalla, tall and strong as I ever was and would be.
---
r/dexdrafts | "Today, we send another faithful warrior into your arms, Allfather." The village chieftain, dressed in his finest furs and leather, beckoned Erik forward. "He has served you well--perhaps a little too well--and now in the dusk of his years, he would serve one last time so that Valhalla may open its gates for him."
A small crowd of villagers clapped, and Erik stepped forward, smiling through his thick grey beard. He wore dirty old rags and held a dagger in his hand.
"This is the final round of the tournament," the chieftain announced. "The winner will receive a feast in their name, and the loser will meet Odin. Step forward Erik, Durn. Prepare for battle."
Durn was nearly seven feet tall, wielding a broadsword longer than Erik's legs. There were rumors that he cleaved men in two on the battlefield.
Thats why Erik chose him for the finale of his life. He'd taken the Ättestupa, throwing himself off a cliff, but landed on a bush with nothing but scratches to show for it. He'd joined on the last Western raid with the village warriors and fought men half his age in battle, but even though he was frail and weak, none of them managed to kill him. But Durn--now there was a man to kill a man, if Erik had ever seen one. He sighed, and smiled, then stepped forward.
"Here's to a clean battle, Durn," Erik said, tapping his dagger against the enormous broadsword. "May the best man win."
Durn nodded. He was never fond of words.
The chieftain looked them up and down, stepped back, then said, "Begin!"
Erik fought with all his might--he had to, of course. One doesn't make it into Valhalla without dying in earnest battle. He even managed to land a few cuts on Durn's arms before the giant finally smiled and said, "Ok, Durn ready. Erik ready?"
Erik nodded, and braced himself.
Durn screamed something unholy and swung his sword in a blur that no human eye could possibly track. Erik had his dagger raised in defense, but the blade cut through his wrists and sent his hands flying onto a nearby table prepared for the feast. He screamed, spurting blood, realizing he had not yet died.
Durn, on the other hand, had gotten a little too carried away with his swing. Six people in the crowd had the crowds of their heads removed, and he'd lost his footing in the mud, falling face-first into it. Erik sank to his knees, shouting at his bleeding wrists, but Durn did not rise. The chieftain rushed over to the hulking man, and found that he'd landed neck-first onto the side of his massive sword, which was too sharp for his own good. Combined with his weight, the fall had slit his throat.
Erik was the winner. He cried as they cauterized and bandaged his bloody wrists, not because of the pain, but because he had been forsaken. Despite being the winner, he passed up on his feast, heading out into the mountains alone instead, where lush, rolling hills and waterfalls surrounded him.
"Sweet Odin," Erik said, lifting his stumps toward the heavens. "Why do you so desperately wish to bar me from the gates of Valhalla? Have I not been a faithful servant?"
There was no response besides wind whistling through alpine trees, and Erik sobbed to himself for a while.
---
"Dad," Thor said, looking across the realms and into the land of men. He'd been watching Erik for quite some time. "Is there anything you haven't told me?"
Odin cleared his throat, averting his eyes. "Nope."
"Nothing?"
"Of course not, my son."
Thor turned to his father. "Well, it sort of seems like that human trying to make it to Valhalla is a little more than the average human."
"Pfft," Odin said, slipping out an awkward laugh. "Some humans are just . . . resilient. Ever heard of--oh, what was his name?--Ramputee? Or something? Anyway, some humans just don't die easily. It's a shame they only find out once they're on the path to death."
Thor squinted at his father. "I've always wondered about him, as well. Tell me, if I took Mjollnir down to Erik, would he be able to lift it?"
Odin darted his gaze, again. "Don't be ridiculous. A human could never achieve such a feat. Anyway, I must take my leave now, son." He turned and left Thor behind, feeling a gaze hot on his back, and sighed once out of sight.
*Thank all that the light shines upon*, he thought, *that Erik has no hands. I made sure of that, at least.*
---
/r/resonatingfury | 2020-09-05T08:00:03 | 2020-09-05T07:57:35 | 59 | 13 |
[WP]: Turns out God was a slacker and gave "Free Will" to not have to "plan" anything. He kicked out Lucifer cause he was a control freak. When you die turns out you have a choice, between a chaotic rule free Heaven or a smoothly machine operated Hell. | Saint Peter sat at a table in front of towering pearly gates.
“Well, where will you go?” he said to me.
“Give me a second, I wasn’t ready to choose where I’d spend eternity,” I said.
“Most people don’t hesitate the choice between Heaven or hell,” he said.
“But knowing the newfound information you told me about free will in Heaven makes me wonder.”
“About what?” the angel asked.
I pressed my finger against my lips and thought for a moment. “Let me get this straight, God was completely hands off with His own creation.”
“Practically,” Peter said. “He tried to pass the baton to His Son, but you know how that turned out. Afterwards, God kinda left everything on autopilot mode.”
“When you say everything you mean —“
“The entire universe and the realms of the after life,” he interrupted. “*Everything*.”
“And you still can’t see why I’m hesitating? Billions of people have suffered through life’s harsh screwballs. Malnutrition, cancer, heartbreak, mental illness…instead of losing their shit, people found a sliver of hope that their faith will grant them a better afterlife.”
I took a breath and continued. “Can’t you see why people would be upset to find out that Heaven was more of the same?”
Peter leaned over to the side of his chair and noticed an increasing line of new spirits. He turned his attention back to me and raised an eyebrow.
“Must I remind you that the other choice is literally where pain and sin reside?” he said.
“But is it an orderly place? If Lucifer promises something to his citizens, does he deliver?”
“It’s hell— I imagine the only thing promised is the omnipresence of misery.”
I scratched my head.
“I can’t believe it’s taking you this long to decide,” Peter said.
“Well an empty calendar was my hell on Earth,” I said.
“Then the devil will exploit that knowledge and make your eternity as consistent as a game of roulette,” the angel signed. “Listen, it’s not all that bad behind the gates, but the people who live in Heaven are still figuring out how to be pure. They’re as unpredictable as they were in the flesh, which can lead to hard times. But memories are made when a change occurs. Embellish the good, and try to find a break in the clouds when things get dark.”
He stood from his chair and made eye contact with me.
“Believe it or not, the afterlife isn’t a finish line. You’re still running and always will be. So I’m going to ask you one more time: where will you go?” | "Look, it's all too much of a pain in the neck," God began, as I sat with him in the World-Between. "Put yourself in my shoes. If I make everything good for everyone who believes in me- money, health, all that- then everyone will believe in me. There's no faith in that- on the other hand, if I make it rain on the just and the unjust alike, then the unjust will use that to rationalize their lifestyle, and the just get nothing to show for taking the high road." God huffed. "As a deity, there's really no way to win. So I laid down my how-to guide for life, and left it all alone from that point forward. Just...let 'em be. Hell, considering how outdated that how-to guide is, I'll even accept nonbelievers into Heaven these days- like you. That's why we're here, having this chat."
"Meanwhile," sighed Satan, "I proposed an efficient system which balances your dilemma by merely providing a *smidgen* of Godliness to the people, and...well, that's why I rule Hell now, instead of being in Heaven."
"You wouldn't like being in Heaven anyway, Lucy-purr."
Satan licked his front paw. "Do not demean my name." His cat-like visage oozed an energy of indignation. "He is right, however-"
"Always am."
"*Not* always. Merely *often*. He is correct in this- I would no longer find Heaven to my liking. The people mill about with nothing to accomplish, and merely bask in the sun and, I don't know, drink lattes in lovely outdoor cafes all day. Fun for the first few years, but...the human condition *requires* something to strive for. That is the appeal of Hell."
"I...see." I said, though I didn't really understand much of anything.
"In Hell, we are building our strengths, we compete with one another in tournaments- we may be a little rough around the edges, but that is the very nature of trying to be the best. If the Warrior path is not to your liking, we also have our own Artisans, who produce weapons, armor, passionate art of all kinds- and we have Merchants as well, who make long pilgrimages between the planes. These are the only ones who taste both Heaven and Hell."
"My question is," I began, "why are you both wanting to convince me? Why am I commodity being argued over?"
"Remember how Lucy-goosey said he wanted to give mankind a touch of Godliness? Well, he went ahead with that, and I was...well, I didn't notice him doing it at the time. Clever bit of trickery, that."
"There's only one place God cannot look, and that's within the confine of Sin. So, to help humanity, and to help God, I had to join Sin. Wasn't the worst choice I've ever made."
"Let's not rehash that argument. Anyway- he gave humanity power. The ability to Manifest, to rationalize right and wrong for themselves, a bunch of little powers. Amongst them, since you all are Godly but not a God, you can traverse the many planes freely. Of course, that'll get you nowhere fast, as you haven't a map, or any way to navigate, you'll just get lost and be confused for forever..." God said- and the thought formed in my mind.
"You two have your little war to fight, and you need humans to do it with. The only option you *don't* want us to take is the third option- to leave your scenario behind."
"Well, yes, we don't want that, and it'd be less enjoyable for you, too- so just choose between Lucifer and I, and-"
"No. If I have the ability to stand in my own power, my own authority, and to roam freely, independent of this weird little power-game you two are playing, I'll take it. I will find my own way."
"Ah, damn it. You're the first one to do this, you know. Looks like we have more company, God." Lucifer said.
Then, automatically, I stood between the two of them, and a new soul came in to be judged.
I now stood as the third option- the choice of pure freedom. Only a part of me was there, however- the other part had a map, and a pen, and was exploring the infinite cosmos with good cheer and better company, truly free. | 2021-02-17T19:28:26 | 2021-02-17T18:14:25 | 415 | 206 |
[WP] The supervillain sighs in frustration as he looks at the group of superheroes. "Alright raise your hands if you are adults?" he said. None of them did it. "This battle is canceled and tell your mayor we need to talk! today!" he said angrily.
Whoa, I came back after chores, mobile games, and anime to see so many stories and a handful of awards. I'll read them all in the morning | Alright, this is my first time but this prompt is too good to leave unwritten.
&#x200B;
"Let me get this straight," Ignoble frustratedly barked, "None of you are adults?"
"Now that I think about it, yeah, none of us are." Replied one of the younger heroes.
"Alright, I understand now," Ignoble stated as he rubbed at his temples, "mayor Lucius is going to have some explaining to do. Will the oldest of you please step forward to speak with me?"
The leader of the heroes stepped forward, Riot was your classic superhero, super strength, super speed. As he stepped forward Ignoble beckoned him into a more private room of the lair.
"first of all, how old are you?" Ignoble queried as he began typing on a nearby computer.
"sixteen," Riot shyly responded, "did we do something wrong? I've never been in a situation like this before."
"You have got to be kidding me, SIXTEEN?!? You aren't even old enough to get a power license without parental consent!" As Ignoble finished up on the computer a display popped up with the mayor drinking a martini and speaking to a beautiful lady, "Hello Lucius."
"Jerold! This isn't a good time! Marceline would you mind giving me privacy while I speak to my... acquaintance?" As he said this a door audibly opened and closed, "Ignoble, we talked about this, I'll call you. This isn't some friendship where you can just call whenever you like."
"You'll have to forgive me, or actually not, it should be you begging for forgiveness," Upon spitting this out Ignoble gestured for Riot to enter the frame, "I was just speaking with my friend Riot here, it has been brought to my attention that you are employing minors in your little PR stunts."
Mayor Lucius was mortified, he stammered as he tried to find an explanation that didn't leave him as the villain. "I don't know what you are talking about, Riot, you're a minor?
As Mayor Lucius said this he visibly contemplated how he threw the hero under the bus, however Riot may have been phased, but he was not about to be scapegoated.
"But mayor, you are the one that personally conscripted the academy to have us do this." Riot shot back, understanding dawning in his eyes.
"THE ACADEMY!?!" Ignoble bellowed out, "You PERSONALLY conscripted powered individuals from Maximillian's academy?!?! Are you aware how many laws you are breaking? Not only are you employing minors, but those minors are supposed to be in protective custody because they can't control their powers yet!!!"
"I. I. I will not be lectured by a super villain! You have nerve speaking to me this way, Riot, arrest him now!" Shouted the mayor, his face turning red as a tomato.
"YOU WILL NOT!" Ignoble escalated his voice further, "WE HAD A DEAL!!! I put your little dumpster fire of a city into the limelight, because you were jealous of all the press the bigger cities were getting with their big heroes, and big super villains. I agreed to this because you said you would pardon me and let me into the superhero program! I DID NOT SIGN UP TO FIGHT CHILDREN!!!"
The mayor's face had gone beyond red, he looked like he was about to either explode or pass out. Lucius fumbled with something in his hand. "You need to stop Ignoble, it has come to my attention that you have taken several minors hostage, I recommend you prepare to surrender."
With that the call cut out, "What now?" Riot inquired of Ignoble, "I had no Idea that what we've been involved in was illegal."
"Don't worry, I'll ensure that you and your friends won't get in trouble, make your way back to the academy and speak to Maximillian himself, tell him about what's happened here and everything Mayor Lucius has instructed you to do."
"What will you do?" Implored Riot, "I doubt that threat was empty."
As Riot said this Ignoble's eyes began to glow red, his skin slowly shifted into a silvery material which then began to heat up.
"I'm going to show that piece of scum what I learned at the academy."
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So this was pretty fun to write, I'm open to feedback and suggestions to how I can improve. Have a great day. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Part 2: Tupperman v.s. The Little League Baseball Team)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**Tupperman finished lugging the Tupperware box twice his size up the ramp to the Capitol building.** Normally, a grown man putting six children in a box and dragging them around the city would have been cause for concern, but the fact that the children in question could have kicked aside the flimsy lid with ease, combined with the reassuring police presence following Tupperman down the streets, converted what could have been a crisis worthy of the *actual* Superman into a mildly amusing spot of Sunday news.
"Mayor Clara!" Tupperman shouted at the windows. "Can I speak with you?"
I sighed and did my best to ignore him. There was a *procedure* for getting an audience with government officials, thank you very much.
There was a *thunk* at my window. I groaned and looked outside.
Tupperman was, true to his name, materializing various pieces of Tupperware and hurling them at my office. Empty boxes of plastic weren't very aerodynamic, but he was a decent shot with those lids. The police force surrounding him looked like they were pretty sure he was committing *some* sort of crime, but weren't exactly sure what. "Come on, Mayor! Look, you and I both know this is getting ridiculous. I wasn't even in costume when these kids jumped me, and I *know* you little tykes didn't clear this with the authorities in any way. We've got more wannabe heroes than actual villains in the city nowadays, and these would-be crime-fighters are doing more damage to themselves and others than the villains. Look, I may be a supervillain, but I have to *live* here, you know? Why haven't you taken any actions against this?"
Alright, that was going a bit too far. He was on the news; I didn't need people across the world sympathizing with a supervillain over the authority of the government. And yet I couldn't move to refute him; I didn't want to set the precedent that just anybody could get an audience with the mayor by throwing a few discount food containers at my window. Fortunately, the police realized this too, and motioned to arrest him.
He sighed. "Fine. We'll do this the hard way."
With a sharp flick of his hands, human-sized cages of plastic materialized from nothingness around the hapless police officers. The "superhero" team Tupperman had "captured" moved to stop him, but Tupperman leapt into the air and began sprinting towards me on an invisible staircase—probably creating stationary Tupperware beneath his feet as he ran to push off of, a common materializer-type trick. The continuous clatter of empty Tupperware bore out my hypothesis as he reached my window.
"These windows don't open, you know," I said, irritated.
He grinned. "Supervillain, remember?" With a plastic protective shell around one hand, he bashed the decorative window in; I didn't flinch as safety glass bounced off my shirt.
As he entered my tiny office, his expression grew solemn.
"Look, Clara, I knew you back when you were a kid. You're savvy enough to see that kids trying to play superhero is going to cause disaster, and you're in a position where you can do something about it. Why aren't you clamping down on these people?" He asked.
I sighed. "You of all people should know. What's the federal policy on superhumans?"
He shrugged. "Unless they prove useful to society in front of a Federal Appraisal Board, their abilities must be neutralized before they become legal adults. Byzantine and counterproductive policy, and it's caused more trouble than it's solved, but—"
"It's caused this trouble, too." I looked out the window. "My best friend's daughter could make fragrances. That's all. She'd re-create the smell of her grandmother's perfume on the anniversary of her funeral, every year." I shook my head. "Of course, that wasn't *useful to society*. Feds stormed in and destroyed an innocent, harmless beauty all because they're *scared* of it. Letting young'uns be superheroes? That gives them an *in*. Crime fighting is *great* optics right now—even if all they've done is serve as an intern to police, the press'll call them a superhero and the FAB can't touch them."
"...ah."
"It's why I tolerate your existence, too. Tupperman." I snorted. "You're no serious threat to anybody, and we both know it. But you provide a convenient... punching bag. A whetstone, for our bargain basement superheroes to sharpen themselves on."
Tupperman narrowed his eyes. "You've seen me go all-out. I *am* a serious threat, when I want to be."
I smirked. "But you don't want to be."
"Yeah." Tupperman sighed. "Fine. I'll make a show of the kiddos defeating me. Give them a chance to keep their powers."
I squeezed his hand. "Thank you. For giving them a chance."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do something dramatic and make it look like you fought me off, okay? I don't want your reputation to take a hit."
I rolled my eyes and took out a gun. "Make it *look* like I fought you off? You have five seconds before you're carrying around your internal organs in a Tupperware jar."
He laughed and leapt out the window. "Curses! Foiled again by our wonderful Mayor!" He leapt down towards the junior superhero team. "C'mere, you little tykes! Let's have a proper battle!"
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for more information. | 2021-04-01T10:13:28 | 2021-04-01T09:35:03 | 2,496 | 312 |
[WP] “And you shall be our virgin sacrifice” the robed cult leader commanded. “Uh virgin?” The man said “I told that guy I never had a GIRLfriend.” | The cult leader paused.
"Ah. You have a boyfriend?"
"Four years running. He's probably starting to wonder where I am."
"Right. Well, if we let you go, will you just... " He made a dismissive gesture.
"Yeah. You haven't done anything illegal yet. And I've seen weirder stuff online. I can just live and let live on this one."
"Reasonable of you."
"Self-preservation takes strange shapes sometimes."
"Right." The cult leader turned. "Xon'drerh the Thrice-Cursed, Dave Who Files Quarterly Reports On Time, please escort our kind guest to the surface. Blood-Whispered Vengorich, this one's on you, and we can still appease She Who Waits with a lesser sacrifice, so please ascend the dais and prepare yourself. Ryan, please retrieve the knife."
"That's it, then? Anything else?"
The cult leader paused a second time.
"... Tell me of this 'weirder stuff'." | "Have you ever you had a girlfriend or do you have one now?" This random, weird-ass guy on the street asked me. I don't have time for this shit. I have spell tattoos to put on a bunch of dudes that will fight Baalar, the great red dragon and one of this world's greatest threats, for their protection. The government will look for me if I take to long, thanks to the tracking tattoo the other guy put on me and I put on him.
"No, why?" He then does a hand movement, and a purple beam of light appears in the sky. I barely have time to launch a spell on the back of my hands, when 10 guys appear and put a cloth in my mouth and nose. I pass out.
"You have awakened. Great. Now we will move to our plan to bring our lord and destroyer of the world, Sorkos. And you shall be our virgin sacrifice!" The robed cult leader commanded.
“Uh, virgin?” I said “I told that guy I never had a GIRLfriend. Heck, I even did sex magic with my ex-boyfriend.” Really? Are these guys this dumb? Their leader starts to rummage and the guy that brought me starts giving excuses for his mess up.
Whatever. My legs are untied, but my arms are completely stuck. But my left hand is with the back right on my body, with my right on the front of it. I look down and my shoes are still there.
Yep, these guys are fucking dumb. If they had seen the top of my feet, they would notice my two gusts of wind spell tattoos. With those and the fireball tattoos, I could jump fast on the leader, and with that dagger, use blood magic to free myself from here without losing too much mana.
Between I begin to concoct my plan and the leader gets tired of the dumbass and slits his throat, there are no more than 15 seconds. I only needed 5 to remove my shoes and attack. Then all hell breaks loose.
A huge commotion starts on the door and several men with crimson capes barge in. Government mages. I look at my feet. There are still leftover mana and ink in my feet, and despite still being tied, I can sense the same in my hands.
I jumped and used the gust to elevate myself as high as I can, then used the fireball to sustain myself in the air for brief seconds. While I did that, the govmages incinerated the cult. I fell straight into the govmage leader's arms.
All I can think about after falling is his angular and beautiful elf face and his fiery red hair.
"Are you free tonight?" I ask him and he grins at me.
Edit: forgot to add the setup to the government invasion.
Edit 2: Correction Boogaloo: Did the correction of a few mistakes | 2021-08-28T23:19:53 | 2021-08-28T22:13:50 | 1,226 | 122 |
[WP] “And you shall be our virgin sacrifice” the robed cult leader commanded. “Uh virgin?” The man said “I told that guy I never had a GIRLfriend.” | "You are being released. Please proceed to the lobby where you may retrieve your belongings and sign a non-disclos-"
"Wait, is this because I told you guys that I have a boyfriend?"
"No. The ritual process has several requirements, each one increasing the odds of a successful cast if fulfilled. One of the most important ones is that of the virgin sacrifice, where-
"So I don't qualify because I've had sex."
'WHERE the the term 'virgin' does not refer to sexual abstinence, but instead a high degree of purity of mind and body. After further observation, we have come to the conclusion that you fail to meet either criteria."
"I'm not 'pure' enough for you self-tatted hooligans running around at night half-naked and painted in pig's blood you bought from the Asian store."
"You were drooling over initiate Justin while he chained you over the spike pit. And we found drugs in your car."
"To be fair, Justin's got a tight ass."
"Get out of my sight." | "Have you ever you had a girlfriend or do you have one now?" This random, weird-ass guy on the street asked me. I don't have time for this shit. I have spell tattoos to put on a bunch of dudes that will fight Baalar, the great red dragon and one of this world's greatest threats, for their protection. The government will look for me if I take to long, thanks to the tracking tattoo the other guy put on me and I put on him.
"No, why?" He then does a hand movement, and a purple beam of light appears in the sky. I barely have time to launch a spell on the back of my hands, when 10 guys appear and put a cloth in my mouth and nose. I pass out.
"You have awakened. Great. Now we will move to our plan to bring our lord and destroyer of the world, Sorkos. And you shall be our virgin sacrifice!" The robed cult leader commanded.
“Uh, virgin?” I said “I told that guy I never had a GIRLfriend. Heck, I even did sex magic with my ex-boyfriend.” Really? Are these guys this dumb? Their leader starts to rummage and the guy that brought me starts giving excuses for his mess up.
Whatever. My legs are untied, but my arms are completely stuck. But my left hand is with the back right on my body, with my right on the front of it. I look down and my shoes are still there.
Yep, these guys are fucking dumb. If they had seen the top of my feet, they would notice my two gusts of wind spell tattoos. With those and the fireball tattoos, I could jump fast on the leader, and with that dagger, use blood magic to free myself from here without losing too much mana.
Between I begin to concoct my plan and the leader gets tired of the dumbass and slits his throat, there are no more than 15 seconds. I only needed 5 to remove my shoes and attack. Then all hell breaks loose.
A huge commotion starts on the door and several men with crimson capes barge in. Government mages. I look at my feet. There are still leftover mana and ink in my feet, and despite still being tied, I can sense the same in my hands.
I jumped and used the gust to elevate myself as high as I can, then used the fireball to sustain myself in the air for brief seconds. While I did that, the govmages incinerated the cult. I fell straight into the govmage leader's arms.
All I can think about after falling is his angular and beautiful elf face and his fiery red hair.
"Are you free tonight?" I ask him and he grins at me.
Edit: forgot to add the setup to the government invasion.
Edit 2: Correction Boogaloo: Did the correction of a few mistakes | 2021-08-29T08:34:09 | 2021-08-28T22:13:50 | 188 | 122 |
[WP] The magical races enslaved magic-less humans centuries ago. To expand their empires, the magical races travel and conquer different dimensions. They soon stumble across and try to conquer a magic-less world full of humans. It did not go well. | "Dude, there's a weird circle in my backyard." I very nearly hung up the phone. Dave had a bad habit of pranking me, and this sounded like a doozy. But, it had been a while since I'd seen him and I wasn't doing anything today.
"What kind of circle? A hula hoop on the ground?"
"No, man. It's hanging in the air. And it's all shimmery inside." Oddly, Dave sounded serious. No suppressed giggles or sarcasm. I sighed.
"All right. I'll be right over."
The trip didn't take long, and soon I was pulling into the driveway. As I got out of my pickup, I nearly dropped my keys. Dave was definitely not pranking me. Or he'd invested in some serious technology to do so. The giant shimmery circle in his backyard would take at least a hologram machine.
"Dude! Do you see it?" Jogging around the corner, Dave pointed backwards. I smiled because it was good to see him, but also at his archaic way of speaking. 'Dude' had fallen out of fashion thousands of years ago.
"Yes. It does seem odd. Has it done anything?" I asked. Grabbing my arm, Dave dragged me onto his wrap-around porch, moving towards the circle.
"I think something tried to come out of it a little while ago. It was really odd-looking—"
"Dave.." I warned.
"No, nothing like that, but I think it had pointy ears. Like really pointy. Pointier than those elves you're always going on about. And furry." Before I could correct him, that what I talked about were fairies, we reached the back porch. In front of us, the circle seemed to bend inwards, before rebounding, rather like a trampoline. And standing on the grass, was a small group of people.
I instantly saw what Dave was talking about. Two of them were tall, ethereal beings with ears that almost looked like foxes. Three others had rounded ears, but the horns on their head gave away that they weren't quite human. And the last one— the leader by the way the others automatically deferred to them— had ruby skin. Not glittery or anything, but made of actual rubies.
"We have come to conquer your world. Do not resist and— " There was an audible sound of a shotgun being pumped behind me. One of the pointy-eared folk dodged behind the ruby leader.
"That's the one that attacked me when I was scouting our landing spot. He hit me on the nose!" They squeaked. Turning, I looked at Dave, who slid a gun towards me with his foot. His own was levelled on the leader.
"Dave, did you shoot the pointy-eared one?" That was not a question I thought I'd be asking this morning.
"No. Hit them with a beer can. I got my guns after I called you."
Reluctantly, I picked up the other shotgun, pointing it at the group. The leader was staring down their nose at us, before raising a hand and making a complex motion in the air. Something not quite visible whooshed through the intervening space, slamming into Dave.
"All right you weirdos. Get off my property and back where you came from. You're trespassing." He growled. Whatever it was didn't seem to have improved Dave's temper. The ruby leader took a step back, frowning.
"That should have worked... Soldiers! Go!" They moved forward, throwing more almost-invisible things through the air. Some hit Dave, some hit his house, and one errant shot hit me. It felt like a warm breeze, but nothing else. A shotgun blast rang out, and one of the horned folk fell to the ground clutching his foot.
"That was a warning shot. Next one goes through your heart." Dave gestured towards the leader. "Now get out!"
The leader flinched, but to their credit held their ground.
"What spell are you using to resist our magic? We thought this world was magic-less but it seems we were mistaken. Such power you must have to negate ours." They said. I was about to say something, but Dave cut me off by laughing. A great deep laugh, that made his not inconsiderable gut shake.
"Magic? That's ridiculous. Magic doesn't exist. There's no such thing." His laughter stopping, he peered at the leader. "Is that what you were throwing at us? Dude, that's never going to work." As Dave drew in a deep breath, I relaxed a little, lowering my gun. Dave had done his Master's thesis on this topic, and if he said magic couldn't work here, it couldn't.
"Now, you listen to me, you trespassers. Here's why it won't work here, all right? Now first..." I tuned out as he began to lecture. It was always too technical when he got going. And soon he'd be talking about quantum this, and atom that. Looking around the porch, I found the cooler I knew would be there. Popping open a beer, I settled into the deck chair, and balancing the gun on my knees, I waited for the talking to end.
After about a half-hour, when the poor ruby leader looked ready to cry, I interrupted.
"Dave, why don't we let these people go home? Their little invasion failed, and I'm sure they don't understand all this talk. And the little horned guy is bleeding all over your grass." Cut off full flow, Dave blinked for a few seconds, then nodded, waving at the leader to go.
"You haven't heard the last of us! We've conquered many worlds— "
"Yeah, yeah. Now get lost." No longer able to lecture, Dave had lost interest in the invaders. He settled in the chair next to me, grabbing his own beer. The ruby leader actually did cry a little, small sapphires falling down their cheeks. They and their soldiers moved back to the portal, and with another sort of bouncy motion vanished. The circle disappeared soon after.
I clinked bottles with Dave. He chuckled, pulling out a notebook and making a small mark.
"Well, that makes a nice even twelve times someone's tried to conquer our world." He said.
"Yep. So that magnet there is doing its job pretty well." I pointed to the strange contraption in the corner of his yard. We'd built it in our college days as a sort of joke, but soon realized it actually worked. It pulled any trans-dimensional portals to Dave's backyard. Made a single entry point, so any invaders or guests could be dealt with easily.
"Though that was the first time anyone tried to use magic. Must have been nice to brush off the old thesis knowledge eh?"
"Yeah. It was actually." Dave paused, taking a long quaff of beer. "So, you up to watch the game tonight?"
"Sure. What else am I going to do on a Saturday?" | Ualiar ignored the rippling murmurs across the throne room, striding through it with his head held high. Hopefully, he could avoid the bloodshed.
Most of the royal court thought he was going to be executed. They watched him from atop their balconies with disgust, eager to see his punishment. This was their form of jeering, since raising their voice any louder would make them look like barbaric humans.
Ualiar sighed. If only they understood. Then again, their inability to swallow their pride and admit they're no better than the magic-less was exactly what drove elvishfolk into this situation. Ualiar made it to the steps of the throne and bowed before the high council, with the emperor himself looming above them.
"Commander Ualiar," said High Councilor Venalia, "do you understand why you have been summoned today?"
Ualiar nodded. "Because we lost."
Councilor Venalia frowned. "No, because *you* lost. Five years ago, you were tasked with three entire legions of our best soldiers and, not only did you return with less than a quarter of that, but you have nothing to show for it. Care to explain this?"
"It's simple," said Ualiar. "We underestimated the humans. They might actually be stronger than us."
A chorus of gasps echoed out of the court members, followed by soft chuckles. They thought that he was joking.
The emperor didn't react, though. His stoic countenance betrayed no inclination one way or another. People quieted down as soon as they noticed he wasn't amused.
Councilor Venalia raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying they possess magic?"
Ualiar shook his head. "No, but-"
"Then how did you lose?"
Ualiar stopped himself from snapping back in anger. The councilor didn't want to listen. He needed to compose himself before saying:
"They just... won't... give up."
Councilor Venalia furrowed his brow. "And?"
"That's just it," said Ualiar. "No matter how many battles we won, or how much territory we claimed, these humans never relented. I explained it all in my letters, if you just-"
"I don't get it," said Councilor Venalia, "you had shield spells, fireballs, enchanted weaponry, and an assortment of monsters at your disposal. Those are tough enough to handle *with* magic; there's no possible way to overcome them without it."
"That's what I'm trying to say! They found a way to harness the magic of their world without directly manipulating it!"
The room went quiet. Ualiar slumped his shoulders. That outburst didn't help. Everyone thought he was crazy now. Councilor Venalia cleared his throat and said:
"Commander, you are speaking in riddles."
"I... I know. It's difficult to communicate if you haven't witnessed it. These humans... Well, it's like I said. They just don't quit. When confronted with the mysteries of their world, instead of resigning themselves to being mere animals, they faced their ignorance head-on and learned the laws of magic through constant observation and failure."
Councilor Venalia squinted. "Failure?"
"Yes, they call it 'the scientific method'. Instead of trying to confirm their beliefs, they do the opposite, and start with the assumption that their hypotheses are wrong. That way, when they can't prove something is wrong, they're more likely to believe it. Even then, they never say that a hypothesis is confirmed; they just say it hasn't been disproven."
"This is just ridiculous. One can't succeed through failure. That's how losers speak."
"That's what I used to think," said Ualiar, "but I was proven wrong. In our first incursion, we were able to win every time since they had no idea how to face us. Our magic was too foreign. That didn't stop them from learning, though. They kept fighting, testing the limits of our magic, until they had a deep grasp of capacities. Then..." He shivered, remembering their first defeat. The screams still haunted him like it had been yesterday. "Well, they adapted and soon the momentum turned in their favor."
"And you couldn't do the same?" asked Councilor Venalia.
Ualiar narrowed his eyes. "That's why I'm here. We were completely outnumbered over there. The humans only succeeded because they weren't afraid of retreating, waiting for the right time to strike. It led me into a false state of security, since I thought our victories were a natural consequence of our superiority."
Councilor Venalia shook his head with a smug grin. "Perhaps *you* were inferior, but don't extend that to the rest of us. Our only mistake was sending you, instead of a better commander."
Ualiar clenched his fist, but forced himself to calm down. Getting angry wouldn't help. "I actually agree," he said, "however, instead of sending a commander, you should've sent a diplomat."
Councilor Venalia started laughing. "Clearly, you've gone mad."
"I haven't!" Ualiar turned towards the emperor, breaching all protocol. "Please, your highness, I beg you, we have to sue for peace. It's either that or close the portals. The humans aren't satisfied with fighting us away. Not unless the threat of another invasion is neutralized. They're coming for us and, even if we win, the losses won't be worth it."
Everyone in the room grew tense.
Ualiar had just committed a severe offense. This was enough to get anyone executed. Ualiar closed his eyes, ready to accept his fate. He didn't want to use his last resort. Not if he could convince the emperor to see reason.
"I don't *have* to do anything" said the emperor. "My word is law. Do you presume to order me?"
Ualiar shook his head. "N-no, your majesty. I'm merely reporting what I saw. I swore an oath to protect our people. This is my duty."
"No," said the emperor, "your duty was to win in my name. Instead, you come to me as a failure and presume to tell me what to do."
Ualiar grit his teeth. Fuck it. He had to take a stand here. It's not like he had anything to lose now. "I presume to tell you what to do because you're sheltered fool."
The emperor widened his eyes. Everyone grew terrified of his incoming wrath.
Ualiar didn't care. He went on to say:
"You've never fought on the battlefield. You've never lost a comrade in your arms. You're comfortable sending people to die because you never have to deal with the consequences. If you keep going down this path, you'll doom the entirety of elvishkind, and I can't allow you to do that."
The emperor scowled. "Allow?"
Ualiar squared his shoulder, straightening his posture. "Yes. My oath was to the empire; not you."
"I *am* the empire."
"Not for long! Not if you insist on fighting this war!"
"Is that a threat?"
"No, a promise." Ualiar pulled out a radio, hesitating for a second. "Do it."
A squadron composed of both humans and elves stormed the throne room. The royal guards quickly fell to their assault rifles. It wasn't even a fight. The emperor even tried to cast a spell on Ualiar, but he was shot in the head before he could finish it.
Screams suddenly filled up the room. Members of the royal court trampled over each other trying to escape, but the coalition force corralled them inside with the threat of death. Nobody dared say a word.
Ualiar walked up the stairs, kicked the emperor's corpse off the throne, and said:
"The age of empire is over! This is where limitless expansion has led us. Before I retreated, human diplomats approached me to settle our dispute. They don't want to fight us; they just want to live in peace. Some of you may call me a traitor, and I will gladly accept that title, since it means I opposed our corrupt institution. This emperor was leading us to extinction." He turned to High Councilor Venalia. "We have much to learn from them. Holding on to our pride won't do us any good. I'm not a tyrant, though. You and the other council members will have to decide our fate. Do we maintain a relationship with humanity, or do we close the portals?"
Councilor Venalia glanced at his colleagues, then lowered his head. "You've proven your point. Close the portals. This... is a threat we can't handle."
Ualiar finally relaxed. He was probably going to be executed anyway, but at least he guaranteed the survival of his people. The humans left with the promise of peace keeping them in check. The portals would be closed; never to be opened again. And thus, after millennia of conquest, the elvish empire dissolved into the annals of history.
------
>If you enjoyed this, check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | 2022-08-13T07:19:10 | 2022-08-13T07:18:09 | 633 | 276 |
[WP] They say you can sneak almost anywhere openly if you wear a safety vest and carry a ladder. A group of heroes trying to infiltrate the Demon King's castle end up using that trick. | "Have you people never heard of listening to directions?! GAWD!"
The lady scratches away at her parchment, muttering about the two muscle-heads with the ladder behind her. Those two are a few nails short of a shed, but at least the girl with the trolley is capable of doing what she's told. Want something done right, send a woman, she grumbles under her breath. She and her three companions are all outfitted in what appear to be sturdy work clothes.
"And you!" she scowls at the green, leathery demon in front of her.
The demon shrinks away from the tiny human woman in front of him. "Y-y-yes?"
The woman jabs her feathered quill in the direction of a currently inactive spike trap in the wall. "What are your operating procedures for that thing?"
"W-well, we..."
"You almost killed us! The routine maintenance and inspection crew! What if you had killed one of your own with that thing? I imagine the Demon Lord wouldn't be terribly pleased at your incompetence!"
"But..."
The woman sighs, shakes her head, and scribbles something on her paper. "You know I'm going to have to report this."
"Y-yes ma'am." The creature wrings its hands anxiously.
She peers over her nose at the little green creature. "Now. Tell me. Where do I find someone in charge. I need some answers here."
The imp sheepishly gestures for the crew to follow him.
The three in the back breathe a sigh of relief. To everyone else, it looks like the ogre-ish woman has them under constant stress and on a tight leash; who could blame the poor crew for being a little terrified?
Little does everyone else know, the cart is laden with weapons and explosives. Long live the revolution. | Powerman pounded a clenched fist on the round table before pointing an accusing finger at Quick Lash who sat opposite him wearing his signature red onesie. “You can’t just run through all your problems Dick! You might be able to phase through the walls, but, what about the rest of us!?”
“Aren't you supposed to be faster than a train or something!? Just keep up! And what did we agree about using real names when we’re arguing!? It makes it way to personal man!”
Ultra women sat up in her chair to intervene like she always did whenever they got into a pissing match like this. “Powerman is right.” she said, barely holding her frustration at bay, “We’re a team. We can’t just let you run in there to fight on your own. What are we supposed to do if you were overwhelmed? We need to find a way to get us all into the castle!”
Quick Lash saw her point but didn't concede his own. “We’ll I’m out of Ideas!”—He folded his arms—“You’ve shot down everything I’ve come up with! And our resident brain box is off somewhere brooding again!”
“We have to find a way. It’s what we do!” Ultra Woman said, her voice resounding like she was giving one of her renowned long-winded speeches. “We are The League! We just need to put our heads together and think.”
“Have you tried calling her?” Powerman asked, “She’s a bit moody, but plans have always been her thing.”
“You’re right” Ultra Woman replied. “But you know how she is. She’ll be here when she wants to be. Until then we’ll have to figure this out on our own. ”
Just then, one of the interns walked in to do some needed repairs on a lighting fixture that had broken a few weeks prior. He wore a reflective safety vest and carried a ladder at his side.
“Sorry!” he apologized for his intrusion before setting up the ladder and getting to work. Not that anyone noticed.
Quick Lashe’s face lit up as a brilliant idea popped into His mind. The answer was staring him in the face the whole time!
“I got it!” He began explaining his genius but his mind moved so quickly that his mouth could barely keep up. “What if we take the castle and Push it somewhere else!”
“We’re not doing that!” Powerman said with a groan, “That last time we tried something you saw in a cartoon... I don’t even want to talk about it... I haven’t been able to eat fish in months!”
“Oh, C’mon man! It worked for Patrick. Why won’t it work for us!” Quick Lash said in his defense.“Man I really wish that owl was around. She’s cranky but hot! And her Ideas are the best!”
A split second later an owl-shaped throwing knife stuck itself between two of his fingers.
“I’m glad to hear you like my plans!” the dark clad figure said from atop the ladder.
“Holey dude!” Quick Lash said, “How long have you been listening? How did you even get in here!?”
Her long black cape fluttered behind her as she leaped off the ladder and landed softly in the room.
“The same way we’re getting into that castle.” she said, both offering both an answer to his question and the solution to their problem. | 2022-11-11T08:35:22 | 2022-11-11T08:30:06 | 141 | 33 |
[WP] A secretly immortal man is given a life sentence for a crime he didn't commit and now fears the discovery of his true nature is only a matter of time. | They said it was the second coming.
After the first botched execution they thought it was a one in a million fluke, after the second, the media jumped on the story. As the media frenzy grew, the details of my arrest and imprisonment leaked and public pressure mounted, pushing for my release.
Guantanamo isn't the place any man would want to spend his years, especially with the secret I carried. I was captured and named as a member of a jihadist cell, I guess that's my just deserts for trying to help a dying man but what's done is done. I expected a trial, it is the great United States of America after all, home to justice and freedom. Just not for me.
One evening I got my phone call, only seven years late. It was the president. The God fearing man needed to know if it was true, realising this was my one opportunity to escape I told him things only an immortal man would know. Within days it was announced I would stand trial, the Church found me the best defense team money could buy. It was the biggest and most watched court session the world had ever seen.
I was in Pakistan before I was taken. A cousin of a friend had lost his way, I went to find him and bring him home. Just as the boy was starting to see reason, the worst happened, two men were brought in, one dead and the other clinging to life. I couldn't let the man die, he was still human, I could save him. That's when the anti-terror team came in. I was taken away, waterboarded and kept awake for days on end, no idea where the cousin was or if he was even alive. After seemingly endless torture I was deemed useless and sent to the land of freedom and justice.
My friend was flown to the US to testify on my behalf, it was his testimony that spared my life. The jury took little time to find me not guilty, in recompense I was given the option to stay, I did. So here I am, a free man with thousands of followers at my side in a world so broken and sad. The people of this planet hold so much potential, there is so much goodness in them yet so much suffering.
I can save them, things have changed, they have changed.
They said it was the second coming, they just didn't realise I'd never left. | Don't mess with a guy who's been around for 8,000 years. You can bet your bottom dollar he's learned a few things. As the sentence was delivered, I had a slight smirk on my face. The prosecutor seemed nervous, and rightly so. I think he knew I didn't do it, he just needed a conviction so that he could "bring closure to the family" or some such bullshit. He'd undoubtedly seen people led away breathing threats, but my smile unnerved him so much more. As well it should, I thought. As well it should.
I'd been in jail before, of course, though this was one of the more sophisticated ones I'd seen. Picking a physical lock would have been no problem, but these were all controlled by computers. No problem. Computers were sometimes even less reliable. I'd get out, of that I was sure. it was a simple matter of learning the prison routine...then breaking it.
"A simple matter..." The words echoed in my head 23 years later, as the routine crawled along. Rumors were spreading about my lack of ageing. Rumors didn't concern me, the security did. OK, maybe the rumors worried me a little bit. Usually I packed up and disappeared every 15 years, 23 was pushing it. Tunnels were out, not when the walls of my cell were solid steel. I'd thought of melting the steel, but I knew that wouldn't work without melting me too. The bars of the door were solid, the lock definitely unpickable. I kept thinking about it.
When you've been around 8,000 years, 40 isn't much. But for these mortals, a man who hadn't aged in 40 years was a scary thing. I was really hoping I could get out soon. I'd been in fights, but having learned from Genghis Khan, Confucius (actually a huge martial arts fan), and Theodore Roosevelt (to name a few), I won every time. Legally, they couldn't do any studies on me without my consent, but they took a lot of pictures. As I left the office after each of those, I used my well-developed hearing, and what I heard every time made me nervous.
My break came 56 years in. Around the 43 year mark, they'd outfitted all of us with digital tags, implanted under the skin. Mine had been replaced several times, and the latest one seemed pretty sophisticated. That's when they made the mistake of putting a computer in my cell. All the prisoners got them; they were meant for "educational content" and such. I'd heard some were learning enough to pass their GEDs. Amateurs. I had three PhDs.
One night, I broke a leg off my bed and used it to scratch in to my skin where the tag was. Messy, but I got it out. Next, I used the bed leg to pull the wiring from my lightbulb. This I used to connect the chip to the computer. I broke out of the "educational video" system and managed to open a terminal. Bingo. The chip, of course, communicated wirelessly. I saw the code that handled positioning. I made it seem like the chip - that I - was moving downwards, then outwards towards the outer wall. Far away, the alarms started wailing. The chip appeared to move at a running pace towards the woods.
Next, I tried getting in to the door systems. They were better protected, and eventually my hacking came down to a password. I tried the wardens name. Nope, two tries left. I tried the ID number of the prison. No dice - last try. I typed "p". "a". "s". "s". "w". "o". "r". "d". Enter. Access granted. Will these mortals never learn? I opened the doors from my cell to the exit, along with one extra one. I slipped in to the guardroom and grabbed a spare uniform. I closed the doors I had passed through so far, then went to "help in the search". I slipped in to the night fog. The name on the uniform nametag was the name I went by in my next life. | 2014-08-18T08:23:42 | 2014-08-18T06:52:37 | 136 | 57 |
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