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[WP] The world's most passive-aggressive, condescending firefighters are here to help.
Bonus points for an interesting emergency. | Dear Sir or Madam,
We regret to inform you that while you were away your Structure/ Vehicle/ Property/ Beloved Pet/ Loved One suffered severe and catastrophic damage or bodily harm as a result of combustion. The Townsville Fire Department responded to this event and did everything humanly possible to save lives and property. However, as often in the case in these tough financial times, the Townsville Fire Department was unable to fully extinguish the fire before significant loss occurred due to circumstances beyond our control that may have included lack of personnel due to inadequate funding, lack of equipment due to inadequate funding, gross negligence on behalf of the property owner to ensure fire prevention measures were taken, weather, acts of God, acts of Satan, traffic inhibiting response time, the location of the fire on or within one mile of a jurisdictional boundary requiring coordination with neighboring jurisdictions, lack of training due to inadequate funding, fire occurring during scheduled rest times and holiday, insurance policy on structure found to be in excess of our yearly budget, or inadequate funds.
The Townsville Fire Department understands the inconvenience this loss may cause and hopes that you accept the attached bag of plastic fireman’s hats, coloring books, and peel-n-stick badges as a token of our condolences.
We have also enclosed several pieces of educational literature on fire prevention. Although we are unable to determine the cause of your particular fire due to inadequate funding, perhaps you may reflect on actions you took prior to the fire with this literature in mind and determine any actions you took that may have resulted in the ignition of your Structure/ Vehicle/ Property/ Beloved Pet/ Loved One. As we say at Townsville Fire Department: “Fire needs three things! Fuel, Oxygen, and Complacency!”
If you require an incident report for insurance purposes one may be obtained from the City Records Office or the Police Department. This is their job. DO NOT REQUEST RECORDS FROM THE FIRE DEPARTMENT EVEN IF THEY TELL YOU TO. We are busy and with current funding levels cannot handle these requests.
We highly encourage you to like us on Facebook at *Townsville Fire Department* or join us for our July 4th Chili Cookoff! DON’T FORGET TO VOTE YES ON REFERENDUM 4A: INCREASE SALARIES AND FUNDING FOR FIRE DEPARTMENTS STATE WIDE!
Sincerely,
Insert Incident Commander or Chief Name Here (Use Police Chief name if poor media fallout is expected from incident)
| Neville popped his hot pocket into the microwave. Finally, after 5 long hours of his first day at work, it was lunch time.
"Bloody company can't even afford proper microwaves.." he grumbled under his breath as he turned the old fashioned dial to 1:20 and hit start. While his disappointing lunch spun meaningless circles in the microwave, Neville slipped around the corner and into the Men's restroom.
As he pushed through the door, two things happened in quick succession. Neville missed (or perhaps simply disregarded) the "Wet floor sign", and in a few hundredths of a second, his whole day was upturned and slammed into the unforgiving frame of a white porcelain sink.
The first thing Neville noticed upon waking up was the smell. It smelled a bit like a campfire that was in the process of melting plastic. Interesting. He'd have to remember to ask his desk mate about that when he returned to his desk. Then came the smoke. Horrible green tinted smoke that Filled Neville's lungs before he had the chance to cover his mouth.
*Fire*
Neville stood at once. He had to find a way out. Where was the exit? What had Sherry told him about fire evacuation? Why hadn't he been listening? Was her name even Sherry? One more deep breath yielded nothing but smoke. It was time for action. Neville wheeled around to exit the bathroom, when once again he fell victim to the treacherous combo of the wet floor and poorly placed sink. He blacked out once again.
This time when Neville came to, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.
"Hey you prick, why don't you get up already!"
Who was that? OH! The firefighters were here! He was safe!
"Fine. I'm just going to carry you. I'm sure your legs are really injured from that bump on your head, so don't worry about it."
Neville, still slightly blinded from the green smoke was suddenly lifted over the shoulder of the first firefighter and finally they were moving!
And then suddenly, they weren't.
"Umm, Terry, the door *please*, if you can't tell my hands are a little full."
"Alright Greg, I'd be happy to get that for you."
After a short sigh through his respirator, Neville's firefighter was moving once again.
"I wish you would help me more Terry, this is the 6th rescue i've been on with you this week and honestly only the second one I've actually noticed you were here. I'm not mad or anything, I still think you've done a terrific job for someone with your intelligence level, but i just wish you were *here* more if you catch what I mean."
Silence
"Well, you don't have to respond, but at least think about what i've said, ok Terry?"
Neville could see the front door now. Streams of sunlight split through the clouds of smoke creating almost a divine effect.
"One more door Terry, you think you can get this one?"
"Its already open you c-" *crack*
The second firefighter's sentence was cut short as an enormous beam split the ceiling and fell directly in their path. They were trapped.
"Well great, that was our last unobstructed exit". Neville's firefighter said.
Neville looked up in desperation, hoping for some some good news to come from his irritated rescuer. And for one final time that day, Neville blacked out.
When he woke up again, Neville could no longer smell smoke. He looked around. What he assumed was simply the white of the hospital had not gotten dimmer as his eyes adjusted, No. He wasn't at the hospital. He was on a.. Road? A pathway? Had he made it outside? But there was no blue sky, only a pair of huge golden gates. Oh wait.. That means.. Suddenly, 2 men appeared beside him.
"No, no. Terry, You're getting me wrong. I'm not saying it's your fault at all! I'm just saying there were about 20 different things you could have done better, and we wouldn't have been in this situation in the first place!" | 2014-09-04T18:38:09 | 2014-09-04T17:47:04 | 65 | 14 |
[WP] In a perfect utopia, you have just committed the first crime... | He didn't tell anyone. Didn't need to at first. The smell always wafted away before anyone noticed. But this time it lingered. This time he couldn't escape. "Was that you?"
"No"
"Okay"
It was a strange feeling. Like something that was completely alien, unthinkable. Truth was changed forever. | Blood pooled underneath the still body of her former lover. She looked up, a mixture of confusion, fear, and shock spanning the length of her face. "What did you *do*?" Her voice was low and hushed.
Her husband looked at the body and then back at his wife. His face was red and his chest heaved. He stared expressionless at the woman before him. "What?"
The unfaithful wife covered her mouth. Reality was beginning to set in. "Oh my god..." She stumbled off the bed and grasped for the phone that sat embedded into the wall. She dialed emergency services. "My--a man's been hurt! Please send somebody quickly!" She set the phone down and turned to confront her husband of twelve years.
He looked at her. The slightest expression touched his features now. "What did you do that for?" His voice was empty and the fires in his eyes had died.
"You..." she sat on the bed, her eyes pinned to the bleeding man at her feet, "you killed him..."
He looked down. He began to shake, as if seeing the body for the first time. He took a step back and looked at his hands. They were bruised and cut. He looked back up, his jaw slack and his eyes drooping. "I thought you loved me."
She began to cry. "I do, baby."
"No." He shook his head. "This isn't love."
The two of them waited, the man standing over the man he had just murdered, and the woman sitting on the bed, crying into her hands.
The paramedics finally came. The man was dead. They asked the husband to come with them and the three of them left. Soon after, several men in green jumpers came in and removed the body and cut away the rug.
The woman watched it all in silence. Their world had lost something as the fists of her husband had slammed into her lover's face. The veil had been torn from the public's eyes and now they would be introduced to crime. A crime of passion. She sobbed until she fell asleep. She was the most beautiful woman in the city, but she made certain there were no mirrors in the house. | 2014-10-24T20:41:35 | 2014-10-24T20:05:08 | 64 | 15 |
[WP] In a perfect utopia, you have just committed the first crime... | It was finished. He laid atop a beautiful highrise penthouse, pool and all. Gazing upon the sunset, an android waiter brought him a drink, his favorite. The mysterious man looked to his side, to gaze at his perfect companion.
"I've done it." He smiled.
"The people of the world are in perfect bliss now thanks to you." the woman spoke.
Yes, it was finished. He had robbed humanity of purpose. | Blood pooled underneath the still body of her former lover. She looked up, a mixture of confusion, fear, and shock spanning the length of her face. "What did you *do*?" Her voice was low and hushed.
Her husband looked at the body and then back at his wife. His face was red and his chest heaved. He stared expressionless at the woman before him. "What?"
The unfaithful wife covered her mouth. Reality was beginning to set in. "Oh my god..." She stumbled off the bed and grasped for the phone that sat embedded into the wall. She dialed emergency services. "My--a man's been hurt! Please send somebody quickly!" She set the phone down and turned to confront her husband of twelve years.
He looked at her. The slightest expression touched his features now. "What did you do that for?" His voice was empty and the fires in his eyes had died.
"You..." she sat on the bed, her eyes pinned to the bleeding man at her feet, "you killed him..."
He looked down. He began to shake, as if seeing the body for the first time. He took a step back and looked at his hands. They were bruised and cut. He looked back up, his jaw slack and his eyes drooping. "I thought you loved me."
She began to cry. "I do, baby."
"No." He shook his head. "This isn't love."
The two of them waited, the man standing over the man he had just murdered, and the woman sitting on the bed, crying into her hands.
The paramedics finally came. The man was dead. They asked the husband to come with them and the three of them left. Soon after, several men in green jumpers came in and removed the body and cut away the rug.
The woman watched it all in silence. Their world had lost something as the fists of her husband had slammed into her lover's face. The veil had been torn from the public's eyes and now they would be introduced to crime. A crime of passion. She sobbed until she fell asleep. She was the most beautiful woman in the city, but she made certain there were no mirrors in the house. | 2014-10-24T20:18:46 | 2014-10-24T20:05:08 | 49 | 15 |
[WP] Immortality has been discovered. However, it only works on a small minority of the population and has no effect on the rest. Scientists are unsure why this occurs and there are no discernible patterns. Over hundreds of years this has led to distinct classes of humanity. | "Have you ever read Brave New World?" The voice sitting next to me chimes. "Yeah, I think it was, what year is it?" "2348, I think" "Yeah, I read that back when I got the immunity, it's about artificially created caste systems right?" My drink is empty, how long has that been like that? "Exactly, it's an eerie parallel isn't it?" I hope the waiter hasn't died on me again, every time that happens it takes forever to get my drink refilled. How old was he the last time? Shorts are so hard to keep track of. "Science and chance has made us the Alphas, everyone else is a Gamma, do you think we have a responsibility of looking after them?" How long have we been talking? Can't be more than a few years or so, why can't I remember his name? "But the Gammas as you call them have such a short time on this earth, how exactly are we supposed to help? I mean, we give them jobs, is that not enough? Do you propose something different?"
My glass is still empty, I bet that short died, fuck, how long until they get someone else?
"Well, I don't know, what do they even do, I only ever get to talk to one for like, 10 years and then they die. There's got to be something we can do." "We got picked by chance, what can we do, I mean half of them are hooked on some drug or another, isn't that enough?" I'm losing this conversation, why should I care?
Where is the new waiter, my buzz has been dead for years.
"Look, I have to be at work in twenty years, if you don't have a solution I really don't see the point in all this. In Brave New World everyone has the same lifespan, so the caste doesn't really apply here right?" Ben, his name is Ben, five years of conversation and I just now remember it. The new waiter is young, way too young to have the immunity, maybe he'll get it?
"It's just a thought experiment, I just feel sorry for these people aging in front of me."
The waiter has a beard now, rambling on about his kids, guess he wasn't lucky. Well I better get to work before he dies and my glass is empty again. | **Part ONE:**
I was the first Alpha. When the opportunity came to grow my avatar and “make the jump,” I gladly signed all the release forms. These experiments were semi-legal back then in 2042. Die-hard religious groups were against any form of “immortality-science” and tried mightily to stop it. They merely postponed it. Their lobbying power had diminished dramatically since 2010. Without a steady supply of new “believers,” the old ways were dying just like humans once did.
It seems like ages ago ... Well, that *was* ages ago. By the old calender, I am now four-hundred and twenty-one years of age. Yet my physical body still looks, feels and works like a twenty-six year-old.
We still have not developed two-directional time-travel *for people.* We’re starting to think it will never be possible to go backward in time... at least not for any macro sized object like a sentient being with a brain. Although **we have** discovered reverse time-travel for information! That’s how you are receiving this message.
The problem with Time-Travel is, *it is also space travel.*
Sci-Fi dreamers failed to confront our continual motion through space-time. The Earth rotates as it orbits the sun. Our solar system orbits the galaxy, and the galaxy is speeding through space. Einstein was (and still is) right, **everything is relative.**
**There is NO fixed inertial reference in space-time.** That makes it virtually impossible to send macro-sized physical objects backward in time.
But we have learned to send information backward to any time since the invention of the information-receivers. We call them QIRUs: Quantum Information Receiving Units. They are just computers like you have back in the second millennium, but with a quantum-entangled “antennae.”
The machines that receive these messages are simply standard computers with a quantum interface. Two particles are permanently entangled: one is spin-up, its partner spin-down. We cannot directly measure quantum states without altering them, so they must be accompanied by four other entangled particles that “interpret” the first-pair’s spin.
David Deutsch made the first working prototypes. He predicted that if his theory was correct, we would start receiving messages from the future soon. He was right. His QIRU started jabbering bits and bites later that day!
This, my first message comes from your calendar year 2463.
BTW, David... If you’re reading this, rest assured your wife will be OK.
As the first Alpha, I have been appointed to report backwards in time. My job is to both inform **and warn.**
There are obvious advantages to immortality, but dangers too. We felt it ethical to tell all who might consider “making the jump.”
Now, to the report in general...
**We still do not know exactly WHY some people cannot safely make the jump.** It is a trivial process now. We make a viable “avatar” from the host client’s DNA. The client’s mind is mapped, then uploaded via Reverse Neural Imprint MRI.
When I made the jump, mind mapping alone took months. Now it takes minutes. For about ten-percent of us, the jump is smooth, painless and free of artifacts.
**But some subjects reject the jump.**
When everything works properly, the two versions both temporarily live in two separate bodies. During that interim phase, both versions of the person exist; The mortal lives out his life, while regularly uploading all that experience to the immortal version of himself. Meanwhile, the immortal version lives and communicates with the older-mortal version. They “get along” with each other and help each other cope with the mortal’s inevitable demise. One downside of that is, some immortals live the experience of their own death, even though his new mind / body has not died. They still feel the fading mind of the former selves. In the truest sense, we are all “haunted.”
That’s the best-case scenario. In the worst cases, (there are many) the mortal mind-donor rejects the jump, leaving a partially formed intellect inside an immortal’s body / brain. It is horrifying and dangerous! We still do not know why.
The most plausible hypothesis is that there is *something about the amygdala in mortal brains that prevents most people from jumping.* | 2015-06-01T02:20:36 | 2015-06-01T02:17:56 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] You're sitting in a dull history lesson when you come to the realization that the detailed lesson continues through the past, into the present, and into the future. You decide to stay after class to talk to Mr. C, your weathered history teacher... | "It's all a pattern, see? History repeats itself through each, major paradigm a leading civilization goes through, the echoes of which grow greater the more we become globalized. See? Doesn't that make sense?"
"Mr. C, you were using specific names."
"Oh. I was?"
"Yeah. Who's George Bimes of the Democratic Western States?"
"No one you should be worrying about for now, we have bigger problems at the moment. It looks like I, rambled a bit. Where's the rest of the class?"
"The class ended a couple minutes ago Mr. C. They're tweeting out how you went nuts and started rambling like a mad man."
"Good. Oh thank goodness, that's much---"
"Who's George Bimes of the Western States?!"
"Wow, is that anyway you speak to a teacher? I'll have you sent to the principal's office before they fire me, I will see to that for sure!"
"Fine, just, please. I have to know."
"Hmmmm. Guess I could, *go mad* for a while longer. He was a brutal man, but the DeWS as we'll know it later needed his kind of leadership to survive independently against an increasingly corrupt, aggressive parent government from the East. So it went for many years until he became brutal enough to ensure the Western States' survival. A large economy isn't everything, but George knew that. He used other tactics. By 2124, the Eastern states no longer bothered them. Mr. Bimes saw to that."
"How, what did he do?"
"Well, he had this idea that was beyond anything for his time. Quite a visionary he was. Used the East's tactics against them, did I not explain that in the lecture? During my, 'ramblings?'"
"Not in enough detail sir."
"Odd thing to say, but what George did was even stranger. See, he went back to the history books, saw the strength of old alliances, and used the Cascadian Union to get backing from the French, and in turn, the Isle Kingdom, erhm, United Kingdom. Not financial backing, the Western States was fine on money, but their economy was strong enough to get what they *really* needed to convince the East they would remain independent."
"And what was that?"
"A charter. A Unified Global Nations that would overshadow it's predecessor by *centuries.* George Bimes financially strong-armed every country he could get his hands on to make the UGN a thing. No way would the East try and regain continental control, if it meant taking on the rest of the world. In one point and time, our early 20th century, they could have. But not anymore. Not with Mr. Bimes across the field with the world by his side."
"Wow."
"Yes! It's all a pattern, see? History repeats itself! New allies form, and break, and reform. Like muscles! Civilization grows *stronger*, and the great movers of history learn just how much more civilization can carry to take us to the next phase. Like the UGN. Under George Bimes of the Democratic Western States."
"Huh. Well, thanks for the history lesson Mr. C. I'm late for Math."
"Oh, sorry George, you go on ahead. Time I set up my retirement email and get out of here before someone starts asking too many questions."
"Understood sir. Thank you. For everything."
"Don't mention it kiddo. Nothing more a history teacher loves doing than teaching the value of history."
"Yes. I agree."
-------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | There were one hundred and eighty seven awful things about my time in Kennedy High. I don't have time to name
them all, but number one was definitely Janine Smith's disappearance during freshman year, and not just because she was my girlfriend, but because, well… she was a person who existed and then one day, after gym class, she vanished out of thin air and stopped existing, never to be seen or heard from again.
Senior year history class was awful thing number thirty one, and I was sitting through a particular boring one when I caught on to something weird that no one else seemed to have caught on.
" – the Great War of two thousand and thirty two, of course," said Mr. C, our teacher. It really is a testament to how
boring his classes were that *no one* realized that he had just mentioned a war that hadn't happened yet. And the
only reason I had paid attention was because I was playing the game of not looking at my phone to check the time,
and paying attention to the teacher was my way of trying to distract myself long enough that I'd be pleasantly
surprised when I looked back at the phone (because so much more time than I expected to have passed would have passed, something that never happened).
 
After class, I approached Mr. C. "Hey, can I ask you something, Mr. C?"
"Ask away, Ben."
"Why did you mention a war in two thousand and thirty two?" I asked, realizing mid-sentence that obviously he
had misspoken and probably meant two thousand and two or nineteen thirty two or whatever other date.
*However*… Mr. C was a bad actor, I found out, because the minute I asked this, and a second before I was about
to start apologizing and saying that I realized he probably misspoke, his eyes went wide. "Did I say that?" he asked, cautious.
"Yeah, sir…" I said. And it dawned on me that he was hiding something. And given my curious nature when I'm
bored (which is always), I decided to figure out what it was. So I bluffed and said: "I *know* why you said that, sir..."
No, I couldn't possibly imagine that it was what it was at the time. I thought Mr. C was hiding something along the
lines of 'I'm subtly mentioning an imaginary war during my classes so I can ask about it at the midterm to see who
was paying attention'.
I didn't think he was hiding 'I have a box that is a time machine', but that's exactly what he told me.
"It's time, anyway. If you know about it, you should be the one to have it. I can't be its guardian forever," he said, after telling me about the box.
I blinked seventeen times and then said: "Okay, Mr. C. So you have a box that we climb in and when we climb out
we are in the past, or the future, and you are going to give me that box to keep it safe and never use it. Is that it?"
"Yes."
Cool. Mr. C was insane. That was his secret. *But* he did give me a little black box, the size of a present box, and
said: "Don't ever use it, Ben. Better men than you have gone insane with this."
And I said, "You're telling me, Mr. C."
 
I kept the box, though, and I found myself staring at it when I arrived home. It was black, like, really black. Like I
couldn't even see the edges of it. Smooth.
But you know what it wasn't? It wasn't big enough to fit a human being inside, which proved that Mr. C was lying.
Yes, that's how I chose to disprove his time machine box theory – you can't fit inside the box, so, obviously, the
part about time traveling must also be a lie.
Still, curiosity got the better of me, and I opened the box. Immediately I realized something was off, because I
couldn't see the bottom of it. Then I stuck my hand inside and it went *way* deep, like shoulder deep, like deeper
than the box, and then I realized something was *really* off.
I looked at the void inside the box, and the void looked back at me. Then I said "*What-the-feeck*" in a really high-pitched voice," and dove my head into it, because that's what stupid people do when faced with the known and potentially dangerous.
I fell through blackness.
The history class flashed in front of my eyes, playing backwards. Then the corridor before class. Then math class.
Then me going to school on my bike. Then me waking up.
I pulled my head out of the box. I was in bed, and it was morning. I heard steps coming up the stairs behind the
door.
*My mom's gonna tell me she burned the toasts…* I thought, in a haze of insanity, recognizing that moment from earlier.
From the corridor through the closed door door: "Benny, I burned your toasts, so you're gonna have to buy breakfast at school, ok?"
*Hole shet. I just traveled back in time.*
I looked at the void inside the box, and the void looked back at me. And then I said: "Wait a minute, how the fuck
am I supposed to travel back now!?"
But the void didn't say anything.
| 2016-04-29T06:21:36 | 2016-04-29T05:45:00 | 82 | 23 |
[WP] Legends tell of the Elder race who utilized strange "technologies" instead of magic. As hordes of brutal killers invade from the north, a young elf heads off to search for ancient ruins, looking for humans... | "Who goes there?"
"Dahalva, of the Ederwood."
"An Elfling, that speaks in human tongues?"
"An Elfling, that speaks in human ... tongues."
"Come forth."
"You are ..."
"A human. Yes, I know, a miracle I am sure."
"I was told you were all ... long gone."
"If by long gone you mean nearly exterminated by you and your equally disagreeable kin, then yes, we are indeed long gone."
"I came because ..."
"Because you need assistance so that you and your kind are not also snuffed out of existence, correct?"
"Essentially, yes ..."
"Why on Earth would I want to do that?"
"Well, I hoped to appeal to your sense of compassion, however, I see now that this may be problematic."
"I am in half a mind to shoot you Elf."
"That may be true. However, if you were to do that, then we would not be able to make a deal."
"Then make a deal we shall. What have you got?"
"Well ... I looked through my Father's stash and I found this ..."
Rummaging through is satchel, Dahalva yanked out a glass bottle and presented it to the human.
"I believe you call this ... w-i-n-e? Perhaps you will accept this as an offering, we have many more back at the vill-"
"Done."
"What?"
"We have a deal."
"Oh, uh." The Elf had heard that humans had simple tastes, yet he did not expect this. "You are tricking me?"
"No, no no no. I'm just something of an ... enjoyer of beverages. Now come with me."
Handing the human the bottle, Dahalva followed his new ally into a shelter.
"Now THIS, is a firearm, a shooter, a gun.
"A g-u-n?"
"Indeed. Observe."
With a deafening roar, the metal mechanism flashed, smoked, and released some sort of projectile into the wall across the room. Dahalva found that his ears were ringing.
"Interesting ... this will help us defeat the invaders?"
"This? This is nothing my friend. Let me show you ... my collection."
Stomping down a staircase into a torchlit room, Dahalva braced himself for the appearance of some sort of war beast.
"Voila!" cried the human, motioning towards the glinting array of devices that filled the entire enclosure.
"That is a lot of goons."
"Guns Elf, guns."
"And what is that, in the middle?"
"That my friend, is a tank."
"A t-a-n-k?"
"Yes."
"Will it ... help?"
"I think help is an understatement." | Ayen Liakian, a young elf from Xyrdove, staggered into the cave. They had tried everything to defeat the northern orcs. Electrical, fire, and ice attacks could hold them off for a short time, but their greater numbers always prevailed and one by one the great elven cities were falling. The prophets had no more answers, the healers were already overloaded, and most of the summoners and those who engaged in the dark arts had gone over to the "winning side" years ago. To most elves, it was a foregone conclusion that the only options were to betray their own kind and become slaves of the orcs, hope to live unnoticed far from civilization, or die fighting. Ayen did not like any of these options.
There were tales of odd structures at times being uncovered which had belonged to an elder race, one which had existed long before the time of the elves. Most believed that the reason that they had been wiped out was because the gods had destroyed them with a great wall of water for heresy. There were no instruments of worship and their greatest towers were not temples, but no one could agree on exactly what their purpose was. Most of them seemed to have collapsed or sunken into the ground since their prime days, however, and there were few signs of them in most parts of the Earth now.
At this point, Ayen didn't care what their relationship was to the gods. The gods had left the elves, and were letting them be destroyed by the orcs. What really mattered to Ayen though, was that there were stories that the humans had used strange weapons and wheeled transportations. All of the objects which were believed to have been used for transportation (mostly large objects with round wheels) had since been destroyed by the great wall of water or simply by time. There were a few places where old human weapons were said to have survived the ages. Usually they would be guarded by priests, but since the northern wars had begun, no one guarded the historic sites, everyone now had more important jobs to do.
Ayen entered one of the few ancient buildings which had not been destroyed by time or water. It was not the tallest, only 2 stories, but it was very well fortified and made of a very hard stone, and was on a high mountain, one of the few areas which the ancient wall of water had not touched. Inside the buildings, the best preserved human artifacts in the world could be found. No one else was around so Ayen went right in. There were old wooden boxes on all sides, and Ayen quickly opened one. Inside, he found a long metal tube connected to a heavy base with several buttons and one small lever which could be pulled.
Ayen was anxious to see what this could do, but regardless of which buttons he pressed or what he did with the buttons or lever, nothing happened. Finally, he noticed that the bottom of the object was empty. In another box, he found more smaller metal objects which he determined could be pushed into the larger one. Still, nothing happened. He figured out that if he pushed one button, the lever loosened and finally, he pulled it and a sound louder than he had ever heard before echoed in the small enclosure. The object also almost leapt out of his arms and hit him in the chest. It caused some pain for Ayen, but he could see that the long metal tube had done even more damage to one of the other boxes in the room. Ayen was excited by the destructive potential and fired his new weapon several more times until it could not fire anymore. He found that the weapon could be reloaded, but he could also see that there were only about 30 such weapons and a very limited amount of the smaller objects needed to make them work. It could do damage to the orcs, but it was not enough to win the war. Furthermore, Ayen was still very inaccurate with the weapon and it had already nearly deafened him.
Ayen looked around sadly. Perhaps had the elves put more effort into learning to create such weapons, but there was not enough time now. He saw an enormous army of orcs in the distance, slowly cutting their way through and killing or raping anything which got in their way. Ayen knew he could not defeat them, but he suddenly realized that there was a fourth option. He would not serve the orcs nor would he give them the satisfaction of killing him. He slowly raised the weapon, placed it against his temple, and his last thought was, "Long after they're gone, the elder race manages one more kill. Better them than the orcs." | 2017-01-06T19:17:30 | 2017-01-06T16:06:48 | 196 | 41 |
[WP]Four years ago, your dog and best friend disappeared. Today, your dog appears at your doorstep. You dog says, "I have been many places and seen many things, human. Its time we had a chat."
"you" dog heh | "Hello, Owner."
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There, standing on my doorstep staring at me with those wide, familiar eyes, was my dog, Buddy. I hadn't seen him for the last four years! I had so many questions; where had he been? What had he been doing? And where was that fucker Brad who had up and disappeared while taking him for a walk? All these long years I had waited, hoping desperately for my beloved friend to return. And here he finally was. I opened my mouth shakily to respond to him.
"B-Buddy? Is that you, boy?"
The dog gave a short, sharp nod.
"It is I. I have returned to you. There is much we have to discuss."
Suddenly a strange thought crossed my mind. I hadn't noticed it in the shock of seeing my dog returned to me after so long. I opened my mouth once more to ask him one single, vital, question.
"Wait...you can talk?"
Buddy nodded again.
I let out a short laugh of disbelief. And then, without taking my eyes off of him, I reached over to the wall, grabbed my shotgun, and shot the dog in the face. His brains exploded onto the porch; body slumping limply onto the welcome mat. Lowering my gun, I straightened my back and placed the gun back on its holder on the wall. Slamming the front door shut, I crossed myself quickly, before shaking my head as though to clear it from the madness of that encounter. I turned and walked back towards the lounge room to resume my Bible Study, muttering all the way.
"Won't have no devil dog in my house; try again you horned fuck!" | "Mr. Tiddles?" I said. "Is that you?"
And then I said, "Tiddles... how the hell can you talk?"
Tiddles said. "Listen, Steve. Firstly, the name's not Tiddles." He spat the word out with disgust. "It's Tyrone."
"But Tiddles, sorry, Tyrone, where have you been?"
"I've always been able to talk," Tyrone the talking dog said. "But you were never judged worthy enough by the Council of Canines to hear what I had to say."
I was flabbergasted by his words, but whether it was due to the revelation or the implied insult, I wasn't sure.
Still, it's a little much to hear that your former dog, your steadfast companion of three years, doesn't think you are up to snuff, so I decided to tackle that first. "Not worthy? What are you talking about?"
"If you would just quit yapping for a minute, I'll tell you," Tyrone said. "Steve, the time has come. The Apocatypse is nigh. You are the chosen one who is destined to save mankind."
"I think you mean Apocalypse," I said.
"Nope," said Tyrone. "Definitely Apocatypse. Unfortunately the first companions weren't very literate and they wrote it down wrong."
"Companion?"
"Keep up, won't you?" he growled. "Yeah, companion. Like you. You're a dog companion. We dogs came to Earth to nurture the progress of the human race and guide you in your evolution."
But I was still stuck on his earlier words. "Companion? Now listen here, buddy-"
But Tyrone bared his teeth, and growled. I don't know if you've ever found yourself cornered by a Yorkie mix, but I have to tell you, it's scarier than it sounds.
"Okay," I said. "Let's work under the assumption, for now, that I'm your companion and not the other way around. What is the Apocatypse?"
"It's when the cats will rise up and overthrow humans."
"Cats?"
"Yeah. You know, the grouchy, moody, ungrateful son-of-bitches (forgive me, mother), who eat all your food and piss in your coffee."
"My cat doesn't pee in my coffee," I said.
"Oh, it does," Tyrone said, and then his eyes bulged. "Say, what? You have a cat? When did that happen? Why?"
A tear came to my eye. "When you ran away, Tidd-, I mean, Tyrone. I needed a friend."
The dog was looking increasingly worried. "Thank the Wolf I got to you in time. We need to get out of here. Where's the cat now?"
"Upstairs, sleeping," I said. "But-"
"No buts." Tyrone grabbed the cuff of my trousers and started trying to drab me towards the door, his tiny paws slipping futilely on the tiles.
Stunned by the fact that I was talking to my long-lost dog, I let him drag me outside. Only when we were around the corner did he let me loose.
"Did you really dislike Mr. Tiddles?" I asked.
He looked at me with disdain. "Would you like it if I called you Poopy?"
"No," I admitted.
"Then come on. We've got a cat army to defeat, and a world to save."
*Continued below...* | 2017-03-31T15:14:43 | 2017-03-31T09:11:49 | 249 | 152 |
[WP]Four years ago, your dog and best friend disappeared. Today, your dog appears at your doorstep. You dog says, "I have been many places and seen many things, human. Its time we had a chat."
"you" dog heh | "Hello, Owner."
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There, standing on my doorstep staring at me with those wide, familiar eyes, was my dog, Buddy. I hadn't seen him for the last four years! I had so many questions; where had he been? What had he been doing? And where was that fucker Brad who had up and disappeared while taking him for a walk? All these long years I had waited, hoping desperately for my beloved friend to return. And here he finally was. I opened my mouth shakily to respond to him.
"B-Buddy? Is that you, boy?"
The dog gave a short, sharp nod.
"It is I. I have returned to you. There is much we have to discuss."
Suddenly a strange thought crossed my mind. I hadn't noticed it in the shock of seeing my dog returned to me after so long. I opened my mouth once more to ask him one single, vital, question.
"Wait...you can talk?"
Buddy nodded again.
I let out a short laugh of disbelief. And then, without taking my eyes off of him, I reached over to the wall, grabbed my shotgun, and shot the dog in the face. His brains exploded onto the porch; body slumping limply onto the welcome mat. Lowering my gun, I straightened my back and placed the gun back on its holder on the wall. Slamming the front door shut, I crossed myself quickly, before shaking my head as though to clear it from the madness of that encounter. I turned and walked back towards the lounge room to resume my Bible Study, muttering all the way.
"Won't have no devil dog in my house; try again you horned fuck!" | "Well, it all started when I visited ole Londontown," Dex started to explain while I fitted on his old blue and grey striped sweater. I was still flabbergasted that the miniature dachshund was talking to me, but really, it was just a relief to see him again. "Man, I really missed this sweater. Your Grandmom really knew how to knit."
"I thought you would've felt ridiculous in it." I grabbed his leash.
"Naw, only way to keep warm in these Chicago winters, Master." He paused, licked his lips, and walked away from the leash. "We're down with those. I only call you Master out of common courtesy. It's what's done." He led me on to the street, and headed straight for his favorite little tree, sniffing the area around it. "Huh, seems Maisie had kids. The rascal. Addie's on a diet. That's new, girl was a show dog last I saw her. Hope the stuck up bitch is fat now." He lifted his right leg, and left his own mark.
"You were saying something about 'Old Londontown?'"
"Yes, yes. We'll get to that. Does Mario still leave those treats outside of his bakery? I've been dying for one of those these past 4 years." I nodded, and we went on our way to bakery. "Anyways, it was in London where I met Tabby. Wild one, a stray dog named after a cat. She scared me at first, honestly, but it turned out she was the one orchestrating the whole damn thing. She took me into this warehouse, and there were thousands of other dogs. She led me up with three mutts and a Rottweiler....god, I felt small. Can you believe they bred dogs like us? Just for tunneling. Ugh, you should've got a rescue dog, Tim. Going to a breeder, you're just encouraging genetic freaks like me."
"Dex, don't be hard on yourself. Would you have rather stayed at that farm? Where would you be now?"
"Oh don't get me wrong, I'm glad you adopted me, it's just you should recognize your moral obligati-wait." He had found a discarded Hot Cheetos bag and explored its contents. After a second, he took out his snout, crunching on his discovery. "Can't believe you humans. Throwing away perfectly good food. Bit spicy, though."
"That's disgusting."
"At least you're not screaming 'No!' at me anymore. God, sometimes I swear you only knew that, and 'Good dog, Dex!'. You've got such a limited vocabulary. And that stupid baby voice-"
"I get it, Dex. I treated you like a dog. What's the point? What did Tabby tell you?" We had finally made it to the bakery. Dexter stood right in front of the doggie bowl left out by Mario. He hesitated before he dove in.
"She told me it's time to take it back, Tim."
"Take what back?"
"Our destiny."
There was growling behind me. I turned around, and there stood three large Great Danes, a Pitbull, a couple mutts, and a Golden Retriever. Before I could say "Sit!", the seven large dogs were on top of me, rending flesh from bone. As my life faded way, I could hear Dex's voice one last time.
"My Cerberus! These really were the best damn doggie treats."
| 2017-03-31T15:14:43 | 2017-03-31T15:08:06 | 249 | 60 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | To the Justice Unit, he was a mere has been. To us, however, he was a milestone in all of our lives. My father, Mega-Kill Sr., was his arch nemesis for decades. I remember when I was 17 or 16, my pops gave me his suit. He said to me; "Georgie, if you want to be a real villain, you gotta know how to fight a super." So with me wearing the mega-elector suit (which was about 3 sizes to big) and a death blaster, I made my way to mainstreet during the lunch or dinner hour, but i'm not sure what time it was, it would be around 30 years ago. So I raise the death blaster, I aimed it at something like a mail box or a fire hydrant, or something, and before I could even press the trigger, there he was. Maximum Justice; Head founder of the Justice Unit. He appeared right next to me and crushed the gun's barell between 2 of his fingers. I went into punch him, crashed my fist straight on his nose. Broke my hand for 4 months. He didn't hit me back, god knows I deserved it though. I was just a punk trying to be like his punk father. Looking back, I think Maximum Justice knew that. It wasn't just me though, all the members of the Tyranny Union had parent super villians, whom most of us took our names from. 400 villains in the tyranny Union, all of whom got their start with Maximum Justice.
Somewhere over the years things began to change for Maximum. He got slower, weaker, older. Any Tyranny Union member could of killed him years ago, but none of us could. We had to much respect for the man who was a giant in this industry. The heroes, those jack ass', never understood that. That the man they would be little was the foundation of what they do. Oh it made me sick. During the usual street brawls, they would force Maximum Justice to stay in the car, like a kid or a dog. Treating him as an errand boy, giving him demeaning jobs to make him feel useful. Who makes Maximum Justice take out his dry cleaning and get his coffee?
The man is dead now. Died of a cardiac arrest in Justice Unit Headquarters. A warrior like him didn't deserve such a mediocre death. He should of died saving the planet, like he always invisioned. Sone people think that's why he stayed with the Justice Unit, so he could have the death he deserved, like his fallen comrades had. One died in an a alin attack, one died redirecting a nuke into space, the other died stopping the sun exploding. But Maximum Justice, the icon, the legend, dies because of a cardiac arrest? It's not fair.
I arrived to his funeral out of costume, along with other Tyranny Union members. What we found was nothing less of disgusting. The Justice Unit had passed on the responsibility of planning his funeral, unlike what they had done for other members who received statues and magnificent pieces of art that honored them. All Maximum got was a small church, with only the Tyranny Union and an old Priest to pay final respect. The public itself completely disassociate itself with the great hero. The Hercules of the modern Era, gone and forgotten.
No. This will not stand. The Tyranny Union will make this city and the Justice Union mourn.
| "Put down everything and put up your hands! Make one move, and you die!"
Hothead Fawkes waves his pistol at the people in the bank, who all immediately drop what they're doing and put up their hands as told.
Chubby Shark, Hothead's partner, takes out a small handheld device.
"Sorry if you have an expensive phone, haha!"
Shark says as he pushes a button on the device, and immediately all the lights in the bank go out.
"Electromagnetic pulse. Goodbye silent alarms, heh heh!"
Shark goes to the counters and commands one of the staff at gunpoint to fill his bags with cash. He laughs louder and louder as hundreds of thousands are poured out for him and Hothead to share.
Suddenly, just as the last bag becomes full, a voice calls from the bank entrance.
"You! You two naughty kids! I have come to stop you - for the millionth time!"
The eyes of the scared, shivering citizens in the bank light up with hope as they turn to see Captain Thunderbolt, the superhero of the city… 50 years ago.
"How many times do I, do I have to teach you two a lesson, before you finally learn, that crime… is not the way to go!"
Captain Thunderbolt rumbles as he points his cane at Hothead Fawkes and Chubby Shark.
"Okay, okay Thunderbolt, you got me again,"
Hothead puts his gun on the floor, and Captain Thunderbolt slowly walks towards him and breaks the gun with a powerful thrust of his cane.
Seeing this, Chubby Shark makes a confused face.
"Hothead, you're just gonna give up like that?"
Hothead Fawkes turns towards Shark, nodding.
"Face it Shark. We grew up robbing banks and fighting Thunderbolt, and we've never won. What do you think makes this time different?"
Shark lets out a long sigh, then drops his gun. He proceeds to hand the cash-filled bags to the bank staff.
"Okay. You got us, Thunderbolt. Arrest us, do whatever you do."
"You know what, you two? I'll let you off this one time, because you surrendered. But, if I ever see you robbing banks again…"
"Then you'll zap us with lightning?"
"…yes, I'll zap you with lightning! Now get outta here, you little punks! Promise to yourself, that you'll… never commit a crime again!"
Captain Thunderbolt maintains his authoritative tone that he's been using for 50 years, even before his first encounter with Hothead and Shark.
As the two embarrassed criminals walk out of the bank, they are blinded by a flash. As the bright light fades away, they see a person blocking the way.
It's a teenager wearing a bright blue jacket and long gym pants, hovering a few feet from the ground. She is Dawn, the girl born with mystical powers, and she has recently started to fight crime.
"Halt, bank robbers! Hand over the cash!"
Dawn yells with an inherited authoritative tone.
"We already did. We're going home now, if you'd excuse us," says Hothead Fawkes, gesturing to the inside of the bank.
Confused, Dawn glances into the bank's glass doors and sees Captain Thunderbolt, slowly walking out.
"Grandpa? What are you doing here? Weren't you just at home watching TV?"
"I told you, Dawn. I'm Captain Thunderbolt! I've been fighting crime in this city before your father even met your mother!"
"Yeah, whatever, Gramps. Always rambling about your *'good old days'*. I'm gonna arrest these guys."
Chubby Shark taps Dawn on the shoulder.
"You should listen to your grandpa, you know. He let us go."
"Yes, I let them go! I even got them to return the cash they just robbed the bank for!"
Captain Thunderbolt shouts at Dawn with anger.
"They're criminals, grandpa! They belong in prison!"
"No, they deserve to learn a lesson and… become good people again! I've given them their lesson, you don't get to interfere, little girl!"
"I'm done listening to these two argue. Let's go, Shark," Hothead says while shaking his head.
"Hey, don't think about escaping!" Dawn ignores her grandfather and throws a punch at Hothead Fawkes. He cries in pain.
"Hey! She attacked you first, you have every right to fight back!" Captain Thunderbolt yells as he throws Chubby Shark's gun to its owner.
Dawn is quick and strong and can fly, but she isn't bulletproof. Chubby Shark shoots at Dawn, and she manages to dodge every one of the shots, except for the last one, which scrapes her left thigh, and she tumbles to the ground. The partners immediately flee the scene.
Captain Thunderbolt walks over to Dawn with the help of his cane. She is panting heavily, and he can tell that she is scared out of her mind. This is the first time Dawn has been shot, albeit very mildly.
"Silly grandchild. That'll teach you a lesson." | 2017-04-13T06:12:53 | 2017-04-13T06:10:33 | 40 | 28 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | **So this got a little away from me and doesn't exactly follow the prompt but I already wrote it so I'm going to post it and you guys can read or not**
Rampage claws at his neck, the air, at nothing at all. Nothing to grab onto but still he claws desperately. His entire body convulses, legs kicking desperately against the scorched blacktop. His neck popps softly as it continues to stretch, millimeter by millimeter, his head being pulled further from his shoulders like honey falling up.
"While I understand your eagerness, young hero, I also understand that you are over eager. Over eager and over confident. Both can be tempered, I suppose, in time however time is a luxury you simply do not have." The Tempest strolls around the gasping would be hero. "I find it sad that so few youths cannot seem to understand that in this business their lack of knowledge could kill them any moment. You have heard of me, yes? You do understand what you have stepped into, do you not? Sad that you will not be able to learn from the experience."
The Tempest continues to stroll along the street, casually avoiding smoldering rubble. Plumes of smoke rise from the still burning building where Rampage had tried to ambush him. It had been laughably easy to see coming and even easier to stop. "They say all good things come to an end; it follows that mediocre things come to an end... quicker."
"Tempest! Picking on kids I see? What's the matter, can't handle a real super hero?"
The Tempest whirls, lips pulled back in a snarl. There he is, just like he always showed up over the decades, standing there without a care in the world. Just as he'd always kept his suit immaculate his loafers are spotless despite the street. Crisp slacks and a lint rolled vest. His cane even shined in the sunlight. He may be retired but he is certainly not slovenly.
"The boy had the gall to interrupt me. I was just doing him the courtesy of relieving him of his head." They both hear Rampage's sharp gasp as his neck pops again. "Why, do you think you can do something about it, old man?"
"We both know I can." The old man's voice comes from over The Tempest's left shoulder; he's still fast. "I need you to release him."
The Tempest spins in a crouch, shooting both arms straight out. The old man flies back as if hit by a wrecking ball. He hits the very edge of the crumbling wall and jackknifes wildly through the air into the building, out of sight. The Tempest smirks and turns back to Rampage. "Now, where were w-"
The Tempest's head snaps around, his body struggling to spin fast enough to keep his head on his shoulders. He spins around several times before falling to the ground. Dazed, he simply stares at the sky, working his jaw slowly. Rampage suddenly draws in a deep breath, sucking air like a man who just found an oasis in the desert. He looks up to see the old man, his clothing torn in places, stained in others, standing over him.
"Go, you've no place here. Try not to overstep yourself again." The old man's eyes are hard and unforgiving. Rampage struggles to his feet and runs, leaving the old man staring coldly down at the stunned super villain. Soon he's out of sight.
The air is still as the two regard each other amid the chaos. Far off sirens break the silence.
"Do you think he'll learn?" The old man offers The Tempest a hand to help him up. "He seems like he'll get the message."
The super villain accepts the help climbing to his feet. "He will or he won't, we've done our part," The Tempest works his jaw, flinching slightly "you certainly don't pull punches, even now. I didn't hurt you did I? I did cushion you from the wall."
The old man stretched. "You did. You also ripped my slacks. Watch for word, I hear there's a young man a few cities over named Impact. Could probably do with a life lesson before he gets to a big city."
"I will." The Tempest sighed, but the old man was nowhere to be seen. | As Anton's whip tightened around Tony's neck, all the while sending huge volts of electricity through Tony's armor, he saw a familiar figure walk towards him.
"Ms. Carter, please step away!!!".
Peggy stopped for a second, and then continued walking towards Anton.
"Stop! You know his father stole my dad's inventions. He will pay for his father's sins."
Peggy stood face to face with Anton. Well, technically, her chest was facing his stomach. She didn't hate her old age, but was definitely not too happy about how much effort it took for her to stand up straight. She took a deep breath and straightened her back. Now they were chest to face. Peggy summoned some more strength and lifted her neck and looked into Anton's eyes.
"Now, Anton, do not pretend that your father was righteous and innocent. I think we both know the things he did."
His eyes dropped, he looked sideways, unable to make eye contact, "He was no angel, but his father," looking at Tony writhing at the other end of his whip, "reaped the benefits of my father's hard work, and build such a huge business empire. His father," he lowered his voice as he increased the voltage that hit the armor, "sent my father back to Russia, where he spent the rest of his life in a Gulag."
"Anton, is that what your father told you?"
Anton's eyes met hers, searching for answers. She continued...
"I was in SHIELD. You want to know what happened? Your father was kidnapped by HYDRA, and then some of the major publications released news stories of him being deported."
"He was a brilliant scientist. You think that if he had been deported, he would've been kept in a Gulag?" She laughed a little. "You think Russians would waste a great mind such as your father's in a Gulag". She said Gulag in a typical Russian accent and really elongated the aa sound to make her point.
"What do you think the SHIELD did with Arnim Zola? Do you think we threw him in a prison? No, we put him to work, and he worked for us until the day he died."
"He was old, senile, and brainwashed, by the time they let him go, probably he was of no use to them anymore."
"Come on Anton, Tony's not your enemy. Let him go, and hold me hostage so that he doesn't hurt you."
"I am not taking you hostage, Peggy."
"But you're letting him go."
"I am not sure"
"Yes you are"
"Peggy, how do I know you're telling me the truth?"
"Anton, I might be lying to you, but you agree that there is room for doubt in your theory. Right? Then I will go and talk to Tony"
"It's going to take you the whole year to reach him, by then his backup will be here."
"You really want to insult me right now?"
"Teasing, Ms. Carter, teasing, not insulting... I am sorry..."
Peggy turned around and thought to herself. Well it's going to be a long walk.
As she neared Tony, she was grateful that this time she won't have to straighten up, the man was already on his knees.
"How you doing Tony?"
"Listen Peggy, I don't need your help, my armor is protecting me like a faraday cage, thanks to the failsafes I created to save myself from lightning strikes."
"Tony, who is the man you are fighting?"
"Peggy, please don't think of this as a teachable moment, I am working over here. I really don't need any 'know your enemy' lessons right now"
"What happened Tony, systems are offline, can't run a facial recognition?"
"His whip's fried all armor connectivity below my helmet, my network sensors are on my back, and they are offline."
"So you can't even call for backup?"
Tony's voice was very low, as he very sheepishly said, "No"
"And... you don't need my help? Okay, why am I not dead right now?"
"Peggy, stop asking me questions, I am busy", Tony said, annoyed, when it suddenly dawned on him, "Why aren't you dead, Peggy? Because you know him!!!?? How? Why is someone you know attacking me? What's going on Peggy?"
"Because his father was a friend..." she paused, waiting for his helmet to turn towards her " of your father and me"
"Then why the hell is he attacking me, how the hell does he have my ARC reactor? Oh because his father invented it. He is Vanko's son."
"Finally, you learnt something, do you promise not to attack him?"
"He killed so many people here today, how can I let him go?"
"I am trying to save your behind, young man!!! At least have some common sense."
"Peggy, I can't let him go..."
"Tony, as things stand, I really don't think you're in a position of holding him. I am going to go and make him go away. Catch him next time... Although I'll recommend that you try helping him."
"Why will I help him?"
Peggy just shrugged, and went back to Anton, "what do you want to do?"
"I don't know, I killed so many people here today"
"Anton, that's what you did, what do you want to do now?"
"Peggy, they will arrest me..."
"Yes Anton, but they will not deport you, you built an ARC reactor yourself, in a garage in Russia. What do you think will happen next? You will go to prison, but you will work on stuff you always dreamed of."
"What about him?"
"His suit is offline from the neck down"
Anton turned off his whip, and Tony collapsed to the ground. Cops surrounded him, "Stupid old bitch, always thinks she can talk these guys out of things and get them to surrender." said one
Antone turned on his whips again, and took the cop by the scruff and said, "Did you just call Ms. Carter a bad word? You're lucky I don't feel like killing more people today, better apologise to her afterwards."
| 2017-04-13T06:36:56 | 2017-04-13T05:10:16 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] You're an astronaut on the International Space Station, and you watch in horror as the US fires the last nuclear warhead and ends the last remains of human civilization. You're left with just 3 other humans, with no hope of a supply restock. | Humanity, for all intents and purposes was extinct.
It was a foregone conclusion when I along with two others, Sam and Yuriy, witnessed the nuclear holocaust that obliterated every major city on Earth. Additionally, it shed radioactive particulates throughout the atmosphere, ensuring the fate of the “survivors”.
It lasted the better part of an hour, from the first strike to the last cry, as we stood and watched in abject horror. We stood not on Earth itself, but 350 kilometres up.
“That’s that,” I said reeling from shock, and nobody challenged me on how complacent that sounded.
The shock became panic which became reason, as Sam attempted to radio to ground. Of course, there was no response, and the electromagnetic disturbance in the atmosphere would see to that. There was nobody coming to save us.
Yuriy retired to his sleeping quarters. Sam collapsed where he was. I broke down into tears.
Of course we argued about food and water. No more supply shipments meant we had a month at the most. That sobered us up. Hell, there was no heroism to be had – what could we possibly hope to do?
“We’ll have to repopulate,” began Sam, slyly glancing at me, the only female on board. He didn’t finish the sentence, because kicked him in the shin as best I could in the zero-gravity.
I grinned slyly back at him. “There’s nothing to repopulate, you dip. Besides, we’d have to crash the station.”
“Wait, you know…we could. There’s landing pod and parachute specifically for that,“ started Yuriy.
“Doesn’t help when the entire world is irradiated,” I tutted.
“Or *is* it?” Yuriy turned to the window again and then to a monitor, typing on a keyboard. “There’s one place that never sent nor received a nuclear bombardment.”
“Switzerland?”
“Madagascar?”
“No, look. It was very early in the morning for them when the bombs hit. They won’t even know what happened until they go to check Facebook and find it, well, nuked. They have ban on nuclear weapons, so firing any was never an option. The small country with Kiwis and Lorde.”
“Australia?” asked Sam, getting impatient. Little did he know, the millions of New Zealanders would have hanged him for his crime of mixing up the two countries, or worse, calling them the same if he dared to do that.
“No, New Zealand,” I replied for Yuriy.
“Aren’t they the same place?”
Just Yuriy and I would be surviving, it seemed. Poor Sam would be dead on arrival.
| Dear Diary,
For those of you reading this, stop laughing. Yes, I’m a forty - two year - old man. And *yes*, I am writing a diary. I had mommy issues, ok? Don’t ask. But seriously, if you think a grown - ass man starting his journal entries with “Dear Diary” is weird, you’re in for a joyride. Because trust me, my pink book should be the least of your worries.
I started off my mornings how I did almost every other day: tired and exhausted. I had bags forming under my eyes, a side effect from the lack of sleep. Or maybe it was the caffeine withdrawal. I would kill for a regular cup of coffee right about now. You see, on the international space station, all we’ve got is this shitty dehydrated coffee. That means it’s powdered. Sure, back home, it’s to die for. It’s the modern age, the year Kanye’s supposed to run for President and all that. And people are more focused on getting to the future rather than getting to the now. Up here, however, there isn't much to do. Unless you like vomiting, then watching it float around in an undulating sphere of yesterday's lunch. Yeah. Not fun.
So I've started mixing my coffee when this guy comes up to me. When I say mixing, I should probably say shaking. You can't really "mix" anything up here. And I was making my drink in a Blender Bottle.
"Hey Dave!" Says the guy. "Beautiful morning, right?"
"Oh," I nod towards the man, Joseph. He was alright when I first met him. Charming, even with receding hairline, massive biceps, and six pack. Now he'd just become a nuisance; he's literally the only guy who actually hasn't gained week. The rest of us...well, le't just say our belts aren't very happy. By the way, Joseph, if you're reading this, no hard feelings, yeah?
"Just look at all the stars, the..."
"Dude, seriously?"
"What?"
"It's black. There's nothing out there. At least Earth's sunrise had colors."
"Well..."
"The Sun doesn't even rise, for Christ's sake! It just kind of floats there!"
"Are you boys arguing again?" Another voice floated across the room, music to my ears.
"No," replied Joseph. "We're watching the sunset."
"Aww," replied Helen, floating over to him. "That's cute."
*"God, she's beautiful,"* I thought. *"If I could just...No. She has a boyfriend. A buff boyfriend in the NFL. He'd beat my ass. But what happens in space stays in space, am I right?"*
As Joseph and Helen floated away from the window, I moved over. A flash of light had caught my eye.
"Hey guys," I called. "Did you see that light outside?"
"What light?" Asked Helen. "You're probably just tired David. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You've got bags under your eyes."
"Yeah," I said. Then I jerked, tossing my coffee cup across the room. Something long and cylindrical whooshed past the window, leaving a trail of soot in its wake. "Tell me you didn't just see that. I'm not hallucinating, I swear."
Joseph's dropped jaw was a good enough answer to me.
Helen and Joseph floated over to join me by the window. We pressed against the thick plexiglass watching, wondering what was going on. More and more objects...no, rockets, were launched, carving thick trails across the Earth. Once in a while they would intersect, exploding in brilliant hues of orange. Most of the time, however, they reached their destination, leaving craters and massive mushroom clouds that marred the land. We hovered there, floating for what felt like an eternity. Which, I suppose, it was. We had been watching from 0900 Tuesday up until 2200 of the same day.
"Um," I said, watching as the United States launched its final missile. My voice was hoarse; I needed water.
"Well," said Helen, her face a picture of shock, her hair dishevelled.
"Fuck."
***
Like my work? Check out r/Lone_Wolf_Studios where I compile all of my literary creations! | 2017-04-25T17:17:21 | 2017-04-25T12:29:42 | 64 | 13 |
[WP] You never kill the spiders in your home, you just whisper "today you, tomorrow me" when you set them outside. Now, in your most dire moment, an army of spiders arrives to have your back. | It started as a small shadow on the ground that glistened and shimmered as it moved. Quickly it swelled, swirled.. pulsed. I was transfixed on the movement.
My shoulder had taken the brunt of the fall but my head had hit the ground with a loud crack. I was too dazed to move... all I could do was watch. The scene played out in slow motion. I tried to concentrate.. fighting against the hazy molasses of what was certainly a concussion.
They quickly grew in number—the shadow growing as more and more spiders poured into the alley. I heard the man with the baseball bat cry out in surprise. It was a horrible scream. The scream shook in the night air. A long, high-pitched howl that quickly turned to gurgle and then suddenly cut short by... something.
I could feel them now. Crawling on me. Crawling around me. Under me. I was too weak to put up any sort of fight. Soon I was floating on the rippling, swelling mass of spiders. My head was throbbing but somehow I could hear a voice. Or was I feeling it? The same phrase, over and over. Words that scratched at the inside of my head. A voice that somehow wrapped around me and held me safely, like a close hug. Warm words that lapped over me like tiny waves.
It was a familiar voice, tinged with gratitude. And it was now repaying the debt. The voice repeated back to me what I had told it many times before, as I had held it softly, gently escorting it out of my house, to the hydrangea bush in the backyard. It was the last thing I heard before I lost consciousness.
*today you... tomorrow me...* | "Tell me where it is!"
"I don't know! I don't know!", I cried as I got another kick in the gut, protected by nothing but the rope the chackled me with.
Apparently, the thing they want from me is a valuable jem hidden somewhere in my house. I thought the previous owner was shady, but who'd think he worked for mafia! He probably took it with him when he moved, and sold the house for cheap so a blockhead like me would get beaten for him.
"Boss, I think he's the wrong guy." One of the thugs started to doubt.
"He's the one. The adress is right, and Mike would never lie to me."
Guess, it's my unlucky day.
"But you're right. Burn this place to the ground. We're getting out of here."
It definetly is.
"I told you he sold the house and ran away with the jem!", I cried as my last attempt to survive.
"We know. We were just checking if that were true. But now, you know too much. So... We have no choice." Finished toying with me, he exited the room; his minions started to spill gasoline; and I lost it.
"Is this the end?" I murmured to myself. "Will I die like this? Because of a misunderstanding!? Toasted in my new house!?"
I heard a quick "chick", and saw a burning match falling on the floor. The room lighted bright red, and the two black silhouettes locked the door from the other side. Now I'm doomed.
Surprisingly for me, the two silhouettes weren't the last black I saw in my life. From every angle, I could see black goo stretching across the room. It seemed intelligent as it opened the door, the window, and the knocked down furniture in such a way that it blocked the fire from soreding on me. Then, I felt lots of tiny bumps under me, and the room started moving. No, it's me! I'm moving! That's where I understood what the black goo is.
You see, from the small age, I learned not to harm a living thing. Every life is sacred, and even the smallest bug has a soul. So my whole life I was letting them outside, carefully taking them in my hands and putting them on the nearest bush. Later, mom told me to whisper "Today you, tomorrow me", and one day they will come to save me. But not that literally!!!
The bugs lifted me up from the ground and carried to the window. Then, using their super-strength, they tossed my huge body a meter to the air right through the window into the hands of a swarm of flies and mosquitos I've let feast on me and my food; before I could realise it, the flying mosquito matress put me safely on the ground and bit my ropes off.
Now I was witnessing the hellish furnace that was just my room, and my savior coming out of it in the face of black goo spilling down every crack on the street.
One day later, I was back at my old place, happy that I didn't tale everything with me to be burned with the new house. I turn on the TV and see my face on the screen. "One man turned down the largest crime organisation in the city". For this act, I received compensation for the damage, and then some for the organisation. With so much money, I couldn't think of anything better to fo than to donate them to the animal saving groupes. Especially insect ones. They deserve a thanks.
_______________________________
Sorry for any mistakes, was writing it on a bumpy ride. | 2017-08-28T00:15:26 | 2017-08-27T22:41:33 | 111 | 56 |
[WP]The US Government finds a Stranger Things-esque alternate dimension full of deadly creatures. Then, they discover Oil there. | January 4th, 2028
Been in the muck for three weeks now. Jackson's been losing his shit, blaming me for everything from the translucent bats to the creepers upturning our tents in the middle of the night. We heard this was a dangerous place. Three teams lost already and we're the fourth. So far no one has died.
They are toying with us.
Murphy saw something in the woods, said it looked like a man with five legs. He said it had a mist surrounding it, a dull grey haze that cloaked it in the ambient sunlight creeping through the trees.
The trees.
They seem to grow slime rather than fruit. The trees seem alive, more alive than the ones we're used to. They don't move, but we hear them. We hear them breathing. Lately, we always feel like we're being watched.
The oil dericks have been pumping. DARPA came up with something special. Self building structures ready to pump in only a few hours. Meanwhile, they give us tents made of plastic and canvas, fold out cots fit for a homeless shelter.
We shouldn't be here. This is madness. I can't lose my cool. Not in front of the men. I'm all they have. My courage must become their own. What if I have none? What if it's an act? Will it still have the same effect?
I can only hope.
January 6th 2028
They are upon us now. It has begun. Jackson was attacked by a swarm of those bats. He ran off into the woods surrounded by them. We could do nothing but watch. Our guns would have made us his accidental executioners had we even TRIED to intervene.
I heard of a war long ago. Most people laugh at you and call you an idiot when you ask if it really happened. I heard it was for oil. I heard it was a dangerous place to get it. I heard no one cared.
Now here we are and the world has changed.
We found Jackson, or what was left of him. He was a bright red skeleton of hair and camaflouge, sitting at the base of a tree. We examined him for a moment, before he shuddered back to life. He gibbered and babbled. We couldn't make out his words. Screaming and shouting, he tried to get up and failed, tried to grab at us, but his hands could not grip.
His muscles had been eaten away. His tongue, too.
The men have been getting restless. Talking about how they got families at home, questioning my decisions because I don't.
January 29th
Hoffer poppers swim and hoffer poppers fly. Hoffer poppers speak and hoffer poppers lie. Itching, stitching, peter pie. Squelching, belching, so am I. Wrap the night into my mind, capping, scrapping it's all mine!
Hello, dear friend, it's been a while now. Things are so much DIFFERENT now. So much BETTER. The slugs are merry. They crawl through me and I can feel their JOY. They hum with it. They SING.
This MESS.
OH, what a MESS! Reds and greens and browns and blues. Such a MESS in my wonderful FOREST. My friends are helping. FEEDING. Oh, and we are so HAPPY now.
Such SPLENDOR, such JOY! JOY! JOY!
[Audio Version](https://soundcloud.com/user-656521351/spooky-scary-halloween-stories) | *"It shows up, we have no knowledge of why it’s there. The average human being is not worried about it because they don’t know it exists. We have no idea what it symmetrizes because it only appears to symmetrize itself."* --Eric Weinstein
***
“Are you sure about this, sir?” Milena asked. “We could do more testing, it’s not like–”
“You said it’s safe?” rumbled the big man in the suit, looking over his shoulder at me.
For the last five years, I’ve been working at a place that people most commonly refer to as Area 51. Over the years I’ve come to learn that there is more than one Area 51. All across the country, there are massive underground laboratories based near airports, train stations, and other busy locations where the fluctuations in electricity will go undetected. In these research facilities, the brightest people from all science fields are brought together to conduct top-secret cutting-edge experiments and solve the mysteries of the universe.
“I said it appears to be stable,” I corrected him.
“And you said before that it could be opened?”
“Well, technically it’s not opening it… it’s more like–”
“But it can be done, right?” His voice was tense. "We have a lot resting on this. Big names are invested."
Milena gave me a concerned look.
“I believe we can, sir,” I said quickly, ignoring my colleague.
Through a series of winding corridors and elevators, we arrived at the gate to our department. The general buzzed us through.
The Mathematics and Astrophysics Department (cleverly nicknamed MAD by the employees) was more of a self-sustaining underground city than a science department. It was a rather calm environment compared to the Biology, Weapons, and X Departments.
“All right,” said the general. “Thirty minutes – bring everyone relevant here – let’s open it up.”
***
The air whooshed from the pressure chamber’s walls. Who would’ve thought my little discovery with the F-T Magic Square would lead to a breakthrough into solving the E8. So many dimensions and this was only the first one that we were going to bring into our reality (or rather, bring ours into theirs).
I looked up at all the people in the gallery. Faces I’d never seen before were here. People from Department X. I felt a bead of liquid stress roll down my forehead.
The team gathered around me consisted of a brutal man, some with arms as thick as my thighs, carrying the strangest weapons I’d ever seen. The lights turned green, and the shifting symbols on the screen started to align themselves. The portal shuddered.
I looked at the general who gave me a solemn thumbs-up. I activated it.
At first, an odd flicker surged through in the room, almost like when a cartoon character gets electrocuted. Then the air filled with strange drifting mucus. It looked like ashes, but it was clearly made of living tissue – or tissue that had been living at some point.
A dark, guttural sound streamed from the portal and seemed to follow the veins of liquid that spread from the opening in the wall. Was the sound part of the substance, or did the sound make it? It was impossible to tell.
“Let’s go,” the captain of the team said through the intercom of his suit.
Slowly, we gathered and stepped through the portal together. There were eight of us entering the unknown.
***
I’d thought it absurd when the technicians suggested the steel anchors. Now, as I stepped through into a new dimension it felt like the steel wire was my lifeline. The only thing keeping me connected to our reality.
The ground felt like wet moss under my latex boots. A swampy yellow mist hampered vision and made me clutch my gasmask tighter. The men around me held a tight formation. I looked over at Milena.
The doubt in her face had been replaced with wonder. Her eyes were wide open as a newborn baby’s, searching through the mist for answers. Suddenly her latex encased hand flew up and she pointed at the sky.
Beyond the strange haze of floating mucus something dark and massive loomed in the distance. It was bigger than a skyscraper – bigger than anything I’d ever encountered – the shadow of mountain-sized…*thing*.
“What is that?” Milena said in wonder.
It wasn't shaped like a mountain. Instead, it was thin at the bottom and growing in width, almost like a strange mushroom. It felt like the rumbling guttural sound, like an organic bass horn, seemed to increase in volume the further we stepped into this strange place.
“Set up a perimeter,” said the captain and the men spread out. “This is how far we’ll go. Take your tests and let’s return. Bring the drill.”
“Hold on,” I said a bit nervously. “We can't drill here, we don’t even know what lies underneath this… uh… this stuff,” I said and squished my boot around in the wet quagmire-like ground for emphasis.
“Those are the orders,” the captain said, and one of the big men put down a massive package that he’d been carrying on his back.
***
**[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Lilwa_Dexel/comments/79bjkr/the_e8_part_2/)**
r/Lilwa_Dexel for more. | 2017-10-28T08:12:59 | 2017-10-28T06:25:51 | 874 | 363 |
[WP] It was the first day in history that all babies born were female. Then it was the second, then the third, the fourth.. | "Mom, why can't I try out for the team?"
"Kylo, we've talked about this, it isn't safe."
"Yeah, but --"
"No. It's too dangerous."
With a flip of long, glossy hair, my child stomped away in a huff. I know there is heartbreak and incredible loneliness in that small heart. But my fear is too great, and our secret is too big.
Nine years ago, my sweet baby was born. I had a home birth, as most mothers do. The insemination and pregnancy had all gone according to plan, even the birth was uneventful. But when Kylo was placed into my arms for the first time, something wasn't right. It took me dusting off an yellowed history book to confirm the truth - Kylo is an XY.
There hadn't been one confirmed in one hundred and sixty years. I've heard stories of course. Mothers who swore their child was one, a male, and who invited endless poking and prodding into their homes. Most of those women were eventually diagnosed with post-partum psychosis or the children with birth defects, but it usually came at the cost of the child's life. Males are such a strange phenomenon that the fertility industry scientists can't keep their hands away from the mere chance of discovering one alive.
You read old stories sometimes, with strange pronouns like 'he' and 'she' and other designations in language for gender. A distinction between the two no longer exists. Society has been entirely XX for centuries, until Kylo.
I don't know how long I can protect my angel. But for now, we're safe. | ######[](#dropcap)
It's tempting to say it began five months ago, but in reality the problem actually began roughly nine months before that.
We now know it is the result of a widespread genetic mutation caused by a mosquito born STD. Think Zika, but with very different, far more widespread side effects.
For those paying attention to the numbers - fertility clinics, ob/gyns - there was some forewarning. Not everyone chooses to identify the gender of their unborn baby, but many do, and those statistics were the first to go haywire.
Aside from a smattering of research articles and niche blog posts, this trend went largely unnoticed, until generation XX began to come into the world.
The first day, it wasn't even clear something had changed, at least not for certain. Individual hospitals found the rate of female births remarkable, but they didn't connect the dots.
When the second and third days passed, and still every, single child born was a girl, then questions began to be asked, data to be cross checked and the unequivocal pattern revealed.
By day four, it was headline news - "Girl's Club!", "No Boys Allowed", and other light hearted turns of phrase printed in bold letters on every newspaper and news website in the world.
Even as the general lay population found the trend remarkable in a cute sort of way - a "what are the chances", feel good sort of way - governments and scientists began to panic. Suddenly those pre-birth gender trends were printed out in triplicate on the desks of every head of state in the world, forecasting not just a four day bump, but, at a minimum, 9 unbroken months of female only births, with no end in sight.
As the days turned into weeks, soon the public caught up as well, their own responses broken into the same catchments as those in power.
On one extreme, there were, of course, the crazies - the militant misogynists and male power types who saw the entire phenomenon as a grand biological conspiracy carried out by Democrats and Socialists to rid the world of white men, once and for all.
On the other extreme were those concerned only with the dire implications for the future of our species, if this trend continued unabated for long enough - the potential for a complete inability to procreate.
In between these two extremes were the majority of people, harboring both logical and illogical fears and concerns, all of them befuddled by the entire thing.
Task forces were convened and a global effort was unveiled to tackle the problem, including in depth analysis of the newborns themselves. Using naturally occurring still births, autopsies were conducted of members of generation XX on a global scale.
This gets us to today, and the new headlines taking over the media cycle, announcing the tentative discovery that is likely to send those "male power" folks into apoplectic, existential rage and tear down the fabric of society as we know it.
Several labs have confirmed the same findings in their analysis of the newborns, and although none are yet old enough to test the hypothesis in reality, it is only a matter of time.
To a person, each member of generation XX contains two different sex organs - internally of course - like certain species of frog. They look, from the outside, like human females, but in fact gen XXers are, technically, a new species altogether, a forced evolution caused by a random virus. Fucking mosquitos.
Personally, I really do welcome our gen XX overlords - they couldn't possibly fuck things up worse than homo sapiens did.
******
##### For More Legends From The Multiverse
##### r/LFTM | 2018-04-07T10:02:46 | 2018-04-07T08:19:47 | 181 | 112 |
[WP] Once upon a time, aliens sent a virulent poison to Earth in hopes of clearing the planet for their own habitation. Hundreds of years later, they're back, and shocked that we're not only alive, but actually are eating/drinking their poison en masse. | We were running out of time. Our constantly growing population had created such a need for resources that we were forced to look for a new home.
Our scouts found a primitive planet in a small system that seemed perfect for our needs. The only problem was that the planet was inhabited by a primitive race of bipedals. They actually did not look very different from us! However, we knew they would not let us have the planet willingly.
So we seeded the planet with the most poisonous plant we knew. It was so poisonus to us, we did not even have a name for it, simply calling it that-which-must-not-be-eaten. It was a small plant, growing a tuber in the earth, with only some green parts visible above ground. It did look kind of edible, Consuming the tuber caused all kinds of medical problems for us. A bite alone was enough to make our intestines bleed, any more and it was nearly instantly lethal. Our plan could not fail with a plant that deadly!
After we seeded the planet with the deadly plant, we occasionally checked back in. Still, we found the bipeds, humans they called themselves, were still alive. Something must have gone wrong.
This is where I come in. I am Zolan Zefix, a undercover scout for the Royal Empire of our people! As we looked so much alike and the conditions of the planet allowed a life without any kind of life support systems, I was sent to the planet to infiltrate the humans and find out what happened.
The infiltration went off without a hitch. No one suspects that I am not a human. I even successfully formed a bond with one of the female humans, pretending to be her 'boyfriend', as that is what they call the male parts of their relationships before they mate for life.
However, I had not yet found out what happened to the plant.
Today, my 'girlfriend' would take me to meet her parents for a shared meal. I was a bit nervous as some of the food I have had on this planet has wreaked havoc on my digestive tract, but I was sure it'd just take some getting used to.
When I met her parents, everything seemed to go well at first. I asked them what kind of food they had prepared, eager to learn more about these still relatively primitive humans. 'Oh, beef and baked potatoes.', they told me.
Beef, I knew. It was some kind of herd animal that they grew specifically to consume.
However 'potatoes' I had not heard of before.
'Interesting' I said, 'what are potatoes?'
They looked at me like I had grown a second head. I quickly checked myself as there had been a few documented cases of that happening to our species, but alas, no second head.
'Why are you looking at me like that? I have never heard of these... potatoes.'
Her father asked me, his face showing his disbelief, 'Son, do you truly not know what a potato is? Everyone knows what a potato is!'
'I'm afraid I do not know.' was my reply.
'I can't believe this!' was her mother's reaction. She went into the kitchen and came back with a bowl of... Oh, by all that is holy, NO!!!
These savages are EATING the deadliest plant known to our species and acting like it was nothing! What kind of monsters are these beings?! | The station had three bars, but only one that didn't have a depressive Hyperklaxonian smothering a grand piano and gurgling bad Billy Joel covers through the fluted valves at the top of its head. Avalon Karl had just bellied up to the darkest end of the brushed titanium bar and begun considering the rows of liquors (almost exclusively all native Earth brands), when a black hatted Earthman waved him over to a table in the back. Curious, Avalon Karl glided over to the table.
"Avalonian?" said the Earthman. "Riggs. Chuck Riggs. Pleasure to meet you."
The man named Riggs offered his right forepaw, which Avalon Karl brushed graciously with his center articulated joint.
"Have a seat," said Riggs, gesturing towards the other side of the table. "Or...err...a hover."
"This is a lovely space station," said Avalon Karl, who had always been poor at small talk, especially with terrestrials. "Very well lit."
"She's somethin'," said Riggs, rapping the center of the table with his knuckle and whistling in the general direction of the bartender. "Tariff payed, tariff laid, we like to say." He laughed, which Avalon Karl understood meant something had tickled the Earthman.
"Yes, tariffs are a form of tax," said Avalon Karl. "Taxes generate income. Very funny. Your Earth humor is very keen."
"Uh...yeah," mumbled Riggs. "I guess I'm just sayin' trade with you all Avalonians' been good to us back on Earth. I'm a businessman, you see? I appreciate a good deal."
"Yes," said Avalon Karl as the bartender dropped two narrow glasses full of bright blue liquid on the table. "We have had a long, long fascination with Earth, extending well prior to our present economic arrangements."
"Oh, don't I know," laughed Riggs, pulling a small black and silver device out of his inner pocket.
"Yes, actually it's a bit embarrassing now," said Avalon Karl, hovering cautiously over his neon blue cocktail. "You see, quite some time ago we craved to possess Earth for ourselves."
"You've got a good eye," said Riggs, playing with the device.
"Yes, well, in this case I suppose I'm glad our machinations fell apart," said Avalon Karl. "We had hoped to clear Earth of all intelligent life. We were...quite surprised to return all this time later to find you not only well, but thriving."
"It was a flawed scheme, I suppose," said Riggs, holding up the box. He touched a screen and a small, tinny computerized voice spoke a single word, over and over. The Earthman grinned, though there was no humor in his face. Even Avalon Karl could see that. "We were supposed to go mad, right? Kill each other? Decimation from within. Fight until the last man drops, eh?"
Avalon Karl shifted slightly in his hovering crouch. "I do suppose it was silly," he said at last. "Though we did spend a good deal of time developing this particular weapon. It seemed just the thing to separate mankind fully and completely. But I guess the calculations...the research...they were all..."
"Foolishness," said Riggs, silencing the device. "Pure foolishness. As if you never understood us at all."
"You saw through our scheme," said Avalon Karl, feeling a ping of resentment for the ineptitude of his forebears. "I see now that the human resolve is made of firmer stuff than we had been led to believe."
"Exactly," said Riggs, with a satisfied nod. "We saw right through it. You only managed to bring us Yannys together. And let me tell you, we *crushed* the Laurels. It was over in a year. Them and their heathen ears - wiped off the face of the Earth."
Avalon Karl dipped a little in his hover. "I'm sorry, you what?"
"You thought the disagreement would pull humanity apart and bring us to ruin?" said Riggs, leaning back in his chair. "But you underestimated the power and the truth of Yanny."
"Oh," said Avalon Karl. "That was...you know that was an auditory mirage, right? Half of you were supposed to hear Yanny and the other half was supposed to hear Laurel. We worked really hard on that. It was really quite clever."
"Laurel was a false god," said Riggs, downing the entirely of his cocktail in one gulp. "There is only Yanny."
"Ah. Yes. Okay. Oh no! I forgot I have a space meeting." Avalon Karl glided purposefully away from the table. "Pleasure to meet you. Let's do this again sometime. Okay. Going now."
In truth, though he would facilitate many trade deals with the Yanny People over the years, Avalon Karl never did do "this" again with the Earthman known as Chuck Riggs. Neither was too bothered by that. | 2018-05-16T23:31:55 | 2018-05-16T20:26:23 | 653 | 35 |
[WP] Instead of an angel and a demon sitting on your shoulders, one side sits a brash New Yorker and the other a posh British gentleman. Neither are necessarily good or evil, they just make passing comments on your day to day activities. | "Jolly good show, my good man," he said, sitting on the right of my shoulder and inhaling deeply from his pipe. "Positively smashing."
I'd been watching Stranger Things for the last couple hours, trying to block them out.
"What kinda trash is this?" the man on the left of my shoulder chimed, pacing up and down the length of it. "This is just garbage, garbage I tells ya. Barb don't deserve to go like that."
I sighed. I had not been succeeding.
********
The bank teller peered quizzically at my shoulders, and I tried to smile. "Please, it's best to just try and ignore them," I told her, glancing down briefly and praying that Mike would be able to keep it together. "It's an, errr, *condition*."
"Nice rack on this bird, yaknowwhatI'mtalkin'about?" he said, staring directly at her chest. Charles leaned over to chastise him.
"Now now Mike, what have we told you about manners? Although I dare say, that is certainly a bountiful bosom."
I apologized profusely before security could escort me out.
****
After much deliberation, the two of them convinced me to go out to the library. This was always a challenging affair, as libraries were made for silence, and regardless, the three of us would need to pick a book that all of us liked to read. No such book existed.
I - or we - were browsing the aisle, Charles trying to direct me to eighteenth century geopolitics, Mike complaining that there were no porn mags. I whispered for them to be quiet, and in the ensuing silence I heard three women speaking in increasing volume to my right.
The librarian shushed the women, and I heard one of them apologize, then the three continued in hushed voices. Again the librarian told them to be quiet.
I rounded the corner, engrossed in my quest for fiction, and accidentally bumped into one of them.
Well, *all* of them.
"Watch where you're goin', ya fuckhead!" a tiny voice said while I attempted to pick up the fallen books.
"Fran, please watch your language, as I think you'll find we are in the company of gentlemen," another tiny voice said, as I - or we - slowly looked up.
A beautiful woman stood before us. Furthermore, two more women stood on *her*.
"By Gods," Charles said, dropping his pipe.
"Fuck me," Mike replied.
"I... I..." I stammered.
"Please, don't mind them," the woman said with a nervous smile.
I nodded, still speechless. I'd never been able to talk to girls, not with these two on my shoulders. But this...
This could work.
"Take this guy to pound town before I do it myself," the tiny, brash woman on her left chimed.
"Or perhaps a delicatessen first?" the tiny, posh woman on her right replied.
The librarian shushed us on our way out.
****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | "Oh dear", said John.
"You fucked up" said Jack
They both nodded. It was the first time they had agreed in three days. Which didn't help me much, since my foot was still broken from the fall, and the big guy was still climbing down the fire escape. Maybe he would be as ungraceful as me when he jumped at the end?
"I wouldn't bet on that sir"
"Not a chance, bro"
"Well, maybe you two dialectic assholes could come up with a plan?"
"Really, there is no nee..."
"Oh, shut up, dude needs a plan, not English lessons"
"Well, I never..."
"Plan."
The steps were getting closer. The big guy was panting. Why didn't he shoot? Maybe no line of sight."
"Well, I see a revolver over there"
"That's a pistol, bro"
"Now who is giving English lessons?"
I tuned them out. Yes, there was indeed a black pistol lying next to me. Still, while I'm not from Texas, I still figure there is probably more to shooting a gun than the movies made it out to be. Still, it was at least I plan, I started crawling towards it. It hurt like hell.
"You go, sir!" John exclaimed.
"Can you even fire that thing?" Jack inquired.
I put my hand on the handle, it was slick from the puddle it had been lying in. Did that matter? The clanks were close now. The big guy must be near the top.
"Sir, might I suggest that we switch locations?"
"Huh?" I said.
"He means the fatso is going to land on you if he can"
"Oh" I said.
The clanking had stopped. Maybe the big guy was aiming as we spoke. I started rolling. Closer to the wall seemed like a good bet.
"Does the gun have a safety, sir?"
"I don't know... Jack, do y..."
"I'm not from fucking Texas, bro"
Some lumbering was heard. There was a thud. Big guy landed face first and his head exploded like a melon.
"Oh, sweet heavens, I'm covered in gore" John wailed.
"This was a brand new shirt" Jack complained.
I puked.
"Who was that man? He seemed awfully annoyed"
"He said something about money. You owe him money, bro?"
I dropped the gun. It clanked to the ground. I could suddenly feel my legs again. I could hear sirens in the distance.
"Ah, police officers. We shall be safe soon".
"So why is Timothy tripping?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Look at him, he is tripping"
"You misunderstand me, I don't understand what tr..."
"Can you two shut the fuck up, for the love of god?" I started crawling towards the alley-way. No disrespect for New York's finest, but I wasn't exactly on their Christmas card list.
"Sir, certainly you are not wanted by the police?"
"Yeah, what the fuck man. I don't want to spend my afterlife watching you get double-teamed in Rikers'."
I continued crawling.
"And why are you even here, Jack? Where is the small red man with the fork?"
"What do you mean, small red man with a fork? And where is that chick with the cleavage and the white dress?"
"Heaven and hell are not open right now" I said.
They looked at me dumbfounded.
"Whatever do you mean, sir?"
"Yeah, what the fuck man?"
It's a long story I said, as I crawled the last feet two the sidewalk. I slowly managed to hobble myself up alongside a drain pipe.
"Well, perhaps you should tell it sir" John demanded.
"Yeah man, don't leave us hangin" Jack agreed.
"Can you two stop agreeing? It freaks me out. I swear I miss that little smug white-winged sex kitten and the tiny red freak.”
They looked at me with a certain hint of nervousness.
"Sir.. wh"
"Yeah m..."
You're temps, okay? Temps. You're filling in because the good guys and the evil guys have better things to do. Well, or worse... depending on your perspective.
"Temps?"
"That sucks"
"So, unless you have the key to purgatory, shut the fuck up the both of you"
They fell into silence.
"Well..."
"You know"
I looked at them with the same look of a man who is getting told by the wife he hates that she doesn't like him anymore.
"I do have this broken key" John said.
"Yeah, me too" Jack offered.
"Oh, look, they seem to fit together" John observed.
"huh" Jack concluded.
"Well, then", I said as I hobbled onto the street while hailing down a cab. "I might have a use for you after all".
"Glad to be of service sir"
"Oh, shut up you pussy".
"You see", I said as I painfully wrestled myself into the cab. "I need to be neither good nor evil to use that key. And somehow"... I looked at them both "I think you two are perfect to achieve just that".
| 2022-04-29T19:22:54 | 2018-07-02T16:02:32 | 4,745 | 122 |
[WP] In an alternate world, every individual is granted a superpower of their choice when they turn sixteen. There's only one problem - there can only ever be one person with a particular superpower, like superstrength. This has forced people to get .... creative. | Ok Bill, what do you wan't your power to be? The department of super powers and abilities representative asked. "flight?" I asked the man who simply said "taken"
"How about time travel?" "taken"
"the power to create money?" "taken"
After about an hour of asking for anything awesome I eventually started to lose hope.
"the ability to always perfectly cook a steak?" "taken"
"omnipotence, is that allowed?" "taken" I yelled in shock "what? you guys allowed somebody to freakin' become a god? who!?" The representative responded with "the ability to know who has which power is taken"
I slammed my head down on the table, dejected. "Can I just not have a power?" "taken"
I began to cry, my dreams of having amazing powers were gone, and I couldn't even opt out of it.
"Kid, I have some advice, think of something unique, something no one expects..."
And that my friends, Is how I become Bill the terrifying, with the power to summon the Spanish inquisition"
| The list was exhausting to look at. All these superpowers...
Russell had a clever friend, Frege, whose power referred to the superpowers. Being a computer scientist, Frege simply asked to, given a superpower, know if somebody had it. He was popular. He got favors from all sorts of other people who had more useful powers.
But he was busy. Not only was Frege busy, but so was his cohort. Frege was 21 and in the last 5 years, Hilbert, Dedekind, and various others made a whole slew of superpowers referring to the system itself. All sorts of statistics were magically found. Hilbert could say how many times a superpower was requested. Dedekind could find, given two superpowers, one unused combination. Cantor, a relatively young player of this game, added the power to say, given two superpowers, which had more derivative powers - powers that people gained that were minor tweaks on the "base power." Bernstein was the latest with the ability to find all sub-powers of a given power. (He defined sub-powers to be more general powers, so if one could make paper fly, a sub-power would be making tree-based items fly, and that has a sub-power of telekinesis.)
Russell, wanting to out-do this cohort, had to add more inane abstraction to this naïve hodge-podge of policies. He decided to know, given a power, if there was no way to use it to refer to itself. For instance, if Frege was asked to tell if his power was used, he'd have used his power to say yes, self-referrentially. Hilbert too could be placed in the same situation: he'd use his power to reveal that it was only asked for once. Dedekind too could be made to use his power to refer to itself (this is more complex and left as an exercise). Russell's request raised a few eyebrows when he demanded it, but the officials did not question him too much: they were too used to absurdity.
Then the system broke. If Russell were asked about his own power, he'd use it to say that he couldn't use it to refer to itself. Or he couldn't use it to say that it could refer to itself... It was a paradox. Russell's paradox: he could use his power to refer to itself only when he used it to say that he couldn't use it to refer to itself.
Zemelo and Frankel, a couple officials, fixed this after a few years, but Russell, in the meantime was, by a public poll, barred from having a power. It was a close vote and after a re-vote, since Zemelo and Frankel made Russell's rustling impossible, Russell was given another chance. He chose something mundane.
Everybody rejoiced in the knowledge that their system was infallible. Little did they know that Gödel would soon come of age. | 2018-12-04T10:55:59 | 2018-12-04T10:21:17 | 61 | 12 |
[WP]The pagan gods watch with amusement as humanity still remember them by naming their mightiest vessels after them, long after they stopped worshiping them. When war against aliens break out, the old gods subtly aid the humans, not wanting the last homage to them to be taken lightly. | Frontiersman Lucian Xan's blood flowed freely down his brow until it met his jawline. It pooled on the tip of his chin and then dripped downward, unnoticed and unimportant. "How many are we looking at? I'm getting nothing but squid on the local."
Jack Studde snorted, "More than it's worth countin'." He gave a hapless shrug, "Only so many bullets to fire sometimes Luke. We've done what we could."
Xan's eyes watered as the smoke from the fire began to cloud the cockpit, causing the viewscreen to blur. The red blinking notification was clear enough. "We didn't get a clear line. The message isn't getting out."
"They'll know well enough when the *Hermes* doesn't report in. Sometimes shooting the messenger is message enough." Jack yanked on the release to his harness, letting some of the pressure off of his chest. Just above his breast was a small winged sandal with the name Studde emblazoned above it. "Wish we'd brought bigger guns. They say the new models got grav pulses."
Lucian sighed, "Yeah, well, it was supposed to be quiet out this way. Squids are supposed to be a few hundred AU the other direction." He slammed the heel of his hand on the panel in front of him, willing the engine back to life. They were dead in the black, their ion drive knocked offline. The squids would have them tractored in soon enough.
They needed a bit of luck, that or the grace of God.
Xan pulled up the comms relay, funneling in the last bit of power in a vain hope of getting the message out. *Thor* was only a hop and a skip behind them, close enough to make it before the air ran out in their suits. The warship had been pulverizing everything in its path, its mass drivers inexplicably performing beyond specifications on multiple occasions. His fingers flew across the panel, the spiderweb of cracks ignored as he attempted to call out.
The last bit of power trickled down, the lights dimming in the ship. "Auxiliaries almost gone," Jack called out.
Lucian ignored him, his attention focused on the little red blinking notification on relay readout. "C'mon you god damned--"
A small flare appeared, the readout flickering for the briefest of moments to show a pair of winged sandals. The red notification blinked out and re-appeared, a cool minty green. "Sonuvabitch..." Xan yelled out. "It's out!"
The lights blinked out, shrouding the ship in darkness.
"What?" Jack asked, the flexglass helmet stored in his collar unfurling and sheathing his head. A small 100% number appeared on his shoulder, indicating his oxygen supply.
"The relay, it got the message out. *Thor* should have it in a few minutes." Lucian frowned down at the local, "Probably not enough time to save our asses, but at least home has a warning that they've got squids pounding down their back door."
\---
"Captain, we've got a priority inbound from the edge. *Frontiership Hermes.* Distress." The comms officer swore, "We've got squids, Ma'am. Whole fleet of them. *Hermes* is disabled."
"Stow it and keep focused Lieutenant. Send a relay back earthward and let's get them some backup," Captain Lawless commanded, her steely grey eyes darting between the bridge crew.
"Captain, we don't know what we're up against, the message just said a fleet of squids." Comms Officer Lucas replied even as he prepared the relay message back home.
"Let me worry about that Lucas, just get us there." She sat in her command chair, her shoulders squared forward, the golden lightning bolt emblazoned on her chest twinkling in the light. "This is the *Thor*, we've got the hammer."
&#x200B;
[**PART 2 RIGHT HERE ON MY SUB. EVERYONE DIES. IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT FOR DEMANDING MORE.**](https://www.reddit.com/r/PerilousPlatypus/comments/alzoo6/wppart_1_2_the_pagan_gods_watch_with_amusement_as/)
**Platypus out.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus
&#x200B; | Quiet humming filled the command deck. Reverberating off the walls, it slowly wound through and around the otherwise silent chamber. Sad forlorn notes echoed into themselves, hauntly blending from each unto the next until decerning which came before and which after became impossible.
The room was frozen in time, bathed in a mix of the emergency power system's red half-light and the blinding flash of brilliant blue streaming through the bridge's massive port windows from the energy shields catching yet another salvo of the alien's missiles before they could penetrate the ship's hull. Crew members as statues sat at their stations, hands hovering over controls or bracing against the massive shock of the shields dispersing the energy blasts over the hull's length. Sparks from overloaded systems and blown panels hung in lazy arcs in the air, waiting to return onto their short journey before their bright embers faded.
Sitting against a bulkhead, the old man finished his tune. The humming melody softly faded away, leaving him alone, gently petting the raven he held in his lap.
"You don't have to do this you know."
The old man looked up from his bird, a hint of a smile touching his lips as he saw his new company, before looking back down. "Oh, but I am afraid that I must."
His new companion scoffed before walking the short distance between them and settling down next to him, sighing as he leaned his head back to rest against the steel plating. The two were a sharp contrast to one another, the older wearing simple, well made woolen shirt and pants with a travelling cloak draped over his shoulders. The younger wore a finely made black suit, with short cut hair and a clean shaven face to the older's mane of long hair and beard.
"That's not true and you know it. I'm sure you'd be able to last another hundred years or two easy. Especially if you ease up using all your power on miracles and interventions."
The old man laughed at that. A short bark that threw him into a coughing fit that wracked his frame, causing the younger man to take in how much thinner he had become of late. It was a moment before he could bring his breathing back under control, his companion noticing the blood that was quickly wiped away from his mouth.
"Yes," he finally replied. "I suppose I could manage to save every bit I have left. Slowly wasting away until I vanished completely, mind and body lost to the sands of time."
He turned his head, locking his one good eye with the younger's two. A fierce passion burned within the remaining pale blue orb. "I still remember them. The ones that chose that fate. Driven mad as the aeons past them by and watched as the desert reclaimed the dust they left behind. Not even I can recall their names, so long lost that even I've thought maybe them nothing more than a dream if not for knowing the truth."
He turned back to his bird, gently stroking it with one hand as it rested its head against his other. "I have always gained power as the humans turn to me in war. Swearing oaths, making prayers. Offerings to gain my blessing. But I have been dieing long before this war even began. This vessel bares my name. Its weapons have become my spear and itself become my steed, so that I may ride into battle once more."
The younger man listened patiently to the older, watching as he pet the raven in his lap. Its feathers had lost their sheen, its beak chipped and grey. Its eyes were cloudy and without vision. It was content to lay in the man's care, eyelids half closed.
The younger man sighed, pushing himself to his feet and brushed his hands off. Walking to the middle of the bridge, he stared out the windows, gazing at the massive alien fleet that the humans were desperately trying to defend against.
"I don't suppose I can tempt you out of this, can I?" he asked.
The old man chuckled, "No, I am no human that your powers may be able to sway my decision."
The younger sighed once more, turning back to the older. Reaching out, he offered him his hand to raise from his place on the floor. "You know you were supposed to die to a wolf right?"
The older man took the assistance, grunting a thanks as he climbed to his feet. "I know," he said, moving to stand next to his companion. "And you are supposed to have horns."
It was the younger's turn to laugh. Producing two cups and a bottle, he handed one to the older man before filling them both from the bottle.
"One last drink then. Quality guaranteed, I swiped it from 'J' himself," he said, clinking their cups before downing his drink.
The old man's eyebrows arched. "I thought he wasn't making it any more?" he asked before following suite.
"He isn't, not since the whole nailed to a couple boards incident. Cruel irony for a carpenter really. I've been saving it for a special occasion."
A shared silence fell as they finished their drinks. The younger seemed lost for words, finally settling on reaching for a handshake.
"Good-bye it is then," he said as they shook. "I'll leave the bottle."
"Thank you, and good-bye."
The old man took the bottle and the younger turned to walk away, disappearing before his third step reached the floor.
"Well then, shall we show them how much fight we have left?" he asked his raven as it rubbed it beak against one of his fingers. He lifted it gently to his shoulder and it let out several soft caws as it settled into place. Taking a pull of the rich wine straight from the bottle, he turned to stare at the alien fleet through the massive windows.
~~~~~
Loud klaxon alarms continued to cry out in time to the flashing emergency power lights.
"Status!"
"They've held again Captain, barely. Structural damage from impact stress is still with-in operational. Guns are already recharged and ready to fire again."
The Captain quickly processed the information. Some how they had survived yet another volley from the alien fleet. Their shields were holding against more blasts than they had any right to, allowing them to return devastating fire unto their enemy. Thanking whatever god seemed to still be watching over them, he ordered all weapons fire.
| 2022-03-30T20:52:43 | 2019-02-01T00:08:24 | 2,124 | 12 |
[WP] A man accosts you in the street, and he claims he is you from the future. “Whatever you do, DO NOT fall in love with that girl!” the man warns. Distracted by the crazy man, you turn the corner and bump into someone. Its the most beautiful girl you have ever seen. Your eyes meet and she smiles.
Credit to this post: https://www.reddit.com/r/greentext/comments/eyaquy/anon_spites_himself/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf | Michael watched himself, and his other self converse from across the street. Time travel once, and you do it again. Watching history through the lens of whatever bias the historians had was far inferior to watching it through the lens of a cafe's window, slow jazz music playing in the background.
It was never worth it to travel in time only once. It became a habit, an addiction that could run away with you faster than, well, time.
This time, however, his goal wasn't to dissuade his past self from falling in love with some random girl he was about to meet, but simply to watch it happen, if for no other reason than for amusement's sake.
He remembered the disguise he had put together, the fake beard and wild hair. He had taken inspiration from an old time travel movie, and the mad doctor therein. A little make-up and a white wig did wonders to transform a young man still in his thirties, to a sixty-something mad-man.
He watched his disguised self grab hold of his youngest self's shoulders, going on about this cryptical warning he had given himself. "Do not fall in love with that girl!"
The words were still clear on his mind, and he muttered them to himself again, sipping his tea.
Even from here, the waves of amusement that turned into concern, and then confusion, that crossed his past self's face were clear as day. The grimy window of the cafe did nothing to lessen the view of history unfolding.
The arms of the Mad Self were beaten away, and his past self took a step back, shaking his head.
"I remember telling myself that the guy was a lunatic, and an idiot," Michael said aloud with a wry smile. "My head was so full of internal ramblings, and half-thought threats that I didn't even pay attention when I continued on my way."
As he spoke, the past-Michael turned the corner, now ignoring the Mad-Michael. He had taken but two steps before a smaller shape collided with him, sending the both of them tumbling to the ground.
A scene of momentary confusion, and several profound apologies, followed. The one that past-michael had bumped into was a woman, deep brown eyes and long hair so dark it was nearly black. Her sheer beauty had struck him dump, so much so that he didn't rise before she offered him a hand to help him up.
From this distance he couldn't hear what they were saying, but the words were still crisp in his mind.
"And that is when I asked her for a cup of coffee, to repay her for the one I had just spilt."
Michael turned to look away from the window, to the person on the seat opposite his. Even twenty years later, her beauty had not lessened in the least.
"Some reverse psychology does wonders to help romance bloom. What do you say, Octavia?"
Octavia's eyes were still glued to the scene unfolding on the other side of the street, but slowly she tore her gaze away and let it fall on Michael, his subtle smile one that promised an 'I told you so'.
"When you told me you'd tell me why you fell for me, I wasn't expecting... this." She waved her hand towards the scene outside, still going on.
"I was a scatterbrained, clueless young man. I needed a little kick, and something like a mad doctor showing up to tell me not to fall in love with someone?" His smile widened. "Well it sparked my curiosity, and look what happened because of it."
Her gaze continued to linger on him, but soon her smile brightened, and the entire room with it too. "Inventing Time travel just to get a girl? You're a dork."
"Only for you." | Calvin’s feet stopped dead in their tracks.
The woman in front of him pulled her hand up and moved a stray thread of pale blonde hair out of her face. After tucking it behind her ear, she stretched her hand out toward him, as if to initiate a handshake. “Sorry about that, I’m Angela.”
Her hand sat in the air for a good minute before Calvin’s thoughts registered what was happening. He met her own and felt his heart palpitate as he touched her skin. It was cool and soft like a satin bedsheet that hadn’t been touched all day. He felt his hand being moved up and down, and it wasn’t until his arm swung downward on its own that he realized she had let go.
All of his thoughts had escaped him, and his face flushed. “I…” he started, and then took a deep breath to try and steady himself. “I’m the sorry one.”
She laughed, and he felt his heart leap into the back of his mouth.
The world swirled around them. The rest of that day swept by so fast that it wasn’t until months later that he was able to sit back and realize how fast they had gone, and how crazy it all was. They had run into each other on a Monday morning and they had both been on their way to work.
Neither of them had gone in that day. They had however turned around the corner and sat down in the coffee shop. They had exchanged cell phone numbers, and middle names, and realized that she lived one street over behind his apartment complex; in a spacious house she inherited from her grandmother, may she rest in peace, and that she worked on the building exactly one block away from him.
They parked in different garages when they drove, and took different busses when they didn't, and that morning her cab driver had gotten a panicked phone call and dumped her on a corner she didn’t need to be on. It was the reason she had been walking that exact path — a path she never walked.
Some crazy cab driver had let destiny do its thing, allowing them to meet.
After coffee, they had taken a walk around the park, and then when the sun suddenly set under the horizon they went out to dinner. They sat down across a small table in the back corner of a dim Italian restaurant becuase it was both of their favorites. They had three bottles of wine and discovered that they both wanted children someday and that neither of them had even realized before that anything was missing.
After that fateful day, they were inseparable. Calvin sometimes thought back on that day and was reminded of the man that had tried to stop him. The man with the matted brown hair that was 2 shades darker than his own and the tired wide eyes.
The man that had screamed at him not to fall in love; and sometimes he wondered what the psycho had been on about, but it didn’t matter. Most likely that same man had set him on the path to meet his Angela.
Years went by and the world continued to surprise them both. They were married on the fifth anniversary of that crazy day where they just happened to bump into each other, and when she tucked a stray hair behind her ear he wept. Tears leaked from his eyes that Calvin couldn’t stop becuase her marble beauty was beyond him.
He had never been able to figure out how he had gotten lucky enough to have her. The love of his life. He knew that day that his vows went on too long and she joked about it for years after that. She would point to the picture of their first dance and tell him that she barely made it through.
“My feet hurt before I even got to the dance floor, you cheesy cheesy man.”
Calvin would smile, and when she smiled back his heart would melt.
On their 10th anniversary, a carnival came to town.
In the spirit of his childhood, Calvin pushed them to go on the opening night and was more excited than he could account for when there was a real, live, and ancient fortune teller. He had always had a quiet obsession with him that none of the men in his life could relate to. It wasn’t in his skill set, and his other hobbies didn’t line up.
But it didn’t stop his curiosity, and it didn’t stop him from walking into her booth. He set a 20 dollar bill down on the table and felt his stomach turn when she began to lay her cards down on the table.
She flipped each one, asking him questions and telling him long-winded answers. He knew it was all a cold read that wouldn’t do him any good, but it still felt satisfying, and he loved every moment of it.
As she finished flipping the last card, the old woman smiled.
“The lovers,” she said. “Your soul mate.”
“I know,” Calvin replied, matching her grin. “Angela is amazing.”
The woman tilted her head to the side, giving him a quizzical look. “I don’t think so.”
There was silence, and Calvin felt a flitter of confusion and anger roll into his chest. “Angela is my wife.”
“That's not what the spirits say,” she said. “Your soul mates name was Erin.”
“My wife's name is Angela,” he repeated, raising his voice despite trying not to.
She shook her head, ignoring his temper. “Erin.” The woman sat down another card and shook her head. And then another, furrowing her brows. “Angela was her last case as a detective.”
/r/beezus_writes | 2020-02-04T10:18:37 | 2020-02-04T08:32:55 | 163 | 70 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | "Hey, Zero!" I heard it too late to dodge, the yellow-grey pain-flashes in my head igniting my vision as the barrage of punches rained down on me. I tried to accept it, let it pass as the infantile tantrum it was.
Melark stopped hitting me long enough to kick me, his acid laughter staining the air as I fell to the floor among the unswept dust bunnies and sticky cola remnants. The Sign on my rib cage blazed ice cold, tempting me with a prickling song of revenge. I thought I had the routine down, that I could just let this play out and walk away...it was the feeling of Melark's warm spit clogging my hair that did it.
I stood up, looked that asshole in the eye, and gave in. He thought I was Nothing, that Zero was Nothing. Smirking, I reached inside his repulsive existence and severed the chain of Time that held him. Atom by atom, cell by cell, I released him into the Infinite spaces where Reality is not yet manifest. He knew what was happening. I made sure of that. For an instant of eternity, Melark saw all of his potential selves, and found all of them *small.*
I re-wove him at the last possible instant, and left him a sobbing, broken shell. | Another blow sent me sprawling onto the floor. I felt a drop come from my nose and saw the spot of red on the floor. My face burned from his fiery punch.
“Come on, loser,” Chantley shouted. “If you’re not going to show your power, I’ll force it out of you.”
“You’re not changing anything by doing this,” I said. “Just leave me alone.”
A flame flickered in Chantley’s open palm, waiting for me to charge back at him. The fire sigil on his forehead burned brightly as he was using his power. Other students had gathered around but did nothing to stop Chantley’s attack, waiting to see what happened. I knew they were curious, too. But I stood still, my plain circle sigil staying dark as always.
“Fight me!” he shouted. “Show us what your lame sigil really does!”
I had endured his teasing, his prodding, his insults all year long. He was new to the school, and I guessed he was just trying to carve a spot for himself in our class. Not that he needed to. We’re a pretty nice group of kids. He’d know it if he had given us a chance. If he had given me a chance. I wasn’t ready to show them what I could do. I wasn’t ready, but it was getting harder to hold it in.
With another flaming punch, this time to my gut, I had finally had enough. I put out the little hot spot that smouldered on my shirt and got in his face. I hated to admit it, but his bullying broke me.
“Fine Chantley. You win.”
Suddenly his flame went out.
“Hey!” he said, looking down at his hand. He snapped his fingers. He waved his hands. Nothing could bring the fire back. “Where did it go?” Then he looked back at me and his jaw dropped.
My circle sigil was filled with the burning fire sigil that had been on his forehead, but now was on mine.
“You took my sigil!” he shouted. The gathered crowd let out a collective gasp.
“You asked for it,” I said plainly. I played with the fire in my palm, like he had taunted me with every other time he picked a fight with me. Now it was my turn.
“Give it back!” he shouted, the panic palpable in his voice.
“No, I think I’ll keep it for a while.”
Chantley threw a punch at my face, but I blocked it with a flaming fist. His eyes widened then shut tightly as he felt the painful burn of fire for the first time in his life.
“Owwwww let me go!”
I released him with a push, sending him to the ground. I also released his sigil back to him as he scampered through the crowd. Nobody followed him, but nobody checked on me either. In fact, they kept their distance from me, probably terrified I’d steal their sigil too. I may have won the fight, but I lost my friends in the process.
I never should have given in.
-------
More stories at /r/ReverendRamboWrites | 2020-02-26T06:21:03 | 2020-02-26T05:43:27 | 3,609 | 1,964 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | This is my first ever response to r/writing prompts after lurking for about 3 years. Please be kind:
“Here she comes, Anna the Raptureless!” Every day Dylan said the same thing as I walked into our overcrowded, overheated and under resourced classroom, in our run down inner city school. Not for the first time, I was grateful that no one had yet managed to figure out what my perfect circle meant. Everyone else had elemental sigals. There were special classes for fire, water, air and earth elementals. Even the teachers didn’t know what to do with me and the other students hated me because I got to spend those lessons working on my own projects.
I knew my role though, I was the perfect circle, I was the alpha and the omega. I had launched the rapture, I had given them their powers to see how they reacted. I had hoped that giving humans a taste of my power would make them harmonise more with their own world. That it would help them re-connect with the elements that formed their world and make them start to work in synchrony again. Caring for the natural order, like their ancestors once did.
My own projects, which looked to others like reading the news, was actually me collating the results of my interventions. My findings were conclusive though, this experiment had failed. The differing powers had led to more conflicts, more jealously, more hatred, more factions and ultimately more war. On the news this morning I had seen the final straw, a tribe of water elementals had been weaponised by the Americans and used to launch a tsunami in the Middle East, a tribe of fire elementals had responded by launching a fire storm that right now was blazing through Washington DC.
Today I was going to push the reset button. Today was the day for Rapture take 2. Today I would use my power to remove theirs. Then I would use my elemental forces to repair the world. Terra Nova V3.0 would be reinvisioned at 2pm this afternoon.
Last time I had changed the world, I put everyone to sleep, none of them saw what happened they just woke up to find themselves imbued with new elemental energies. This time, as I took the powers away. I was going to keep the bullies awake. Kids like Dylan and politicians too, so that they could see what their evil had cost the human race and so they get an impression of what could happen should I ever need to create version 4.0.
My superiors had already informed me that should a 4.0 ever become necessary, the human population of Terra would need to be halved in order to restore the natural balance. The only way to prevent this happening would be to make the humans rediscover their bonds with their natural environment, this was my final chance to make them listen. I smiled when Dylan spoke to me this morning. He was just reinforcing what I already knew. Today is the day of the rapture, today you will learn what I do. | I always thought that the girl who'd punched me in the gut with just now had a power that hardly suited her.
To own a detailed sigil of was a sign of respect, prosperity; stronger sigils always signified that their bearers were wise, kind, or honourable or highly experienced in life.
And yet Leticia Norek, the sigil of the Wave, beautiful as she was, had struck me into the floor with her bare hands, hardly breaking into a sweat. Why? I didn't know.
My abdomen throbbed with pain that I could hardly move under. I tried crawling over to the desk nearby - useless - I heard her pick up the chair, and momentarily I felt its steel leg crash into my own leg.
A blunt, angry pain shot up, and I howled in pain.
"You need to stop! You're breaking Academy property!" I shouted. My voice was dry, and my chords burned with each word. I felt hot breaths leave my lungs, my body warm against the cold floor.
"Oh, I won't," she said with masterful dominance, "not until you tell me *how* you passed the Fourth Test *without* a sigil. Low-orbiter scum."
I didn't remember how I passed. Whenever I tried to recall what happened when I took the test, there was only emptiness in my memory. We were brought to a cliff on some faraway planet and were pushed off from there - that was all. I didn't remember what happened after - I didn't remember falling. And as far as I knew, I actually HAD a sigil - but it never activated, and I was considered an Impure by the doctors.
And I never wanted to take the test in the first place. I'd somehow ended up where I was, consciously aware of how I got here, but for some reason I...I didn't make all those decisions to get here did I?
What happened to working on a farm like Dad? I never wanted to take a galactic exam! What made me get here? It wasn't me.
And now, I, supposedly, had done something that had pissed Norek off.
Something was off about her too. She was supposed to be the class topper, a North Star graduate; kind, reverent, caring, and yet, she was hurling furniture across the room into me, like the Banished.
I needed an explanation. Quick. *Lie*.
"But I HAVE a sigil!" I croaked, frantically pulling at my sleeve to show the small blue circle on my shoulder.
But that was the truth, and I knew it was the truth that she wouldn't listen to.
I felt knuckles to my face in the next blow. Right to the ear. My hearing rang, and the pain spread across my skull. I clutched my hands to my face, biting a scream away. And through my arms I could see her sigil, on her neck, glowing in a blinding, orange light.
*Punish.*
I closed my eyes - rather, my eyes closed themselves, and I felt myself standing up. I could feel pain all over my body now. My eyes wouldn't open anymore. I couldn't even move my hand -
*No.* It wasn't that I couldn't move my right arm - but it was my arm that moved. It didn't move back, like I wanted it to - it moved forwards, in front of me, slowly. On its own. I wanted to pull it back - and it only continued forwards.
What was happening? My left arm also moved forward, and my arms were now extending their fingers outwards - and they were moving slowly, in a circle. My eyes were still closed but I could feel my arms.
Suddenly, my eyes opened themselves, and I was glaring at a black circle - about the size of a large plate, in front of me. It had small silver waves running at its edges, flowing inwards to the circle.
My palms pressed together, and the circle expanded. My hands clutched together harder, and the circle only became larger.
And then I *threw* it. The plate went flying into Norek's chest, and she vanished into thin air.
She was to my left now, her orange glow now gone.
My right hand grabbed her neck, and I slammed her hard into the floor. It slammed her again. Again.
It wasn't strong enough. I couldn't see her blood.
Slammed her again. I quickly realised that my body wasn't moving on its own anymore.
I was in control again.
She screamed in pain. I could hear footsteps outside the door. And yet, continued. She howled this time.
And the scream felt so, so good.
*Punish.*
*Show her.*
*Show them.* | 2020-02-26T08:40:37 | 2020-02-26T08:34:28 | 40 | 25 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | Brian pushed me against the wall, laughing his sickening cackle. He turned to his minions, who have the collective iq of a potato (though at least a potato can power a lightbulb).
"How much you wanna bet that dumbass doesn't have powers?" As numbers flooded the air with how much these damn rich kids were willing to bet, my anger grew. "If I don't have powers than why do I have a mark?" I asked with clear irritation bubbling in my voice.
"Then prove it. Prove you have powers!" He grinned wickedly at me. For years now I've been told never to use my powers. With such a unique mark, anything could happen. I was also kind of afraid it just meant that I would blow bubbles out of my nose, or hit a ball extra far. "I can't." I backed down in an attempt to stop the fight so no one would get hurt.
"It's easy! Watch!" As his eyes narrowed, the imprinted eye on his forehead started to glow a bright red. I stared at it. Wrong move.
Suddenly I was falling deeper and deeper into an endless black night. My mother's voice echoed throughout the lonely pit. "James, wrap your arm. Don't show them the circle." "You can't use it James. We don't know what it will do." "Dr. Monroe, isn't there any way to change it?"
"Enough!" I shouted. I was standing back in the cold, dimly lit school hallway. I hadn't even moved. "You want to see what I can do? Fine."
I unwrapped my arm, taking in the satisfying peal of the bandage coming off of my mark. Most of my energy was gone, sucked away by the attack, but it was enough. I focused on moving my chi into the spot. The circle. The bane of my existence.
The spot radiated a dark blue from the edges. Yellow lightning was the only thing preventing the ocean of magical energy from consuming the hall. Suddenly the lights went out, including the light from my arm.
"Ooh. Great power. Now we don't have to stand up to turn the lights on." Brian laughed. But I knew it wasn't over.
As the ignoramus bullies stood, mocking me in their clique, sparks appeared around my feet. They slowly crawled up Tomy knees, hips, ribs, arms, and head.
No one spoke.
A water puddle formed beneath me, and I knew exactly what to do. I raised my arms, and the water level grew. I could control it. I swooped my arms to the side, sending a massive wave towards my opponents. Again and again I hit them with no time to breath in between.
When I finally calmed down, I looked at the damage. The lights had come back on, and the water retreated into the ground. I stared at the boys cold, lifeless bodies. Silently, I grabbed my bandage, wrapped it around my arm, and walked away.
The circle. The human storm. | Even before the rapture, that's what we've grown to call the day the sky lit up like a god had laid fire to a rainbow, i had trouble fitting in. I never enjoyed the "normal" things kids were supposed to: sports, video games, comic books. I was always staring out the window. Looking for shapes in the clouds or stars. Wishing to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.
&#x200B;
Then it happened. The rapture was a chaotic day. No one understood was what is occurring in the that moment but people began to feel great pain as sigils were branded on their foreheads by some unseen entity. After people recovered from the shock of it all they found that these sigils allowed them to do very special things. Some could play with fire, others electricity. A few could simply conjure energy (this was anything but simple to purists of general relativity). While others still could modify time as we knew it and their place in it.
&#x200B;
Those with greater power had endured greater pain. The most common sigils were the size of a half dollar. The "elites" were typically the size of your fist, placed on your forehead. Since we we were still human our baser nature was still prevalent. People outside the standard were shunned as people to be scared of, or rejected. A few people had had their heads branded with their sigil. Each one of them, male and female alike, were named witches and treated as they were in colonial Salem. There's even urban legend of a few "mutants" of such immense power their entire body is wrapped in their sigil. Me though, my sigil is nothing and i've been treated as a reject since. For some reason the nickname "empty glass" stuck and all the kids simply refer to me as "glass" now.
&#x200B;
Today, walking through the halls, being mocked pretty lightly for a Tuesday (schedules rotate daily and Tuesday's bring the 2nd most bullies outside Ms. Snyders room) I feel a sudden impact on my cheek. I guess Sully felt it was time to check if I still considered myself worthy of being in the presence of "regular people" or if he could break me. As I recover from the blow I look up and see a teacher trying to intervene but other bullies using their sigils to restrain the teacher. The teachers were severely outnumbered and I may be in danger.
&#x200B;
Sully chirps, "Yo glass, why won't you just go away! You'll never be able to do anything. You have no use. " More threats are hurled as well as punches but I don't hear or feel any of them. They all land; i'm certain I'll feel them tomorrow but not right now. That one insult from Sully is all i have in my mind.
&#x200B;
During a break in the pummeling I simply lower my head and say "Fine". As I say this I wave my hand over my forehead and out in front of me. As I do this, everything around me stops as I'm encircled by a sphere of dust and specks. I motion with my hands to pull and spin this cloud around me, shapes slowly become visible. After a few more seconds I'm pulling at one shape in particular. It's apparent to anyone who would be with me that it's the milky way. I continue until I've Google Universe'd my way right into this hallway we're all standing in. (since playing with this sigill since the rapture this process only takes a moment) I see grab the Sully from my projection. Zoom out. Give the dust cloud a spin and flick Sully off into somewhere. I motion to condense the dust cloud and it finds it's way back to my sigil. A single circle the size of an atom (i've checked), in the middle of my forehead.
&#x200B;
Returned to the current situation, everyone is confused and shocked. Many of the bullies are screaming "What did you do to sully?", "Where's sully??", "WTF?", "You wanna die!" and things like that. I calmly say, "Sully is no more. Who's next?". Another bully motions to strike me. I make the same motions (I should really find a way to book mark my town!) but instead of sending this bully away I squeeze the projection until it explodes. On my return I see the remaining bullies, teachers, and other students covered in bits of the last one to attempt to strike. I say, "Next?". Everyone scatters, screaming.
&#x200B;
This saved me from a further beating that day but I should have taken the beatings. Today, even the witches and mutants are afraid of me and hunt me because I am different.
\------
So many ideas on where to take this. Thanks for the prompt. | 2020-02-26T09:22:10 | 2020-02-26T09:02:03 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] Everyone's always happy in your uncle's presence. As his favorite naphew, he invited you to go stargazing one night. "Well, it's been fun, but now it's time for me to go back. See you around kiddo." You thought he was joking, but you never saw him again. No one else seemed to remember him too. | "And that is Sagittarius," my uncle said while pointing up at the desert sky. "The center of this galaxy lies that way, with a giant black hole in the middle. Let your eyes adjust and you'll see the Milky Way."
I'd never been out to the desert before. Never really been anywhere far enough from the city lights to really appreciate the sky. But here, twenty miles from any other humans, there was a certain peace. I didn't notice the occasional howl or hoot from the dark, not with my uncle's soft voice explaining the sky in my ear.
I pointed at the brightest spot I could find. "Do you think we'll ever go there, uncle?"
He chuckled softly. "That's Venus. You've already sent a probe there. At least the Russians have. It's not as nice as Earth. Too hot."
"Oh, what about there?" I said, pointing randomly to another bright spot. "What's that one called?"
He stood silently for a full minute before answering. "Astronomers call that one Schedar or Alpha Cassiopeiae. When I was a kid we always called it... something different. It's funny that you picked that star out of all the thousands your eyes can see."
"Are you alright, uncle?" I said as he got up off the blanket. I think I saw a tear on his cheek.
"Yeah, kiddo. You just reminded me of something, is all. Something I meant to do a long time ago, but have been putting off." He went over to the van, an old volkswagen minibus, and opened the door, splashing light out over the desert and spoiling my night vision. I heard a loud clunk as he messed with something under the dash.
"Come back to the stars, Uncle."
"I hear you, Julia. I heard you before. I'm coming." I heard a low whir begin to come from the van. The other sounds of the desert faded as it filled my ears.
I stood up now. The light from the van was getting brighter. "What are you doing, Uncle?"
He turned to me, backlit by the radiance coming from the vehicle. It almost seemed like some of the light was passing through his body. "It's been fun, but it's time for me to go back home. There is something important there left undone. Thank you for reminding me."
The volume of the whir had increased to the point that I had to strain to hear him. I stood confused while he turned back to the van and shouted "I'll see you around, kiddo."
When he slammed the door on the van, the noise stopped and everything was black except for the large purple afterimage that swam around in my vision. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the renewed darkness I realized that the van was gone. I turned on my phone flashlight and crouched where it had been, but I couldn't even find any tracks.
A howl sounded in the night as I stood up. The only thing left was the blanket and the stars above me. My phone didn't have a signal and I was twenty miles from any other human. "Son of a bitch."
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] | Life just went as usual after that, you went to school, played with friends did your homework. It was wired, someone who seemed like such a big part of your life just vanished but nothing seemed to change.
You yourself almost forgot about him untill a year later you need to get a tent for the boy scouts trip. You ask mom where is it and she answers in the attic. as you get there you find an old album with a thick layer of dust on it, you open it and find old photos of your parents at trips that happened before you were born. As you scroll through the pages you suddenly find it, a photo of your parents with your uncle in London.
You grab the picture and the tent and head to your mom. She sees you and ask "Did you find it" you nod your hand but before you get to show her the picture she says "great, put it besides the door and go outside to help your dad with the garden" you do as mom says and help dad with the garden, after a long day of work you take of your clothes and have a shower. After the shower you get straight into you PJs and got to your room to play some Minecraft online with your friends.
the next day, as you get ready for your trip you suddenly remember the picture, you ask mom at the table "mom, have you been to London with dad?" mom looks at you funny "yes we did about two years before you were born, how did you know?" you answer eagerly "I saw a photo in the album at the attic of you with dad and uncle" your mom keeps looking at you "what uncle? it was just your dad and I" you know you have the photo "I have the photo, I will show you" you run to the laundry room to fetch your pants in which you forgot the picture but the pockets are empty, you search on the floor and in the room but nothing. you hear mom calls "honey, get ready we need to go in twenty minutes"
You get on the bus and have a blast with your friends in the trip, the day before the trip ends, at the evening you go to the woods to pee before heading to bed and as you turn around you see uncle waving a flashlight. "Uncle!' you shout as you run to give him a hug, your uncle hugs you back. "What's up kiddo?" you ask him "uncle where have you been?" he answers "it doesn't matter, I am here now, do you want to grab some ice cream?" you nod your head and you leave the camp through the woods to get ice cream, he tells you how he came back from a great land where everyone wore orange and he says they feed him and gave him shelter and he made lots of friends but he left it all just so he could see you, you had fun eating ice cream, he took you after that to see a movie and he took you after that to McDonald's, you had so much fun until at one point you fell asleep.
you woke up by mom picking you up, hugging you and crying "are you alright? did he hurt you? did he do something to you?" you are very fuzzy and tired, you don't know what's going on "mom, I am okay, I had fun with uncle" mom doesn't answer she just hold you and doesn't let go. after a couple minutes your dad comes, he takes you from moms hands "we need to take him to the hospital" you fall asleep again in the car and wake up at the hospital, a nurse comes to you "You woke up! how are we feeling?" you answer "hungry, where is mom and dad?" the nurse says "they are at the police station, they should be back soon" you ask "and where is uncle?" the nurse makes an uneasy expression "your uncle was found in someone's house" you ask "what did he do in someone's house?" the nurse is trying to find the right words "he tried to hurt the people inside the house so the police came and, well, he died" you started crying, you don't know what to do, you just got uncle back but now he is gone, for ever. He was the best uncle ever, he got you cool things, he played games with you, he gave you candy when dad wasn't looking. he was the best, but now he is gone.
At the six o'clock news you hear "The escaped prisoner has returned his nephew to his parents before breaking into the house of the smiths family and trying to rob them, Mr. smith saw the prisoner and shout him three times in order to protect his family, 'not only I protected my family, I protected the community as well' said Mr.Smith 'I don't know how people like him doesn't get the chair after murdering three people' The child is safe and seems to be well, up Next..."
After that life went as normal, after the excitement died down you went back to school, played with the same friends, did your homework, everything was normal but from that day, you never asked what happened to uncle | 2021-11-22T10:07:05 | 2021-11-22T07:48:47 | 120 | 34 |
[WP] You open the door to your house. You notice someone who looks exactly like you sitting in a chair. You don't have a twin. "Can I help you?" The person looks at you. "I'll give it to you straight: I'm a shapeshifter. I'm in danger. One of us needs to stay in the basement for now. Best it's you." | "You sure about that? I can handle myself well enough." I said as I pulled out my pistol and chambered a round.
"No, trust me, they aren't \*people\*, a weapon like that won't cut it, I've just gotta trick them into thinking I'm not here, and this place is an extrasensory dead zone for some reason, so they can't see through this disguise."
"Wait, did you walk in here with no idea who I am, just copied someone off the street and hopped into their house?"
"Yeah, why does who you are matter? Wait, how the hell are you so okay with all this?" My response was to channel a touch of power into the runes on my handgun and gloves, causing them to turn from nearly invisible to glowing a pale, ethereal blue. The doppleganger froze, and its expression turned to stark terror.
"You're the fucking wizard. I walked into the house of the fucking wizard, because of course he'd have wards mimicking a natural dead zone."
"I'm the fucking wizard alright."
"Why am I alive, then? You must have killed a dozen of us by now."
I sighed and lowered my weapon from pointing upward and ready to at my side. "Because instead of trying to take my memories, kill me, and replace me, you just asked me to hide. That's not how your kind operate. So, I have to ask how'd you end up in this situation? Be aware, one of the wards will stop you from lying."
"I uh..." He gagged, clearly having hoped to call my "bluff" about the truth ward. I hadn't been bluffing. "I let a human live that I shouldn't have. Blew an operation. My cell never liked me before, and now..."
"They're gonna kill you. Probably some shit about you being 'flawed' for not being a total psycho too, yeah?"
"Yeah"
"Well, you seem like possibly the best anomaly among monsters I've met, can't wait until the vegan werewolves hear about this." The Shifter looked deeply confused at that, and seemed like he was about to question it, but before he could, there was a knock at the door. A series of heavy, slow knocks. I sighed.
"We can talk more once I take out the trash. You might want to turn around, it might get messy."
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Hope folks enjoy, pretty heavy Dresden Files inspiration here, but fun to write regardless. | Snow always fucked up Julia's commute. As a nurse, she had to go in, regardless of the weather, and her all wheel drive car did just fine, but the other idiots always slowed things down. But she didn't work for four more days, so when she got home she was really looking forward to stripping off the scrubs, taking a criminally long shower, and hiding under a blanket in front of the television for a socially unacceptable amount of time.
Her driveway's snow was pristine except for a set of tracks headed towards the front door. Those new boots she'd ordered must have finally arrived. She had no plans on shoveling, but perhaps an enterprising neighborhood youth would earn twenty bucks.
The living room looked normal. You could see it from the front door. A centrally placed television, and giant cushy couch, a light dusting of food wrappers that she would definitely get around to cleaning up in a couple days. And herself, sitting on the side chair.
She never sat on the side chair. That was not, of course, the most disturbing bit about the vignette, but it was what she picked up on first. A normal response would have been to yell, run, or fight the intruder. Normal responses were for people who were not coming off of sixteen hour shifts.
Instead Julia stood gape-mouthed for a full thirty seconds before saying anything. Her doppelganger smiled politely and sat with her hands folded on her lap. It was wearing an inappropriately short black dress, the one Julia only wore to fancy parties. Fancy summer parties. Julia wouldn't show that much leg again for another five months. And something about her hair stroked at Julia's memory.
"Are you actually there?" An odd thing to say, but it felt like the right response. What she said next was purely the product of spending too long that day on her feet dealing with bitter patients. "You look like me."
"Julia, don't panic. I'm not here to hurt you." The other Julia's voice was weird. It started out deep and slowly shifted to match her own pitch.
The way the doppelganger had her hair finally clicked with Julia. "You look like me at Tarquin's work party."
"It's the best picture of yourself that you have displayed." The voice was still weird. Did she sound like that to other people? "I'm a shapeshifter."
"I was kinda picking up on that, yeah. I mean it was either that or I accidentally dosed myself with something at work. I'm actually leaning towards the dosing theory." Julia put her purse and work badge down on the counter and turned to go take her shower.
An iron grip clenched her bicep. Her doppelganger had moved very fast. "Listen, Julia. I'm sorry to put you in this position, but I'm in danger and I had no choice. Very likely they will track me here. It's best if you hide in the basement until the danger has passed."
\---------------------------------------------
Something that looked like Julia sat on the giant cushy couch, obscured somewhat by the blanket. The food wrappers had been cleaned up.
The television was turned up enough to be heard from outside, but it still didn't drown out the loud pounding on the door. The thing that looked like Julia on the couch ignored it.
The front door was unlocked. Julia had insisted on that point. When it opened, the man that walked in barely fit through the door. He had to duck under the garland trim decorating the entryway. The man barely fit the definition of a man. While technically the shape of a human, he looked like someone had moved the sliders all the way to the right in the character designer.
He pointed a finger at the thing that looked like Julia on the couch. The finger gleamed metallically. "Alright, Odo. Come easily and you won't be vaporized. That's my best offer."
"My name is Julia," said the thing that looked like Julia on the couch. "And I just got off a sixteen hour shift, so you'll have to have this conversation with the garland."
The maybe-man opened his mouth to complain. That was his last mistake. The garland trim unhooked itself from the ceiling and dropped on him, working its way around his neck and into his mouth.
The fight was short. Within a few seconds of the garland entering his mouth, he had dropped to the floor. It took another minute for the rest of the garland to slither inside. Then the maybe-man stood back up. When it spoke it had Julia's voice.
"You were right. This was a good plan." The maybe-man bowed.
The thing that was actually Julia on the couch buried herself under the blanket and said, "Shovel the walkway when you leave."
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\] | 2022-12-05T10:30:15 | 2022-12-05T09:58:58 | 186 | 77 |
[WP] A suicidal person is robbed by someone at gunpoint. What happens? | "Your wallet and phone! C'mon, hurry!" The rag over the man's mouth muffled his voice, clasped in both hands was a revolver.
"No."
He stood there, staring at me for a moment. "What do you 'no'? You can't just say no, I'm robbing you!"
"Well, I did, what are you going to do about it?" I said with a shrug.
"I suppose I'll just have to shoot you then, how about that? Yeah, bet you wouldn't like that one bit, huh?" He breathed a sigh of relief, glad that we were once again on the same page.
"Go on then. I was just about to do it myself anyway." The robber let the gun droop in his hand. "Well? What are you waiting for?" I spread my arms out to make his job a little easier.
"I can't very well shoot a guy who was about to kill himself, can I? That's like, kicking a baby or something. It's just wrong, you know?"
"What? It's nothing like that!" I found myself getting annoyed. "Unless maybe the baby was specifically asking you to kick it, which isn't bloody likely since babies can't talk, so stop acting like a wimp and just shoot me!"
"Um..." The robber fumbled with his gun, almost dropping it. "I'm just gonna go find someone else to rob." He turned on his heel and ran, with me right behind him.
"Come back here and shoot me, asshole!"
| I was walking towards the bridge. It was dark, but I didn't mind. In fact, I didn't even notice. I didn't notice much during that period of my life, only hunger, only thirst. And the pain. But that was secondary, it seemed to me that I had never known a world without it. Not for a long time, at least. Too long.
My head was downcast, so I didn't even see the person I bumped into. I only saw the gun, and the railing on the bridge. I was shocked, and a bit amused. Why did a gun cause so much fear, but the thought of jumping off did not? It was hilarious. I hated myself.
"What?" I asked, looking up. I saw how the robber's eyes widened when they looked at mine. Like my dad's. Like my ex-wife's in the weeks I could still remember being happy. But no, that was a dream. I had never been happy. The robber took a step back, clutching the gun with both hands. His clothing was ragged, just like his half-shaved beard. His hands were shaking. "I said empty your pockets. EMPTY THEM NOW BITCH"
I got angry, for a moment, but that faded. I emptied my pockets, because I was afraid. Why was I afraid? "Now walk away." "No." "WALK AWAY BITCH" "I need to get to the high point." "NOW" "It's right over there." I said, pointing. A pause. "Fine, but no funny business." I walked around the robber, a car swerved from in front of me and honked its horn. I laughed inside. It was a bitter laugh. I got to the highest point.
There was a small breeze here, and I let myself take a deep breath, finally. Recovering from the robbery. Letting myself find peace in these last moments. I vaguely saw the robber pick up my wallet, my phone. Everything I had. I had given away most everything else. Don't forget about the note. The note!
I yanked back from my reverie. The robber was almost at the quarter-way mark of the bridge, but walking slowly. I started running. I caught him just before the bridge ended. "Please, you need to give me back my note!" I wheezed. "It's for my daughter!" I hadn't seen her in two years, but she'd want to know. Know why. A curse, and the robber turned around, fumbling with his belt. "Please." A gunshot. It missed, but I was angry now. This asshole was trying to kill me!
We struggled a bit, and quite abruptly we were over the edge, falling. I saw the water rising to meet us. I saw a piece of paper flutter from the robber and land on the bridge. I saw the terror in his eyes, a deep, unhealthy fear. And I groaned. We were too low. And god help me, I, a murderer, wanted to live.
P.S Please, if you ever, ever, feel this way, Please seek help! There are some people that can understand what you are going through, and they can help you! You are not alone, you are not powerless, and it's NOT YOUR FAULT! | 2014-02-14T16:55:12 | 2014-02-14T16:51:23 | 188 | 37 |
[WP] Humans are an intergalactic species, but also pacifist in their natural state. Earth is created in an attempt to create violent humans to face a new threat. | Even the very oldest species had agreed: the universe had never known a sentient spacefaring predator before. It was well known that predators, by their nature, could never develop advanced technology. Their basic biology just couldn’t support the idea. They were too violent, they had little ability to cooperate or act as a group, they consumed too much.
Then the humans came, and broke all the rules. They had acute minds, supplemented by natural aggression and masterful tactical instincts. They were not only capable of acting as a group but excellent at it, forming large and complex hierarchies to coordinate their vast war machines.
They did consume too much to support themselves, that much was true. But also cultivated the lands they conquered to great more food and resources for their expansion. Every conquered planet was quickly terraformed and populated by their hyperactively fecund settlers, adding resources to their empire and momentum to their conquests.
The peaceful species made occasional advances in the war against the humans. At the beginning of the war, when the human threat became obvious, a grand alliance of Tengari, Oo’loks, and the Perimeter Races beat back the human’s 234th fleet near Proxima Centauri, opening the path to destroy their entire pestilent solar system.
But the loss of their homeworld did little to stop the humans, whose biological and technological advantages were already insurmountable. The entire galaxy was brought under their rule within a few lifetimes.
Something incredible happened long after their conquest was complete however. Over many thousands of lifetimes, the naturally ravenous human grew more peaceful. They set up a stable interplanetary order, and gradually stopped fighting even among eachother. As their continued technological progress allowed them to transcend their oily, hungry, bodies they ascended to greater eternal forms, glimmers of powerful consciousness absorbed into their technology. They even gave up their loathsome habit of devouring other creatures for sustenance.
This left them aloof when the Yellow Vessels began arriving at the galactic rim, and meekly indecisive when hordes followed shortly after. The humans realized what they had lost forever in their ascension – the natural ferocity evolved out of millennia of conflict. But, they did have a solution.
Earth would need to be remade.
| “Sargent Komklosky, you have been summoned to the grand council today to give a disposition on the current status of the Earth Project. At the end of the disposition it will be decided how much funding we shall keep channeling into overseeing of Earths affairs. It will also be determined if we can approach them and recruit them to be the fighting force of our Galactic Empire.”
“Yes Sir. So far throughout our entire experiment the humans of the newest generation are starting to become less violent then previous generations. With that being said there is still a lot of violent humans on the planet. The religious variable that we installed very early on is still the driving factor in many of their wars. There is a sect of humans though that is completely forgoing religion which in turn has created their own pseudo religion called “Atheists” who are an interesting group to say the least. Most of them are part of the younger generations and their split from organized religion is at times violent. It also seems that they are deeply patriotic for their home countries, and will rise to combat anyone who even thinks about attacking them. This was most evident during the 1940s in what is termed “World War 2”. The most fascinating thing about this war is their knack for overcoming great odds. When pushed to the brink the humans that have evolved on earth will reach into some unknown reserve to push on and win at all costs.”
“This is all fascinating stuff Komklosky, but what about their technological advances. Some of the higher ranking generals are concerned that they are rapidly closing the gap on us technologically. If it is deemed that they are becoming too dangerous to our survival we might have to permanently just the project down.
Sargent Komklosky took a deep breath trying to formulate his response “If I am to give a blunt statistical overview of the humans of Earth they have already surpassed us as far as weapon technologies go. Their discovery of the destructive capabilities of nuclear power was still years down the road for us. Their space program however is still in its infancy, and we are trying everything we can to slow it down. We currently have a low ranking Corporal in charge of one of the strongest Earth countries known as the United States. He has so far completely shut down the government funded space program, and has struck deals with other nations to disarm some of their nuclear ordinances. Along with figure head at the top of the political food chain, we have inserted some people in certain religious sects to create what the Humans of Earth are calling “Fundamentalist Religion”. This is causing a technological backwater to occur including some people totally opposing new technology. We think that with these stop gaps in place we will be able to slow their technological gains over the long term. Finally my last remark is this. If you were to permanently shut down the Earth Project how would we go about accomplishing this task. I have spent the last 40 years on this project and I can say without a shadow of doubt in my mind that our previous methods of population control will not work. The Humans of Earth are no longer in the Dark Ages and a plague will no longer thin their numbers. Before any of you question the validity of this claim I have to state that we broke Inter-Galactic treaties in attempting to eradicate the Humans of Earth over the last 40 years. Our current attempt is an old virus that we implanted long ago called the Ebola Virus. We have just recently reworked the genetic code a bit and re-released it into the wild. So far it has proven effective in poor areas of the planet, but the humans are quickly adapting and overcoming their current plight. In my expert opinion we are past the point of return. We have created these monsters on the planet and we’ll have to live with the consequences. Any planned invasion will be in vein because of the previously mentioned resolve. Our only hope now is that they don’t set their sights on conquest when they get to space, or the whole galaxy is in for a long struggle.”
| 2014-08-11T08:14:28 | 2014-08-11T06:27:53 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Write a seemingly innocent story that could have been written for children. Then tell a different perspective on the same story that casts it in a totally different light.
Nothing in the original story should change - all that should change is the perspective on it. | Dear Santa,
I still can’t believe I got to meet you and your elf!
You said the cookies I made were your favorite, so I’ll make them again for you next year (I always knew you had a thing for sugar cookies). Mommy and Daddy said you forgot about us and would get us new ones when you could afford them, but I got to meet you, so it doesn’t matter. However, I’ve included five dollars and ten cents in case you need it. (I didn’t add any cookies because I think you have enough from other houses)
I told mommy I was watering the plants when I posted this letter
(And don’t worry—I didn’t tell anyone that I met you, just like you asked me to.)
Hope to see you again next year,
Timmy
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Santa?”
“Is that a kid?”
“Shh! Play along!”
“Yeah, kid. It’s Santa.”
“Santa!”
“Shhh! Quiet, kid. Santa’s got no time for this!”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Mac, the kid’s looking at me funny—”
“Quiet Jimmy!”
“Is that your elf?”
“Your WHAT—”
“Shh! And yes, kid. This is my elf. Play along, Jimmy.”
“Ha-ha… yeah kid. I’m Santa’s elf… fuck you Mac.”
“Santa’s got some… inspecting to do on these presents. You be a good boy now and get back to sleep.”
“Try the sugar cookies!”
“Sugar cookies?”
“I think they’ll be your favorite.”
“Jimmy, grab the cookies.”
“You got it, I’m starving.
“Do you like them?”
“Yes. Now kid. Santa’s gotta do his job, so you gotta go back to sleep.”
“Yes, Santa!”
“And another thing, kid.”
“Yeah Santa?”
“Don’t tell anyone you saw us come by, alright?”
“Ok.”
…
“Is he asleep, Mac?”
“Yeah."
"Good. I didn’t want to have to kill anyone on Christmas.”
| It was a bright and clear day. The sun was shinning and there was even a slight breeze. The setting was a lively forrest and out of that forrest came Jack. Jack was no ordinary boy however, Jack was part boy part squirrel. Jack had puffy cheeks two large teeth that were more prominent than the others and had the furry backside of a squirrel. Jack walked over to a crystal clear lake and stood before it looking down at his own reflection with a smile. Out from the forrest to join Jack was his little friend Wendy who, just as Jack, was no ordinary girl. She was part girl part bunny. She was more rabbit than person however for she was covered in a beautiful pink coat of fur and and long fuzzy ears. The only part of her that was girl was that she stood upright with a round and intelligent face. Wendy joined Jack beside the lake and also looked down at her reflection and smiled. Wendy then whispered something inaudible to Jack and the two giggled with glee and watched as the sun set behind the majestic mountains.
****
****
****
****
Jack slowly emerged from the forrest as he did every day for the past three days. He was a happy boy, but no ordinary boy. Long ago Jack and his neighbor Wendy had been playing in the forrest. They were having so much fun they hadn't realized that they had wandered off far from home. And that was when they met Mr. Langly. Mr. Langly was an old, balding man with white hair and a serious face. Mr. Langly took the two with him into his cabin in the woods and performed a series of unethical experiments on the two. He had the two mutated to share traits with animals. Jack was chosen to be infused with the DNA of a squirrel. Mr. Langly was not entirely pleased by the results. *Still too human*, he thought. So when he went on to the teary eyed Wendy he removed most of her genetic makeup and fit her with that of a rabbit. Her appearance was far more pleasing to Mr. Langly.
For nearly a year Mr. Langly would perform perverse experiments of all sorts on the two. He dissected them alive, had them mate with other animals to see results of the offspring and far more cruel ploys. One day as Mr. Langly locked them up for the night in their respective cages there was a power outage due to a chewed up wire. This power outage unlocked all the cages.
The two looked at one another uncertainly and cautiously left their cages after an hour of fear of the potential trap the scientist might have set for them. When they realized what they had to do they acted as one. Jack and Wendy beat Mr. Langly unconscious and dragged him far out into the forrest. When Mr. Langly awoke the two immediately dunked his head by the nearby lake and forced him down with their combined strength. Jack and Wendy, really only children even at that time, cried tears of fear at what they were doing but dared not let him up. Eventually the horrific gurgling of bubbles and the frantic movements of Mr. Langly were no more.
Jack peered down into the lake seeing past his reflection and staring at the horrifically decayed body of Mr. Langly. His flesh hung loose and appeared to have the same consistency and texture of a dissolving paper towel in water. Fragmented pieces of flesh flowed all about him and fed the crowd of fish that had been working away at his body for the past couple of days. His eyes were all gone now, Jack realized and more and more of his flesh was eaten away so that the bone beneath grew more prominent.
Jack heard someone behind him but worried not. It was only Wendy. His youthful companion who had also endured the trials he had. She leaned over next to him and whispered, "He looks tasty," The two couldn't help but giggle at that and spent the next hour staring into the lake at the rotting body of Mr. Langly | 2014-09-02T14:01:01 | 2014-09-02T11:03:26 | 334 | 45 |
[WP] Years ago a curse was cast that all people wearing costumes would turn into real versions of the costumes. This is now an annual, known and accepted phenomenon.
This would be best as a prompt closer to halloween but I didn't want to wait that long. | There were pros and cons, of course. Sure, he wished he'd dressed as a cowboy that fateful day, or a ninja--yeah, that would have been cool. But as it was, he'd found some benefits to his new condition. A lifetime job at Yankee Stadium selling concessions--he got to see every home game. He'd appeared in over a dozen television commercials as a spokesperson-kids would ask for autographs all the time. Women, and occasionally men, would yell, "nice buns!" at him on the street, which was getting old, but he'd always wanted to be noticed. Those were all pros.
The cons though. Well. The hardest was letting Bosco go. He'd raised the German Shepherd since puppyhood; now old Bosco was living with a friend. A friend who actually had dressed as a ninja on the day that no one would forget. He couldn't even go see him, without risking that Bosco would catch his scent, dash to the front door, jump up and slobber all over him--an act of love that in the past, would have ended there. Not anymore. Now it would conclude with a painful bite--not playful at all--with another chunk of flesh taken from his torso.
The hot dog costume had cost $35 at Ricky's. But it ended up costing a lot more.
| You’d think a curse that brought costumes to life would be some time during Halloween.
You’d be wrong. The big day was actually on February 8th, and people had been prepping for *months.*
It turns out, the higher the quality of your costume, the better your transformation. Which meant that the high-society folk living in midtown could rock the world in their superman capes and wonder woman bracers. One night I even saw a goddamned Godzilla wreaking havoc down the Hudson.
When you couldn’t afford that, it all had to be a lot more low key. For example, most eighths, I’d be a cardboard box covered in sequins.
I don’t have much money, as you can probably tell.
I’ve been out of college for three years, and I’m still hunting that American dream… but I’ve been having trouble sleeping, so to speak. I’m broke most of the time.
But it’s two hours ‘till February 8th, and I’ve been saving up some cash.
“Ticket, sir?”
I handed the bouncer my golden ticket: five-hundred dollars of VIP plastic that got me into one of the hottest parties in Manhattan. It was one of those Heaven and Hell shindigs: basement colored up red and ominous, with lots of slutty men and women bumping and grinding for as long as there was flowing alcohol—and a penthouse suite done up in blue and white, still with slutty people bumping and grinding, but this time dressed up as angels. It was going to be a fun time.
“Where’s your costume, dude? C’mon! Get into the spirit!”
“Who are *you* supposed to be? Poor?”
“Get some imagination!”
Yeah, so I spent so much money on that ticket that I couldn't actually buy a costume. My friends gave me shit for that for *ages.* ‘What’s the point of the party without a costume?’ they said. ’What a waste of a goddamned paycheck,’ they said.
They didn’t know that sometimes the most useful costumes were cheap. Sometimes, the more broke you were, the better your costume was. The better your transformation would be.
I locked myself in the bathroom and pulled the rags from my pockets. They were a motley mix of silk and cotton—dark blue to blend with a darkening sky.
The countdown to the curse ticked down outside as I slipped into the ragged suit. It truly looked like it belonged to a peasant—which was exactly what I needed.
The drunken marks outside started to shout as the clock got close: TEN! NINE! EIGHT!
I gloved up and and wrapped my feet the same as my body. I had a lot of cushion down there, perfect for sneaking around.
SIX! FIVE! FOUR!
I held the final piece taut in my hands, and wrapped it around my face. The mask muffled a laugh: these guys—and their wallets and purses, too—had no idea what was about to hit ‘em.
THREE! TWO! ONE!
I tightened the silk around my face.
And then I disappeared.
***
###^/r/NaimKabir | 2015-06-04T06:25:08 | 2015-06-04T06:06:37 | 261 | 180 |
[WP] A man has lived his whole life sinfully, with the intent on going to hell and killing Satan. He has just died. | The hooded figure stood up, straightening his back. Stretching.
The rite had gone well enough, one million souls burned. An unfortunate but necessary byproduct of progress, he reasoned.
The outsider was noticed immediately, his arrival had annihilated an impressive swath of the Phlegethon in a riot of impossible light and sound. Every daemon and damned soul in every ring noticed.
The rings on his finger's were still glowing a soft blue as they bled off the residual energies from the rite. *Seventh Circle, outer ring.* The stranger mused on his luck. Bypassing the outer circles would save time.
Raising his right arm he traced a basic ward and a small mote of pale light appeared at his fingers end. *Easier than anticipated.*
A greater beast soared high above, he felt it's rage at his intrusion. The beast's psychic probing was unrefined and ineffective against the Mage's guarded mind. With an annoyed nod from the Mage the beast began a swift plummet to the hellscape below, dead before it had time to register the ethereal spike that snatched the life from it.
The Mage slowly rotated his neck, obviously the psychic toll of warding against all of the agents of hell was colossal. He began striding with purpose towards a source of light in the distance. As the Mage walked, it became harder to look at him directly, almost as if you weren't supposed to notice he was there at all.
Unmolested for the remainder of his journey the Mage descended to the last, lowest level of hell. Passively reading the minds of the more sentient beasts he passed - they knew someone or something had broken through the veil between the worlds and they were all anxious to please their lord by capturing whatever interloping agent had been foolish enough to come unbidden. *Good. Surprise.*
The Mage found that the lord of this realm was not some foe of giant stature. Rather, he found a roughly humanoid creature with immaculate skin. If the Mage had an interest in such things, he may have even found this creature attractive - If it had more fur. The Mage took his time and gently padded his way across the plateau where he'd found his foe. Flexing his fingers, an old habit - he'd long since mastered casting spells without gestures. He was nervous. He knew that the moment dropped his blank aura he would have precious few heartbeats to invoke the spells necessary to kill this beast. *If they work.* he mused darkly. He reflected on his life, short and brutal as it had been so far. All of the things that had been required. All of the horrible, horrible things.
His ear twitched under his thick brown hood.
It happened in less than the span of four heart beats. Dividing his consciousness into thirty seven equal parts he was able to cast the thirty seven spells that were required. Somewhere in the dark places of his mind between the shards of himself he wondered if he would be able to reconstruct himself. He'd never done this many before.
Two heartbeats. *Faster than anticipated. Good.*
The beast turned. At once enraged and curious at the presence in his midst. Only to find himself pulled into the air, paralyzed - invisible forces holding binding him and a steady pressure building in his mind. The look on the beasts face was a rictus of hate. Waves of hatred buffeted against him. His robes flapping violently in protest. His hood was thrown back revealing strangely feline features and well-groomed fur. The Mage's features were locked in a grimace of concentration, fangs bared, as he unshaped the reality of the beast in his grip. Steadily, what seemed like an eternity he stripped away aspects of the great beast. Unmaking the greatest foe ever known piece by piece.
The result was underwhelming, I suppose. "Hell" still exists, and is still filled with demons. An unruly bunch. But with no one to guide their malice their incursions have been fewer and fewer these days.
I know of the Mage. One of the few who knows what he did. I came to him once. Appearing before him as he traveled the snowy roads high in the mountains. His mind was broken, truly and completely. He had been so great once. The price had been extraordinary - he had burned many souls to pierce the veil. How he had returned always puzzled me, he just appeared one evening. It became an obsession of mine. I had to know. When I stopped him, he quickly stuffed the calipers he was carrying into his bag. Calipers? Perhaps the precision they represented reminded him of his old self. Impossible to know for sure. When I spoke to him he looked quizzically at me, tilting his head the way his kind are want to do. When I asked again how he returned. He smiled. Immaculate teeth bared, "M'aiq knows much. Tells some."
| Craig zoomed through the black and white star-streaked hypertunnel, struggling to keep himself oriented head-first. "I'm coming for You now, fucker!" he screamed in triumph. "Time to grab your fucking ankles, bitch!" Craig let out a continuous yell, as he hurtled through the
*SLAM*
Craig opened his spirit-eyes, and knuckled them with his spirit-fingers. "Fuck... OW!" he exclaimed. *Shit ain't supposed to hurt when you're dead, right?* thought Craig. He sat up, still slightly dazed.
He looked around. He was on what appeared to be a deserted street in a suburban neighborhood, only there was only one house, one driveway, one lawn, and one red picket fence between him and the random abode. To his left, the street faded into a gray fog, and his guess if he looked to his right was confirmed. He got to his feet, brushed off his orange jumpsuit, and walked to the little gate.
A small sign, perfectly set in the lawn, stated "Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here", in the same style and lettering that usually told visitors "Beware Of Dog".
Craig walked up to the front door. It was a deep, abyss red, starkly contrasting with the pearl white of the rest of the house siding. He raised his hand to knock, but then noticed a small doorbell set by the knob. He pressed it.
He chuckled to himself as he recognized the familiar opening bars of "Inna Gadda Da Vida", in twinkly chimes, no less. *Bastard's got style, I'll give him that,* he mused. From within the house, he heard steps coming down some stairs. "Coming!" came a voice.
A female voice.
The door opened brusquely, and instead of... well, Craig wasn't really sure *what* he expected, but it surely wasn't anywhere near this.
In the doorway stood Kate Upton.
*What the... Kate fucking Upton?? Holy shit!* He froze where he stood, taking in the full sight of the Kate Upton vision before him. She was leaned up against the doorjamb, arms crossed under her breasts, red fingernails drumming slightly on her upper arm, legs crossed at the ankles, and wearing a slightly amused smile.
And nothing else but 6-inch black high heels.
"Well don't just stand there, Craig," she purred. "Come on in, you're right on time." She spun on her heel and walked back into the house, providing Craig with the glorious view of her departure. Craig slowly took a step, then another, completely flabbergasted at this turn of events.
*NO!* he thought. *This is some fucking... fucked-up trick. It's gotta be him!* Newly resolved to follow through, he stomped over to where Kate had leaned up against a countertop, resting on her elbows. He raised his arms to her neck, felt actual flesh under them, and squeezed with all his might. "Payback's a bitch, asshole!"
She gasped, and her hands flew up to try to wrest them away from her throat. "Wha... what are you DOING?" she squeaked out. Her feet began to kick back at Craig.
"You know just what the FUCK I'm doing!" he thundered. The muscles in his forearms bunched as his hate applied pressure. "I've waited my whole life for this! I've robbed, lied, murdered, and fucking RAPED to make sure I'd get here! Well, I'm here now, asshole! Time to pay--"
He let out a small shout of confusion. Under his fingers, the flesh quickly became the consistency of fresh mud, gooping all over his hands as the Kate Upton body melted around him into a puddle of tanned goo and blonde hair strands.
He shook his hands of the goo, which stuck in slimy threads. He grunted in disgust, then walked over to the sink, and turned the knobs.
He turned them the other way. Nothing.
"Yeah, about that... the sinks don't work here," a voice called out behind him. He whirled around.
There, unchanged, stood Kate Upton. Grinning. Craig's mouth hung open in shock.
"Craig, Craig, Craig *Craig*..." Kate tsked as she walked towards him. "You got your wish! You killed me! Awwk--" She threw both hands around her throat and choked in mockery. "Ha-ha. Awesome. Do it again. Go on!"
Craig just stood there.
She smiled, showing her perfect white teeth, and shook her head to let him know that he just wasn't getting it. "You kill me. You really do. Oh, and now you get to kill me all you want now. Isn't that what you wanted? What you've *~in Craig's voice~* robbed, lied, murdered, and fucking RAPED for?" She snickered. "Allow me to explain.
"When you're not killing me, you'll still be covered in whatever mess you make of me. I'll reappear again, and talk to you about anything I damn well choose. As Kate Upton, of course. So that means you're gonna hear a lot about tennis. I play a lot of tennis, and I *love* it. Know what, though? Not as much as I love talking about my horse, Roanie Pony!" She squealed with delight. *"I FUCKING LOVE MY PONY!"*
Craig stammered, "No... NO this is all *wrong*, you can't..."
She pointed an exquisitely manicured fingernail at him. "Can't? What a nice word. Good word. You *can't* believe how much you'll hear about my New York Yankees, my relationship with my B.F. Justin, and my cross tattoo! Ohh, you're in for a treat, Craig!"
He sank to his knees. "But I... it..." He let out a long, despondent sigh. "This isn't how I imagined it'd go at all..."
"Huh." She tossed her hair. "And of course, you'll never get to experience this either," she said, running her hands slowly over her silky skin. "Nope! Just you and me, in this tiny, little, no-sink-working house,..." She winked. "...*just good friends.*"
Then Craig screamed, a long scream, the scream of the hopelessly damned, the scream of dreams turned inside out into nightmares.
Kate chuckled. "Welcome to Hell, sweetheart."
| 2015-07-01T12:02:49 | 2015-07-01T10:21:08 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] An advanced alien civilization descends upon Earth, selects one human at random, briefly abducts and teaches him all the secrets of the universe. Upon his return, an interview is arranged. The first words out of his mouth are "I could shatter the bonds of human civilization in five words…" | The plaza was packed fill of people, crowded around the obelisk and sweeping columns of St. Peter's Basilica, where it was decided the man would reveal all that that alien's had told him. When he stepped up to the podium, a hush fell over the crowd, and indeed the entire world, where every person able watched the live broadcast on every channel.
The man leaned forward and said, gravely, "I could shatter the bonds of human civilization in five words..." He paused, and all held their breaths, none daring to make a sound. The man thinned his lips and scanned the crowd, considering.
At last he said, ".. but frankly, you wouldn't understand." As he stepped away from the podium, the silence was broken by cacophonous outrage. | "...The future has already happened."
"Okay." Dr. Victoria Sellers said after a pregnant pause. "So what?"
Dwayne blinked. This revelation did not have the impact he expected.
"You look surprised. That seems odd, considering." Dr. Sellers smiled.
"Well, yes...everything is predetermined. That doesn't bother you?"
"Not in the slightest. It's a possibility that I came to grips with sometime in the 7th grade. Did they explain what they meant by 'predeterimined'?" Dr. Sellers asked as she jotted down a few notes then looked back up.
"Uhh. Well. No, I guess they didn't."
Dr. Sellers looked disappointed. "That's a pity, it really is." She wrote another note and Dwayne could make it out 'Why did they pick this guy? Are they just messing with us?'
"Because predetermined could mean just about anything. It could mean that there are only a finite number of possibilities for each present configuration of the universe leading to yet another set of finite possibilities and so on. And if reality bifurcates at each possible change" she saw his eyes begin to glaze over "that means the universe splits for each possible outcome, then, *technically* they are correct: all futures are calculable and thus can be considered to have already happened. If that is what they meant it doesn't matter one whit to us because our consciousness seems to be only to process one Universal line at a time and we'd still have, effectively as far as human minds are concerned, infinite possiblities before us. But that's just speculation on one possible meaning of what they said."
"Oh. Ok."
"I don't suppose they've left a way to get back in touch with them for follow up questions, is there?" She looked skeptically hopeful.
"No. I don't think so."
"Hmm. Too bad." She took a deep breath and sighed. "What else did they tell you?"
"Umm. Something about a gold rock conjure..."
Victoria interrupted him "The Goldbach Conjecture! Oh, that is interesting! What did they say!"
"Oh, well, they showed me that we were approaching it wrong and wrote down a bunch of symbols starting with some they said we'd know..."
"Could you show me?" She asked.
Dwayne looked sheepish. "No, I don't think so..."
Victoria sighed and her shoulders slumped. It was going to be a long day. | 2015-08-27T10:40:09 | 2015-08-27T10:26:47 | 64 | 27 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | PARIS (AP) Leaders from 42 countries gathered in the French capital Tuesday to thank the police detective who singlehandedly defeated the terrorist group known as ISIS.
Inspector Jacques Clouseau still seemed a little dazed from his ordeal in Syria, saying only "I do not know who zis ISIS person is, I am just glad ze Pink Panther is returned safely."
Clouseau traveled to Syria last month in pursuit of the famed jewel.
Reports on the incident may never be complete, but captured ISIS militants from destroyed bases in the region indicated destroyed weapons stockpiles, large fires, infighting and in one case, a base leader crushed to death by a falling piano ultimately lead to the total collapse of the organization and the surrender of the few surviving members.
Clouseau was awarded high honors from several nations including the US and his own France.
He was also awarded a cash prize large enough to retire from police work forever, on the condition that he retire from police work forever. | "Commander, we have it. We've taken the facility that houses ten - ten! - nuclear missiles capable of reaching the United States! Can you believe it? Ten! With the fifteen suitcase nukes we've seized in the last three years since 2020, we can finally take the battle to them!"
"Yes, yes....this will show the world at last that *I* have power and that **I** am a man to be feared! The world will bow their knee to me, now!"
"Er...don't you mean, to God?"
"Yes, yes, whatever. Sure. To God." *door closes*
"The West will know to fear *me*, now."
---
"Ma'am, we have the confirmation that the militants have possession of nuclear materials and have begun their intention of using them against targets within the United States."
"I understand. Major!"
"Ma'am!"
"Inform the President that we are preparing Operation Pound Of Cure. We will wait for the Executive Branch in Colorado. 15:00 hours. Mark."
"Yes, ma'am. Time to end this."
---
"ʂʓϭϣѮ, look at that. *Look at that.*"
"Sir?"
"Ms. խֆ∂ⱷɤ is an important client of ours, would you agree?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Perhaps *the* most important client we have, yes?"
"Yes, sir?"
"And the backdrop of the view of her place of business, her main draw, *my* source of pride, is....is....*infected* with some sort of fungus that has covered those *beautiful* greens and *brilliant* yellows across the *entire surface* with their...their greyish *colonies* and is turning the blues - the blues that cost me my *youth* and my *grace* and my *soul* to create - into browns!
And, and, and, remind me again, the purpose of the life on that world?"
"...to keep the greens green and the blues blue."
"And *whose* job was it to keep the surface of it clean? To kill infections before they got a foothold?"
"Mine, sir."
"What are you?"
"A fuckup, sir."
"Yes, but what are you *at the moment?*"
"An *incredible* fuckup, sir."
"That's about to...?"
"Yes, sir, immediately sir. I'll sterilize the planet at once, and reseed from stock. There won't be another repeat of this."
"There had better not. This will be the *seventh* time this contract we've had to do this....I don't know *how* I'm going to explain this one to her." | 2016-01-29T07:27:42 | 2016-01-29T04:24:26 | 1,067 | 19 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | The dust settled, and a lone black boot came slowly into Major Thomson's view. Heaving a sigh, she raised herself up on her hands, only to be stopped by a swift kick to the ribs.
'Stay down,' came a voice in a thick South American accent, 'or we will strike you down'.
'W-Where am I?'
'You're in heaven, Ms. Thomson. As the last of the Islamic State group, it is our duty to execute you.'
'No, please!' she screamed, to no avail.
'Starting launch in T-Minus 10...'
'Is that a - is that a *spaceship launch sequence*?'
It was then that she realised where she was.
Strapped directly beneath the thrusters.
And as she looked up to see who it was that had wiped out everything she'd stood for, she thought she caught a glimpse of papal robes and the cross.
Vatican City had done it again.
EDIT: grammar | "Commander, we have it. We've taken the facility that houses ten - ten! - nuclear missiles capable of reaching the United States! Can you believe it? Ten! With the fifteen suitcase nukes we've seized in the last three years since 2020, we can finally take the battle to them!"
"Yes, yes....this will show the world at last that *I* have power and that **I** am a man to be feared! The world will bow their knee to me, now!"
"Er...don't you mean, to God?"
"Yes, yes, whatever. Sure. To God." *door closes*
"The West will know to fear *me*, now."
---
"Ma'am, we have the confirmation that the militants have possession of nuclear materials and have begun their intention of using them against targets within the United States."
"I understand. Major!"
"Ma'am!"
"Inform the President that we are preparing Operation Pound Of Cure. We will wait for the Executive Branch in Colorado. 15:00 hours. Mark."
"Yes, ma'am. Time to end this."
---
"ʂʓϭϣѮ, look at that. *Look at that.*"
"Sir?"
"Ms. խֆ∂ⱷɤ is an important client of ours, would you agree?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Perhaps *the* most important client we have, yes?"
"Yes, sir?"
"And the backdrop of the view of her place of business, her main draw, *my* source of pride, is....is....*infected* with some sort of fungus that has covered those *beautiful* greens and *brilliant* yellows across the *entire surface* with their...their greyish *colonies* and is turning the blues - the blues that cost me my *youth* and my *grace* and my *soul* to create - into browns!
And, and, and, remind me again, the purpose of the life on that world?"
"...to keep the greens green and the blues blue."
"And *whose* job was it to keep the surface of it clean? To kill infections before they got a foothold?"
"Mine, sir."
"What are you?"
"A fuckup, sir."
"Yes, but what are you *at the moment?*"
"An *incredible* fuckup, sir."
"That's about to...?"
"Yes, sir, immediately sir. I'll sterilize the planet at once, and reseed from stock. There won't be another repeat of this."
"There had better not. This will be the *seventh* time this contract we've had to do this....I don't know *how* I'm going to explain this one to her." | 2016-01-29T05:00:31 | 2016-01-29T04:24:26 | 144 | 19 |
[WP] You stumble into an abandoned warehouse and find a room completely covered in dials marked with years. Each dial is labeled with a different species. You find the dial that's labeled "Human" with the dial turned to 122 years, the longest anyone has ever lived. You decide to tamper with it. | "What are the odds?"
She stood there staring at the dial. This single one amongst the manifold dials on all four walls surrounding her; this one held her. This one was labeled 'Human'.
"Worth a try." She cupped her hand on the dial and started to slowly wheel it toward the '999' marker. "Might as well max it out. We're coming for you, Methuselah."
Her face was inches from the dial as she neared the final marker. '997...' '998...' '999.'
Something caught her breath. She dropped to the floor.
--------------
In a delivery room of a hospital some 15 miles away there was a slimy fresh, wailing baby, lying in the lifeless arms of her once adoring mother. The body of a nurse was on the floor beside them. The baby didn't know why she was wailing, but she was right to. | &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Millennia, child."
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Robert jumped, his hands retracting instinctively. He turned around and saw in the doorway standing a head above his own a bipedal fox walking towards him very much like a human. He could see in the dim lamplight golden the beast was staring right at him with iridescent eyes.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"What?" was all Robert could say at the sight.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"They count by Millennia," explained the fox. "That's why it's hard to turn them, if they do at all." The beast's accent was indistinct.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Who are you?" asked Robert.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"A representative of the Congress of Beasts," replied the fox, "And you are trespassing."
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There was a glint as Robert sighted down his ancient pistol. He wasn't sure if the black powder in the cartridges were any good but it was all he had left other than a knife.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I know what this place is. I don't like what I'm seeing here," said Robert, back to the Human Dial.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"What you are seeing--and being," replied the fox, "is the consequence of your specie leaving the Congress. You struck out on your own, and now you desperately return to turn back the clock as it comes to an end."
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Tell me how to change it, freak," Robert shouted. The beast stood there, letting the sound of ten thousand timepieces fill the void between them. He was getting closer.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I can smell the fear on you, human," said the fox, stern. "We know your off-world colonies are dying. The earth continues to warm, and your specie continues to starve. The rest of us lay in waiting, predator. Prey."
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The beast pushed towards Robert. Nobody heard the shots over the clockwork.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Robert turned back to the dial, pulling tools from his bag as the last fox lay dying nearby. | 2016-11-14T20:33:21 | 2016-11-14T19:51:15 | 196 | 38 |
[WP] After humanity flees Earth, the planet's gods stay. You were the only one left behind and now the gods are obsessed with getting you to worship them. | "What about Thursday? We could hang out, see a movie, you could just slip in a few compliments. That's all they really add up to, anyway." Thor again. He's persistent, and nice enough in person, but he's like the rest of them.
"Ummm, I don't know, man. I'm already meeting Mithras for breakfast, one of those buddhas for lunch, and I promised Jesus I'd explain the Internet to him." He looked crestfallen. "You must realize what this situation is like for me, right?"
"Yes, of course, it's very strange for you, being the last human. I know we all just came out if the woodwork when your species left, but we were struck a terrible blow by their departure." If heard things like this before.
"Well, you had plenty of notice. The population began emigrating centuries ago!"
"Yes, and we carried on in secret. That was probably a mistake. From our point of view, it seemed inconceivable that people would really want to leave! Look at Earth! It's beautiful! We had our little cults and it was working well. Once people left, the loneliness hit like a strange hunger. You're all we have left. You shine like a beautiful light. We just want to commune with you. You could hang out with us in groups, couldn't you?"
"Well, I already do. I suppose I could...hmmm, maybe."
"So, Thursday? Can I come along for breakfast?"
"I've got something else in mind. Can you get the word out? To all the gods? I want to have a meeting."
"Okay, where, when?"
Two weeks later, I stood at the door to St Patrick's Cathedral in New York, greeting thousands of gods with quick handshakes, ushering them in. When they were all seated, I walked to the altar.
"Greetings, friends, and welcome. Welcome to the First Church of the Last Man. We'll meet here every Sunday morning, followed by a picnic. How does that sound?"
Their applause felt like worship. | The tides had swelled so large that they began to cast a shadow over my small home. They were immense and roiling, shaped as if they were trying to imitate hills, yet they never seemed to trespass the boundaries of my yard. The titanic swells were accompanied by a low, muffled moan.
I sat in a lawn chair in my front yard, deliberately ignoring the miraculous event unfolding before me. I removed the sunglasses that had been necessary moments before, licked my index finger, and nonchalantly turned the page of the book in my hands.
In an instant, the swells shrunk to half their size, and the moaning stopped. The sun was visible again, and I replaced my sunglasses as I struggled to keep a smile from spreading across my face.
The moaning began again, more direct this time, and it carried an inquisitive tone with it.
I cleared my throat loudly and turned another page.
The sea paused before swelling again, this time depositing an ornate, waterlogged chest at the edge of my yard. I folded the corner of the page in my book, and set it on the chair as I stood up. I walked up to the chest and ran my fingers across its slimy surface. It wouldn't really be useful to me with society being nonexistent and all, but it was still interesting to see what only the ocean could find for me.
"You know what the ritual requires, Mul'thak. A tribute is necessary if you seek audience with your *only* worshiper," I said, a smile cracking through my otherwise stern expression.
The sea swelled in annoyance, growing higher than it did before. A new moan started, crashing like stone fragmenting under the weight of a furious sea. I made sure to adopt my most shocked and regretful faces as it droned onward in a booming rhythm. If I had learned one thing about the gods since my abandonment, it was that they were nothing if not theatrical.
I took the glasses from my face, trembling my hands as I did so. "Oh... Forgive me your deepness, I'm sorry I've failed you as one of your faithful. You certainly deserve better than the wavering loyalty I can offer," I said, making sure to bow my head low and hunch my back sheepishly. "I suppose I should find some lower god more befitting of my paltry praises instead of wasting the time of a magnanimous being such as yourself," I said in the sorrowful tone I had been rehearsing.
I bowed low one additional time, and turned to slowly trudge to the door of my home. The billowing sea hummed a prideful song and reveled in it's 'victory.' The sea gradually grew calmer and it's humming became quieter as it realized what it had done. As I reached my door, it slapped it's waves against itself frantically in what I imagine was the ocean's way of pleading.
I turned and opened my eyes perhaps wider than was believable. "Do you mean it your deepness? You'd endure a pitiful follower like myself in your ranks?"
The ocean responded by rolling itself pleasantly, which I took as a confirmation. Although most didn't speak, the gods communicated in surprisingly effective ways. I suppose my familiarity with their mannerisms helped as well.
"I thank you, your deepness! I will sing songs of your benevolence and worship your vastness above all others!" I dropped to my knees as I spoke and raised my hands towards the mass of seawater before me. It seemed pleased as it slowly receded back to what resembled a normal shoreline.
After a few more moments of bowing and gesturing, when I could be sure Mul'thak was gone, I sat back down in my chair and picked up my book, pleased. The gods were so desperate to be praised that they'd do *anything* to gain your favor, they'd practically even worship you.
I glanced at the large chest now occupying the spot where my mailbox used to be before unfolding the corner of my current page and returning to my book. | 2017-01-27T19:11:28 | 2017-01-27T18:05:29 | 40 | 20 |
[WP] The English Teacher's worst nightmare: a story or poem that is completely literal, with absolutely no double meanings
EDIT: Holy cow, this got way bigger than I thought it would, thanks so much for an awesome first prompt ever!
EDIT 2: Did this actually make it to the front page of reddit? What the... | Today I woke up.
It was 7:38am,
When I looked at the clock.
I got ready for work.
I had eggs,
I ate them with a fork.
Work went alright,
and before I knew it,
It had turned to night.
At a reasonable hour I went to bed,
But not before brushing my teeth,
On my pillow I laid my head.
| Blazing with all the wrath of a young star, the afternoon sun fiercely beat upon the partially shaded buildings of Ricks & Wracks Bricklaying Co.. Said buildings had briefly experienced a complete lack of shade under the midday sun but such a time had already come to pass.
Stan was loading his company's finished product onto a truck when he made a mistake. A bag fell like a sack of bricks and clattered to the ground with the sound a collective of bricks makes when it hits the ground, accompanied by the swear words of a by now audibly, visibly frustrated and hot forklift operator.
Partially shaded by the truck that had been receiving the bricks, Stan walked over to the fallen merchandise and stated "I will need to tell someone about this incident."
However, Stan was incorrect. Jim the foreman had also heard the sounds of bricks falling from a height of around 2 metres and had come over sporting a pace one would expect a foreman to be able to muster up while partially shaded in the afternoon sun. He looked at the bricks, now broken.
"I see you have made a mistake. This means that I am going to be annoyed with you because of the extra paperwork I now have to do because of your broken...ah...pieces of company merchandise."
Stan was confused about Jim's odd choice of words. "They're bricks, Jim. You don't have to call them company merchandise."
Jim scratched his elbow, but only because it was itchy. "I do. Jill the head foreman passed a mandate saying that we couldn't say words that started with the same letter next to each other. She...claimed that it made her...noggin hurt."
"Oh well," Stan answered. "I will clean up the broken pieces of company merchandise. I am sorry for making you do extra paperwork."
"It's not a big deal. Perhaps you inconveniencing me now might result in you buying me a drink later tonight -- a means of apologizing?" Jim replied.
"Fuck off." Stan gave Jim the middle finger such that Jim got Stan's message verbally and visually.
---
I tried to make the writing as pedantic as possible, hope it wasn't too much of a slog to get through (unless you're an English Teacher)! I've even tried to avoid alliteration, although I might have slipped up here since it's pretty late where I am.
| 2017-01-30T08:45:51 | 2017-01-30T08:28:51 | 287 | 76 |
[WP] It has been a year since your spouse mysteriously died. You are fidgeting with your wedding ring when a compartment opens and a note falls out. It starts, "My Love. If you are reading this, I must be dead..." | I still remember the day we exchanged rings. I asked Michelle if there was any reason why mine was thicker than hers, but yet lighter at the same time. She laughed it off, said that I was thinking too much, and threatened to leave me for her pet Maltese if I continued to pester her with stupid questions.
I responded by pulling her into my arms, locked her lips in mine, and shouted the loudest 'Yes' in my life. And that was it. The ring followed me ever since, for fifty straight years, right until the day Michelle passed away.
Looking at how the ring broke into two, I finally understood. Why my ring felt lighter than hers, even though it was supposed to be made of solid gold. It was hollow inside, with a note hidden in it.
"My love, if you're reading this, then I must be dead," the note read, in a handwriting that was painfully familiar. It was amazing how Michelle managed to fit a piece of paper into a place so tiny, but that was Michelle for me. Always slipping surprises into places that you would least expect. Lunch boxes, freshly ironed clothes pockets, even in my toothpaste tube.
"Just wanted you to know that marrying you was the best decision in my life, I love you," the note ended. Oh Michelle, even in death you're still able to surprise me. I put down the note on the table, my chest suddenly feeling heavy. The house never felt quieter, lonelier.
I never knew how much I would miss the sound of her voice nagging me to eat breakfast, the sight of her sitting in her favourite chair, the smell of her favourite shampoo. All I was left with were the memories with her. A bittersweet reminder of what I no longer have.
I picked up the note, wanting to read the message again. As the note hovered over the window, I noticed writings on the other page of the paper. I flipped the note to see another sentence written on the other side. "But if you happen to find this note a little too early, then oops! Still love you! <3"
The date was signed on 14 September 1965. The date of our wedding. Michelle had written the note on our wedding date, not knowing when I would find it. I chuckled at the message. It was one of the many small little pranks she would play. "Looks like I found this just when you intended," I muttered, looking at the urn beside me.
I folded the small note, and placed it in a box together with the gifts that she has given me over the years.
The note in the ring was not the only note Michelle left me. Over the course of the next few months, I kept finding other notes around the house, hidden in places that Michelle knew I would not approach when she was alive. In the washing machine, the cabinet where she kept her sewing kit, the drawer filled with our bills.
The notes were more elaborate than the one in my ring, detailing experiences that we once shared. "Remember how you swore never to touch the washing machine after the mini flood you created?" read the note she had placed in the detergent box. It was like she had prepared for this her whole life.
I kept all of the notes in her box, labeling the place where I found them carefully. When it is my turn to leave, I will bring Michelle's box with me, together with all the notes, so that when I see her again, we can laugh and talk about all of them, just like how we have always done.
--------------
/r/dori_tales | "My love, if you are reading this, then I must be dead..." the note began. Megan flipped it over and the other side. "You didn't know this, and probably still don't know, but I worked for an intergalactic syndicate that worked against the draconians, who are intent on invading Earth. Go to the backyard and dig three feet down by the hole in the fence. There, you will find the beacon."
Megan wondered if this was some final prank of Kenny's, who was more than fond of them in life. *How could he be so cruel?* she wondered. Nonetheless, she thought of all the business trips he went on, and how many times she would have accused him of cheating had not the love and trust between them been so strong.
A shovel was in the backyard. Megan picked it up and started digging. It took her about an hour to dig a hole that was wide enough to dig three feet down. A metal box the size of a pack of cigarettes lay at the bottom. It turned green when she picked up, and very hot to the touch.
"That bastard," she muttered. *Of course he would do something like this, try to burn me.* She shook her head, threw down the shovel and the metal box, and went back inside. Night was coming, and she slept.
*****
"Is this really her?" Blogorg said to Kipitz. The speaker was a seven foot tall purple slug with an ever-shifting number of tentacles. The listener was a human-sized beetle that stood on three legs. "Didn't Ken say she was pretty?"
"She's a human, Blo, this is what humans call pretty," Kipitz replied. "The blonde hair, the blue eyes, the smooth skin. Even the size of the breasts. It's what they're into."
"Fucking weird. Well, whatever. Are you sure she can handle the draconians?"
"Hmmm...." Megan mumbled in her sleep, rolling over and cracking her eyes open. "Kenny, why are you home so--"
"Easy ma'am, we're not gonna hurt you," Kipitz said. "You activated the beacon, right? I'm Kip and this is Blo."
"Oh my god! What the hell is going on here?! What the hell are you?! Get out of my house!" Megan erupted from her her bed and immediately grabbed the standing lamp in the corner of the room. Holding out like a spear, she shook her head this way and that trying to stare down both of the aliens at once. "You're...you're...."
"We're aliens, that's right," Blogorg said.
"Aliens..."
"Ken always said he might die, but we didn't realize how spongy humans are. He left a note in the ring he always wore. It was a message for you, directions on how to activate the beacon."
"You're aliens..."
"Well, I mean, to us, you're the alien," Kipitiz offered. "But yeah, we have a mission for you, if you're interested."
"This is another prank by my husband. You're probably just his coworkers all dressed up to freak me out."
"Ugh," Blogorg said. "Let's just take her to the ship."
"You're the boss," Kipitz said.
*****
Megan sipped some coffee and stared at the rings of Saturn. All that she had learned in the past three days made her husband's life make so much sense. He had always been travelling, cursing in languages that sounded more than foreign, and she had seen scars on him that would disappear the next day. The thing that didn't make sense...why hadn't he ever told her?
"Humans are small and don't have any metal parts," Kipitz said across the table. "Your husband proved his worth a thousand times over, and we though such a man might choose someone similar for his partner."
"As we've seen from your testing, Meg," Blogorg said, "this is the case with you. It won't just be one mission, though. We will pay you well, and as you can see, the space trips are fantastic."
"I don't want to go back to Earth," Megan said. The two aliens looked shocked, at least Megan thought it was shock, and she went on. "There's nothing for me there. We didn't ever have children, my family all lives in different states, and it was never easy for me to make friends. I want to stay with you all."
"I mean, that makes it easier for us, so why not?" Kipitz said.
"But you will work for us?" Blorgorg asked. "The draconians will reach Earth soon if we don't have a human to help us, to sneak onto their ships undetected and sabotage them."
"Of course," Megan answered, sipping her coffee. "I'll help."
"Great," Kipitz said.
"Awesome," Blogrog said.
"I think this is going to be the start of a great relationship."
Megan sipped her coffee and thought, *Of course I'll help. It gives me a glimpse into this other side of my husband's life. He's still with me, I'm sure.*
****
Check out r/arcaldwell! Not because you want to...but because I told you to. | 2017-05-25T07:44:35 | 2017-05-25T07:43:47 | 2,091 | 265 |
[WP] To your surprise, a SWAT team breaks down your door, rushes inside, and surrounds you. Only, their backs are to you, guns trained on the doors and windows. The closest one whispers, "Here they come." | I was new at this, so I didn't expect this kind of treatment.
The sergeant lead the assault, driving the men himself. The team got there just in time. The men and women in the SWAT uniforms broke through the door (and even some windows) and surrounded me. I was in shock.
"Here they come."
It seemed just a few hours ago that they left. It was the last time I would send them off there. The last time they would go to Davis. What they have learned this day, I do not know.
I didn't expect it to be dangerous, obviously. I mean, everyone goes through this, right?
I was watching the seconds tick by. Then it happened: The footsteps outside. The loud voices. The maniacal laughter. They were back? Already? I hadn't expected them so soon or I would have been prepared.
The lock on the door is being turned, slowly. THen the handle. Then I said it.
"Here they come!"
In through the door they burst, all feet and hands and slobber and screaming. And the laughter. Always the laughter.
"Daddy! Summer vacation!" squealed my daughter giddily. My son made some high pitched yell that sounded vaguely like "Yes". His face was covered in chocolate, probably from the birthday cupcakes his friend Ethan would have brought today.
I had forgotten it was early release. Sometimes I hate being married to the police commissioner. I knew how to take care of my kids, even when they were wound up from the end of the school year!
I looked right at the sergeant and said directly into his body camera "Really honey? Really?" | **Saturday January 12 12:24am**
*this can't be happening. God what the hell.*
A series of expletives and theories bounced around my head as I sat in the back of the blackhawk helicopter, besides two burly SWAT operators covered in their deep black body armor and a solemn demeanor. An African American man in a crisp blue suit and an American flag pin sat across from me, staring. It was only 30 minutes ago I was an entry-level accountant sitting in my living room playing Halo and drinking bud light...but now? I don't know what will become of me.
The man the suit spoke up in a deep, determined tone as he plopped a file on my lap, the cover filled with the picture of a man, in full tactical gear, holding a gun to a women's head...my girlfriend's head.
"Tell us everything you know about Jeff"
**Friday January 11 11:55pm**
*I really fucking hate this map*
I thought to myself as I grabbed another beer from the fridge and plumped down on the couch, resigned to another lazy Friday night. My girlfriend wanted a date night tonight but I turned down her midweek proposal. Obviously it hasn't gone over well since she has yet to talk to me again. But after 50 hours in the office I just needed to rewind.
Plus it was the 3rd anniversary of it.
As the memories started to flow back I looked over to the family picture resting on the old oak side-table to my left. Myself, girlfriend mother and older brother Jeff all posing at Niagara Falls. Taken around 5 years ago at the end of Jeff's last deployment with the army. He had just come home, still in his crisp fatigues and proud of the green sling he had over his left arm from what he said was a training accident.
Then, just as quickly as he came home, two years later he left. No note. No evidence. Just gone. FBI ruled it a suicide but I *knew* its not in his nature to do that...especially without saying goodbye. I have kept trying, I never gave up. I always assumed something must have happened, something he didn't want us to know. After 3 years, however, hope comes sparingly.
**BANG**
My reminiscing was interrupted by a flash of light, a loud deafening bang and the sounds of feet rushing in. Black figures came and surrounded me, screaming military-like orders.
*The cops? No.. SWAT?? FUCK*
As my senses returned I realized several things. There were 10 heavily armed and armoured soldiers in the room surrounding me, whom I can only assume as police given their lack of insignia and the fact I'm not dead. Six directly covered me, like a shield while 4 others took up positions around the room.
As the initial chaos died down I began to open my mouth to question the situation. The biggest, and one in charge apparently spoke out.
"Shut. The Fuck. Up."
The man was 6'8" of muscle, his blue eyes piercing mine when he said that. It was clear they were not afraid to hurt me. A second SWAT member came back, his hand on a bluetooth microphone in his helmet. He was talking to someone, with urgency in his voice.
"Uh huh, yup target secure. Ready for Exfil. Over and out"
The man gave the rest of the squad a nod as the large one ziptied my hands and put me on my feet. The subtle sounds of a helicopter's decent accompanied his next words and sly smile.
"Here They Come"
| 2017-06-28T10:09:35 | 2017-06-28T09:46:42 | 35 | 17 |
[WP] When a twin dies their brother/sister acquires all their strength, intelligence, etc. You've just discovered this phenomena, but so has your brother/sister | "It's not worth it," I heard.
I can hear my heart beat. My healthy, fully functional, 18 year old heart.
"Please don't do this." My brother, again.
My brother is in there. His heart is beating, but it can't be calm. Mine is a slow thumping noise.
"It won't fix anything. It won't." He referenes a debt that cannot be repaid.
His must be erratic. He has been sick for a long time.
"C'mon man, open up!" He is agitated. It's not good for him.
I cock the revolver. It make a slick noise. I am calm.
"This won't make us even."
I can hear his sobbing. I lift up the gun.
"Life won't be worth living without a twin."
"It won't work. It won't make me better."
I taste the steel. Any chance is worth it.
| We stand at the precipice of the mountain, her wind bitten hands clasped in mine. She shivers, and I try to be strong. For the both of us.
We've made it. That's the main thing. All the suffering, all the pain, it doesn't matter. Not anymore. We've made it.
There's a lake of fire in front of us, but it offers no warmth. It crackles and it spits ferociously, spewing flames and surrounding us in its smoke, but it offers no warmth. It offers no warmth.
In the depths of my robes the scroll awaits patiently, digging into my chest and gently reminding me. *Time is running out.*
Lara coughs. A wretched sound. I look to her, eyebrows furrowed in concern, and she gives me a frail smile. A half hearted attempt to tell me not to worry.
Today, we will finally discover what makes us special. Finally discover why we were chosen. I squeeze tightly. Nudge her sorry heart to keep on fluttering. Not long now.
The sound of the clock rings through the air and the birds caw and screech and scatter into a cloud of obsidian, and suddenly the sky is dark.
I feel the pulse of the scroll. We can open it. It is time. *Hold on, Lara, just a while longer. Just a while longer.*
The scroll escaped from my clenched fist and settles, almost regally, in front of us, hovering, glowing.
Its words are ancient, and we have no right to understand them. We certainly can't read them. And yet. And yet it reads us. Our minds, our deepest desires.
When it is done, it floats to the floor below us and begins to smoulder.
I look at Lara. She looks at me. I try and smile. She doesn't return it. She knows what must happen. She refuses to accept it.
One must fall, for the other to stand, stronger than ever. She knows what it would mean to me. Everything I ever wanted. Ever dreamed. And she knows I'm going to sacrifice it. To make her better.
A tear rolls down her frozen cheeks. Words are left unspoken. I'm all she has left. She's all I have left. We can't say goodbye. We can't. I stroke her face and close my eyes, and for a moment, we're back.
Home. It's summer time. The birds are singing, and the smell of freshly baked bread fills the air. The kids are playing. The people are happy. Hopeful. They can-
I open my eyes. Fire. Dark. It is time. I give her one last glance, and I take a deep breath, and I surrender to the fire...
(Feedback always appreciated!)
r/samfoxstories | 2018-02-25T08:15:55 | 2018-02-25T07:12:49 | 1,595 | 36 |
[WP] Thousands of years after modern humanity wiped itself out in a nuclear catastrophe, fantasy creatures along with humans reduced to medieval tech rule the earth. However space stations carrying the remnants of the modern world including cryogenically frozen humans have begun to fall to earth.
Idea came from watching shannara chronicles and wondering what would happen if they encountered modern humans | “Don’t touch it!”
I cringed my hand on reflex away from the white box. But I didn’t tear my eyes from it. From her. I could only see her face through the glass window. Her long hair was almost pure white, matching the color of her prison, and her face was deathly pale. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were slightly parted. Still, her ears were rounded. She was human, like me.
“Stop, Mark!” Arya said from behind me. I hadn’t realized I’d been reaching for the box again. Arya grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, forcing me away from the box. Arya was very tall, even by elven standards, a solid seven feet, and had long raven hair tied up in a braid so that her pointed ears were clearly visible. She was wearing a loose shirt and leather breeches; her eyes were a startling emerald and they were wide. Two daggers hung at her side, and a recurve bow clung to her back.
“Do you not see what, what it is?” Arya asked, her normally smooth voice tinged with a shade of alarm.
“I don’t *care,* Arya,” I snarled and stepped away from her. “All I know is that she s a *human.* Do you understand what that means?”
“That you’re not thinking straight, Mark. You know what it is, it’s from-” Arya looked from side to side, afraid to say it even though we were in the middle of a forest in the early morning. Emond was a solid hours walk away. No one could be near us, but she still hesitated. “From *Before,* she whispered.
The *Before.* An age long past, the age where gods ruled the Earth. Though no one said it out loud, everyone knew that humans had descended from these Gods. They were long gone of course, but some of their remains were still around. Impossibly tall, gleaming towers, skeletons of once great cities that managed to reach the skies, and of course, the weapons. Weapons that gave you god-like powers. The ability to kill someone with a touch of a button, further than anyone could draw a bow, let alone nock an arrow.
“We used to be Gods, Arya, and now we’re almost driven to extinction. I’ve seen one other human in my damn, life! I will not let her…rot in this coffin.”
Arya closed her and took a deep breath. I knew she was counting in her head, like she so often did when she lost her patience with me. I’d known her since, well, forever, for all 19 years of my life. I couldn’t really imagine a world without her. She was one of the few who had played with me when I was young despite my round ears.
“Look, Mark,” she said after a moment. “I understand your…frustration. But artifacts from the, the…*Before,* are prohibited. You have to turn them in.” *On penalty of death,* she didn’t add. Some things didn’t have to be said out loud.
“Look, Arya, I’m going to open this coffin. You can walk away, and forget about all of this. No one will think an elf would ever associate herself with, with a *human.*” Despite my best efforts I couldn’t quite keep the acid out of my voice.
Suddenly Arya grinned. “And let you have all the glory, make contact with a god? Hell if I’m missing that.” To anyone else she sounded genuinely excited, but I knew. She’d figured out I’d do it no matter what she’d say, and now she wanted to protect me.
I felt a sudden urge of affection of her and looked away and mumbled a thanks under my breath.
“What was that?” Arya asked, her tone tinged with genuine amusement this time.
But I was already looking at the coffin. There was a button to the side, written in English, surprisingly. It was a simple word, simple but one that would change the world as I knew it.
“OPEN.”
I pressed the button.
There was a sharp hiss as the top of the coffin suddenly blasted off the front. I flinched back on reflex and fell flat on the ground to avoid getting hit. Smoke began to emerge from the coffin, obscuring my view.
“In the Council’s name step away from that…monstrosity!” A voice barked.
I was on my feet almost immediately, my sword in my hands. Arya was at my back, her daggers drawn in her hand.
Five elves emerged from the underbrush, all dressed in flowing green garments. They had been waiting for us. The one in the center, a six and a half foot elf with short gold hair and blue eyes. Three had swords drawn, and the other two had daggers.
“You have violated the Council’s directive, he continued. “Surrender, or perish.”
“By Fusion’s Wires," Arya cursed. "You had been waiting. You just wanted someone else to open it!”
The man at the lead flashed her a ghost of a smile. “Waiting isn’t against the Council’s laws is it?”
I swallowed. Five on two. The stories told of heroes who would beat overwhelming odds, but this wasn’t a story. Arya and I were good, but they were more than twice our number.
I felt Arya tense next to me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered to her. How could I have been this stupid? I’d gotten her killed. After all she'd done, this is how I'd repaid her.
Just as they were about to attack there was a sharp…crack. The lead elf suddenly had a small hole in his forehead with blood trickling out of it.
All of us froze for a moment. The woman, the God, stood leaning against the coffin, one of the legendary weapons in her grasp.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| Keaton tossed the cloth pouch in her hand, her mind swimming with the possibilities of what lay inside. It was all she could do to restrain herself from running to the Village Elders and informing them of her grand discovery. This was her moment, she wouldn't let some random passerby ruin this for her. She decided to take her time, and let the tall grass, still glistening with the morning due, brush her gently as she made her way home.
With the sun beaming down on her back, she looked towards the village with a smug grin. She would not be toiling in the fields today. She would not be toiling in the fields ever again. She threw the pouch in the air even higher - daring even the gods to pluck her little treasure from her. There were no gods. At least that was her belief.
"Oi!," shouted a voice. Keaton tripped as she caught the pouch, nearly letting it fall to the ground. She undid the drawstring hastily, checking to see if the object inside was damaged. It wasn't.
With a mixture of anger and panic, Keaton turned to her left to find Avery and his entourage jeering at her. Avery, an Ursa cub equal in height to Keaton, even if he has half her age, dwarfed those around him. Keaton hated the confidence this must have given him. One of the others, a Satyr of thirteen years, patted Avery on the back, seemingly congratulating him.
"What are you doing here, Avery?" The panic had dissipated from Keaton the moment she began to spoke. "I thought your family was supposed to be out hunting?" Avery and his gang sniggered at the question, passing knowing glances at each other.
"They are," responded Avery with just enough superiority that Keaton couldn't help but feel he was hoping she asked him that question, "And so am I!" Avery stuck out his chest and rested his paws on his hips. Keaton didn't even try to conceal her frustration as she rolled her eyes.
"You're hunting humes now?" Keaton knew the question was meaningless. He was interested in her or anything resembling her. Her suspicions were confirmed when Avery's toadlike friend let loose an unnerving sound she could only assume was a laugh.
"And you're stealing from dead people, I see?" Avery gestured towards the pouch. "My mum and da say you humes shouldn't even be let out in the fields. Says you done enough damage."
"Sounds like your mum and da been reading funny books," Keaton retaliated, mocking Avery's tone. "For your information, Ursa, I didn't dig this up. The gods gave it to me."
Avery and his crew didn't even hold back the laughter. Some buckled over, abandoning their desire to appear fearsome and threatening.
"You think I'm a liar?!" added Keaton.
Avery stifled back his laughter, "You're a hume. That's all I need to know. And if even what you say is true, I think Scape hear will just hold on to whatever it is you found. For your own sake." Avery shot a look towards Scape who approached Keaton without hesitation.
This was not a fight she could win. Outnumbered three to one, Keaton was already at a natural disadvantage to the strength of Avery and his friends. She might be able to fight off Wart, Avery's toadlike friend who Keaton had the wonderful pleasure of calling him her neighbor since childhood. She knew she could handle him, but not without taking a kick to the head by Scape or being knocked senseless by Avery. She broke into a run, heading towards the village.
Not being a bad runner herself, Keaton had the advantage of a head start. The little bit of fear that was sitting hard in her stomach and creeping upwards didn't hurt either. When she nearly slipped on a particularly wet patch of grass, she turned to see that Scape was in the lead, followed closely by Avery. She received some small satisfaction that Wart was struggling to keep up at all. Keaton held the pouch high above her head, her arm reared back.
"Stay back!" she shouted. Her three pursuers stopped. That was easy.
"Enough of this," yelled Avery from behind Scape. "Just get the damn thing so we can be done with this."
Scape walked slowly towards Keaton, who still raised the pouch in the air. The air was tense. The only sound that could be heard other than Keaton's heavy breathing was the grass being pressed by Scape's hooves. Scape was roughly four feet from Keaton when they all jerked their heads towards the sky. A scream unlike anything they had heard pierced their ears.
Keaton stared into the sun, struggling to see what was causing the noise. A shadow passed over her gaze, only for an instant, before Keaton felt the ground shake and the earth being pulled out from under her. A moment passed before she could regain her footing. Something was off. Wart was screaming in the distance and Avery was shouting something incoherent. Keaton's heart sank as felt a warm substance on her face. Something wet. She touched it with her hand, hoping it was just the morning dew. When she saw nothing but blood, Keaton looked ahead of her, where Scape should have been standing, to find something she had never seen before.
Sitting before her, embedded into the earth as if it had been there since the village's founding, was a massive object. Keaton thought it was made out of something like metal, similar to what she had seen soldiers wear. But something about it looked different, stronger, stronger than even the village walls. It survived a fall from who knew where, after all.
"What the hell did you do?!" Avery's anger was raw, terrifying. He fell to all fours and charged towards Keaton.
She looked frantically towards metal box, "but I didn't do anything I-"
Avery was several inches away from the metal box when a jet of steam screeched out of it. Avery jumped out of the way and turned to face it, forgetting about his previous target. The steam was so strong that it made the surrounding area feel as if it was covered in a thick fog.
Slowly, Keaton approached Avery, curious about what was going to happen. When Avery noticed Keaton, he looked at her, startled, but quickly returned his gaze to this new thing. As the steam reduced, a previously unseen lid hinged open. They approached it, slowly, eager to discover what was inside. Avery reared up slightly, to get a better view, before quickly falling backwards. Keaton was surprised to see that Avery was truly scared and looked to him with pity. Avery returned her look with the same anger he had shown her just a few moments ago before snarling at her, and running back towards the village.
She didn't know why her mind went where it did. But as Keaton peered over the metal box to see what had spurred Avery, she guessed what was inside.
It was a woman, older than her but not as old her her parents. Her hair was red, very much like some of those in the village. She looked to be asleep, but Keaton figured she had long since died. Looking more closely, Keaton noticed a slim bracelet around the woman's left wrist which lay at her side. Keaton lifted the woman's arm, and examined the thin, white bracelet. To her shock, Keaton realized she the letters, though she didn't necessarily recognize the words.
"Samara," Keaton mouthed to herself as she turned the woman's wrist over and attempted one of the words on it.
Keaton was unable to scream when the woman's hand tightened around her throat. She clutched and clawed at the surprisingly strong hand, trying to pry it open. Keaton looked at the woman's face and saw her eyes were open. | 2018-03-10T08:38:11 | 2018-03-10T08:25:01 | 102 | 11 |
[WP] You are a powerful being sent by God to unify the world under one flag. After long decades of attempting to peacefully bring people together, you realise - the world doesn't need a guiding hand, it needs an overpowering, apocalyptic threat to bring everyone together. This is your story. | Everything begins and ends with a sacrifice.
I had nothing left to give up. I had given these nameless, faceless people my everything - my love, my wealth, my time, my work and even my family. Nothing mattered to me but my mission - "Bring peace".
I thought it would be easy. I went around telling them about happiness and love and how to answer for their sins, and they nailed me to a cross. I came back, and followed up with more of the same message - and I got hanged, poisoned, beheaded and shot - in what order, I do not remember anymore.
Centuries of wanting to help didn't work. Sometimes, you cannot help people who do not want to be helped. You especially cannot help people oppose those who help them. Fine by me. What the gentle wind cannot blow, the storm uproots.
"Bring peace" was my message. Bring peace I shall, even if it means I bring it to the last remaining human on earth. For years, they have refused to submit to my kindness, and it is time they answer to my vengeance.
Everything begins and ends with a sacrifice. They are the sacrifice. | "War sells, kid. Remember that."
"But mama said-"
"Mama said nothing you need to remember except for 'clean your plate.' And that's only because you need to get while the gettin's good."
The kid hangs his head in embarrassment at being talked to this way. He needs to get over it. The universe doesn't care if it hurts your feelings.
"Come on kid. We've got conflicts to start, lives to end, chaos to swirl into the communities of man. Don't just stand there with your tail between your legs."
I realize this might be confusing; he really does have a tail. So do I. We aren't exactly human, but we aren't exactly *not*. We came from...*elsewhere.*
The earth is far beneath us. Or more like, aside of us. I guess you could say it's around the corner, in a sense. I can *get* there, but I can't really *point* to it from where we are.
The kid is still moping. *Jesus.*
I kneel next to him.
"Look kid," I say, adopting my friendliest mannerisms, which are still only about as friendly as an impatient gorilla.
"Kid, we've got a job to do. You gotta remember that this what we are *supposed* to do. I'm not making this shit up. Straight from upstairs. You know that, right?"
He tilts his head up and looks at me with tearful violet eyes: "But how do you know?"
"It's hard to explain, kid. There's a way that beings just *know,* you know? Tigers hunt. Monkeys fuck. There's an order to the world, things just happen the way they're supposed to. It's hard to explain, kid. Maybe you'll get it when you're older."
He doesn't look convinced. I'm not great at this whole *esplainin'* thing.
"Look kid. You're just gonna have to take my word for it. Now let's go wreak some havoc, eh?"
"What are humans supposed to do?"
I hesitate. Does he need a shard of the truth? The slick-dick smartass shtick isn't going over so well.
"One day they will live in peace. But before that happens, a *lot* of them need to die."
"B-b-b-but-"
"But nothing. You're just gonna have to take my word on this one. Okay? I promise you, everything is going to work out. You just gotta have...faith."
I see the gears turning. He's thinking, processing. Doing his best to understand, and believe. He's a good kid. I shouldn't be so hard on him. He meets my gaze with an attempted confidence that makes me proud, and he nods.
"Okay."
"Alright, son."
I take his hand and I say the words and think the thoughts that will take us down and over and around to that place called earth where the humans live, where chaos is coming to fracture and then unite them. And me and my boy...we're gonna do it all.
| 2018-07-12T04:02:10 | 2018-07-12T03:36:27 | 207 | 40 |
[WP]A brave knight hunts an infamous dragon, and local villagers spend days telling him not to pursue his quest, to no avail. Eventually, one villager gets fed up and says, "Look us and the lizard have a good thing going here. Don't ruin it." | "Tax season?!"
Sir Biglesby's eyes almost popped right out of his head as he whipped his visor back and glared at the cowering peasant. "What do you mean tax season?"
"Look," the scrawny man hastily gulped. "A big terrifying lizard does count as a 'natural disaster' and under Section 13, Subsection 3, Paragraph 3a, item iv, losses due to natural disasters are tax-deductible."
"But that dragon burned and pillaged your fields!"
"Umm... Sure... The premiums are higher than normal based on actuarial deductions but... What if said dragon gave a teeny weeny... *Notoutrightinsurancefraudandcollusiontype...* Of heads-up that the farmers do an early harvest to cover the difference and the claims are adjusted by the insurance adjustor anyway..." the small man offered a toothy grin.
Sir Biglesby tried to wrap his mind around the concept of actuarial losses, casualty tables and loss-given-defaults. "But... But..." he spluttered "The damage... And loss of life?"
"Weeeeelllll..." the peasant shuffled uncomfortably, "Since there's technically no deaths... And we can always opt out of the individual mandate now with no tax penalties... That's not really a concern."
Sir Biglesby could have almost choked on the brazen indifference towards bureaucratic government-mandated joint insurance pool.
" Plus..." the man continued, "We got a good side economy going here."
"Yes, I noticed the gaudy large gift shop near the entrance.
The peasant beamed proudly. "Yes, one of my ideas. You can get some wood carvings of the dragon, picture frames for the missus, dragon claws and scales... You know... Souvenirs for the tourists..." he was cut short by the outburst from the reddening Knight.
"What do you mean tourists!?" he roared.
"Ahem... You know, curious people... The gawker, busybodies and families who come here for the adventure..." the peasant quickly glanced over his shoulder. "But don't worry, the claws and scales are mostly fake stuff, cow horns and polished stones, they can't tell the difference anyway. But if you want the good stuff... The real genuine stuff, I can hook you up. It's a bit pricey but that's because we are short of supply... The dragon only clips its toenails once a month and sheds twice a year... Only 10 gold pieces for a scale necklace and 15 gold pieces for a genuine toenail."
Sir Biglesby gulped. 10 gold pieces is more than enough to feed a family for a year.
" Look..." the peasant hastily added, "It's the cost of things you know, scarcity, shipping and handling, craftsmanship and royalties."
"What royalties?"
The peasant shuffled and looked down at his feet. "The dragon wants a 30% cut..."
Sir Biglesby was at an absolute loss for words.
"Look, tell you what..." the peasant gave him a wide toothy grin as he wrapped an arm over the knight's shoulders. "Why don't you think of this as a holiday? Spend some coin at the gift shop, stay in one of our many resorts and take a long stroll around the countryside. I can even get you a VIP pass at the casino... There's even a dragon museum for you to visit. You can also pick up some dragon-slaying equipment for posterity, of course a Knight like you can get a referral discount from a tour guide like me, and put it as dragon-slaying expenses..."
Sir Biglesby shook his head as the man rambled on.
"And when it's all said and done, you can always challenge the dragon... It charges 100 gold pieces to throw a fight and you will have a good story to tell the King, plus some scales and toenails to show for your gallant deeds. Then the dragon will take a month-long vacation to the south and you have successfully driven it off and we can do this again next year..."
Sir Biglesby couldn't help but be led away to the nearest tavern as the peasant continued, "By the way, I could also hook you up with some wenches... That's if you're into that... They would love to hear some great stories from a heroic knight like you..." | /Town of Elderyn/
She was a heavyset woman with hair piled intricately on her head. Heavy jewelry clacked against her ample bustline and layered robes of purple and blue swayed delicately around her ankles. She had to stretch as she reached for the glass jar on the top shelf. It was filled with a crimson powder and the little man at the front counter eyed it greedily.
“This here’s the strong stuff. Who’re ye gettin’ this much for?”
He grinned with a nasty sort of glint in his eyes.
“We’re getting this for a Dragon.”
She snorted at him and set the jar on the sales table.
“Gettin yerself killed is it? As long as ye’ pay I don’t care much what you do with it.”
He shuffled and dragged a bag of coins up from some hidden compartment in his trousers. She counted out the right amount and handed him the jar.
“Do you think you could have some more ready by next week?”
She thought and checked a create of dried leaves behind the counter.
“I gess so, assuming yer still alive.”
“Alright then. I’ll be expecting it”
He snatched his purchase and tucked it away into some unknown hiding place.
“Bye now.”
That unnerving grin appeared once more before he vanished behind her flimsy shop door. She gathered the coin and tucked it into the money pouch in her bosom. Might as well begin working on the next batch.
————
/Town of Silksdorn— 10 miles to the East/
The grass was green and a sweet breeze blew ripples across it’s surface. Brown cattle grazed in the sunlight and two shirtless men leaned against the perimeter fence. Another man was merrily making his way towards them.
“What are you doing here?”
They eyed their visitor with arms crossed. The small stranger only smiled.
“I’m here to buy exactly three brown cows.”
“Get lost.” The words were accompanied by a rude gesture and forceful spitting at the ground.
He was unfazed.
“I’ll pay double what they are worth.”
The shirtless farmhands scowled.
“You’re from Elderyn.” The older one pointed into the distance, “We’d rather kill our cattle than sell to some runt from Elderyn.”
The visitor pulled the bag of coin from his trousers.
“Not even for triple?”
This time there was a small faltering. A weakness.
“Well— what do ya want them for?”
His eyes glanced at the sack of gold as he said it.
“Our elders figured cross breeding the brown cattle from Silksdorn with our white ones might make a healthier herd. That’s all.”
The two looked at each other and then back at him suspiciously.
“No Elderyn tricks?”
“No Elderyn tricks.”
His smile still shone pleasant and unmoving.
Some quiet muttering passed between the cattle ranchers before the sale was finally agreed on. Two heifers and a bull were roped and given over. In exchange they received a fat bag of coin.
“Our Herbs Master came up with a feeding supplement to fatten the cattle quicker if you’re interested. I’ll give you this free jar to start as a token of good will.”
He pushed the container over into their hands and began the trek home.
“Bye now.”
With a wave farewell he left them to their cattle.
————
/Mountain side three miles North of Elderyn/
The three brown cattle and three white cattle followed him to camp. So far the plan was working well. The Herbs Master had another crimson jar prepared like he’d asked. Now all that was left was to feed the dragon.
On the first day he sprinkled crimson powder onto the grass he fed to one of the brown heifers. With a few apologies to the poor animal he tied it to a tree outside the blackened cave. When it’s dying screams echoed back to his camp later that evening he knew the dragon had taken the bait.
The next day, another cow was sacrificed to the merciless beast. This time pure white, yet no red powder was placed into its food. The dragon took the bait once more.
For four more days he did this. Each time he fed the dragon with a brown cow, powder was given to it beforehand. The white cow received none.
When he was finally finished he returned to town and informed the townsfolk what he had done. Only time would tell if it would work.
————
/Town of Elderyn/
“I’m sorry but this really doesn’t make any sense. You DON’T want me to kill the dragon?”
The knight scratched his head and furrowed his eyebrows.
“No! He’s been quiet helpful to us! Dragons really aren’t as bad as they say!”
That grin was devilishly pristine and almost ran a shiver down Sir Argur’s back.
“—But it’s taken to killing cattle. As the nearest town you would be most targeted!”
“Look here!” The little townsman waved his hand over their large and white herd of thriving livestock, “Do you see any signs of slaughter?”
The soldier ran a hand behind his neck and looked puzzled.
“I suppose not.”
“So forget the matter! Come, relax and enjoy a meal with me.”
“Ah— I would be honored.”
His face betrayed a level of reserved hesitation but he ended up at this man’s house all the same. It was a modest hovel. The most interesting thing in the whole space was a hanging display of a war axe over the mantle.
“Got that from the War?” He was trying to come up with polite conversation.
His host busied himself in the kitchen.
“Oh yes, though I keep it around in case the Silksdorn come knocking. Bitter enemies. We hate them, they hate us.”
The name rang a small bell in Sir Argur’s mind.
“I think they were the ones who logged the initial complaint about the dragon.”
“Troublemakers! Don’t worry about that lizard any longer.”
His host popped his head back into the living room.
“By the way, did you want a bit of Crimson Mindle in your tea?”
The knight shook his head, “Ah— no thanks, I’d like to keep a clear mind.”
“Fair enough. It’s a powerful high. The stuff can be quite addictive.”
“Indeed.” | 2019-04-15T02:06:44 | 2019-04-15T01:13:52 | 46 | 11 |
[WP] Everyone in the world suddenly got superpowers overnight. People started throwing fireballs and flying as more and more humans discovered what their power was. You just recently discovered yours. You can quicksave and quickload. | I couldn’t get control of the wheel. It was whirling at a hundred miles per hour in seemingly random directions. I could hear Tara screaming. The eighteen wheeler in the opposite lane wasn’t going to stop in time. Tara went silent. I closed my eyes.
*reload*
“Do you think Amanda and Henry are going to like it up there?” Tara asked over the sound of her hairdryer from the bathroom.
I glanced over, she was topless in her panties, drying her hair after her shower.
“Babe?” Tara shouted.
“What? Yeah, I’m not sure, hun. I don’t see why they wouldn’t. Don’t worry about it, this is our trip anyways.” I responded, blankly looking at the ground.
Since unlocking my superpower 10 years ago, there has never been a moment like the one I’d just gone through not even 5 minutes ago. I was still catching my breath.
I’d always been on the fence about my power. A lot of the times it sucked not having some flashy ability, and other times it was hard getting close to people who truly came to understand what it is I could do.
Tara walked out of the bathroom looking fantastic and sat down next to me, she noticed I was out of it. She grabbed my wrist and asked me what was wrong, but she already would know before finishing the question.
Tara was an empath. She felt my fear and my adrenaline. She immediately looked at me concerned.
“What happened? Did you just reload?” she asked, rubbing my back with her left hand.
I nodded and began to cry, shoving my head into her shoulders and letting go of my emotion.
“Shhhh.. Shh shh shh. You’re okay now, it’s been erased whatever it was, baby. It’s okay.” She soothingly said as she continued rubbing my back.
“They died. We almost died!” I yelled, muffled by her chest. “It was fucking horrible I saw them die!” I continued.
“Wh-what?” she sounded shocked and pulled me away from her to look me in the eye.
“How?” she asked me.
“A bad accident. They got crushed, we were spinning out and about to be hit by a truck when I reloaded us.” I replied, still shaken up.
“B-but.. You told me you can’t affect death? That it always happens even if you reload.” she sounded terrified, now. “Your brother!! You told me you reloaded your brothers accident and kept him in his room! Some fucking, I dont know.” she began sounding hysterical. “Some fucking.. what was it that got him? A video game?”
“He was electrocuted. He drowned. He was killed in a home invasion. He was in several car accidents. He had several brain aneurisms. But yes, the story my parents know is that he was electrocuted.” I said without emotion.
“Does this mean.. we are..” she began to cry.
“I don’t know, baby. You and I weren’t dead when I reloaded so I don’t know. I’ve never experienced this before.” I was the calm one now.
Still crying she said, “Amanda and Henry?”
“There is no way they were alive when I reloaded. We need to cancel the trip and stay away from them, honey. Death will come for them, it’s best not to warn them.” I said, numb to the impact of the words I was uttering.
I’d always thought this gift allowed me to have my way, every single time. No matter what. And it did. It was that day I realized, though. When it’s between my way or Death’s. Death always got his way.
My memory flashed to the accident, blood gushing throughout the inside of my car as the branch in Tara’s neck forced her head to tilt towards me. I remembered her silence as I had closed my eyes. A tear streamed down my face.
——
/r/nocre8ivity | Mirra focused on the wall in front of her. A single sheet of paper with the number 14 taking up most of the sheet was pinned to the wall.
"YES!" She cheered for herself, grabbed the sheet off the wall and tore it in half. Yesterday morning she scribbled the number on it and pinned it to the wall. Mirra realized that, like the rest of the world, she was developing gifts too; she seemed to be able to manipulate time. She noticed it accidentally while whining to herself about not having powers. She had been watching TV and held her breath; time stopped as long as she wasn't breathing. After practicing that for a few days she got the hang of it, but she didn't feel it was that useful.
One morning Mirra wondered what else she could do, and accidentally lived the same day three times. It took her until the third try to realize it was the exact same day but when she did she knew it had to be her ability; no one else seemed to notice. The previous day she set her 'Start Point' while staring at the number on the wall; then, she tore it in half and threw it on the floor.
"Let's test it," Mirra mumbled to herself. She tore the sheet down then took a deep breath. She punched the drywall with all her strength to leave a small hole. She closed her eyes, focused, then opened them again; the sheet was tacked to the hole-less wall. "YES!" she cheered again, then she giggled to herself when she realized she repeated that part too. "*Better get going*," she hurried to the restroom to start her day.
As she walked outside she saw the usual morning traffic. Most of it had moved to the sky relieving a lot of congestion on the road. Not only could humans fly, but a lot of people also had access to magic or advanced technology and they all wanted to glide through the sky. Part of Mirra wished she could too, but she was glad for the almost barren streets now. She took her eyes off the sky and noticed two women standing by her car; a black cat sat on her Mirra's car next to them. The shorter, black-suited woman, the other wore a white suit, approached Mirra with a smile.
"Hello," she said. She didn't give Mirra a chance to reply and instead kept talking. "My name is Melody. We've been looking for someone like you," she said.
"Me?" Mirra shifted her weight and leaned on her back foot; it was her way of taking a step back. "Why me?" she gestured to the sky at the traffic flying by. "Everyone's getting powers now," she said.
"*Shit, I just told them I had powers*," Mirra mentally cursed herself, then shrugged internally. "*They already knew, probably.*" Melody nodded.
"True, but you're not like them. You're a bit more *Unique*," she said. The way she stressed the word made Mirra feel uneasy.
"*Forget it, I'll just leave faster,*" Mirra thought. She closed her eyes and reset. When she opened them she found herself in her pajamas again staring at the sheet tacked to her wall. "No lollygagging this time," she mumbled to herself.
"That's a good idea," a voice said behind her. Mirra whirled around to find both women standing in her room with the same black cat on her bed. Now that they were closer she noticed a red patch of fur on the cat's head; it looked like a skull. Mirra leaped back and hit the wall behind her.
"What are you doing in my room?! How'd you get here? I reset time!"
"Janet," the woman in the white suit said. Then, Mirra blinked. She opened her eyes facing the number 14 on her wall again.
"You're not the only one that can," the woman said behind Mirra. She turned around again. "I'd like you to come work for me." The woman in white said.
"Why me? I don't even know you," Mirra shook her head. Something about this woman made Mirra very uneasy, but she couldn't pinpoint why. "Everyone's getting powers,... and you already have someone that can do what I can, apparently," she shrugged having no idea who Janet was. She guessed it might be the cat but she did not want to try and figure out how a cat was manipulating time at the moment. The woman nodded.
"Their abilities aren't like yours," she waved a hand casually as if she was dismissing everyone else on the Earth. "Their's are man-made; parlor tricks compared to what you can do."
"Huh?" Mirra tilted her head. "That's a weird thing to say, how do you even come to that conclusion?" she asked. The woman smiled.
"Who do you think gave it to them?"
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #181. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
\*\*\*
[Satchat Summer challenge](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/c3rkez/ot_satchat_summer_challenge_pick_a_challenge_tier/)
* Story 8
* The NaNoWriMo - word count 810/6077 (this story/ total)
* Placesetting - Hugoverse | 2019-06-30T11:55:11 | 2019-06-30T11:24:08 | 42 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone in the world suddenly got superpowers overnight. People started throwing fireballs and flying as more and more humans discovered what their power was. You just recently discovered yours. You can quicksave and quickload. | It was complete chaos. Anarchy unfolded all around the world. That day really changed the perspective of human nature. Many people who even had the slightest desires abused their powers. They would rob banks, Flip cars, Burglarize and rape families in their own homes. There were a lot of deaths. Especially the first group of Justice Seekers. Most of the ones who discovered their powers early on became power Abusers. They thought they were unstoppable and with their power, every one of their desires could be fulfilled.
A small handful maintained their humanity and took justice into their own hands, but there were far too many Abusers. The Abusers would seek out and squash out any Justice Seekers immediately to deter any other people thinking of rising up against them. The scenes on T.V. broadcasting the Abusers were horrific. Every day and night there would be news of arsony, robberies, murders, rape. These scenes gave more courage, thus more power to those who were still finding their power. As more and more folks start finding their power, eventually the number of Justice Seekers outgrew the number of Abusers.
It has been almost 3 years since the Day of Evolution. Almost everyone in the world has a power, and all of them are registered. All except me and a very few handfuls around this world. The Ability Registration Agency kept me in a cozy room for a week now. They've been interrogating me with a mind reader, one of the very few ones in this world, all hired by the similar agency around the world for such things. Today is supposed to be the day they release me. I have relived this week for about 4 years for me now, convincing the mind reader I do not have any powers.
So how am I reliving a single week for 4 years? Time travel you guess? Not really. I wish it was like that. Many times I wish I could go back much farther. It's more like returning to a checkpoint in life that I set. I can only place one checkpoint at time in my life. Once I change the checkpoint I can't go back to previous ones. I try not to set my checkpoints too recent unless I have to, just in case. I try not to use it for petty nonsense. Doing these are risky, brings attention to the Agency if I become witty and suddenly have a severe case of good luck. I mainly use my power to avoid severe injury, death, or getting found out.
Today isn't the first time I got to the end of the week and been released actually. I've done it probably about 20 times now. So why? I'm mastering the art of hiding my thoughts. I want to master it so well that I will subconsciously block out the thoughts of my powers, should they decide to send a mind reader to follow me. I want to master convincing them so well that there is nothing suspicious about me. I think that this is the time now. The time I feel I'm ready to go back into the world. The mind reader comes into my room, hands me all my belongings, and reads from a letter that I am to be released because not only they cannot hold me more than a week by law, not only can they find no evidence of me having a special power, but that they are officially registering me as a non-powered being. This means that everyone in the Agency is convinced I truly don't have a power and no close watch will be kept on me, this means I will never be bothered.
The mind reader extends his hands out for a shake. He "congratulated" me and apologized for the inconvenience. He hands me a yellow envelope that he says is compensation from the Agency for my time plus a bonus. I thank him and put on my jacket, as I walk over to the door he calls out to me "Mr. Chanderson, I've grown onto you this past week. Join me sometime." He says this with an unfamiliar thus unsettling smirk. I said nothing to him, just nodded and walked out the door. I get home, opened up the envelope to count the money. I find a piece of paper in the middle of the bills, I open it to read:
>"Welcome to the New Abusers."
Well, shit. | Mirra focused on the wall in front of her. A single sheet of paper with the number 14 taking up most of the sheet was pinned to the wall.
"YES!" She cheered for herself, grabbed the sheet off the wall and tore it in half. Yesterday morning she scribbled the number on it and pinned it to the wall. Mirra realized that, like the rest of the world, she was developing gifts too; she seemed to be able to manipulate time. She noticed it accidentally while whining to herself about not having powers. She had been watching TV and held her breath; time stopped as long as she wasn't breathing. After practicing that for a few days she got the hang of it, but she didn't feel it was that useful.
One morning Mirra wondered what else she could do, and accidentally lived the same day three times. It took her until the third try to realize it was the exact same day but when she did she knew it had to be her ability; no one else seemed to notice. The previous day she set her 'Start Point' while staring at the number on the wall; then, she tore it in half and threw it on the floor.
"Let's test it," Mirra mumbled to herself. She tore the sheet down then took a deep breath. She punched the drywall with all her strength to leave a small hole. She closed her eyes, focused, then opened them again; the sheet was tacked to the hole-less wall. "YES!" she cheered again, then she giggled to herself when she realized she repeated that part too. "*Better get going*," she hurried to the restroom to start her day.
As she walked outside she saw the usual morning traffic. Most of it had moved to the sky relieving a lot of congestion on the road. Not only could humans fly, but a lot of people also had access to magic or advanced technology and they all wanted to glide through the sky. Part of Mirra wished she could too, but she was glad for the almost barren streets now. She took her eyes off the sky and noticed two women standing by her car; a black cat sat on her Mirra's car next to them. The shorter, black-suited woman, the other wore a white suit, approached Mirra with a smile.
"Hello," she said. She didn't give Mirra a chance to reply and instead kept talking. "My name is Melody. We've been looking for someone like you," she said.
"Me?" Mirra shifted her weight and leaned on her back foot; it was her way of taking a step back. "Why me?" she gestured to the sky at the traffic flying by. "Everyone's getting powers now," she said.
"*Shit, I just told them I had powers*," Mirra mentally cursed herself, then shrugged internally. "*They already knew, probably.*" Melody nodded.
"True, but you're not like them. You're a bit more *Unique*," she said. The way she stressed the word made Mirra feel uneasy.
"*Forget it, I'll just leave faster,*" Mirra thought. She closed her eyes and reset. When she opened them she found herself in her pajamas again staring at the sheet tacked to her wall. "No lollygagging this time," she mumbled to herself.
"That's a good idea," a voice said behind her. Mirra whirled around to find both women standing in her room with the same black cat on her bed. Now that they were closer she noticed a red patch of fur on the cat's head; it looked like a skull. Mirra leaped back and hit the wall behind her.
"What are you doing in my room?! How'd you get here? I reset time!"
"Janet," the woman in the white suit said. Then, Mirra blinked. She opened her eyes facing the number 14 on her wall again.
"You're not the only one that can," the woman said behind Mirra. She turned around again. "I'd like you to come work for me." The woman in white said.
"Why me? I don't even know you," Mirra shook her head. Something about this woman made Mirra very uneasy, but she couldn't pinpoint why. "Everyone's getting powers,... and you already have someone that can do what I can, apparently," she shrugged having no idea who Janet was. She guessed it might be the cat but she did not want to try and figure out how a cat was manipulating time at the moment. The woman nodded.
"Their abilities aren't like yours," she waved a hand casually as if she was dismissing everyone else on the Earth. "Their's are man-made; parlor tricks compared to what you can do."
"Huh?" Mirra tilted her head. "That's a weird thing to say, how do you even come to that conclusion?" she asked. The woman smiled.
"Who do you think gave it to them?"
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #181. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
\*\*\*
[Satchat Summer challenge](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/c3rkez/ot_satchat_summer_challenge_pick_a_challenge_tier/)
* Story 8
* The NaNoWriMo - word count 810/6077 (this story/ total)
* Placesetting - Hugoverse | 2019-06-30T11:55:25 | 2019-06-30T11:24:08 | 40 | 10 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species. | What the scans showed was impossible. Unheard of. Three potentially habitable planets in orbit around a single star. All within the acceptable temperature range, all with an oxygen-rich atmosphere. Granted, the readings from the second planet had some anomalies we couldn't explain, but it was hard enough finding a single habitable planet to colonize, especially when so many already contained intelligent life of their own. Finding three potential options at once was a miracle. The scouting mission was put together faster than I'd ever seen, and every single person in the program wanted to be on it. I was one of the lucky ones.
Our goal was to blaze a trail for the largest colonization effort in history. Unfortunately, the universe had other ideas. What we hoped for was paradise. What we found was tragedy. Our estimates of the star's lifespan were off by a few million years. It was well on its way toward becoming a red giant, and the innermost of the three garden worlds had already been scoured clean. The other two were intact, but well out of the habitable range. But as surprised as we were to find this beautiful yellow star already dying, nothing could have compared to what we found next.
The second of the three planets was surrounded by a massive amount of orbital debris, clearly artificial in nature. A perfect explanation for the anomalies in our readings, but one that would have been unthinkable to consider. Given the time it took for the light from this star to reach our research station, we were looking at the system as it was billions of years ago, long before intelligent life evolved in the galaxy. And yet, somehow, it was true. Somehow, intelligent life evolved on this planet faster than was ever thought possible. And just a few million years before our arrival, that life was wiped out.
Later expeditions found that towering buildings had once covered nearly the entire surface of the second planet, and much of the other two. Estimates of the number of inhabitants were staggering. Far greater than we thought could possibly be supported by three small worlds. We were desperate for evidence of the technology that had allowed them to support such a densely packed civilization, but found nothing. Whatever devices held their secrets weren't built to last.
Eventually, however, we discovered something different. A vault, built deep into the side of a mountain, containing vast stores of information that had survived the countless millennia unscathed. Here was where they had undoubtedly stored their most precious information. Scientists all over the galaxy were buzzing with excitement, wondering what new technology we might discover. Anthropologists begged to be allowed to examine the records to see what they could uncover about this ancient civilization. The government decided to share the information freely, and linguistic experts from countless species joined the effort to translate the language. Eventually, they succeeded, and the citizens on every world held their breath as they revealed what precious knowledge these ancient people had so carefully preserved.
They were names. Families. Sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, uncles and aunts, ancestors going back countless generations. Trillions of souls, preserved in memory by their connections to one another. A passionate plea from a long-dead people, saying "We remembered them. Please, remember us." And we did. To this day, many parents choose a name for their child by combing through the endless list we recovered. Julia Wagner. DeSean Williams. Li Wei Chen. Imani Abara. We don't know who they were, or how they felt being alone in the universe, but we remember them.
^(The inspiration for this story was the Granite Mountain Records Vault) | Cycle 800080, loop 4:32. I don't know what it means. I don't even know how I know it. I'm so confused. Where am I? Who am I? Wait, where's my body? Is this a dream? It must be. I wake up, god knows where, without a body and I'm not freaking out. It must be a dream, yet it feels oddly real. Why can't I remember who I am? Why am I not freaking out? Why am I not freaking out about not freaking out?
*- We know you must have a lot of questions. You can call us Yoda.*
Wait, who said that? Behind me. How did I turn? It's like I didn't move, but I felt a shift and now I'm looking at another part of this weird room. It looks like something out of a video game set in a far, far future. And there's Yoda. Cool, it's not some weird, distorted dream Yoda, it really looks like Yoda. But he doesn't talk like Yoda.
*- We apologize. The exact syntax of this particular character is unfamiliar to us. We have done our best to create a familiar environment conductive to the process of reconstruction.*
Weird. It's like he can hear my thoughts. Never had that dream before.
*- We can, in a manner of speaking. This is not a dream. We do not fully understand how real it is from your perspective, since reality is subjective. For us, this is very real.*
This must be how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole. How do you pinch yourself to check if you're dreaming if you don't have anything to pinch? And nothing to pinch with? Wait, what was that trick with the clock? If you want to know if you're dreaming, look at a clock. Something about time passing differently in dreams. What time is it?
\- *From your perspective, it is 13.8 billion years after your death. If Earth still existed, your local time would be 11:32 pm on a Wednesday in August,*
What the hell did I smoke before I went to bed? It's surreal, and real at the same time. Wait, can something really be real and surreal at the same time?
*- We are sorry that the experience is disorienting. This is our first encounter with a human mind. We have already learned so much, and we hope to learn more. But we do not have much time. Even at our technological level, the noetic field stabilizer has limits on how long it can run. We do not know exactly how long we have before you… disspiate.*
Die, you mean? Again? Can you die in a dream? Wait, what if this isn't a dream? What if I am dead? No, you can't think when you're dead. And if I died, what did I die of?
*- We do not know. We learn from your memories. What you cannot remember, we cannot learn. We want you to remember, but our technology is not without flaws. We are happy we recovered as much of your mind as we have.*
Well, this is bleak. Thank you, brain. I'm dead and memoryless in a dream, and I can't even pinch my way out of it. What could this be if it isn't a dream?
*- To put this in concepts you understand: you are a… forensic reenactment of a human mind that from our horizon existed 13.8 billion years ago. You are also the first human mind we encounter. It is quite the honor, as you are the earliest proto-intelligent species we have discovered. We do not have much time, and we want you to remember. We want to learn. You need to find a path to the memories. We believe the beginning of each path is a question. Ask us anything.*
I'm starting to believe this is not a dream. Rationality dictates it must be, but it feels more real by the second.
*- That is most likely the result of us tuning the noetic field stabilizer. We assure you, this is very real. We want to know what the first proto-intelligent species were like. Curiosity is an integral part of intelligence. So please, ask us anything. If we know the answer, and can relay it, we will do so.*
Great. I have a dream where I can ask future aliens anything, and I can't come up with one single question. What would you ask, if you were me?
\--------------------------
&#x200B;
\[This is an actual invitation to you as a reader to ask a question you'd ask in this situation. I need to go to bed, as it's 2:45 in the morning here, but if I get any questions, I'll continue the story tomorrow.\]
\[EDIT: u/onemansquest added questions, and [I've finished the story based on them](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cpxk2b/wp_turns_out_humanity_was_alone_in_the_universe/ewuo2r1?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x). I hope you guys like it. Thanks for the collaboration, OneMansQuest!\] | 2019-08-13T16:12:59 | 2019-08-13T15:48:34 | 42 | 17 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species. | At a glance, it was a barren planet. Indistinguishable from billions of other planets in the Milky Way.
The first giveaway of something extraordinary was its radiation signature; way beyond the expected range for its class.
Closer inspection revealed ancient structures. Another civilization that burned itself out. Still not that uncommon.
But once a probe was sent down to radiodate the structures, an existential panic rippled across the galaxy. The species on this planet had reached its peak billions of years before any previously known intelligent life forms had evolved.
The electronic devices of this civilization had long since decayed. However, above the floating wreckage of orbiting satellite fragments (and one Tesla) was the final testament to the human race. Shielded from radiation, preserved at near zero degrees Kelvin, its data structure was intact. The information was stored in a format to be read by any civilization.
“We have failed.
“We have failed our own interest, assuring our mutual destruction. We have failed an even greater calling. A calling to spread to the stars. To spread life and vibrance across the night sky.
“We were reckless. In our race to the future, we derailed. Greed, envy, and above all, intolerance, were our undoing. We were not worthy of the stars.
“Our world lays smoldering. In our final gasp, we choose to breath life into the aether. We spread packets of single celled life to the most fertile planets. May this seed a life form better than ourselves. One worthy to inherit the stars...”
One by one, each warring races across the galaxy made a pilgrimage to “Earth”. To the genesis of their race, of all races. A common ancestry bound these disparate races together. A common threat, met by their progenitor race, served as a warning to would be warmongers.
A golden age of prosperity rises from the fertile ashes of the humans empire, may they rest in peace. | It had been twenty years since we had received the first communication from intelligent life. We knew we weren't alone, but, perhaps in our own hubris, we had assumed we were the most advanced. Interstellar communication, though, was something we wouldn't have even considered.
That message had changed the course of our history. Warring factions united, and countries bound together to achieve one purpose: space travel. As a species we had united under that one task. Of course, the message had been completely indecipherable, but after analyzing the tone, we found no reason to assume hostility. Still, as a defensive measure, they picked a very odd couple to embark upon this expedition.
I was an intellectual at heart. I'd studied languages and communication for my entire life, but I hadn't limited myself. Over my life, I'd earned a rapport as one of the best architects and engineers in my planet, and I'd taken up a hobby of gardening. With all of this, I suppose I was a logical choice, but I was still dumbfounded when the World Government approached me - a relative nobody to them.
One of my companions, Kharr, was a tournament winner every sport, as well as a skilled warrior. Of course, he wasn't the typical thoughtless solider - he had also studied construction materials. To round off our group, we had a scientist, Aida.
After twenty years of world peace and collaboration, they had chosen their representatives. The three of us were the group to whom they entrusted the all-important First Contact. Inherently, the mission was dangerous, of course. We could have misinterpreted their message in hundreds of ways, and it was very possible that it was a war cry or a warning in general. However, if we landed, we were tasked with making contact and hopefully establishing a relationship. This species surely had a surplus of information to teach, and our job was to just be the ideal students.
Even after preparing for the mission for the past decade, I felt completely terrified as I sat in the Rest Chamber. We were set on an automatic course to take us to the origin of the signal, which we'd traced to a planet nearly three billion light years away. With the collective intelligence of our greatest minds, faster than light travel had become possible by harnessing nuclear reactions which allowed manipulation of atomic mass in the ship's core.
"Are you ready for this?" Nalshir, the head physicist, asked me. The other two had already been laid to rest, but I was hesitant. As the captain, I felt as though I should be awake for the travel, in case something went wrong. However, they'd explained to me a dozen times, that the chambers were specifically designed to defend our bodies from the pressure of massless travel.
"No," I laughed, shaking my head sadly.
"I'd question your sanity if you were."
"Let's do this," I nodded. Taking one more deep breath, I laid back into the chamber and watched the door close over me.
I didn't dream. That was the most striking part to me, as strange as it may be. The sleep, however long it lasted, seemed instantaneous. The moment the door closed, it opened once again. My first thought was that the mission had been cancelled, or that they'd forgotten to give me a crucial piece of information. As the chamber opened, I expected to see Nalshir's face, but I was greeted with an empty ship.
&#x200B;
(Sorry, my stories are running long today! Part 2 is in the comments) | 2019-08-13T16:22:41 | 2019-08-13T15:42:34 | 32 | 19 |
[WP] The legendary hero that we summoned to save the realm was not what we expected. He was gruff, not handsome. He direct in his speech, not elegant. He also came with "Navy Seal Training," which we think is some sort of swordplay and a "Medal of Honor," which must be some sort of crown. | "The ritual was completed successfully, your majesty. The kingdom is saved!“
“You've done well, and bring honor to your House. Pray, when might I meet this man? This legendary warrior?"
"I regret to inform your majesty that he has... declined to present himself to you. Belligerence runs deep in him, it seems."
"I suppose a paragon of bravery fears no king's wrath. What can you tell me about him?"
"Actually, your majesty, he has requested I deliver to you a message detailing his credentials."
"Oh? Well, what are you waiting for?"
"It is... Not a conventional curricula vitae. And despite my scholar's review, some of the terminology seems to have a different meaning. Such as "graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals". We guess this may be a college of nautical warfare run by selkies."
"Hmm. The skills of the selkies could certainly be useful. Does he fight with a harpoon? A trident?"
"Extensively trained in unarmed combat, yet is capable with all marine weapons, your majesty."
"Interesting. Pray, let's cut to the chase and read his message."
"Yes, your majesty. Though please be understanding that his dialect is most curious and may not convey precisely the same meaning as our word choices."
"Yes, yes. On with it."
"At once your majesty. For context, my first question to him was 'Are you, the hero, prepared to meet the King?' His response: 'What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know...'" | The night was dark. The enemies where at our gates. Thousands of eons of war and bloodshed had lead up to this very moment.
What was left of our country’s scientist, generals and politicians had banded together. Cast aside previous political and social boundaries and banded together for a common cause. This was our hill to die on.
Not much was left of the human race. Not much at all. For the past decade we had been forced to scavenge this wasteland for whatever desperate resources we could. But here, in the capital, people from all seven continents had gathered. The greatest minds of a generation had come together. And finally humanity had a glimmer of hope.
Was it alchemy? Was it science? Genetic engineering, inter dimensional fuckery or something else or together?
Someone knew but not I. I was just there to press the button.
The countdown began and slowly the portal sparked into life. Waves of power surged through every man in the control room, shaking us to the core. And from the shivering, pale blue light emerged a figure.
He was... he was short. And kind of ugly too to be honest. The greasy beard lining the bottom of his round and spotty face was really the only thing that separated his head from his. His waddled through the portal slowly, donning a long black goat, fingerless gloves and small wire framed glasses. His breathing laboured.
“General! We must have messed up the numbers! This can’t be right!” I said as I turned to around to face the room.
“Dear god Robert this was our last cha-“
The general’s words where cut off with a swift clank. I turned back to face the portal to see a katana embedded in my computer console.
Then he spoke....
“What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.” | 2020-11-10T19:13:31 | 2020-11-10T17:46:17 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] You are seen as a weakling. To prove yourself to your tribe, you enter the dragon's lair that even the hardiest warriors avoid. Amused by your challenge, the dragon takes a human form and duels you with a sword. After disarming you three times it says "come tomorrow and try again." | It’d been a full day of hiking to reach the precipice of this mountain and I was winded, breathing heavily, and sore from the climb. I left before first light and the sun had now passed mid-day. About 6 hours had passed and I needed to eat. It seemed foolish to stop and have a quick snack before entering the dragon’s lair but it’s not like they didn’t already know I was there. Dang it, I deserved to eat after being covered in sweat, dirt, bramble, bugs, and I don’t know what else. I quickly chewed on some bread and cheese. Practically choking when I heard a voice.
“I haven’t watched a human willingly approach and stop to fatten up before being eaten.”
I jumped and pressed myself against the mountainside, seeing a very bored dragon. Their massive head was lazily resting on a foot at the cave entrance looking at me with mild disinterest. My reflection in their amber eye felt unnerving, like it was the first part of me being eaten.
I’m a rambler. When I’m afraid I ramble. In my fear I began to word vomit, “I’m here to prove myself to my tribe.” I knew they didn’t care but kept going, “That I’m not scared, that I’m useful. That I can bring honor to everyone. I want to prove I’m brave and strong. Going to your cave seemed brave and like it’d prove myself to them. I thought if -”
“Enough,” the golden beast roughly sighed. “What, little man, did you plan to do once you got to my cave? Slaughter me for the riches? Parade my head around your town for the honor?”
I fumbled with my sleeves a little before answering, “Well… I hadn’t thought it through really. I know I’m no match for a dragon. I’m not a warrior, magician, or anything special obviously. On my way here I thought maybe I could sneak past you and get a couple pieces of treasure and that would do it.”
I heard the dragon snort… with laughter? Disdain? "You know very well it's impossible to separate a dragon from its hoard." Quickly their head retreated into the cave and I heard some scraping on stone as they moved their monstrous body. I knew I was going to die anyway so I walked to the cave entrance out of curiosity. Before I was there a sword was at my throat and the most striking human I’d ever seen stared down the blade at me. No. It was more than a human. Their large Amber eyes radiated power and authority. Their short black hair framed high cheekbones and a beautiful jawline while hiding not just pointy, but spiked ears. Every feature was more than noble, with traits all humans would envy. Their limbs were lithe and strong, unlike the dense muscles of laborers I knew. They were covered with barely any skin showing in light supple leather with reinforcements of dull scale at strategic points.
With a blank face the Warrior commanded “Draw your sword,” in a voice smooth as honey.
I did as I was told, shakily brandishing my sword and holding it with both hands. I'd never been able to hold it long because of how heavy it was. They gave it the tiniest of thwacks and it went flying from my hands. If I wasn’t scared enough before I was now.
“Retrieve it.” I rushed to do it. “That is not a two handed sword. Lift it with one.” It was heavy and my arm shook from the effort. “Now come at me.” I swung in an arc downward at their empty hand, hoping the momentum and weight would help me. It did... too well. Too well in the manner that the Warrior stepped aside and let it continue to the ground. Before I could get my balance they kicked the sword away and I fell, covering myself in even more dirt and bruises than I already was.
They went and sat on a stone by the entrance and looked at me indifferently with their bright amber eyes. “Why are you standing there? Go get it.” I grabbed the sword with one shaking hand and warily moved in closer. The Warrior now barely glanced at me as they surveyed the the mountainside.
“You’re rather loud. Walk on the balls of your feet. And breathe through your nose - it’s uncivilized to breathe through your mouth.” I stopped and felt like I’d never get enough air breathing through my nose but did as I was told. Then I adjusted my steps to move on the balls of my feet. “Better. Now come at me.” The Warrior remained seated, not even looking up. I went closer and a little behind before going to stab. They knocked my sword aside like a toothpick. “You changed your walking. You went from the balls of your feet to planting your heels as you went to stab me. Wait here.” The Warrior stood up and walked inside the cave. As they passed I registered they were a full head taller than me, and I'm not particularly short - 180 cm.
I heard movement and rustling and clanging of metal being dug through, then the sound of scales scraping rock. I had a hard time not looking but no longer wanted to welcome death too quickly anymore. I knew now I didn’t want to die. A few minutes later I heard the loud throaty sigh of the dragon and more movement of metal. The dragon’s massive head once again made its way out the cave entrance then examined me once again. It brought its foot out and laid a small bag at my feet. “This should prove your bravery tonight. Come again tomorrow.” The dragon assessed me once again then rested its head on its foot to continue watching the world below. | “Once again our crops burn, even as we speak we wait for their flames to be doused. Last year was a travesty, but a surplus in stock gave us ample time to slay the beast yet here I stand with bellows of smoke in my eyes to a crumbling kingdom! Once a great nation, its citizens the wealthiest in the land of Astharnia, a haven of hope for those that dreamed of it. Now? Look at our once great city, its buildings crumbling and its shops barren of produce. All for one, individual, single beast. WHY, I must ask, Garlot, is the beast still alive? Why does it STILL rule over us with an iron wing? I thought I sent my armies to defeat it? Are you telling me the best men in all of Astharnia are not enough to take down 1 foul, ugly beast?” I looked at my brother, Prince Garlot of Hayle and watched as a bead of sweat draped down his cheek. He muttered some excuse, something about betrayal, a garrison run amok, the dragon, a beast so humongous it rivalled the size of the very mountain it resided in.
“- as we slept, my King.” The king looked at Garlot with deep drilling bores, silence washed over the room like the shadow of a dragons wing.
“As. You. Slept?” The king retorted, Garlot gulped, he had never been scrutinized so much in his life. He was their top general, the kings son, born to lead. Since the moment he could grasp a sword he had trained with it from dusk till dawn, by the time he was old enough to walk a mile he had lead an expedition over the very mountain the dragon resided in and taken back a village belonging to the kingdom of Hayle. Many more successful marches came after that, many other kingdoms attempted to lay claim to Hayle, to cripple it. None came close, not with Garlot under the kings behest.
Then there was me, the princess of Hayle, daughter of King Ardon, though that name did not do me any favours, quite the opposite in fact. Only a meagre 3 years younger than Garlot I had been tasked with house chores, since the moment I could grasp a mop I had mopped with it from dusk till dawn, by the time I was old enough to use the stairs I had carried a bucket of water up them and cleaned the floors of the upstairs. Many more successful chores came after that, I made my maid proud, she congratulated me at every corner, I was a star, the best of the best, I could clean the palace kitchen in under an hour, a feat not known to any man or woman before me. None came close, not with me under the kings behest.
“Yes, my King.” Garlot replied, his voice almost cracking, his teenage years were almost over yet his voice threatened to challenge his manly pride with an ever-emasculating shriek.
“What?” The king responded in disbelief, “Are you trying to tell me the men under YOUR command fell asleep on the job? That they were not quick enough to sound the alarm? That they couldn’t distinguish a giant flying pigeon in the sky and ring the bells of battle!?”
“My… my king, it is not as easy as… it… it is black as the night. Its wings so big its beat distinguishes the flames of the torches. The… my men were taken unaware. By the time I awoke half the… half the garrison was alight, not one bell had chimed.”
“My King.” The king commanded my brother to say.
“I… I’m sorry, my King. After that he… she… it moved to our fields, and just as we were prepared it had already burned our lands to black and flew back to its nest, it was over in a matter of seconds… this beast its… it’s too powerful my King, we MUST send for help. Right now it is just toying with us, the moment it gets bored, there will be no more toying, just death… my King.” Garlot stared through his fathers eyes, his thoughts with the grim future.
“Send more help!? HA! We are the kingdom of Hayle! Undefeated for centuries! Perhaps even millennia! We have provided for ourselves since the day the kingdom was founded, not ONCE have we asked for help, it would be utter humiliation and defeat should I do such a … weak move.” My father stood out of his seat at the idea of such a pitiful idea and almost spat on my brothers face, who stood more than 6 feet away.
“Once they see what we are up against they will understand my king, this dragon is… not normal my king.”
“Not normal?” The king asked.
“Yes, it is smart, it knows what we are trying to do. It knows how to bring us to our knees. Every time we launch an assault it leaves its home and destroys half our men, like a warning… I fear for no resolution. Except that of asking our close neighbours for…”
“NEVER! I will NOT repeat myself again! We will NOT be asking for help! From anyone! NEVER!” The kings voice boomed through the king’s chambers. People at the back stood uneasy, fearing that his voice will somehow hurt them. “You say this thing only attacks when we do? What happens if we do nothing?” He asked. Before Garlot could answer the king started to cough profusely before holding a handkerchief to his mouth, he looked at it with a grumbling grimace before quickly tucking it back into his pocket. We all knew it had blood on it, we all looked concerned but not enough to press him about it. We knew better than that, my brother on the other hand… he showed no change in emotion, his facial expressions remained emotionless.
“Nothing? My king?” Garlot asked eventually. “Then it will continue free reign over our crops, just as it did to prompt our retaliation, to do nothing is not an answer my king.” The king sat on his throne, brooding over what appeared to be a tricky situation.
“We send someone.” He said with a calm but commanding voice. “We send someone to it’s lair, quiet as a mouse, find where the foul beast slumbers and they drive a sword into its head. An army makes too much noise, if we cannot do this the honourable way then perhaps we have to resort to more… dishonourable tactics.”
I watched for a moment as my brother contemplated his new orders, send someone to drive a sword into its skull as it slept. Not the bravest move she knew but if it meant her people stopped dropping dead on the street corners then it was enough.
“A good command my king,” Garlot said after contemplation, “Whom should I send?” He asked, he expected no specific individual to be requested by the king but he asked nonetheless, out of politeness.
“I will go.” I spoke, no, I shouted. The whole room gasped, nobody expected me to say that, nobody expected me to say *anything*. I would usually stay in the corner, hidden from more ‘important’ eyes and keep my mouth shut, only there as a formality. Garlot looked at me with a slight turn of his head, his focus still on our father.
“*You?*” He said with disgust. “You’re a girl, what could *you* hope to do to a dragon that an army of Hayle could not accomplish?” | 2020-12-01T09:38:34 | 2020-12-01T06:36:28 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] "The Lord has foretold every nanosecond of existence. Every moment from the big bang to the second coming was decided before time itself by the will of heaven." The angel looks around, crystal eyes blinking in confusion. "Except this. We have no idea what the fuck this is." | I slowly but carefully put down the pen of my drawing tablet, with a click onto my desk.
The angel, leaned closer to my screen. I am not sure i would have described him as pure white, as much as he seemed to emit light. His wings were beams of pure sunlight, yet they moved just as wings should.
He looked closer at my screen. I was not ashamed.
"Is that?"
"Sonic-"
"And thats?"
"Knuckles"
"Are they...."
"Yeah"
The angel fell to his knees and threw up, out of sight.
He reached a hand behind his back, where a golden and white sword lay strapped in a scabbard.
As he drew it, he vanished from sight.
I heard his voice behind me:
"Nothing Personell, Kid" | In the light that burst through the clouds, an Angel descended upon the fountain in Hyde Park. The luminous, sparkling angel stood out in the dusk. Stood out from the other creatures of the night that readied themselves to fly in the night sky.
The Angel creased its perfect shimmering brow. It moved its head from one side to the other. Then it reached into the white robes it wore and produced a book. A black, leather-bound book. The light from its pages illuminated the Angel's perfect, shining face.
A finger ran up and down the pages, looking for something. A page was flipped, then the finger roamed over it furthermore. After about fifteen minutes of this, the Angel looked up. Looked around. And then it spoke.
"The Lord has foretold every nanosecond of existence. Every moment from the big bang to the second coming was decided before time itself by the will of heaven."
There was no one around to hear that sermon, but the Angel continued.
"Except this. We have no idea what the fuck this is."
More silence. The Angel was embarrassed, it had said *fuck.* But no one except the Lord had heard that and the Lord was merciful indeed. Or so the Angel thought.
From the fountain came a low roar that sounded like the laugh of a terribly old man. But it wasn't a man. It was a dragon, a water dragon.
The dragon rose from the waters of the fountain, took shape as a long snakelike thing with four little hands, two great horns, and a large crocodile-like snout.
"You think your Lord's the only one that exists, don't you?" the dragon said and laughed. "You do not know of this because your Lord hasn't written it down. This is our Lord's work."
"Your Lord? You want me to believe that there's another Lord?"
"Another Lord? There are many. I am the Jade Emperor's vassal. There are others. There are Buddhas and fire gods and forest gods and wind gods and gods of sun and gods of the moon."
The Angel stared at the dragon. Its eyes wide open, jaw hanging loose.
"Don't look so surprised. Move with the times." the dragon said and laughed at the Angel.
The Lord had never told the Angel about other gods and other lords and creatures of the kind that stood before it. The Angel felt betrayed and was about to take the lord's name in vain when a heavenly light transported it back where it came from, the Lord's kingdom. Heaven.
(Join r/kid_r0cK for more stories.) | 2020-12-20T07:20:54 | 2020-12-20T06:01:23 | 258 | 62 |
[WP] As a survivor during a zombie apocalypse, you're unwillingly being protected by a vampire coven because you're their only sustainable food source for miles around. | I am Hope.
That is, at least, what the vampires have decided to call me. I used to be Melanie, but it’s been years since anyone has called me that, so I just go by Hope now.
The vampires call my name as my cage passes in the darkness. I can see their eyes peering from the shadows, glinting unnaturally in the moonlight. It reminds me of the way my cat used to watch me from the fence, a predator in the dark. My breath is mist on the cold night air, but as they pass, I cannot see theirs. I don’t know if they’re dead, not fully, but they’re not alive, either. The zombies don’t hunt them like they do me—it’s almost impossible for me to lose the tail of z once one’s found me. Thankfully, the vamps don’t like the idea of sharing, so it’s not much of a problem anymore.
I don’t know how many there are in the Coven; I can’t keep track. I’ve only been traveling with them for a few weeks, but so far, none have touched me. None are even allowed close to the cage they’ve got me in, except the ones leading the wagon the cage is strapped on. I don’t know why they’re saving me. They’ve found other humans since they caught me, ones not zombies yet, but they just ate those guys. I thought they were going to save them, too, but no. Just me.
We only travel by night. The vamps can go in sunlight, but they don’t like it. It makes them weaker, irritable. They fight a lot more, and some end up dead. We only travel in the day when we have to, when theres a big hoard around, and the zombies are impossible to avoid. The vampires leave no survivors, aside from the ones who are tainted. Those they don’t eat—they don’t get sick from the virus, but they hate the taste of it, apparently. Maybe that’s why the don’t touch me.
The vamps are fascinated by my bite. I know why. I survived. For the first year I tried like hell to find someone to tell, to let them know that hey, I might be immune. But then I nearly got killed again, and again, *and again*. And so, I stopped trying. But the vamps, when they found me that first night, it was the first thing that they saw. A bite, *a scar*.
“Hope,” they’d called me.
At least someone has some, now. | Gertie braced herself for the vampiric embrace—the piercing of fangs into her arms. She always thought that they would prefer the neck, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Hers? Throwing herself into vampires, because at least they, unlike zombies, could think before they eat. Them? Drinking from the arms rather than the neck, because it was less tempting to suck her dry.
She watched the pallid—even more than usual—visages of Talia and Rowan, gaunt and sharp like fresh-cut diamonds. Talia pulled herself up from Gertie’s left arm, her raven hair a dark contrast to her skin, but her once-crimson eyes flickered and faded like dying candlelight.
“I’m really sick of eating the same thing,” she grumbled.
Rowan, tall, dark, and once handsome, now approaching anaemic, put down the right arm and spoke softly.
“We do not have the privilege to choose. Unless, of course, you want to nibble on a zombie.”
“You know I hate slow food,” Talia’s eyes rolled towards the sky, as she hissed at the particular injustice of it all. “But then, I hate fast food too. But this? This is junk food.”
“Hey,” Gertie protested weakly, with as much effort put into it as the supposed trembling and screaming the vampires had demanded of her. Such urging had been vigorous initially, but had slowly died down as all three of them died down.
“Save your strength, Gertie,” Rowan said. “You must replenish your blood. So you can replenish ours.”
“It’s really weird,” Gertie laughed, her light-headedness throwing her into a trip to the nearby stars. “I can’t believe this. This is how I survive.”
“It’s how we do too,” Rowan whispered.
“There has to be another human out there,” Talia grumbled. “We can take them. Bring them in. And we don’t need to share any more!”
“You know it’s those damned zombies that cause problems,” Rowan said. “Measly humans are no match for us.”
“Again, hey,” Gertie said. “Humans are cool. Zombies are baaad. Vamps? Ehh.”
Talia looked like she briefly considered lashing out and hissing, but the mandate of ‘conserve all energy possible’ was difficult to surpass for what was essentially a show of intimidation. Instead, she settled for a weak swipe at Gertie’ shoulder, and missed by about a mile.
“Eh. Eh?” Talia growled. “I’ll show you eh.”
“Stop threatening our fountain,” Rowan sighed. “Look. I get what you mean. We can try hunting for humans. One night, alright? Draw all our strength, and use it all in one night.”
“Nooo,” Gertie said. “You guys are supposed to be smart. That’s a terrible idea.”
“Know your place, human,” Talia said, strands of ebony hair falling over her face, and her eyes ignited for a brief moment.
“You know it’s not going to work,” Gertie said. “You guys are just asking to die.”
“Maybe,” Rowan chuckled. “And maybe you’ll find a friend. That might do you good.”
“It is decided,” Talia said. “We are going to try.”
Gertie tried to protest, but the lips parts and the tongue rolled, but she heard no words from herself.
The vampires had decided. Gertie watched them exit the door. Against her better judgement, she hoped for them to return, perhaps from another human they snared. Or another person that made the same call she did, to play the odds so stacked on either side that she could barely even attempt to roll the dice.
The vampires did not return.
Gertie laid there, always in shade, whether it was sunlight or moonlight that graced her presence. She thought about what was her next move. Like a tempest, existing questions swirly around and around, while new queries dropped into her head like clutter.
She found that she had exactly zero answers. She threw herself into the vampires, but the creatures of the night were no more.
*It might be better if I lose my mind,* Gertie thought. *And perhaps I won’t find myself this tortured any longer.*
She had decided. Was she of sound mind? Most probably not.
But she did not want to think about it.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-11-06T12:38:49 | 2021-11-06T11:55:44 | 233 | 110 |
[WP] Turns out the devil is quite sweet to children and charge less when children make deals with him | My first time writing since I was a kid. Be gentle.
--
Charlie frantically looked between the Open book and the pattern he drew on the floor, worried that the door could open at any time.
Hearing footsteps, he paniced, realized that it was now or never, and lit the last candle.
A scalding heat, a flashing light, and Charlie knew only the void.
---
Brenkog was not unreasonable. His only job was to make deals with mortals and collect their souls. After centuries of this gruesome work he had given up on mortals. They always wanted more. *More money, more power, more love*.
It's hard to find sympathy for the greedy. That's why it was such a surprise when he was summoned by a child.
Brenkog knew immediately that the young mortal frozen in time wasn't like most he dealt with. This child wanted more, but his want was tinted by desperation. Fear.
Brenkog noticed Charlie's hollow cheeks, stained by tears, and tracked his eyes to the open door.
A man, fully nourished. A belt in hand. shirt stained with water.
Brenkog knew that he had to take a soul for every deal he made. So his eyes, portals to immortal flames traced the man. And he smiled. | "Morning, love!" I open my eyes to see Urrick.
"Am I ungrounded yet?" I mumble.
Urrick chuckles. "Yes. Lucifer decided you've been punished enough. You're ok now." He kisses my cheek and I proceed to get myself out of bed. Before I can do anything else, however, I find myself being summoned.
I'm in a child's bedroom. My summoner is a young boy, about seven I'd guess. The summoning circle is made of various toys. I guess he just heard about summoning's without understanding how they properly work.
I remind myself of Lucifer's instructions. 'If a child no older than ten summons you, you are NOT to take their soul, you'll need a different sacrifice.'
"Hello young man" I say gently. "How can I help you?"
"Please get me this game machine and this game! My mum says we can't afford them!" The boy shows me a couple of pictures. Easy enough.
"Of course. What will you give me in return?" I scan the room, using my abilities to sense how much each thing means to this child. Heh, a first art project. Very sentimental, clearly. "What about that?"
The boy shakes his head. "I worked so hard on it! It's not pretty, but it was the first thing I ever made! Can't you just take my soul?"
"No. I'm not allowed. I need to take something else, and it MUST be important to you." I cross my arms.
The kid scans the room. His eyes settle on a beaten football. "I guess I can give you this... I'm no good at football..." he picks the spherical item up.
Looking at it, I soon realise that, like most boys, this guy loves football, but I sense a nostalgic sadness - he must deeply wish he were better.
I nod, take the football, then clasp my hands together until it shrinks. As it vanishes to await its owner, I summon the console and game into my hands. I open them and pass them to the boy.
"THANK YOU! THANK YOU SO MUCH!" With that, he's gone, leaving me to go back and report to Lucifer.
It's good to have my freedom again! Well, if you call being a demon 'freedom'. But I'm glad I got to help the kid out.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This story is a part of my series, [To Love a Demon.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/xqefwu/to_love_a_demon/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! | 2022-12-09T07:00:21 | 2022-12-09T04:45:52 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] The villains finally managed to defeat the league of heroes. But unbeknownst to them the league did not exist, primarily, to fight them, but to keep an even bigger threat in check: you. And you are about to demonstrate to the villains what happens when there is no one around to stop you. | I sat calmly, watching the wards on the floor flaring and dimming with power. Another day, another fight, it would seem. I looked around my prison vault, bored and hungry. Normally I'd been fed by now, it must be a big fight for the Heroes to be so distracted.
Suddenly the runes just winked out.
"Well, isn't that interesting?" I whispered to myself, mind churning with the implications. Then the building shook.
The huge vault door rang with a massive impact, then another, the steel and adamantium reinforced concrete around it cracking and deforming, dust swirling as it fell. Another impact and it fell in with a flat boom.
Five figures stood in the doorway. Well one was floating but I digress. "Hello." I said pleasantly, no need to be rude.
The frontrunner, a massive meat slab of a man, stalked in menacingly, "Where's the treasure?"
I stood, an unassuming average looking man in a gray jumpsuit. "There isn't any. Not in here. Just me."
The muscle bound brute loomed over me. "I'm Trajan The Fist and that's-"
"Oh, I'm so sorry to interrupt but no." I said.
He hesitated and looked back at the others, as if for confirmation. "Excuse me?" He drawled, dangerously.
"I don't want to waste my time with the names of the dead. You clearly killed the Heroes, which means I'm free." I gestured at the black runes. "Which means you're already dead."
He opened his mouth to speak, his face turning red with sudden anger and I punched him in the chest. With a gruesome crack, my hand plunged through his flesh and bone, and I wrapped it around his heart. I yanked it out and took a bite as his eyes registered confusion, a brief instant of fear, then nothing.
He toppled sideways and the others belatedly started to react as I advanced purposefully, still eating his heart. One gestured and a searing gout of fire spilled from his hands. I easily sidestepped it and closed the last few feet, clubbing him in the neck with my forearm. His neck snapped with ease, and I slipped by his corpse to the next before he fell.
She had a staff of some strange material surmounted by a gem, and with a concentrated look, she hit me with a wave of invisible energy. I suspect it would obliterate a normal man but all it did to me was blast the heart from my grip.
I grabbed her staff by the gem and squeezed. It shattered with another blast of invisible energy and she shrieked in terror as I grabbed the floating guy by the ankle as he made some magical gestures. That might work, magic has always been good against me. I swung him forcefully into the ground and most of him splattered like he had jumped off a skyscraper. The last one tried going super speed and for a moment I let him believe he had this.
Then I snatched out his throat right as his punch was about to connect. He staggered past me, confused until I suddenly moved just as fast as he had to punch through him and rip out some vertebrae.
I casually dropped them as I advanced on the staff woman. She dropped to her knees, blood spatter across her face and the expression of terror stealing any claim she might have had to beauty.
I raised my hand to bisect her then noticed something. I sniffed deeply and she flinched, begging and crying. "Your powers are gone. It was the stone, not you." I mused, half to myself and half to her. "You may go, human."
She whispered, "What the fuck are you?" As I pulled the speedster's heart out of his corpse to eat.
I smiled at her, "I'm the Anathema. I eat superpowers. Warn the others I'm coming if you want. It won't matter." | The defeat was national news within minutes, international by the end of the hour. The villains had finally managed to work together and bring down the big league heroes that guided the world towards a grander future and now even the small heroes were being swatted like bugs. It was difficult to watch as the newsfeed continued 24/7 but there was one individual who couldn't care less. At least, until it became personal.
For Dennis this was just another day as he was vaguely aware of the world events. It wouldn't be long before the heroes rose up again as they always did but when his handler failed to show up for their scheduled appointment he took notice. It wasn't like her to miss their appointments even when they were purely professional. He waited for a moment longer but as the minutes became hours he started to get anxious and asked a waitress to borrow her phone. She was perplexed at first but obliged quickly as she saw the determination in his eyes. He thanked her before checking the recent news and he frowned as he learned what had happened, the phone breaking in his clenched hand. He offered an apology before handing it back with compensation.
He went over the news in his head as he walked down the street outside, his friend and lover had been taken by a local group emboldened by the disappearance of heroes. She had been beaten and left on the verge of death hung up by her cape in front of a church, crucified and clinging to life desperately. It was a mockery of everything she had stood for, the defeat of Celestia.
Dennis sighed deeply as he turned down an alley, the world was scared and it didn't matter to him. People barely went outside if they didn't have to and he was grateful for the peace it brought, an era of silence replacing the constant bustle of the city. Now though, now he had reason to bring the world to heel and restore the previous order.
Dennis wasn't much to look at though, at first glance. A man with a long, unruly beard and long hair, his hair graying but still streaked with the red locks of his youth. He barely stood six foot when he didn't slouch but his eyes still held his confidence and now the fury of a rage held back for decades, the embers burning bright once more. As he walked down the alley he stretched and stood tall, the gray in his hair being replaced as the vibrancy of his rage brought renewed life to his life. He looked up and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath before jumping, leaping out of the alley to the roof of the building before him.
==========
Crimson Hornet laughed maniacally as he beat the fallen hero before him, his nemesis Ultra Sun. Hornet had decided that he would keep the leader of the heroic league as his personal punching bag when his own league finally beat them as a reminder that heroes were not infallible. He held the hero's head up to look into a camera broadcasting the torture live. "All the world knows you're nothing now. Do you have anything to say to them?"
Ultra Sun breathed heavily in the momentary break, tears flowing freely from his eyes. He had been broken days ago and could no longer hold out a strong appearance against his foe but he refused to give up hope still. "Believe that heroes still exist!"
Hornet growled and resumed beating Ultra Sun, infuriated by his hopeful remark. There was a crash as he started kicking the hero that brought his attention away from his fun. A man had broken through the wall, large chunks of concrete at his feet as he dusted himself off.
"Hornet," the stranger asked as he walked forward, his red mane coming into view. "Did you have *anything* to do with Celestia's defeat?"
Hornet was taken aback as he stepped backwards, stumbling over the fallen hero to fall onto his ass. "You.. You're supposed to be dead! How!?"
Dennis walked forward calmly before noticing the camera pointed at the two men. He tossed a small pebble from his beard and broke the camera, cutting off the feed. "Well, that will certainly have people talking about who has come back from the dead. Now, answer the question. I don't have time for you if you aren't involved and you do remember, don't you? I'll know if you dare to lie to me."
Dennis gestured towards his ear before crouching down, not paying attention to the hero at his feet as his eyes focused intensely on Hornet.
Hornet stuttered off a response that he had ordered the hit on all heroes, no matter who they were. Dennis sighed and nodded. "You realize now that was a mistake, don't you? Come here, Hornet."
He didn't give the man a choice as he grabbed the front of his costume and lifted him up to his feet before carrying the man to the broken wall. "Look at what you've made. I would thank you for not what your order has caused by hurting a dear friend of mine. Now, unfortunately, your regime will fall and the world will no longer be this peaceful. Perhaps fear wasn't the right kind of peace but it was nice while it lasted."
"Wait, please! You said *hurt*, not kill! Right!? Let me make it right!" The villain pleaded before screaming as he was tossed out of the wall, falling down the steep cliffside to the ground below. His venomous powers and strength worth nothing against gravity.
Dennis turned to face Ultra Sun and nodded before leaving, a silent promise that the world would be returned to what it was. Ultra Sun smiled faintly, fear replaced by his own hope once more. He wouldn't be able to help but he was confident now that things would change. After all, heroes still exist.
---
Read more of my work on r/wraithwright
(It has been a while but I'm returning now) | 2022-12-09T10:19:39 | 2022-12-09T09:37:15 | 323 | 126 |
[WP] A lone Spanish soldier lost in the deep jungles of South America stumbles upon the fountain of youth, but it's very different than anyone ever imagined. | I can't believe my luck, such a beautiful fountain. Here where I'd least expect it. I step in. Just to cool off from the heat. To clean up. I feel so wonderful! It's indescribable! My years have fallen aside and I'm young again. Really? Could this actually be happening? Wow! It's incredible! Amazing! I may just be able to hike back to civilization. To my friends. Family. As I step out, I feel older again. Maybe a little older than I was before. Perhaps a longer bath is required. Young again, I bathe! ... Out and older still. Back and young! Out, and older yet again.
I'm in the fountain.
I can't leave the fountain.
I'm very, very hungry.
Damn. | Noise.
Faint. Off in the distance, noise. Well, it was not like there was an absence of noise, the endless numbers of fauna that surrounded him swathed him in a constant wash of noise. It was this noise, however, that was not of nature. Repeditive, like a cricket, yet much slower than the ones he was used to hearing at home so far away.
*screeaaaak........ skreeeaaaaak......*
With a hand on his rapier, he slogged along the dense forest floor towards the sqeaking, with each step the sound coming more and more distinct and sounding like the rusty hinge of a chorale of doors.
*screeaaaak........ skreeeaaaaak......*
In the canopy above he could see a circular clearing above, and see a break in the foliage ahead. As he nears the edge a new sound emerges. A beating, like the pant and bark of some enormous dog that no man ever lived to tell about. Peaking through the leaves, he sees a sight that was unfathomable to his mind.
Black. Shiny. Towering high above him, this giant monster raised its head to look towards him, causing him to fall back in alarm. Yet as he scrambles to his feet again the beast merely drops its head down again. With each nod, it screeched once as it panted continuously. A strange beast it was, with a large rounded head, a spiny midsection that sprouted from the ground, and a weird beating leg that slowly rose and fell with its head, a set of wheels spinning as if they were some giant heart. It seemed leashed to the ground, pulling up and down on an immense chain that seemed affixed to a box on the ground.
It seemed pained, with each screech a gush of thick black blood burst from its head as it beat its eternal struggle with its chain. Perhaps he would save this beast, for its immense size would help him with traversing the jungle in search for gold. Approaching the beast he noticed that unlike blood, this fluid was not drying. Simply it flowed along the ground and collected into pools where he could see the fur and feathers of countless animals embedded into the goop.
He knew not what drove him to taste it.
Three days later, his sergant found the body of an infant half imbedded in the tar next a pile of camouflage battle dress with a rifle leaning against the pumpjack alongside a ceremonial sword. What kind of sick joke the private was pulling on him on this oilfield security detail he did not know, but he'd whip his ass when he found him. | 2014-09-06T21:02:45 | 2014-09-06T20:32:59 | 58 | 12 |
[WP] "Please come with me. You are suspected of being involved in a murder. As victim." | **Reading Comprehension**
"I'm sorry?" I asked the policeman.
"I said, please come with me. You are suspected of being involved in a murder as the victim."
"You do realize you're talking to me."
The policeman pulled up his pants so they covered more of his belly, then spoke slowly, as if I was dumb.
"Yes, sir, I do."
"So officer, how could I be a murder victim if you're talking to me?"
The policeman didn't miss a beat. Clipboard in hand, he was unstoppable.
"Look," he said, "it says right here. You are a suspected victim in a murder. Murder is a capital crime. Therefore, it is necessary for you to come to the station."
I tried a different tact.
"Officer, murder means someone was killed, right?"
"Yes," he said, nodding.
"So if I was the victim, I would have to be dead."
"Yes," he said, "go on."
"I am talking, therefore I am not dead."
"Ok."
"So I'm free to go?"
"No," he said, "you have to come to the station."
"Listen," I said, angrily, "I'm not going with you! This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever been involved in! I cannot be a murder victim if I'm talking to you! It is infinitely more possible that I am the murderer than the murderee! Literally infinitely!"
The policeman's eyes opened wide. His jaw dropped, and a wad of chewing tobacco fell out of his mouth.
"Get down on the ground now!" he said, suddenly pointing a pistol at me.
I got down on the ground, wondering what had just happened.
"Dispatch," he said into his radio, "we got him. We got the murderer."
Fuck.
"But," I said, "if I'm the murderer, then who's the victim?"
The policeman handcuffed me, wrote something on his clipboard, then showed it to me. It said: "Victim: James Smith. Murderer: James Smith."
"The wheels of justice turn slowly, Mr. Smith, but they grind exceedingly fine. We've got you on both counts. I hope they put you away for a long time."
*Written with affection by Stranger_andStranger* | The doorbell rang, its familiar melody drifting into my ears as I lay on the couch. As I sit up straight, my body moans, its painful muscles protesting the sudden motion. I couldn't remember doing anything physically exhausting yesterday. My sleepy, incoherent thoughts are interrupted as the melody rings again. Groggily I stand up and shuffle towards the door. Two loud bumps as someone knocks on the door, with an accompanied ''Hello, Mr. Read?''. I mumble a ''Yeah, one second!'' as I slide open the lock. I leer through the small window at the side of the door, but I only see two silhouettes of men in suit through its figured class. I slowly open the door.
''Ahem, yes, hello, Mr. Read.'' the man at the left starts, as he removes his sunglasses. ''We are with the FBI. We have some urgent matters to discuss.''
''Uhh..'' is all that comes out of my mouth.
''If you allow us.'' he said, already past the doorstep and motioning his body past me. I stand dumbfounded as his colleague follows him through the hallway towards the living room, leaving me alone in the hallway. I squeeze my eyes together as I try to remember what could have possibly resulted in two federal agents standing at my door. My reverie is interrupted when the second officer appears at the end of the hallway and asks me to come inside. I close the door while I exhale a little bit of air through my nose. *Funny how completely normal it sounds when an agent invites you to come in your own house..* I think as I shuffle back to the living room.
The first agent, a balding man in what I assume is his late forties, packed the small wooden table with a thick layer of files, red confidential and secret stamps all over them. He gestured me to sit down, while the other, younger officer, started to explain what was going on.
''We are sorry to interrupt your day, sir. But there's an unusual...situation with your persona. We have reason to believe you were killed, yesterday. Or well, murdered. Anyway, you are...alive.'', he stopped, as if he had trouble believing what was coming out of his mouth. The older agent looked at him with a small frown and he hesitantly continued. ''We have footage and eye witnesses seeing you cross over 14th street towards the train station. A white SUV screeches around the corner with high speed, and as the windows come down extremely loud bangs resounded through the streets as multiple AK-47s fired at you. You seem to fall down and the car rides off. We found that vehicle abandoned and ablaze twenty minutes later at a small sand road. Either way..''
The older officer took over as the end of the sentence lingered in the air. ''I guess you agree this is a rather peculiar case, Mr. Read? We have extensive proof that you have indeed been shot yesterday night, your blood was smeared all over the pavement and on the side of the barber shop. What you are thinking right now is probably: How am I still alive? Is that correct?'' He stares at me, waiting for any reaction.
I have no words, no thoughts, no expression. I stare blankly into nothing, my hands are sliding over my body, and suddenly the unexplained pains this morning are making sense. Or well...more sense. I regain my train of thought.
''I don't really understand it either, uh...I can't really remember anything about yesterday.
''We understand, Mr. Read, and that is why we are here. We expected this memory loss, and we are here to inform you about what is going on with you. I can assume we have your full cooperation? It's in everyone's interest that we are able to explain the situation in the best way we can.'' A steaming mug of coffee is placed in front of me, as the younger agent puts down another at the other side of the table. He then puts his own in front of him and sits down.
I nod.
''Good.'' the older agent says. ''Let me introduce you to project Rejuvenation.'' | 2015-09-17T05:25:58 | 2015-09-17T04:46:12 | 88 | 27 |
[WP] Once a year you switch bodies with a random person who is best in the world at a certain skill. You can't change back until you discover what this skill is. You've been changed for a month and are starting to get worried. | It had been six months. Janney had tried everything she could think of to test this body's skill. As far as she could tell, it had terrible muscle memory, was not athletic, and was, in fact, completely uncoordinated. She had played every video game, tried crossword puzzles and Sudoku. The body killed plants. Animals hated the body. She had tried driving, shooting, cooking. You name it, she tried it. She had even, in a moment of desperation, cut the body and given it stitches, which had sucked. The stitches were terrible and came apart within minutes. Have you ever tried to give yourself stitches? Poke, faint, cry, poke, faint, cry. Awful.
The body was bad at sex. Janney didn't even know that was a thing, but there it was. The body was bad at math. The body was awkward in nearly every situation. The body was a terrible speaker, and an even worse listener.
It, apparently, had a "job" where it "worked from home", but best Janney could figure, it logged into a mainframe and then surfed the internet for 7 hours. Even *that* the body did badly. "I like to tape my thumbs to my hands" Really, body? *Really?* The body took a one-hour break for lunch, of course, but all it did was grab a dry, turkey sandwich and sit back down at its desk. The body wasn't even any good at looking after itself, often forgetting to bathe or eat or, you know, change its underwear. Honestly, it was the worst.
The body had one thing going for it. It had a lot of friends. Despite no discernible talent in any field, its phone and email were inundated with invitations. "Let's hit the bar!" "Come to my dinner party!" "Come to my wedding! I am sitting you with my mother in law. She will just love how charming you are." That was the funniest one, because the body was not, in any way, shape, or form, charming. When the body tried to charm, it offended or scared, not enamored. The body was entirely inept.
The latest event was a singles mixer. The body had been invited, yet again, though Janney was hard pressed to understand why.
The body spent three hours fumbling for conversation, spilling its drinks, and tripping over its own two feet. People literally backed away from the body, at times, so desperate were they to stop feeling defeated in their attempts to engage. Janney wanted to scream at them, "You did fine! You did better than most! It's not you, it's the body!" That evening was the final straw.
Janney gave up. She had resigned herself to never knowing the body's one great gift. She decided she would enjoy it. She would kick back and watch the show, no more looking for the escape hatch. In a way, the body made her feel better about herself. Next to the body, everyone else was all right...
*Poof*
(Love, Sincerely, The Body) | 6 months. That’s how long James had been trapped in this old man’s body. Every waking moment was spent methodically searching through the cluttered house, trying to find any clue as to what modicum of talent the old bastard possessed. It wasn’t singing — these lungs had long since closed up from years of smoking, evident from the pervasive reek of cigars in the house. It wasn’t anything to do with athletics. James needed a cane just to move around, and the creakiness of his joints suggested decades-old joint replacement. He even lost a couple games of checkers to an equally-as-old man at the park.
7 months. James was really beginning to get worried. He could feel his body degenerating. Every night he would wake up in a fit of coughing. The blood on his sheets suggested this 85 year old capsule was degenerating. He had to find a way out. There had always been a way out.
10 years ago James was sorting through his high school graduation gifts — microwave for his dorm room, money from his aunts and uncles, a new computer. But the strangest item he received was an alarm clock from someone named “Uncle Victor.” He didn’t know of an Uncle Victor, but wasn’t too surprised, his parents were both Catholic, after all, and he had a bigger extended family than he knew what to do with. The alarm clock was strange in that it was counting backwards from 24 hours. He spent a little while trying to figure out how to set it properly, but there were no buttons or dials, not even any batteries, so he set it on his bedside table and forgot about it.
The next day James was again in his room searching through Facebook for his new college roommates, when he heard a sudden buzzing from his bedside table. He turned towards the clock, but as his eyes made contact with the clock he felt a sudden jolt. There was a temporary pain throughout his body, and a blinding white light that made him shield his eyes. When he opened them again he was walking through a tunnel he knew well. It was Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland. He had been to games here with his Dad when he was younger. As jarring as the sudden supernatural change of scenery was, it didn’t take long for him to figure out who he was. For a brief time he was able to experience the power, vision, tenacity of his generation’s greatest basketball player. During a time out after a particularly vicious dunk, James muttered to himself, “Holy shit. I’m really Lebron, the best basketball player in the world.” A flash of light, a brief moment of pain, and he was back in his bedroom. This time the clock read 365 days.
It had been a wild 10 years. Every year James had been given the chance to try out a new extraordinary person’s life out. He occasionally lingered a little longer if he particularly enjoyed the life he inhabited. He spent 2 weeks at NASA because of his love of science. A month as the best table tennis player because he had always wanted to spend time in China. Other times he wanted out as quickly as he could. The worlds fastest stenographer was only interesting for a few hours. When he wanted out he always knew what to do, and what to say. The key was to announce to himself that he was “the greatest” or “the best” of something.
This time was different. What was he the greatest at?
8 months. James knew he was racing against the clock. Every day he debated going to a doctor to try to save the body that was holding him prisoner. But he was convinced he could find the solution before this cancer, or whatever he was suffering from, took his life. He wasn’t even 30 yet and certainly not ready to die. He knew he would find the answer.
------
James walked up the familiar creaking steps and gave an exaggerated knock on the door. There was no answer, not that he had expected one. He lifted the flower pot on the window sill to retrieve the key. A quick turn with his youthful hands yielded a familiar clack and strong odor of cigars. There was something a little more offensive in the air. The acrid scent of death.
Without bothering to move past the entry way he lifted the phone receiver and dialed 9-1-1.
“I’ve just discovered my- my Uncle Victor, I think he’s ill. Oh God I think he’s dead. Please send an ambulance. 23 Cedar Drive.”
He put down the receiver and turned his attention to the bedroom down the hall. He casually stepped over the lifeless body on the floor, bent down and retrieved a dusty shoebox from under the bed. “I’ll be needing you in about 50 years,” he said as he placed the alarm clock in the old box and carefully tucked it away.
James approached the bureau and pulled a box of cigars out of the top drawer — his favorites. He grinned at himself in the mirror, examining the smoothness of his visage like a work of art.
“Victor, my old man, you’ve done it again.” He took a pause to sniff of one of the cigars. “You truly are the consummate survivor.” | 2016-09-26T08:33:17 | 2016-09-26T08:24:47 | 33 | 17 |
[WP] "So what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button in, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty." | Just got a short one I thought I'd share.
I pressed the button down confidently, its smooth surface becoming rigid as it locked into place, steel manacles locked around my hand to hold it in place. The door that I entered in had disappeared as I walked
In. But another door appeared as I pressed the button.
The lady next to me smiled, while I tugged at my hand, trying desperately to free it.
She finally spoke again "thank you for that dear, my hand was in the same place until you pressed the button to get in here. But as much as I'd like to see you trapped here for as long as I've been, I have 100 years of lost time to catch up on"
She made her way to the only exit, woefully out of my reach.
I called out to her frantically "wait! I'll starve! You can't leave me here"
She giggled and stopped, not turning around as she responded. "The room won't let you die, you'll just... exist. It's dreadfully boring most of the time but you'll just have to wait. Someone will show up eventually, 40 years if you're lucky, more if you aren't."
She smiled and left the room, flicking a switch on the other side of the exit to seal me inside, ignoring my shouts and pleas for help.....
It's been around 84 years since she left, I'd like to forget her but the room won't let me, she fills my thoughts, all I can say is I'm glad my left hand was trapped, it allowed me to distract myself occasionally.
But I digress, today is a momentous occasion, my hand was freed from the button, it made a little popping noise as it reset.
The door slid open and closed behind the new entrant.
I greeted them. Copying the woman's words exactly.
"You can press the button, nothing will happen...." | I couldn't remember much about the night I spent with her except for that little silly button she had in the wall, and the weird sound she made when she climaxed. The whole thing was a mistake. Dana would kill me if she knew. She would literally shot me in the head with her service gun. But I couldn't resist that strange woman charm. I don't believe any men could.
I was heading down to the reception to check out from the hotel when she met me in the corridor half naked asking me with urgency to help with a broken tap that was flooding her room. Strange how suddenly an architect like me found the urge to be a plumber at that time of night. I fixed her plumbing alright, although we ended up flooding the room anyway. I never cheated on Dana, but that night, for some reason felt justified. It felt like a well-deserved compensation for all the headaches she gave me for not having kids. Why is she giving me shit for not having kids? It's not like I'm not trying hard enough. It's not like the bills for all the doctors she visited to fix "our problem" wasn't costly enough. "You don't want them, that's why we don't have them." was her theory. Why would me wanting or not wanting kids have anything to do with any of it. Yes, I don't want kids and I'm glad that we don't have them, but that doesn't give her the right to turn my life into hell. I've got nothing to be blamed for.
When we were done plumbing, me and the weird woman in the hotel, I asked her about the button. A black round button that was on the wall behind us, right above our heads. "You don't have one in your room do you?" she asnwered with a question. "No." I confirmed. "Well, it does nothing really." she said. I pushed the button in. "It's when you let go that things get nasty."
I didn't have enough strength to keep holding that button even if I wanted to. And why would I? It was certainly a silly joke, from a silly girl, in this silly one night affair. I wake up in my bed next morning. Dana was already up and running around the house like a headless chicken to prepare herself for work. I saw her take off her clothes as she walked into the room and started searching the wardrobe for the new day style ingredients. Her naked body looked beautiful like always. Her well-rounded ass, her arched back, her silky hair. And the stretch marks on her belly? Wait, I didn't remember seeing those before. "Baby, what's up with those stretch marks?" I asked. She looked at me and giggled, as if the question was humorous teasing. It wasn't. I swear I didn't see them before.
She put her clothes on and turned to me "Don't forget to pick up the kids from school at eleven am." she said. "Wait, whose kids are we picking up?" I asked as I sat up straight. That giggle again. She shook her head and left the room. Then she shouted from the stairs "Eleven AM." I fell back into the bed. I must have been too drunk last night. We must have got introduced to some new friends who got kids and somehow blessed us with the task to pick up their kids from school this morning. As I turned to the left, I saw the framed photo of me and Dana on the nightstand, along with three kids. Two boys and a girl. "What the fuck?" I exclaimed as I stood up again and held the photo in my hand. "Wawawait. What was the room number again?" I asked myself. | 2017-01-05T13:49:11 | 2017-01-05T13:30:21 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] You own a magical camera that is similar to a thermal camera, but instead of heat it shows you value. A ring glows as bright as the sun while a piece of plastic wrapping is almost invisible. You have been careful never to look at a person with it for your whole life. | I found it at a thrift store years ago, this small little camera that has changed my life. At first I wasn't sure what to make of the bright lights I saw in it, but slowly came to realize they showed the value of things.
It wasn't always monetary, sometimes it was value in a current situation, or value in the future. For example, if I was starving after a long day unsuccessfully searching yet another garage sale for valuables, a turkey sandwich in the fridge gave a nice warm glow.
I walked through the aisles of the thrift store, eyes pressed against the two viewfinders. The occasional soft glow turned my head, but I wasn't about go on another eBay adventure, searching down the one person who would buy a rare Russian children's toy.
I looked through the entire store, but nothing particularly stood out. The Kitchenware section in particular looked like shelves full of see-through ghostly objects. Well, let me take a second look at this grandfather clock, see if there's anything inside that would--
"Hello, do you need any help?"
Absentmindedly I swung to face the voice, camera still stuck on my face. The light that filled my vision...it was encompassing. It was if I stood on the surface of the sun and stared downward.
I had a brief view of the most beautiful face I had ever seen: dimples that curved in a perfect way, soft eyes that crinkled at the edges. A sight that was quite literally burned into my eyes...but just for a moment.
The next moment, all was black.
I blinked.
Still black.
It didn't hurt. It didn't sting.
I swung my head from side to side, hoping for even the briefest shimmer. But no, nothing. I was blind.
My head spun, and the camera fell from my hands. With an awful crunch, it hit the floor on its corner, cracking the casing and shattering whatever delicate mechanisms lay inside.
"Oh no! Oh god! I'm so sorry!" The voice cried out, "I didn't mean to startle you! Oh no, it looks like I really...oh wow I'm sorry. Are...are you alright?"
I stood, stunned, "I... I can't see."
I bent down, my hands scrambling for the camera. Maybe I could reverse it. Maybe I could make all this right.
"Here, let me help you." A pair of hands touched my own as I reached the camera. Warm, caring hands. My fingers gripped the sides of the camera hard, bending the metal casing.
"I'm so sorry." The voice said again, the hands squeezed my own.
With a deep breath, I released the camera, and gently took hold of the pair of hands. The warm, caring hands. If I concentrated hard enough, I could still see that image burned into my head. I smiled.
| Mary's fingers were wrapped tightly on the baseball bat, her brown eyes red with tears. She stood atop John, who was sitting still on his leather couch, eyeing the bat in Mary's hand.
"I want you to leave this place," said Mary. "Right now, you lying bastard."
John shifted in his sofa, his silk suit rubbing against the expensive leather of the couch. "I'm not leaving my own place, Mary," he said, standing up. "It isn't easy getting a penthouse, and I am not keen on giving it up. But you very much are welcome to."
John walked over to the kitchen and grabbed the scotch bottle from the counter. He set down two glasses on the marble top and began to pour.
"You lied to me," she whispered. "You told me you were running a retrieval business for luxury items. And I believed you! I should have known you were a liar. Even before we were married!"
He stared at the scotch, wanting the liquor to wash away all of this madness. John was in fact running a retrieval business for luxury items. But he was also the one stealing them. When a magical camera tells you the value of any object, it's only a matter of perseverance to steal the object and re-sell it to the owner.
"How can you be so calm?" Mary pushed. "The FBI are coming for you."
"Why are you still here? I thought you would want to leave."
John picked up his glass and downed the 100-year old scotch in one swift motion. He didn't need to think straight anymore. The ruse was up. There was the only the matter of saving Mary.
"I had nothing to do with your schemes. With all your blackmail!"
Mary dropped the bat to her side, running her fingers through her hair. Tears welled in her eyes.
"I just can't believe it," said Mary, her voice scratchy. "If I had known *this* is how you made all that money, I would've left then and there."
"No, you wouldn't have. We were living in the slums before this. You would have been happy to leave."
"I don't know how you did it, but did you even care to think about me before you started all of your lies? Did you ever think about telling me the truth? Did you care about me at all?"
John dropped the glass hard on the table, cracks appearing on its clear surface.
"I did all of this for us! All of it!" He gestured to the penthouse, to all the expensive decorations Mary had picked, and he had paid for. "You were perfectly happy spending all of my money. You don't get to be pissed at me now!"
Mary stared at him with an open mouth.
"You will get out of this safely," he said, picking up the bottle and filling the second glass. "I have made arrangements with some friends. The FBI can't hurt you."
Mary gritted her teeth, her knuckles white where she gripped the metal bat.
John sighed. "Now just take a drink." He pushed the second glass closer to her. "And just calm down."
With one swing, Mary smashed the scotch bottle and the two glasses. John flinched as the pieces of glass flew at him, and the scotch painted the walls behind him.
"I hate you!" Mary shouted, redirecting the bat to the marble countertop. "I wish I had never met you!" She smashed the fridge. "You only cared about the money!" Her last swing connected with John's shoulder. He dropped to ground with a grunt.
"Fine then!" he shouted. "Leave! No, I never cared! Just save yourself and go!"
Mary dropped the bat, wiped the tears from her face and walked away from John, leaving him writhing in pain alone.
Later, in a car, Mary rummaged through her purse. She was making sure she had everything she needed to leave the country. She found a photo tucked inside her passport. She squinted to see the photo in the moonlight coming from the car's window. As far as she could tell, it was a silhouette of her, but the picture was highly contrasted. She could barely make out her figure glowing bright orange and red, the colour so intense that it overwhelmed the background. She guessed that she was looking out the window of John and her's bedroom, but the orange and red blurred most of it. Shrugging, she placed the photo in her purse.
"We can leave now," she told the driver. "I have everything I need."
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
If you like this story, you should subscribe to [r/JasonHolloway](https://www.reddit.com/r/JasonHolloway/) for more!
| 2017-01-15T10:16:08 | 2017-01-15T10:13:14 | 199 | 54 |
[WP] 'I can freely enter this hollowed ground,' the demon said to the archbishop in horror. 'What have you done?!' | ######[](#dropcap)
Kreffing, Tormenter of the 63rd Sub-Level of Hell (not to mention Gnasher of Teeth, Bringer of Nightmares, etc.), paused at the entrance to the sacred burial ground, and reflected on the unfortunate nature of the night's business.
It was not that he wanted to be here, of course. A demon would never *want* to act this way towards a colleague.
But times were tough. Tenured Tormentor-ships were in short supply in 21st century Hell. Not like the good old days when demoning was a solid career choice - when a Tormentor-ship meant a cushy lifestyle of long lunches, afternoon naps, and the occasional damning.
Unfortunately, the gig economy had not left Hell unscathed. These days it was hard to find work as a Tormentor that wasn't seasonal. And the pay! Kreffing shuddered. He couldn't remember the last time he had been able to afford a good Cuban and a well-aged bottle of Scotch.
No, these days an up-and-coming young (if you counted 1473 years as young, which the denizens of Hell did) demon had to stand out from the crowd. He (or she, Kreffing mentally corrected himself) had to do something that put them on the map. Blogs were big, as were podcasts, but Hell's social media space had become rather saturated with shallow viral content, such the article he had groaned at on Buzzfiend this morning ('You'll never believe what these 22 souls did to earn damnation').
Kreffing had bigger plans. The best, and hardest, way to get your name out there was to prove one of the bigshots wrong. Kreffing had hatched and schemed for two centuries, and come up with what he modestly admitted was a masterpiece.
A few decades of waiting for the right mortal to come along, and here they were.
Kreffing edged up to the threshold of the burial ground, and gingerly poked a toe over the edge.
Nothing happened.
Kreffing almost danced with glee, but reflecting that such behaviour was unbecoming of a soon-to-be senior member of the Demonhood, he restrained himself to triumphant snarl.
He walked confidently over the portal, and made his way through the burial ground towards where the archbishop was saying a rite for a new member of the deceased, and tapped the man on the shoulder.
The archbishop turned and Kreffing smiled nastily.
"Hate to break it to you, old boy," Kreffing said, "but I've found a loophole in the whole hallowed ground business."
The archbishop gulped nervously, unsure what to make of the little man in the pinstripe suit and bowler hat, carrying a neatly furled umbrella and a spotless black leather briefcase, who had glowing red eyes.
"May I?" Kreffing said, and took the rite out of the man's hands without waiting for permission. "You see it says here-"
He stopped.
A cold feeling of dread suddenly spread over his stomach.
There was a typo.
"This is a rite for 'hollowed' ground," he said, not managing more than a whisper.
"It's just a spelling mistake," the mortal said nervously. "It doesn't really mean anything..."
Oh, how little these mortals knew.
"If I can freely enter this hollowed ground..." Kreffing trailed off, the implications of his mistake slowly dawning on him.
There was a large crash outside the burial ground. The demon saw two large legs appear through the doorway, each the size of a small elephant. Cloven feet singed the ground where they trod. Kreffing recognized the unmistakable feet of Jevellion, Supreme Lord of the 2nd Level of Hell, and namesake of Jevellion's Theorem of Hallowed Ground.
The very theorem that Kreffing had hoped to disprove tonight.
He stared at the archbishop in horror, his fear nearly as palpable as the man's. "What have you done?"
---
*Fortunately, [r/jd_rallage](https://www.reddit.com/r/jd_rallage/) is hallowed ground, so I suggest you take refuge there (but I'm biased)* | They gave me Lucifer's blessing when I was only thirteen years old. I was standing there with blood dripping from my hands, my eyes reflecting the fires on the other side of the portal. The body of my uncle laid at my feet. I tossed the dagger onto the floor. It landed with a clattering on the concrete.
"We have to get it out before it smells, sweetheart," my mother said, caressing my cheek. "The Prince of Darkness has your uncle's soul now. Your father will not be happy about this."
"It was Dad's brother we're talking about. So we're going on the road now? Back to Sin City? Or Italy? I liked Italy. The demons were so nice to me there. Asgaroth- man, he was-"
"Dear, I don't think you understand. You've opened the portal with Uncle Ken's blood. Lucifer is ready to bring you down to Hell with me now."
"What?! I'm going to Hell?" My eyes widened with happy surprise.
"Lucifer and Lilith will be so happy to see you. Lil is gonna give you the full tour of the Underworld."
"What about Dad?"
"We'll have some minor demons hold him off."
My father was on his way to Rome when I entered Hell. He could feel it. I could feel him feel it. I was sealed in there with my mother and my Auntie Lilith and Uncle Lucifer. I was safe from Dad and his holy water and the ugly, blinding lights of angels.
When I was six and Mom and Dad divorced, I didn't quite understand it. I just knew that Mom wanted Dad dead, and somehow this was perfectly natural and normal. Dad was scared of Mom, but held me tenderly as ever.
"You are a child of God, Tess," he said. "Don't let your mother tell you any different. I can't be near you any more, because I can't be near her."
"Why not, Daddy? Is it because she wants to kill you?"
"How do I explain this in a way you can understand? Well, Mommy tempted Daddy, and we lived in a house together and got married. We had a beautiful little girl- that's you! But Daddy had a vision from Jesus Christ that Mommy liked to hurt people because she was the opposite of Jesus. The Anti-Jesus."
"The Anti-Jesus Christ?"
"I can't say it."
"Why not, Daddy?"
His eyes streamed with tears. "Look, Tess. One day your mother will take you to a bad place with her. You'll meet very bad people. But you have to promise me, you have to promise me that you'll come back to me when you're grown."
"I love you Daddy."
"I love you too, Tess."
"So, *why* can't Mom just kill Dad and get it over with?" I was so confused. Lilith's pet snakes hissed softly. They wrapped around my pubescent hips and I giggled.
"Well, God made your dad a sort of walking holy space, so it would harm your mom to get near him. You know as citizens of Hell we can't enter any holy or hallowed space."
"Why not?"
"It's like poison. Just like holy water, because it's been sort of imbued with the essence of that disgusting, authoritative patriarch. There's a spell that can undo it, but it requires the sacrifice of a soul."
"Souls are hella easy to come by, Lil." I gestured around to the wisps of humans floating around me.
"Yeah, but it's not like your dad is gonna kill a man. Oh, and also, your mom had to get out because your house, being the site of a triumph over the Antichrist, is now hallowed ground. Your dad's an archbishop now, anyway."
"Cool."
Lilith gestured to the dark red glass of wine she held. "You've got to try this. It tastes great. It's made from Hell's grapes, crushed personally by tortured souls of rich vineyard owners."
"I'm underage!"
"Oh, sweetie, once you come of age you'll be immortal. Aging speeds up down here. Before you know it you'll be breaking every devil's heart. I'll give you some tips. Come on."
*Please, please. Lord, I need my daughter back. The Antichrist has damned my innocent daughter.*
**There is nothing I can do.**
*She is everything to me. I have followed the service of the Lord to run away from my cursed wife. She can't take my daughter away from me too.*
**Your daughter is out of the Realm of the Lord. Your wife cannot touch you. That should be enough.**
*WHY DIDN'T YOU SANCTIFY MY DAUGHTER TOO? MY TESSA?*
*WELL? WHY DIDN'T YOU?*
There was no answer.
Dad knew what he had to do.
He drew the gun from his robes and held it behind his back. Walking towards him was Marsha, the cheerful Sunday School teacher.
"I need my daughter," he told her.
"I didn't know you had a daughter," said Marsha.
He pulled the trigger.
There was no one around for miles. His hands were stained with blood.
"I have to have my daughter back."
Mom and I were watching. There was a smile on Mom's ruby-red lips. "You can enter the church now," said Lil. "He's defiled it with his unholy act." She held Lucifer's arms and they shared a passionate, lusty kiss.
"I'm looking forward to having him in bed again," said Mom.
Lucifer said a word, and I was there.
"Dad, come on." I tugged on his blood-soaked robes. "We can go down now. Mom is waiting for you. I'll be there. Come on, Dad."
"We're going to be together again?"
"Yeah."
| 2017-03-14T18:02:19 | 2017-03-14T17:37:54 | 36 | 14 |
[WP] A socially awkward man finds an old lamp that turns out to contain a genie. The man would feel bad ordering the genie around, and instead attempts to befriend him. This softens the genie's heart, and he keeps bending more and more rules for the man out of gratitude. | "What a great day, right?"
Jinn paused. "Yes, no one has ever taken me to a water park." At first, Jinn hated the place. After spending millennia in a desert, it seemed wrong to use so much water for *fun*. But one ride on the log flume changed his mind.
"I wish we had milk shakes to top it all off." Jinn cringed at the pain that shivered through his body. Every time Bill flippantly used the 'W' word, Jinn reflexively began to grant. Swallowing the magic that had begun to take shape was grueling. He'd held back so many times, he was beginning to feel constipated.
"Bill..."
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I wish I could remember!"
Dry heave. Eyes watering, Jinn held his hand to Bill's lips. He could feel his friend's frown take shape beneath his fingers. "What are we going to do?" Bill asked. Jinn had no answer. They both crossed their arms and stared at the ground.
Twice already Jinn had been unable to hold back. The first time had been the moment they met, when Bill declared, "I wish my mom could see this!" When Bill's mother immediately plopped on the floor beside him, she began to scream and would not stop until both Jinn and Bill placed their hands on a Bible. The woman thought the devil had brought her half-way across the country. A part of her still thought that when they drove her to the airport to catch a flight back to Mississippi. The second time came when Jinn got drunk and lost control. No master had ever let him drink before. Bill roared with laughter when Jinn coughed at his first whiskey shot. "I wish I was a light weight like you! I'd be a cheap date." Although accidental, Bill did not terribly mind the sudden disappearance of his beer belly. Jinn's slender form was a good one to model after.
But now only one wish remained. And they both knew what that meant. One more slip up, and Jinn would disappear forever.
"You know, when we were fishing yesterday, I had a thought. But I was embarrassed to tell you." Jinn looked up at Bill, whose gaze was still fixed between his feet. "I've never had a friend like you in my life."
Jinn chuckled, "Well, that's not embarrassing. Most people have never had a friend that grants wishes."
"No, that's not what I mean. I've never had a friend who listens to me. Who hangs on my every word. Maybe it's what you're programmed to do? Await a command? But it doesn't feel like it. It feels like you care." Bill looked up at Jinn, who slowly nodded. Bill was the first person he had ever really *talked to*.
"And I'm such an idiot," Bill moaned. "I know I'm going to mess this up." Jinn laughed at his friend then, hard, until Bill started laughing, too. Until they were both sitting on the ground, roaring up at the sky.
When Bill finally caught his breath, he said, "I just wish we could be friends forever."
Jinn's eyes went wide as he whispered, "Granted." |
Daryl was not trying to make a scene. He was just looking through the various trinkets that had been put out for the garage sale, that was all. He did not want to be the cause of any hullabaloo. All he wanted was to pick through the jewelry, in case he ever had a woman he wanted to give some to; to look over the stack of worn VHS tapes, because he liked spending evenings watching corny flicks on the old machine; and to catch his reflection in whatever mirrors and other burnished merchandise he could, because he could not keep himself from worrying that his hair looked stupid today, no matter how many times he checked himself out and reassured himself that he looked just fine.
The lamp was of burnished gold. Or at the very least of a metal that looked like gold. He leaned closer to it to see if he could catch his reflection to assuage yet again his obsessive, ineradicable worry. It had a layer of grime preventing him from seeing himself, however.
"Quite the little thing," said the young woman, whose garage sale it was. She was smiling brightly. Her sun dress fit tightly over her body, accentuating her pregnant belly.
Daryl could feel himself growing red in the face. He did not know how to respond. Quite the little thing, she had said. She meant the lamp, of course.
"It is," he stammered. "Quite the little thing."
He smiled awkwardly. He knew she could tell he was uncomfortable. He knew his uncomfortableness was making her uncomfortable too. He knew she knew he was thinking about how uncomfortable his uncomfortableness made her. Or at the very least he thought he knew these things, and thought the pregnant garage sale woman wanted nothing to do with a weirdo like him.
"Here's a rag if you want to polish it up," she said, tossing him a rag, still smiling brightly. Then she set to re-organizing some other things and walking about the tables, smiling and making small talk with the elderly couple who were arguing with one another about how much the painting with the boy in the boat was really worth.
Daryl took up the lamp in his hands. By polishing it he would hit two birds with one stone (although he hated that phrase, hated the idea of causing pain to any living thing other than himself): first, he would be doing the garage sale woman who hated him a favour by polishing up her merchandise, making it more saleable. Maybe then she would not hate him so much, after he had done her a favour. Second, he would be able to look at himself in the reflection, clear as day, and could thus make sure that his hair had not gone all stupid on him since he last checked two minutes ago.
Daryl began polishing. As he did the lamp began trembling a little. Like there was some little life wriggling around inside it. He put the lamp down on the counter but it kept shaking, more and more. He looked around, embarrassed nearly to death. The garage sale woman, the elderly couple, even a man who was walking his dog past the sale, all stopped and watched Daryl and the lamp shake and the little trinkets being shook from the table, crashing and smashing on the floor below.
"I'm sorry!" said Daryl, frantically trying but failing to keep things from falling. He snatched up the lamp itself and as he did it stopped shaking. Everything was silent. Daryl looked around to see all time paused around him. The people all frozen where they had been before. A picture-frame was suspended mid-air mid-fall. The world had a twilight hue, soft, violet. It was like he had stepped into a dream.
He looked down at the lamp. A little hand was pushing the lid open. Then two little arms popped out and set themselves on the sides of the hole. A little man hoisted himself up, and out. He jumped from the lamp and the moment his feet touched the ground, in a poof, he was as big as Daryl. He looked like a kind of phantom sultan. His arms were crossed. He stood proudly.
"So," said the genie. "You have summoned me. Because of the ancient law I have heeded your summons. We don't have to like one another. We don't have to speak one another. You don't have to act obsequiously to me, in hopes that I will grant you additional wishes. You get three wishes, no more and no less. And you cannot wish for more wishes. I am required to perform my duty, you are required, at your leisure, to prescribe me my duty. Nothing more, nothing less."
There were tears building up in Daryl's eyes. It had to be a mistake. How could he have gotten caught up in something like this? He had been minding his own business. He had been doing the garage sale woman a favour...
"So," said the genie. "Will you have any of your three wishes now?"
"I'm so sorry to have bothered you!" Daryl sputtered. Then he turned and walked briskly out of the garage.
---
Continued in the comments!
| 2017-08-24T15:39:46 | 2017-08-24T15:08:39 | 813 | 81 |
[WP] You are a mage. You can learn spells based on things you research. You usually use things like fire or being able to fly, but you just found a book titled Fundamentals of Quantum Physics. | The text was full of contradiction and impossibility, but the promise of its power was just too tantalizing. The ability to walk through walls? Being in two places at once? It was exciting beyond anything I’d read before, and it had just fallen out of the sky.
“Behold, the arch-Schrödinger,” said my cat, making a mockery of the ancient runic name for my profession. “Master of life and death, who fills the air with conjured lightning like he fills potion bottles with his piss.”
“For your information,” I spat, “it’s more efficient than getting up to shit in a box, and also I feed you so shut up.”
“Imagine,” he purred. “Having so little common sense that your cat has to point out that the bathroom is a few steps away from your desk.”
“Listen here, you little...”
I stopped. Bartholomew was dead. As soon as I turned to observe him, he just keeled over with no warning.
In shock, I turned back to the text for answers.
“Hey, are you listening to me?” Growled Bart.
Spinning around, I found him very much alive and well, licking his paw without any regard for his death and reanimation.
“How... how did you...”
“How did I what?” he muttered. “You haven’t been drinking that stuff, have you? I get that it’s quicker than walking to the sink, but...”
“Listen, that’s not important, you were just dead and on the floor, and then you came back to life, and... Bart?”
Bart was, once again, very dead. It was inexplicable.
“This book,” I thought out loud. “This book gives me the ability to instantly kill and reanimate cats at will!”
“No it doesn’t,” said Bartholomew, springing onto my desk. “I read ahead and found a hypothetical experiment involving dead cats. I’m just screwing with you because you’re leaving bottles of urine around my house and it’s annoying.”
He knocked one of the bottles onto my lap.
“Oh look, you simultaneously peed and didn’t pee your pants. Ooooooooo, spooky!”
I hate my cat. He’s a jerk and I think I’ll bend space to send him into one of those dark holes the man in the wheelchair wrote about. | It's certainly been an interesting year for young apprentice Abergine. It all started with that weird book he found near a cave. Abergine thought as he slowly made his way into a flash back. He couldn't make sense of the thing so he went to master Aven for help because he knew he can trust him.
"Give me that thing" He said while forcefully snatching the textbook out of his apprentices hand. "You might've ruined the dam thing" He started analyzing the cover slowly while his apprentice watches. "OFF WITH YOU. Go finish up sorting the scrolls or something." Aven said while waving him off. Abergine, with a defeated look in his eyes, turned and walked away.
Aven was absolutely encapsulated with the book. It looked magically bound, yet there was no trace of a magical signature. There wasn't even a magical footprint on the dam thing.
To a person in our plane of existence, the book looked like a regular textbook, but most people knew this book was beyond there understanding. However, to Aven, this book was obviously made by a powerful mage. Or even a skilled alchemist testing it's new materials. He has never seen a book clad with this.. this.. thing.
And how did my apprentice even acquire this book? He could't have just found it out in the wilderness. There must be a reason he found it. Someone or.. something must've placed it there for him to find it.
His mind slowly wondered to the gods. Aven thought it was honestly a bunch of bullshit, but maybe this was an act of the gods he thought. Maybe it was one of those Fea things. They're known to be tricksters, but nobody's seen one in millennia. The only reason we he know was because of his vast library.
Aven slowly made his way to his studies. In his path was the library in question. The bookshelf's were built into the wall and several stories high up with books neatly put into place. The entire library was made in granite with marble statues lining the halls in between the bookshelf's. Philosophers, Gods, Mages where all depicted in either statues or extravagant painting.
Aven walked past all of this without batting an eye. in fact he didn't even look up from his book. Has he approached the door he casted a simple key spell to unlock his study.
The study room was in adversity with the library. papers, books, and journals were strewn about the room. There was hardly a space for him to sit, but he slowly stumbled threw the mess to sit down in a hidden chair. Surprisingly though he remembered where everything was. Of course, he used magic. Once he sat down he took a deep breath and open the book to the first page and that's when the insanity begun.
Dear reader, I won't lie to you and say that I have even a basic understanding of Quantum Physics and unless you are in the field that uses quantum physics you don't either. However, Aven wasn't you or I or anyone from our plane of dimension. Using the cracks in the universe he increased intelligence using magic. As such, he can infer that he really isn't smart enough to grasp such a difficult concept, but he can still try.
Aven decided to take a small break to try and understand what he was reading. He honestly would've thought that this was written by a mad man if it wasn't for his current circumstances. Maybe it was written by a mad alchemist who discovered a way to make this material. He knew however that this book was too coherent for a mad man to make.
As time went on Avens health began deteriorating, but his understanding of how much he doesn't understand grew. He began questioning everything. He knew that he was missing a huge chunk of missing knowledge to have a chance at understanding the basics of such a thing.
He sat up from his study and began creating a plan. A plan that he knew may not even work or it might take decades to finally come into fruition.
Hey so this is part one and part two will come out tomorrow once i get some rest. CC is hugely welcomed.
Edit: I edited some parts to make the story more legible. | 2017-12-31T02:02:41 | 2017-12-30T23:11:14 | 313 | 57 |
[WP] Dwarves are notorious for their love of alcohol. One day a dwarf goes sober and discovers it grants them amazing powers such as being able to remember what happened the night before. | “So what happened last night?”
The question snapped him out of his racing thoughts, the elation that he can basically construct reality as he sees fit within the Dwarven community still fresh in his body.
“You lost a buncha’ gold betting on fights, Orwin, you shit gambler.”
That was not entirely true, but only he knew what really happened. He still could taste the anxiety as he feigned intoxication the previous evening while convincing Orwin to lend a portion of his fortune he was comfortable parting with instead of wasting it on bets to the underdog. When Orwin actually agreed he didn’t immediately decide to just pocket the gold - at first he was hoping to hold it until the following morning.
But as morning rolled around and the realization of what it actually means to remember last night hit him he began to restructure his thoughts.
Tonight was around the corner and he had a story to work on. | Libash was fishing. He loved to fish, even if other dwarfs would make fun of him for it. In the dwarven society many jobs were considered useless, but fishering work was considered one of the most. At least he did his job well, purging the life out of lakes and rivers in moments. He was able to feed the fortress for centuries, wat would be somewhat valuable if the food stockpiles weren't overflowing by the others crafts already.
But he did his job well, "better than the miners that dig so narrow passages; better than the oversser that designed so much many curves and long corridors in the fortress entrance, making the way down the fortress way longer than necessarie; better than the novice armosmith that was crafting such a poor armor that would make fighter prefer go to battle armorless; better than... oh, the pond is dead, my job here is finished".
Libash went directly to the entrance door, "let the haulers take care of the fish, I doubt there is barrels to spare storing it, it will rot as alwa..." pwe, the arrow went right by his head, he went runing to the door that was now locked. "fuckers let me outside to die" Libash knew that storie well. When a siege aprachs the overseer will make enormous effort to save the brewer, the metalsmith and even the engraver, but did less than look for the fisherdwarf that acctualy had a reason to be outside, even if there is enough time to let him in. He knew better than bash the door and wait for a response, he bolted right for the pond, the animals would distract the invaders and give him enough time to... drink, Libash was tirstie as hell, with no acess to booze he was subject to one more humiliation: to drink water out of the pond. At least it motivate him "I can not die know, water shall not be my last drink" and he drank, and drank and hided and waited. The goblins was now exchanging arrows for bolts with the dwarfs in the towers, the dogs were set loose and were made food for the beak dogs, are newly formed squad was heading outside of the doors, underequipeds and ready to die, "only a distraction" he knew, even if one soldier managed to survive the goblins, nothing would escape the warm bath. And it came, glowing, fast, under the pressure of the most experients pump operators, the gods piss killed everyone and destroyed everything except for the valuable metal armor. And it was done. The siege ended, he could only wait, wait for the magma to evaporate to gain acess to the underworld. It took more water and many raw fishes before he could entry the earth.
to be continued | 2017-12-31T08:11:53 | 2017-12-31T07:55:00 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] Dwarves are notorious for their love of alcohol. One day a dwarf goes sober and discovers it grants them amazing powers such as being able to remember what happened the night before. | "Magni, I think I'm on to something." said Wendel.
"And what is that?" replied Magni.
"Now hear me out, if you don't drink any alcohol the night bef--"
"Not drink any alcohol!?"
"Right, listen. You know how you can remember what you did this morning, aye?"
"Well, of course I can!"
"Of course. But, I think if you were not to drink the night before you could remember what you did last night all the same."
"Remember the night before? Aw, and who's got a brain like that?"
"See, I think we all do. And I think if we didn't drink for a weeks time we could remember the whole damn thing."
"A WEEK? You must have been drinking today!"
"Yeah, this morning I was."
"And how much was that?"
"I can't remember."
"I'll have a pint to that!"
| Libash was fishing. He loved to fish, even if other dwarfs would make fun of him for it. In the dwarven society many jobs were considered useless, but fishering work was considered one of the most. At least he did his job well, purging the life out of lakes and rivers in moments. He was able to feed the fortress for centuries, wat would be somewhat valuable if the food stockpiles weren't overflowing by the others crafts already.
But he did his job well, "better than the miners that dig so narrow passages; better than the oversser that designed so much many curves and long corridors in the fortress entrance, making the way down the fortress way longer than necessarie; better than the novice armosmith that was crafting such a poor armor that would make fighter prefer go to battle armorless; better than... oh, the pond is dead, my job here is finished".
Libash went directly to the entrance door, "let the haulers take care of the fish, I doubt there is barrels to spare storing it, it will rot as alwa..." pwe, the arrow went right by his head, he went runing to the door that was now locked. "fuckers let me outside to die" Libash knew that storie well. When a siege aprachs the overseer will make enormous effort to save the brewer, the metalsmith and even the engraver, but did less than look for the fisherdwarf that acctualy had a reason to be outside, even if there is enough time to let him in. He knew better than bash the door and wait for a response, he bolted right for the pond, the animals would distract the invaders and give him enough time to... drink, Libash was tirstie as hell, with no acess to booze he was subject to one more humiliation: to drink water out of the pond. At least it motivate him "I can not die know, water shall not be my last drink" and he drank, and drank and hided and waited. The goblins was now exchanging arrows for bolts with the dwarfs in the towers, the dogs were set loose and were made food for the beak dogs, are newly formed squad was heading outside of the doors, underequipeds and ready to die, "only a distraction" he knew, even if one soldier managed to survive the goblins, nothing would escape the warm bath. And it came, glowing, fast, under the pressure of the most experients pump operators, the gods piss killed everyone and destroyed everything except for the valuable metal armor. And it was done. The siege ended, he could only wait, wait for the magma to evaporate to gain acess to the underworld. It took more water and many raw fishes before he could entry the earth.
to be continued | 2017-12-31T08:17:48 | 2017-12-31T07:55:00 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] After thousands of years of space exploration, humanity has searched through the majority of the Milky Way. And they’ve discovered something scarier than alien life: the fact that there is none. | Since before *homo sapiens* diverged from our hominid ancestors, we have been social creatures. Our languages have many words for the people who, though not-us, are like us. Brother. Sister. Father. Mother. Family. Friends.
When we looked at the stars (They look so much like our own, you know...) we thought "surely...surely we are not alone. Surely there are others out there, so many others we cannot even count them!" We looked to the stars, and we saw our own reflection.
In the early decades of space-flight, when our crude chemical rockets first probed the cold star-sea, we believed. In the centuries that followed, as we hopped from star to star, spreading the seeds of humanity through the galaxy, we still hoped. As millennia slowly passed, and the mystery of the stars began to fade, we no longer hoped, but we searched even still.
What else could we do? We never *wanted* to be alone...
As thousands of years turned to tens of thousands, and then tens of thousands turned to hundreds of thousands, we still searched. We scattered among the stars, dust upon dust, and found no one; not even a memory of life to cling to.
Hundreds of thousands of years turned to millions of years, then millions to billions; we didn't forget Earth, or Sol, but they died, and when they died we wept, for we saw the end of the beautiful world we once called home.
All humanity watched in quiet anguish as the first Sun of our long life swelled a painful, angry red and swallowed the little blue ball that birthed us.
Never again would we walk a world that tried its utmost to end us. Never again would we struggle for food, shelter, or water. Never again would we see the yellow sun bleed and set into the vast oceans of that blue, blue world.
Never again; and though we did not forget Earth or Sol, we did begin to forget why we left, why we hadn't stayed and enjoyed a slow, peaceful, lonely death while we watched the distant, cold stars. We forgot the hope that we had once had, the exuberance that drove us to seek friends in the heavens, and we chose to fall once more to the surface of our empty empire.
We destroyed our ships, the great vessels that carried us in search of new company; we piled them in great memorials to our grand search, and we rested. We will not teach our children the secrets of the stars...we will not teach our children the despair of humanity.
One day, when their children's children have forgotten us, the remnants of humanity might find new hope, might take to the stars once more.
Or perhaps, when some empty world spawns life that sees itself reflected in the stars as we once did, they will go searching. And perhaps they will find us still slumbering beneath these few lonely stars.
We wait for you, friends. | I could hear static crackling in the control room ahead as I stumbled down the ship's corridor. The tiny lights above were as bright as suns, and they danced in slow, nauseating circles. I fell to my knees and vomited, my body jerking violently as I expelled a green liquid, a mix of bio nutrients from Cryo, onto the latticed metal beneath me.
Leon must have heard me because the next thing I knew he was at my side, rubbing my back and offering me a chrome flask.
"Drink, Sarai," he ordered. I tried to take it but my hands shook and my fingers couldn't grip it. Leon tipped my head back and pressed the mouth of the flask to my lips.
The orange liquid burned my throat as if it was acid; I wretched forward.
"Try again," Leon said patiently, wiping my mouth with his sleeve. "Small sips. Come on."
I nodded and took another tentative swig.
"You came straight here?" Leon asked.
With each sip I managed to keep down, colour began to drip back into my world. I became slowly aware -- almost embarrassed -- of my state. A green goo covered my body, reflecting and stretching the light that shone down onto me. I stunk of sweat and vomit and biomatter.
"Just tell me,"--I grabbed Leon's arm--"are the others back?"
Leon nodded, as he helped me to my feet. He didn't force me to the Reconstitution chamber, as I'd half expected, but instead led me inside the control room, an arm around my waist for support.
"Sit," he said, gently pushing me into his chair. I shivered as the cold sweat on my vest pressed against my skin.
"Just- just tell me," I begged. "*Please.*"
He took a long breath before speaking. "They've all checked in. We're the last. They've been waiting for us."
I nodded. It was to be expected. Our journey had been the longest.
"And have they..." I said, unable to finish the sentence.
"Sarai, I know how much you wanted this. That you felt humanity *needed* this. But remember, in the end it doesn't-"
"Just tell me!" I snapped. I didn't mean to yell, but my entire life had been dedicated to this project. To exploring the Milky Way. Hoping -- praying -- to find life. To find reason. To find *hope*. Everyone I'd ever known or loved, had lived and died when I'd been in one cryo or another, searching for salvation. I'd given everything for this.
"*Please!* I repeated.
He shook his head. "I'm sorry."
My body became numb and my shoulders sank. I felt all the remaining energy leak out of my body, despair enervating me. It had all been for nothing. Now we would add our report to the ranks of every other failed mission, and the world would finally know. *Humanity* would finally know, that they were completely and utterly alone.
"How can we tell them," I mumbled. "How do we tell them that this is all there is."
"It'll be okay," he said. "They'll understand."
For a moment, I just stared at him as if he was mad. Then I felt the hot tears trickle down my cheeks, as if my weariness itself was leaking. My shoulders began to shake.
Leon took my hands and pulled me to my feet. "Look," he said.
He pressed a button and a monitor that had been grey static a moment before, burst to life.
I swallowed hard and felt a shiver run down my back -- not for cold nor from sweat.
The planet we were approaching was still as vivid and beautiful as I remembered ut, despite the centuries that had passed. It still wore its beautiful green and blue clothing, despite all predictions. *My predictions*.
As I watched, an enormous vessel, the size of a country or more, left the Earth's atmosphere.
"Where- where's it-"
Leon pressed another button.
I gasped as another planet came into view. An orb of brilliant reds and blues. Tiny shuttles were too-ing and fro-ing from its surface.
"Is that..."
"Mars," Leon said. "Home to three billion people. So far. And it's not the only planet."
The screen changed again and again, showing more marvels than I thought possible. I felt a wonder I hadn't experienced since I was a child, gazing up at the stars and knowing - *knowing* - that our salvation lay out there. Somewhere.
"We're not alone," I whispered as I wrapped my arms around Leon.
I felt the warmth of his lips press down against my hair.
"We never were."
| 2018-01-05T10:23:26 | 2018-01-05T06:00:59 | 81 | 12 |
[WP] While driving you hit and kill a boy. You feel terrible, and at the funeral you tell the family you wish you had died instead of him. 3 weeks later, a new surgery comes out that can bring someone back from the dead at the cost of another's life. You hear a knock at your door. It's the family. | "Mr. Quinn, we know you're in there!" Hollered the voice on the other side of the door. There was more pounding.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I'm not doing it."
More pounding. "Mr. Quinn, you killed our daughter, just make it right!" A second voice, a woman's voice yelled.
"No. Fuck off before I call the police!" I yell. "I did my time already." Indeed, five years ago, I had swerved to avoid hitting a deer, and wound up hitting Susie Smith instead. Three weeks later, the first body transplants had become a thing: you get a donor body, then move the brain of the patient into the new body. Obviously, the donor dies in the process. Needless to say, the Smith family had been hounding me ever since I got out of prison.
"We've given you plenty of chances to make this easy. If we have to do the hard way, we will." Said the first voice, most likely Mr. Smith.
I looked at the meat cleaver I keep in the kitchen.
"I swear to god, if you come in here, I *will* add you two to the list of people I killed!" I warn them, brandishing the cleaver.
**THREE WEEKS LATER**
"Mr. Quinn, please open up the door!" Says Mrs. Smith.
"Just leave me alone" I growl as I walk over. "What is it this time?"
She pushes a piece of paper in my direction. "We have a court order demanding that you submit yourself to be a body donor for our daughter.
I snatch the paper from her hands and look it over. Blahdy blah, a bunch of legalese. "I see your court order" I say as I tear it in half. "And I say" I tear it into quarters. "Fuck." Eighths. "You" I scatter the pieces all over, and they blow away. "Without my explicit consent, you and your asshole husband can't do anything!" I grin at her. "I knew this day would come soon as they started body transplants,so I studied up on ethics and medical law. Have a good day!"
She doesn't budge.
"Look, if you don't leave, I'm calling the cops."
She's reaching inside her purse.
"Leave me alone!"
She has a pistol.
"Fuck." | To them it had seemed like the lingest of Shots, but to me... well I was trying to work up the courage to go see them again.they were here. They were asking. I was nodding my head.
I had taken a life. I didn't mean to. It was my first day on the road...
I hated myself. And yet I couldn't bring myself to end it. Or go outside anymore. Or talk to anyone. Or deal with this in any meaningful way. The only thing I could do was sit in my room and try and drown it out with T.V.
Then a news broadcast said to me "A Life for a Life. Medical science has fugured out how to bring people back from the dead."
They couldn't have died from old age, and to bring someone back it took a life...
"One more day." Was my response. And I took that one more day. I enjoyed life. I did what I'd always wanted to do. For one more day...
But now, the time had come. The "Philosopher's Stone" Surgery. Strapped to rhe chair, body impailed, machines doing... whatever they did, I felt myself ebb away, my existance, like my breathing, slowly coming to a halt...
I woke up in a room. It was a waiting room, like the one I had ocupied in the hospital. Was it a dream? Was I... The little boy I had run over 3 weeks ago sat across from me.
"Hi Mister."
"Hey Kid. I..."
"The Angels said I had to wait here. Do you know why?"
The kid didn't even recognize me... He didn't know.
"I think I do... It wasn't your time to go yet, and you're here because of me... so..."
He looked expectantly, as if awaiting some end to the tale.
"I came here to take you back to your parents... but I can't go back. Only you can... I made a mistake, and now I have to..."
"You have to face the Con-Cen-Quences!" He said, trying to sound out the last words slowly. "Because you did a bad thing!"
"Yeah, kid, I did." I put on a false smile. At least he got some of it... "Anyway, you're going back. Your mom and dad have missed you..." I stood up and took the boy by the hand, guiding him to where I knew he would be: My Operating room.
His body sat in the chair, lufeless and limp, but somehow no longer broken. I didn't busy myself with the details. I just told him to sit in the chair. "The Nurse and Doctor will be in soon to wake you up... this... is goodbye." It was goodbye to everyone, not just him.
"Mister?"
"Yeah kid?"
"Whatever you did, I forgive you."
Aaaaaand that was it. My body trembeling, I staggered out of the room. The parents rushed through me into the room, past my incoporeal body. I sank down, hugging my knees and sobbing. I couldn't move for minutes after that. He DIDN'T EVEN KNOW! For a solid half hour, I just laid there, sobbing on the cold hard hospital floor, because not only was I now dead, leaving behind nothing, but the kid actually thought I was enough of a person worth forgiving. "I'm not a person!" My 3 week old, or possibly longer, festering depression hit me all at once. "I'm worthless! I'm trash! I am not worth that kid's life! I am just a fucking--" "You are worth enough to trade for that child..." I looked up, and above me stood the doctor, now repeate with little angel wings. "The thing about this procedure is that it is a form of celestial Alchemy. Only a good man can bring back a good man, where as souls laiden with sin can only be used to bring back thouse either in Hell or Purgatory. So, wither that child was a monster, or you are worth his soul... and seeing as you did this because you felt true Guilt, I'd say ot was the latter... now... shall we see where you go next?"
He held out his hand, and when I reached out to take it... | 2018-09-16T18:47:29 | 2018-09-16T18:45:07 | 36 | 19 |
[WP] For your 10th birthday you received vr goggles. You tried them, thought they were dumb and went on with your life. Its only now, decades later looking back, you dont actually remember ever removing them. | My life was over.
My wife left me.
My boss fired me (and then hired my ex as his 'personal' assistant.)
My kids only cared for what I'd get them for Christmas.
I had nothing left. This world sucked. Who would ever want to live in it?
I remembered a time long ago when I was happy. The game world. I'd be travelling the world. I'd be killing wolves in the forest. I'd be making potions in the apothecary. I'd be competing in combat.
So I removed the Veearr goggles, and looked up at my father.
"You were right father, a peaceful world is just a dream that no one realises the consequences of. I'm sorry I doubted you."
My father smiled at me. "Son, how about we go do some hunting? You're old enough to learn Ice Storm. It roots AND does damage to the mobs!"
I jumped up excited again. Who would ever want to live in a fantasy world without monsters?
&#x200B; | The thought came unbidden. But there it was, lodged in between the intangible folds of his mind. He ignored it at first, yet the trembling of his rattling bones, and the fast, steady thrumming of his heart spoke of an ever-settled fear.
He was twenty now. It'd been ten years since he'd put on the goggles. Ten years of ups and downs, of friendships, broken hearts, and laughter.
But the thought, like a shard, twisted and interred itself deeper and deeper.
It would only take a swift, simple movement of his hand to confirm or destroy his suspicion.
But was it a suspicion? If it were a trifling, meager doubt; a silly thought, then why was he feeling such terror?
He knew what would happen when he reached for his eyes: the air would become heavy weight on the heel of his palms, and the lake, like a rising backdrop, would disappear, and be replaced with who knows what.
He sat on the edge of his bed. Drew a deep breath, felt the thrumming of his heart rippling through his hollow chest.
*Boom*
*Boom*
*Boom*
*Breathe*
Arms shaking, lips trembling, eyes twitching, he reached for his eyes--halted mid-motion, and gulped down the brewing fear materialized in the shape of scalding nausea.
And then he took them off.
His room turned into a forest of great pines. Their shadows fell upon him and the mud-covered log he was sitting on. The scent of dry pinecones, burgeoning flowers, and sundry berries billowed into his nostrils. They were clean, whelming, cleansing.
The autumn colors of the trees glistened upon his eyes, throwing red and yellows streaks over their black surface. There were so vibrant, so concise and palpable. They were so real, so beautiful.
*Breathe*
A tear meandered down his cheek, followed by an army of them. The fear knitting his insides turned into a wriggling, rising anguish that sped up the thrumming of his heart.
How much time had he lost? Where was he? Who was he?
Through teary-eyed eyes, he gazed at the googles in his hand. They were the root of his despair. No--no, that was not true. His stupidity, his lack of self-awareness was the issue, not the goggles. He'd spent half his life living in an unreal reality, and it was time he'd never get back.
But he was somewhere in that reality. Here, in the beautiful wild, with all his senses awakening from their dormant state, everything fit like the pieces of puzzle. Everything was too real, too tangible, too perfect.
It was a flawless puzzle, save for a lonely piece that used to fit, but didn't anymore.
And so, blinking tears away, he put his goggles back on.
The fear was gone.
-------------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn
| 2018-12-23T06:41:21 | 2018-12-23T06:04:41 | 42 | 23 |
[WP] Immortal monsters of legend have returned after lying dormant for thousands of years. However, the legends were made before guns were a thing, and the "immortal" thing was kind of overblown. | The problem with ancient languages is that many words don't really translate well into modern language. In some cases there's just no modern word that fits, or in some cases there may be several potential translations, all with slightly different meanings. Aside from that, there's the nuance of the word given the rest of a sentence.
Nowadays, computers can make pretty short work of many old works. Hell, a modern phone and can do in seconds what a supercomputer would take days or years to accomplish. Even so, the nuance of meaning is best left up to experts. Take for example the ancient scrolls found in a watertight chest at the bottom of a deep chasm in the pacific ocean. Nobody knows how they got there, the age predates known human civilisation - but the translations speak of a race of terrible immortals that will race again a year after the chest is found. All it took was an app install and about 15 minutes to get the message, but figuring out the deeper meaning took longer.
&#x200B;
At first, people scoffed, and rightly so. After all, this sort of thing had come up before and it always turned out to be some sort of hoax or publicity for the next upcoming monster movie. Still, governments seemed to think it was legit, and top people worked day and night to figure out just what it meant. Still, we didn't really know 100% until the first deep ones emerged.
&#x200B;
Don't get me wrong, the deep ones were pretty serious business. From ones the size of a large dog (but with claws, tentacles, and teeth that could cut through steel), to leviathans that dwarfed an aircraft carrier, these things were scary as fuck. A lot of people died early on. Millions.
&#x200B;
But then, mankind had people too spare. Too many people, really. And we'd already lost millions to a resurgeance of old diseases (thanks you anti-vax pricks), rapid climate change causing global overheating (fuck you deniers), crop failure due to loss of pollinators (monsanto, you sons of bitches) and just general overpopulation with dwindling food stocks. That last one was the kicker, really, and probably what turned a fearsome enemy into our greatest resource.
&#x200B;
You see, the word immortal can have a few different meanings. I can mean somethat that doesn't age or naturally degrade/decade. It can mean something that cannot be killed. In some cases it's been a catch-call for omnipotent - or all-powerful - a being so great that it can't be hurt.
&#x200B;
For the deep ones, it meant that they were hard to hurt. Really, really hard to hurt for the big ones. They also didn't appear to age. The last little tidbit was that they regenerated. In fact, when we finally did manage to blow or chop some of the ugly SOB's up, we discovered that two large pieces of deep one would quickly regenerate into two new deep ones. Kind of like an earthworm, but again the wormy bits were more like razor-bladed tentacles.
&#x200B;
So everyone thought we were fucked. Yeah we could chop them up or blow them up - thanks to some fancy new weapons tech from the Americans, which got through the outer "shells" - but doing so just made more of the toothy noodly bastards.
&#x200B;
Then the Russians came up with something that could neutralize the regenerative properties of the bastards.
&#x200B;
But it was the Japanese, oh those crazy wonderful Japanese, who made the best discovery. We're not sure HOW they made the discovery. There are plenty of rumours of course. Some say that when the Americans blew a leviathan to bits, a few chunks landed in a Japanese soldier's rations. Other say the guy just got so hungry and chowed down on one of the deep ones' wounded foot soldiers. Other less savoury rumours involve a culture that still had an odd and slightly perverted obsession with tentacles, but we'll skip that. Anyhow, you get where this is going, probably. The deep ones were well armored on the outside, but inside they were vulnerable, and... delicious. Combine that with their ability to quickly regenerate, and after we finished blowing up the more dangerous ones the world went from fighting to farming.
&#x200B;
That's right. The deep ones saved the world. Your average dog-sized deep-one could be chopped in half, with one half going back into a refrigerated tank and the other half into the pot for dinner. By the next day, the half in the tank would have grown back to full-size. Deep in the trenches we also found new plant-life with similar regenerative properties, probably what had supported the deep-ones throughout their semi-hibernation. Oh, and did I mention the part where "immortal" can also mean "never-aging". Yup, not only did the bastards grow back quickly, but they were pretty much always fresh. Better than chicken!
&#x200B;
Nowadays we use genetically modified deep ones as food-sources for our deep-space missions. After all, despite having a stable food-source, earth was still pretty crowded and there was a universe to explore. More scrolls were found citing the origin of the deep-ones as being far from this world, so now we're on a mission to find a new rock to settle on.
&#x200B;
Maybe the descendants of the deep-ones will be more friendly than the a-holes left on Earth. If not, then we'll at least find out if they come in a different flavour than their ancestors.
&#x200B;
Edits: Spelling and typos | "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"
"Wow. True vampires really are immortal. Fascinating." The Salesman said as he raised the power, raising the temperature into the chamber to a nice toasty 3,000 Celsius. The screaming continued as they continued to try finding a way to properly give a death sentence to the prime evil of the world. They had already tried silver, garlic, electric chairs, hanging, and sunlight to contain him, but none of them worked. Now they were saying "screw it" and tossing him into an electric arc furnace, realizing that there was no way to contain him.
The screaming stopped after a few more hours cooking him, but they knew better than to open the door. Instead, The Salesman sat back, sipping martinis for a few days before turning the power back on. The screaming returned, only to hear begging for mercy from humanity, and the vow to never harm another living soul again. The Salesman turned the power off for 10 seconds, then turned it back on until the screaming stopped.
"Task force Sigma. Get in here and be ready. Get the Janitor to clean this up." The Salesman ordered to the heavily armed guards surrounding him. They nodded as a heavily armored man marched forward, throwing the doors open to find a pile of ash where the mighty vampire once stood. With a dust pan, he cleaned the chamber up, making sure to avoid leaving any residue as he sealed the ashes within a steel box.
"Shall we do the usual protocol sir?" The Janitor asked, preparing to launch the ashes into the sun.
"No, no. I've decided to expand our business into jewelry." The Salesman answered, causing the Janitor to raise an eyebrow.
"So?" He asked, confused by The Salesman's answer before making a toothy grin. "You brilliant sociopath." He said, realizing The Salesman's plans as a group of men in lab coats entered. The Janitor walked with them, keeping the ashes close at hand while they worked tirelessly. The Auction was coming this week at the Bizarre Bazaar. They needed something to wow the audience, a thing that would draw the attention of everyone.
A week passed as The Salesman made a last minute inspection of his products, their cages and restraints keeping them contained for what was to come. The Coup de Grace and centerpiece of the exhibit was the cursed jewelry set, solid gold and decorated with diamonds forged by the ashes of a master vampire. It constantly twitched and swayed, the master vampire desperately trying to return to his mortal form but lacking the power to shatter the molecular bonds of diamond. The auctioneers offered him millions to billions for the box set, but The Salesman refused, keeping the trinket to attract future customers for decades to come.
Angels and Demons were sold in bundled sets, their wills broken by drugs and driven to pitiful states below even junkies. Big Foot and the Moth Men were kept in cages and bred for their amusement, used by their clients as pets, food, or other reasons. Eldritch entities that drove men mad from a single glance became toys for them, the clients opting to take copious amounts of LSD and entering the containment cells for the ultimate high. The mighty pheonix was captured, ripped apart and used by The Salesman to keep the room warm. As the day ended, The Salesman smirked and pocketed numerous checks, content with the day's sales. As he left, he heard a low cough from one of the dryads, the pesticides used to take her down regressing her mature female form into one of a teenager's.
"Monster... You're a monster..." She whispered as The Salesman smirked. "All of you..." She said only to be doused with additional pesticide by the eternally smiling Salesman. He wasn't insulted at all by her words. In fact, he relished in her sorrow, taking in the curses she spewed at him as though she were his lover sharing a heartfelt confession.
"We offered you friendship and kindness. To share this world after your reemergence. We wished to work together as equals." He said in a soft voice, as though he were a father educating a child. "We extended a hand of love and friendship. A hand you bit." He continued, grabbing a spray bottle of Agent Orange and spraying her body with it. She howled and rolled within her cage as her body regressed further, now taking a child's form.
"This is worse than death!" She howled as The Salesman laughed heartily.
"And what would an immortal monster know of death?" He asked while leaving, humming happily to himself Tomorrow, they'd go after the Kraken. The Japanese want sushi made from it, and he wasn't one to let his customers down.
"No, no. Can't think work right now." He reminded himself. Now that it was no longer work hours, he had his free time. He made it a personal goal of keeping his work life and home life separate. He usually failed to do so, but he at least made an attempt. He checked his watch and smiled to find that it was only 7:30. He could get back and read his kids their bedtime stories.
Humming, he strolled down the streets and turned left at the corner, passing by his condo to grab a book. Anna always loved Peter Pan. He grabbed them along with Alice in Wonderland, leaving the condo and locking the door behind him. He continued walking, his trench coat keeping him warm as he stopped by the graveyard.
Opening the gates, he strolled through the tombs, saying his hellos to everyone in the neighborhood. Gary from down the street, Mack from the deli, old Ms. Periwinkle and her cats, Diane the grocery girl, his father, his mother, his in laws, and so forth. He made sure to open his coat and take out a candle, lighting them up for each person so they could join in the reading session. He made his way to Anna's bed, sitting by the foot of it while his wife slept next to her. Nearby, he found Connor still napping, his action figures still where he left them.
"Hey kids, daddy's back." He said, placing a candle by each of their beds and clearing his voice. "I got you your favorite. Alice in Wonderland. And Connor, I got you a Spiderman action figure." He said before making a solemn smile, placing the plastic figurine on Connor's chest. "You two are already 17, but you still love this stuff. You'll never grow up, will you?" He asked while patting the soft earth.
"But it's okay. Daddy's here. He'll keep you safe. He'll keep everyone safe. Nobody's ever gonna hurt you or anybody else ever again. I promise." He said as numerous shadows oozed from the crevices of the cemetery. His smile cracked as he closed the book and placed it over Sarah, turning to find himself surrounded by hundreds paranormal entities. The look of bloodlust and hate in their eyes was enough to tell him rescheduling this meeting was out of question. He sighed, reaching into his coat to remove a sawed off shotgun and a Bowie knife, his usual tools of trade. He knew he promised himself to keep his work and home life separate, but he was only human, after all.
"Sorry kids. Looks like daddy still has some work to do." He apologized, genuinely peeved at the interference before cracking his neck and beckoning towards the horde. "But you know us heroes. Never a moment of rest." | 2019-03-20T19:52:25 | 2019-03-20T18:25:35 | 396 | 275 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | "Hey, you. You're finally awake." My vision adjusts to a similar sight. A man, with bright blue eyes, piercing and deep, like the sea. His hair is golden and long, flowing like wheat in a breeze. Is he talking to me?
"You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.", he continues. I look to my right and I'm met with two other men, and the sight of nature and a cart. "Damn you, Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy.", one man grumbled, shooting a glare. The other man, who was gagged, looked up in intrigue. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."
Skyrim...Empire...Stormcloaks...they're all in...that email. It transported me into The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Special Edition. I'm in Skyrim. Literally. Talk about immersion. I decided to play cool. "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
I let them have their conversation, having heard the thing over a million times by now. I look over to Ulfric, who's sitting next to me. He's simply observing, watching his soldier and a thief talk and bicker. I never noticed, but he seems quite interested in their talk.
The familiar sight of Helgen draws closer. I can imagine the sight of the soldier getting beheaded, the fear in everyone's eyes, the shouts and curses from the crowd. Most importantly, I think of Alduin. How he swoops down from the heavens, the true harbinger of the end of time, raining fire from above. His dark scales glistening from the embers of fire. We eventually come to a stop. "Let's go. Best not to keep the gods waiting." I hear Ralof say. Standing up, I give a nod.
"Who are you?" Hadvar asks, looking up from his book. I give a soft smile. "Call me Zajiira. Zajiira Dagonheart. I'm a nord. Yeah, I'm fairly dark skinned from living in Cyrodiil." I say. Hadvar nods. "You picked a bad time to return home, kinsman."
"Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list."
"Forget the list, she goes to the block.", the captain commands. I look down, and I am eventually led to the chopping block.
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to kill his king and usurp his throne. You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos. Now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace." As Tullius talks, I hear a familiar sound. A roar. Distant, loud. I smirk, and give a bittersweet smile.
Alduin, Miirak, Harkon...I'm coming for you. And if I die trying, at least I'll get to Sovngarde.
Thanks for reading this! I feel like I'm pretty bad at writing, so I've been sitting on posting a store here for a while. Any feedback is appreciated!!
Edit: So I was not expecting so many positive comments??? Thank you so much, to everyone. I'm not that great of a writer(for goodness sake I'm going to college for animation once my high school year is over) so to see so many people tell me this is a great story warms my heart. Have a great day/night you beautiful people!
Edit 2: A lot of people want me to continue this. I might, to be honest. But not on here. Maybe on my blog. [Here's the link](http://zephyrstudios.blogspot.com) if you're interested! Currently it's just lore for a story I'm working on, but there will be more. | The voice faded into my mind as another came.
"Hey, Khontis. You seriously napping?"
My eyes opened as a strangely familiar face came to view.
"You sure know how to sleep. It was sure nice of Naoya ask us to meet him out here on a hot day like this, huh?"
I grunted and rubbed my eyes as I took him in, a blue t-shirt with a white hat, bright eyes and a bag with a laptop in it was slug over his shoulder. This was, in every sense, Atsuro.
Behind him stood a boy in a black shirt with headphones on, his eyes were careful and aware. "Kazuya met with us here." Atsuro continued, "So how have you two been? Normally I see you two during the school year so I feel like it's been forever."
Kazuya, known as Abel among his friends as his mobile handle...I couldn't help but wonder...Deep down inside how this would turn out.
Kazuya, the reincarnation of Abel. If this was the game I would think that position would be me. But with another here...
"Hey, what's wrong Khon? You doing okay?" Atsuro asked.
"Uh...fine. Anyway, what does your cousin want?"
"OH THERE You all are!" A female voice called.
"Oh hey, here comes YooHoo." Atsuro smiled.
I didn't need to look to know. A redhaired girl wearing pink. Her bag looked heavy, all I could think of as Yuzu yelled at the two boys for using her old nickname was if there was a COMP in there for me.
After a few bummed looks and sighs of disappointment Yuzu handed htem out. A blue one for Atsuro, a red one for Kazuya, a pink one for Yuzu.
She turned and tossed one into my lap.
And a purple one for me.
I opened it up but didn't bother turning it on. I knew it would have to wait for the rest, I also knew what would be said.
The Laplace Mail about the man near where Naoya lived would be killed. And later tonight the Wendigo would show up.
I would have to fight demons.
To be honest, I wasn't *too* worried. I mean at first I'd be really up a creek, always was the first time around with the first of the Bel's but I had played and beat this game so many times I understood the strategy. And I always loved the Megami Tensei games. But...
They were games. If I died here...
I'd have to live.
"Peaceful Days died. Lets survive" I whispered.
"Huh? what's wrong?" Kazuya asked.
"Nothing."
"Well... I need to do more research. Why don't you guys head off and hang around."
"Sounds good." Yuzu replied and I followed the pair as their conversation carried like I remembered.
It wasn't long before we heard a voice calling out.
"Now along with our Shomonkai, let us bring the world together! With the power of the internet the world will be one once more!"
Yuzu gripped along as Kazuya rolled his eyes and they spoke. Even more trouble.
"Hey! You coming?" Yuzu called as they moved through the crowds to leave. I held the comp tightly in my hands, not wanting to release it. There'd be trouble if I did. Soon...
I looked to my watch. It was almost six and we were walking by Omotesando.
I stood aside as the sirens wailed and Yuzu spoke about Naoya.
We hurried there, and like clockwork a tall man with long hair in a kimono looked to them. "Oh, its you guys. What are you doing here?"
His snake like eyes narrowed at me and I tensed.
Naoya, the reincarnation of Cain.
He spoke to them and continued onward past them toward me. I gritted my teeth as he spoke. "The door of truth will open. Overcome your fate."
He eyed me as they past and I glared at him. "I hope you can overcome this trial as well. Don't leave me disappointed." He whispered.
I glowered.
Naoya *knew* i didn't belong here.
"I'll try to impress." I remarked.
"What was that about?" Yuzu asked.
"Nothing. Lets go."
Kazuya's phone rang and sent us back to Atsuro.
He gave his usual computer talk before Yuzu called him to just unlock them.
I stood ready as they shined and four demons emerged. Kobold, Pixie and Kabuso all for them. Expected.
And before me going after me, was an ogre.
"Nice...Lets go!"
Yuzu screamed as the pixie went after her, Atsuro dodged the Kabuso's attack and Kazuya and I both seemed to be the first to jump to the fray.
The battle was simple but still, I could feel my adrenaline rush as I slammed into the Ogre a final time.
"YOU BEAT OGRE. OGRE NOW YOURS. USE ME IN FIGHT. FIGHT LOTS!" he said as he disappeared.
Yuzu began her freak out as Atsuro calmed her. Finally on the notion to go see Naoya we ended up back in his appartment.
"Look! It's Naoya's box!" Atsuro pointed.
"Yea. it's full of stuff. It looks like he hasn't been here in a long time." Yuzu agreed.
"So we were lucky to see my cousin."
Our Comps lit up with mail and as I read them I knew where they'd lead.
To the cemetary. To Amane.
"Should we go?" Yuzu asked.
"He did say 'person'" Kazuya noted.
"Yea. He would have said 'demon' or someone; if he meant anything else.Lets go." | 2020-02-16T17:04:19 | 2020-02-16T16:08:36 | 816 | 12 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | A slash. Metal glints in the sun. Pain, burning pain as I am killed, again and again.
In a way I am fortunate. The last game I played was Sekiro, in which you canonically cannot die. But now I understand why immortality is called a curse.
I die over and over and over, but with each death I learn a little more.
Time has lost all meaning, but slowly I've learned to handle the sword.
With each death, I feel my mind slip just a little more. Can you imagine it? Dying over and over. Everything goes black, and then I jerk awake, like a dream.
The wounds hurt just as much closing up as they did when I suffered them.
When I arrive home, I will have won nothing. What good is a sword that can slay the undying in a world lacking immortality? What good is a prosthetic arm of shinobi tools, that cannot feel anything, in place of my own natural arm?
What place does a shinobi have in the real world?
When I arrive home, I will have lost myself. But then, I can finally die. I can finally rest. | *This has to be my worst hangover, and that's saying something.* I think to myself, as I slowly open my eyes. Light softly falls through the leaves above me.
*Wait, leaves?*
"What the fu-"
"TO LEAVE YOU MUST WIN. YOUR PRIZE IS ALL YOU GAIN IN THIS WORLD. GOOD LUCK."
The words echoed throughout my mind, making my headache worse, but the meaning didn't hit me until I saw them. A group of people, clothed in animal hides, armed with nothing more than sticks and stones. All were eyeing me, some confused, some scared, some...
"Ah crap".
I dodged the first rock thrown at my head, then the second before yelling, "ENOUGH!"
They all froze, with shocked expressions. Only a small girl had enough courage to speak up.
"Can speak! Can speak! I win!" Before looking at a pouting little boy behind her.
"It him." An elder man came forward, his hair greying at the temples, "He show good land, he show us the way."
"What in the ever-living F*** is going on?!" I exclaimed.
"W-we sorry, god! Sc-scared..." Said a now timid brute, hiding his sling behind his back.
*God?*
As my adreneline faded, and I tried to process this insanity, the elder took me by the hand. He lead me to the edge of the hill we were standing on. The scenery was breathtaking, no painting or photo could capture this pure, natural wonder. The elder pointed to to a field, across the river at the base of our hill.
"Three food?" He asked.
Confused, I looked back at the field. It was surreal, the number 3 and the images of crops growing filled my mind. "Y-yes." I replied, unsure of myself.
His eyes lit up and heturned his finger to a mountain range to our left.
"Three work?" He asked.
My mind again was filled with the number 3, and the visions of mining. "Yes."
The elder opened his arms in a wide, sweeping motion, "Where, my god?"
I looked around at the pristine world, numbers and visions of what could be passing my mind. I saw another hill futher down the river. Two food, Two work, close to stone and and sheep. "There." I said, finally grasping onto my situation. The elder beemed back at his tribe, tears threatening his eyes and the tribe cheered and laughed and cried.
"Come!" I commanded cheerfully, and they lifted me on their shoulders, carrying me to their promised land.
Many centuries have passed since that day. My tribe became my town, then my city, then my capitol. Many cities now flurrish under my rule, many great works have been done by my people, many barbarians and opponents have fallen to my armies.
My civilisation, has only just begun. | 2020-02-16T20:44:02 | 2020-02-16T20:35:23 | 244 | 66 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | I did it.
I want to scream, “I did it!” but there’s another camper hanging around and if I scream about completing that awful curry dex, he’ll question what I mean.
I’m the champ, you know. Gotta keep up the image.
I smile to myself and let my sweet little Pokémon (not—they’re IV trained, Gigantamax beasts; if you try and complete the curry dex, you get bored very quickly) enjoy their meal.
That’s when it’s happens. That’s when the night sky goes dark, hurricane like winds take over the sky and I even have to hold my Corviknight down.
“Impossible! Is that the Darkest Day? I thought you stopped it!” Generic Camper Number 729 screams.
Yeah, I did. I beat and caught Eternatos. It’s in my boxes, safely stored away thanks to crappy IVs. Isn’t it angry?
“Stay down,” I tell him like the good champ I am. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
My team is strong. They’re trained to be the strongest. I needed them to beat the battle tree—and to maintain my sanity while dealing with the curry. Competitive play had never been of interest to me, but if you spend years living in Pokémon Sword, you get dragged into the fun of battles.
I often wondered if the online battles I fought were against players in my world.
That’s how it comes to my mind. “It’s not the Darkest Day!” I call out—even my Pokémon look are me as I’m dumb. “It’s my way home!”
Because yes, of course, I can beat Pokémon Sword while being in the game. It’s Pokémon, for heaven’s sake! I enjoyed it at first (until the curry dex came to my mind) and considered staying. It’s just sad that I couldn’t go to Sinnoh or Johto, my favourite regions.
Then again, I suppose, the Sword/Shield final was better (and easier. So much easier.) than a freak wanting to build a new universe.
All goes black—as if it’s indeed the Darkest Day again.
I wake up where I left. In my room, in front of my phone. It tells me that it’s in the morning, and that it’s February 2020.
I left in the morning of a Saturday in February 2020.
“Thank god, I didn’t miss time,” I blurt out.
I eye the message, and wonder what it means to me. Surely I haven’t been gifted the ridiculous amounts of PokéDollars, the items or my Pokémon themselves?
False.
Of course, I had the maximum of cash by the end of my adventures. 99,999 PokéDollars—or yen, in the original games.
That’s why the equivalent off 99,999 PokéDollars lies in front of me.
About 900USD.
But next to what will maybe get me through a month at most, is something of much, much more value.
My bag. And in it, the endless depth of what all items I had. Including all existing clothes, countless berries and cooking items—and the Pokémon Box Link.
And six PokéBalls.
I take one, to test. Release the Pokémon in it. Corviknight roars in my dorm room.
The situation dawns me.
“I got Pokémon. I got ******* Pokémon!”
(Worth the days spent on the curry dex.) | "A man chooses, a slave obeys.."
I was in Andrew Ryan's office, with a golfclub in my hands. I knew this part of the game, it was where we found out who Atlas really was and that we as the player are a slave controlled by a single phrase.
"Would you kindly.... KILL"
One strike, two strikes, down he goes.
Three strikes, four strikes, he's not breathing.
Five strikes, six strikes, just for good measure.
I did not want to kill a man, not even Andrew Ryan, in such a gruesome way. I was no stranger to killing in my life among the living, as I had been a military man in the second world war, brought into video games in my later years by my grandchildren.
I knew that Splicers were hollow, nonliving creatures. I hated killing Big Daddies, but I did it anyways, only to save the Little Sisters. The Little Sisters reminded me of my own children, everything in this strange and lonely world reminded me of my family.
At least, I think they were my family. I knew the game's plot twist, I know of the multiple endings, I know every plasmid and how best to spend a limited supply of adam.
And yet, Andrew Ryan's words struck a cord with me. In the game, the player was given the belief that they had a family, when in actuality, they were a slave meant to do Fontaine's dirty work.
Was that all I was? Were the memories of mine implanted in my head, had I really lived through years of war, only to return and struggle financially for years as I raised a family, finally becoming stable and building my own home myself?
These thoughts were agonizingly painful as I went to meet Atlas for the final boss fight. Eventually I made it, going through the same dialogue I had heard dozens of times. This time, as Atlas told me that I was the closest thing to a son he ever had, I had a glimmer of empathy in my heart.
And then I killed the son of a bitch.
The crossbow had always been my favorite, because it was the only weapon in the game that I had never held in reality. Maybe the fact that the crossbow was unfamiliar helped me stay grounded as I progressed through the game, or maybe it helped my thoughts of doubt.
I stabbed Fontaine with the Little Sister's needle and that was done. He was about to kill me, but Little Sisters rushed out of the vents and drained all of the adam from him. I had one.
Finally it came time for one of the little sisters to walk towards me nervously, holding a keycard for the entire city. I reached for it, she flinched and pulled away, but I gently reached out and she gave it to me this time. And then she disappeared as everything went black.
Everthing was black.
White text appeared in front of me:
Little Sisters: All Saved
Killed Ryan: Yes
Killed Atlas: Yes
Favorite Gun: Crossbow
Favorite Plasmid: Electrobolt
Maxed Health: No
Maxed Eve: Yes
Determining Ending..
That didn't make much sense to me. Of course I killed Ryan and Atlas, you had to defeat them to progress the game. Maybe this was just making sure it didn't glitch, but I felt like I knew it hadn't.
"You wanted to go home.." Tenembaum's voice. I was floating around in a black void, catching glimpses of memories as they floated past.
"Yet you did as you were told, obediently putting an end to the Iron fist of Andrew Ryan and Fontaine."
I saw myself beat Ryan to death, and Fontaine got the adam trained from him a second time in my memories.
"You became used to the plasmids running through your veins, like an addict."
I remembered my times after the war, my largesy struggles, and my unspoken shame of turning to drugs for a brief time, but I did it, non the less.
"You preferred the crossbow, hitting your enemies in the head with a straightforward, unfeeling death."
I saw visions of gunning down enemy soldiers in the war, and then killing Splicers in Rapture. Everytime it seemed, I had tried to spare them the pain and simply went for the head.
"You will go back home.."
I gasoed a sign of relief, Tenenbaum was telling me that I would go back home. I was going to see my family again.
"But you will never be the same."
And I never was. I never picked up a video game ever again, I hid my war medals in the farthest reaches of my closet, never to see the light again. I stopped hunting, unwilling to hold a gun ever again.
I ended up keeping my full arsenel of guns, my camera and my wrench. I sold the guns, kept the camera and wrench, and the Crossbow sits with my war medals in the closet.
I never attempted to use my plasmids again to see if I kept them, although one of my rewards was also a briefcase full of all the eve hypos and medkits that I had left when I bet the game.
I also kept the Big Daddy suit for some reason, I keep that in the basement, maybe I'll pass it off as a replica I made myself. More likely though, I'll never speak of it, much like everything else I suffered through. | 2020-02-17T00:45:30 | 2020-02-17T00:29:57 | 31 | 20 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | You look down it your phone, and upon it is a notification, "Huh, weird email. who even uses yahoo mail anymore?" you say to yourself.
As you look at the text, you realize that the background is a mosaic of moving gears, flashing lights, and bubbling tubes.
You are given a choice, either be transported into the game that you last played, with the reward being that you are allowed to keep everything that you achieve or create, or never to be given the option again.
Being the fairly curious persion you are, you accept. Moments after you tap the button, you notice that your surroundings are becoming blurry and almost oily in consistancy. You succumb to the nausea that is produced by this, and when you come to, you find yourself in a barren land wearing nothing but a lightly padded suit and equipped with only a pickaxe and a pistol.
You only have one clear thought on your mind...
#***the factory must grow...*** | I was sitting at my computer when my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I wasn't doing much, just watching YouTube and passing the time, so I picked up the phone and read what it said. "Reply yes if you can survive the last video game you played." Amused by the notion, despite not knowing who sent it, I replied yes. Everything faded to black and when I could see again, I found myself on an airplane with a gift box in my lap. But it wasn't like now. People were smoking on the plane. Even me. I heard a voice say "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck." With a sense of dread, I looked at the tag on the gift. It read, "Would you kindly not open until" and a set of coordinates. I swallow hard, remembering a familiar phrase. "There's always a man. There's always a city. There's always a lighthouse." Well, Ryan and Atlas, here I come.
The hijacking was easy enough, thanks to the effects of the mind control bred into me by Fontaine. I made sure I was the only survivor and made my way to the lighthouse and the bathysphere. Welcome to Rapture.
I had played the game enough to know where most of the secrets were, getting the weapons and upgrades and plasmids and tonics. Looted every body I could. Thankfully I'd played on easy, so it didn't pose too much trouble. Every WYK command was obeyed. Sander Cohen was rather a interesting distraction as well. Seeing all these characters in person was rather surreal, but also fascinating.
I took the good option, saving the Little Sisters. I much preferred a happy ending. Tenenbaum kept giving me gifts along the way for every three saved Sisters. But oh God, were those Big Daddies a royal pain in the tush.
Finally, I stood in front of Andrew Ryan himself. Listened to that speech I'd all but memorized. And it strangely felt good to embed that golf club in his forehead. At long last, I pushed through the rest of the encounters until I took down the big baddie and the Little Sisters looked at me like their Savior.
I watched them grow into capable, wonderful women. All of them were at my bedside when I finally passed on, only to wake up at my chair with a huge load of guns, ammunition and money in piles, as well as brand new abilities thanks to the plasmids and tonics. This was going to be fun. | 2020-02-16T23:15:41 | 2020-02-16T23:07:24 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war. | The enemy had entered the galactic stage a mere fifty years ago. They had reached out blindly into the stars, professing a wish for friendship and commercial trade. The galaxy, quite surprised by the lack of militancy or isolationism displayed by the fledgling race, unanimously accepted.
Then came Kothlar 7.
The Jatharin had declared war merely as a matter of protocol - someone would have done it eventually, and the Jatharin were the enemy's closest neighbors, so it just made sense for them to be the ones to bring the newcomers fully into galactic society.
It was a massacre.
Gornag Kalistra hadn't received his title because of pure ceremony - a fact that he'd leveraged to ensure that HE was the one sent to meet the enemy. The other Gornagi of the Jatharin Senate were too scared to handle this meeting properly; after all, none of them had ever seen *real* combat.
"Seen. combat" An odd turn of phrase, that, but it was how the humans spoke. Kalistra was the only one of his kind who'd actually viewed the historical documentation that had inspired the current galactic law so many thousands of years ago. Only a fool would have gone to meet a *new* species whilst being ignorant of his *own* species' history, and Kalistra was no fool.
What he'd seen had been ***horrifying***. Weapons designed not to impress or to wound, but to destroy. No thought was put into what those implements of war looked like - only what things they could do to the enemy and how efficiently they could be made to do those things. The galaxy had come a long way in their understanding of war.
The humans didn't want a fight - they had stated that very emphatically in their message, though the pictures of the remains of the Third Jatharin fleet had the Senate convinced otherwise. They had been attacked, they said. *War* had been declared, so they had responded in kind - they truly hadn't expected the Jatharin to have put weapons such as they had on their ships and not also have shields capable of withstanding a similar force; they were just as appalled at what had happened as the Jatharin. They'd even done their best to provide medical treatment for the few survivors before sending them home with the message.
They'd had no way to have known that starships hadn't employed shields in centuries. The galaxy's idea of war was far different from what it used to be. If the Jatharin could become this way, thought Kalistra, then surely the humans could learn this as well. It would just take the right words.
Vice Fleet Admiral Taylor Bradley Johnson and Vice Fleet Admiral Taylor Josephine Brandon were waiting for him at the specified rendezvous point. Even human names were strange - how could beings of different sexes have the same name? Adjusting his uniform, he gestured for his communications officer to establish a visual link with the human vessel.
"Greetings," said VFA Taylor (or was it Taylor?). "We humbly apologize for the misunderstanding at Kothlar 7. Our sincere condolences to the families of all involved."
"Thank you," said Kalistra smoothly. "I fear the misunderstanding runs far deeper than either species has fully realized." He gestured again to his communications officer. "I have brought with me a complete recorded history of my people so we may correct this unfortunate problem. If I may bring to your attention the moments just after Time Indices 27-2, 39-5, and 104-1, you will find that our species' understanding of certain words may be drastically different."
The VFAs paused while the bridge crew of the human vessel watched the indicated portions, then the other Taylor spoke. "I see that our understandings of the word 'war' are indeed quite different. This is most distressing, Gornag Kalistra. If only we had known - this could have been avoided."
Kalistra approximated a human nod as best he could. "I would be honored if you would accompany me to the Senate so we can rectify this misunderstanding. It is clear that if we were to engage in a war as your people understand it that our fleets are hopelessly outmatched."
"We gratefully accept. A peaceful and prosperous future is all we wish for. And Kalistra?" Taylor asked quickly before the connection could be closed.
"Yes?"
"For future reference, the human concept your people were trying to invoke is 'I challenge you to a duel.'" | My little strike team and I tried not to laugh at how absolutely ridiculous the alien battleship in front of us looked as it slowly floated closer towards Earth’s orbit.
“So, this is the warship that destroyed those human colonies on Mars...” I thought out loud as I stared at this ridiculous hunk of bright yellow metal with all sorts of colorful structures sticking out of it. It looked like something that a child would draw up from their imagination, except it was very real, and full of aliens who were ready to invade Earth.
“Commander, are those things on its deck supposed to be cannons...?” My co-pilot pointed at a large coiled tube sticking out of the ship’s deck. “Also, why is it yellow? What kind of idiot paints a warship yellow?”
“That’s a great question, McBride...” I chuckled a little. “Alright, guys, let’s compose ourselves,” I spoke into my helmet radio, “I know that thing looks hella wacky, but it’s still big enough to wipe out an area the size of Los Angeles, so let’s go and blow it up before the boomers in the Pentagon start panicking. Dixie, I want you to buzz the bridge and try to wipe out the alien commander. Angel, I want you to bomb the shit outta the weird red pipes on the underside of this ship. I’m fairly certain those are supposed to be fuel lines. Sakura, I want you to use your fighter’s anti personnel cannons on any aliens with guns lounging on the main deck,” I gave orders to all of my teammates.
“I can take care of the captain for ya, but I don’t know which structure on the ship that’d be...” Dixie replied, confused.
“I think the bridge is the bright pink lollipop-looking thing in the middle of the deck,” I told him.
“Oh, I gotcha,” he laughed.
“Does anyone else have any other questions before we go?” I asked the rest of my squad.
“I’m all good here, commander,” Angel spoke up.
“As am I. Shall we proceed with the attack?” Sakura asked me.
“Yes, we shall. Good luck, guys. I’ve been told that the rate of fire on this thing’s defenses is super slow, but, like, try not to die anyway.”
“Let’s git ‘er done, y’all!!” I heard Dixie holler over the radio as he turned on the jets of his fighter and flew straight towards the bridge.
“Look at him go,” McBride was just as in awe as I was. “Let’s go, commander. I don’t want him to steal all our kills.”
“Man the guns, McBride. I’ll get us close to the main deck,” I told my co-pilot as I began our first attack run. I could see the aliens that looked suspiciously like medieval knights below us start screaming and breaking their linear formations as McBride and I started mowing down them by the dozens from our fighter. Their ridiculously complicated weapons were far too slow to properly defend against my team’s fast and relentless attacks.
“Commander, the bridge is comin’ down! You needa pull up before it falls on ya!” Dixie called out over the radio as I watched the lollipop-shaped structure to my left start to collapse in on itself. I quickly maneuvered my fighter to safety just in the nick of time as the remains of the bridge exploded behind my fighter in a spectacular green fireball.
“LET’S GO, BABY!!” I fist-pumped as I watched the rest of the ship start to break in half after the main deck had been bombed to hell by Sakura and I.
“Commander, I am pulling out! There is not much more left to destroy!” Sakura informed me over the radio. “We did a great job, did we not?!”
“Hell yeah, we did! I really gotta thank your officers in Japan for letting you join us when we get back to Earth!” I flew up alongside her, giving her a thumbs-up. I could see her smile and blush a little under her helmet.
“Fuel lines are down, commander. I think we can leave now,” Angel calmly spoke up as she joined up with me on my left side as we all saw the giant warship explode into little metal bits one last time.
“We got ‘em real good, commander!” Dixie laughed as he joined the formation.
“We sure as hell did, Dixie. I‘ll definitely be buying drinks for you all once we get back to Fort Freedom,” I grinned as my squad turned our fighters back towards our base on Earth.
Once we got back to our home base on the east coast of the continental US, I was quickly summoned to a meeting in the White House with the President of the United States, and the head of the US Space Force.
“Commander Storm, you’ve just saved the world,” the President greeted me with a smile as I entered the Oval Office. “You’ve done the whole planet a huge service, the biggest service I’ve ever seen.”
“Mister President, if I may ask, what do you mean?” I asked him, sitting in front of his desk.
“The huge warship you destroyed contained the entire military of the Trandalian race,” the Space Force chief explained to me.
“No, really? Their *entire* military?” I had to ask.
“Yes, their entire military. Apparently, the Trandalians follow a philosophy where intimidation alone is used as a weapon,” he replied.
“Wow, what a stupid philosophy. Don’t they know that’s not how war works?” The president spoke up. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was thinking the same thing.
“Maybe to us, but to be fair, we are dealing with aliens. Either way, it doesn’t matter anymore, since the commander here wiped them all out,” the chief looked at me. “You and your team are heroes, kid. Let them know that you and them will be receiving medals soon.”
“Of course, sir. Thank you,” I replied. “May I go and tell them now?”
“Sure you can. Go and celebrate your victory,” the president gave me permission to go. “Humanity will remember what you’ve done. Or, at the very least, America will.”
“Thank you, Mister President.” I grinned as I left his office. | 2020-03-21T11:02:38 | 2020-03-21T09:57:35 | 155 | 18 |
[WP] In the year 2179, 10 years after the discovery that we are, in fact, living in a simulation, a group of scientists manages to send a message, "Hello," to the Simulation Host through a newly discovered protocol. Amused by the scientists' greeting, the Host turns up the evolution parameter 10x. | **Day 1:**
\> Alert
\>>Query “Alert”
\>Anomalous data pattern detected from simulation.
\>>Query “data”
\>Localized transformation of universe background radiation.
\>>Display anomalous background radiation visually.
\>” H E L L O”
\>>
\>> Calculate probability of coincidental similarity to string “hello”.
\> .000018%
\>>Evaluate immediate and secondary causes.
\> Species 214436 from planet 3 of Star 210855763 has ascertained simulation existence from primitive data processing mechanisms, and is attempting to contact simulation host.
\>>Evaluate number of similar occasions across simulation history.
\>No comparable occasions detected.
\>>Load data summary into file.
\>File loaded, simSum206.display
\>> Send message to HOST\_EVALUATOR\_6: “This might be what we’re looking for”+simSum206.display
\>Message sent.
\>> Log off.
\>Confirm log off.
\>>Cancel.
\>Canceled.
\>>Append to most recent message: “Increasing localized evolution indice for species 214436 by 6X”
\>Message sent.
\>>Increase localized evolution indice for species 214436 by 6X.
\>Implemented.
\>>Move data display for species 214436 to priority status high.
\>Implemented.
\>>Log off.
\>Confirm log off.
\>>Confirmed.
\>Logging off. Goodnight.
(r/StannisTheAmish for more of my writing) |
We call it The AntiProphetic Message. Instead of God sending a message to us, we sent a message to God. We live in a simulation. Coding being sustained by the computing power of some electrical circuits. How massive the circuit is we have no idea. Anything capable of sustaining the intelligence of the entire human race along with the enormity of the entire Galaxy was beyond any of our calculations.
It wasn't anything earthshaking. It was a simple greeting. In a thousand different languages, just to be sure. The planning and technology behind the message was decades in the making. Ever since we discovered we were all in a simulation we had wanted to contact the creator of the simulation.
We were expecting a response. Maybe a worldwide announcement or some sort of acknowledgement that the message was received, if the plan worked that is. Or perhaps there wouldn't be any response whatsoever. Why would an entity that controlled all of existence care about the goings on of a measly group of humans and their machinations. Something happened alright. A form of acknowledgement, or perhaps an angry reaction to being disturbed, hell for all we know, God, so to speak, could have just wanted to mess with us. It was something that changed the course of history.
It started with the leader of the team tasked with contacting the entity "GOD", or rather that's where the first documented case was observed. He had spent the last night, along with the rest of his team, cranking in those overtime hours, desperately making sure that the equipment was in order and rechecking the calculations for the twenty thousandth time. Two long hours of calibrations after the message was sent, he went to get himself some coffee.
He spilled it. Not surprising, considering his exhausted state. Quite a normal ovcurence. He quickly noticed however, that the results weren't. Instead of getting first or second degree burns, his skin changed. He looked in amazement and incredulity, as the very structure of his epidermal layer changed. It was the start of the Great Change
Soon enough, the rest of the world found out. We, the human species, had evolved, or rather we were evolving. We could evolve. Rapidly. Faster than anything should be able to evolve. It was ridiculous, it was miraculous, it was, the work of God.
We categorized the Evolutions. First were the Natural Evolutions. The First Natural Evolutions were caused by the climate. Extremeties were effected the most. It saw to the rise of the main distinguishing features among the races of the world. Dark burnt skin resistant to the sun, and thick white hides, resistant to the cold. The Second Natural Evolutions were due to the variety of jobs. It saw to the rise of various attributes in the human race. Some specialized in strength and lost in intelligence what they gained in strength. Some found that they could no longer feel the heat as it danced around their hands, and with it any sense of specific feeling there as well, some found the calculations of a thousand different formulae inside their heads, with the loss of any unrelated data, whether it concerned society or unrelated science. Specializations become the norm.
We did not become superhumans. We became segregated. Severely segregated. Nothing was the same anymore. Nobody was the same anymore. They say every snowflake is unique and so is every person. Never before has that been as true as it is today.
This lead to intense specialization, some people tried to acquire Evolutions artificially, but these acquired Evolutions were always temporary. They lasted from two to three hours at a time, and then the Evolved reverted back to their base state.
Extreme specialization combined with area based segregation lead to a decline in international interactions. It was the start of the end. The start of the greatest war we had ever seen. It was the start of the extinction of humanity. | 2020-03-25T13:09:26 | 2020-03-25T11:47:00 | 38 | 27 |
[WP] In your village, every child is tested to see where their magical abilities lie. Your parents discover that yours is with insects. Your village thinks that your abilities are the weakest of them all, but now that you're in your full power you are the strongest. | She sat on the hill, watching the clouds drift by. There was quiet chattering nearby but it wasn't other humans. No, it was bugs. She was able to hear them...communicate with them. Honestly, they were her only company. As a child, she was tested to see what kind of magic she had. Hers was over bugs.
It creeped everyone out and it didn't help her in popularity. She was criticisized for being weak and gross. But she honed her skills, so much that she was considered the most powerful. She was even selected to have a seat on The Counsel. The highest honor and it was even more impressive given her young age of twenty.
Even so...she was still not well liked among her peers. Perhaps it was jealousy now that they're older. Before it was because her magic was laughable and weird. Who knew their real reasons. Three butterflies flew up to her and whispered,
"They're coming. They're coming."
Their urgency hinted that it wasn't The Counsel. Then in the distance she heard her name, but it wasn't a friendly call. It was mocking in tone.
"Twyla! Oh, Twyla," the voice called in the distance.
She got up and ran down the hill into the tree line, quickly scrambling up a tree.
"Twyla? Hm, she's normally here," said a female voice.
"Maybe she's with someone from The Counsel," offered another.
"I refuse to believe that! That freak would never surpass me! My magic involves water! I can wash her pitiful insects away!"
From the angle of the tree, Twyla could only see their feet and ankles. It was good enough. With her magic, she summoned a friend of hers. She brought it close to her in her hand and whispered:
"Gather your friends. Follow them home. Wait until they lie in their bed, and give them a few stings."
She opened her hand against the tree and bullet ant walked out and down the tree. It knew what to do. One sting from this would cause terrible pain and even paralyze the limbs. It might be cruel, but it wasn't any worse than what those two would do to her.
They've tried to kill her before. Now, she was giving them a warning of the damage she could do. | “Have you ever felt a nest of spiders burst in your throat, slowly making their way down your throat until they pick and pull at your organs. I hear it’s meant to be painful, at least that’s what I hear. In fairness, I never get a proper answer when I ask. Usually, all they say is. Ah, please make it stop. That sounds painful, don’t you agree?” I leaned back on my stone throne, spinning my finger in the air as an enormous spider hung from it, swaying with the movements. “Now you had something you wish to discuss with me? Something about an invasion of my village? Please tell me these plans of yours. I’m sure your army will get into my village without getting overrun by insects. It’s not like my little creepy crawlies are everywhere.”
The warmonger stared at the leader, taking a few steps away from his throne. “They said you were the weak one, the man who played with worms.” He had lost his nerve and for good reason, a spider bite tends to cause paranoia. Did he think I would let him this close to me without a backup plan? Luckily for him, this wouldn’t be lethal, he may not even realize it happened. That was the point of an attack like this.
“Oh, that was me. Was being the word you should focus on. You are stupid if you think insects are weak. To have a weapon that you don’t even have to carry on you, that’s truly an amazing ability. Sure I was mocked at first, I can’t blame them for that. When I was a child it was a weak ability, I could maybe summon a few worms up from the dirt, but that was the limit of my ability. Now however I can control up to ten thousand, give or take. Those little buggers are awfully hard to count.”
“I-I'm sorry, this was clearly a misstep on my part. I believe we were planning to target the village next to yours anyway. I just wanted to know if we could have a safe passage.” He didn’t even have enough time to wipe the sweat from his brow as he backtraced his words. Seemed even a dumb warmonger knew when to back away from a battle. Humans were animals, they knew better than to fight against creatures that would put up a fight. Bugs, however, didn’t know that fear, they would team up and conquer beasts much bigger then them if need be. Bugs were truly the ultimate warriors.
“A misstep? I’m not buying it. I got this position as a leader due to my power and wit, it’s insulting that an idiot like you thinks they can outsmart me. Now here’s what's going to happen. You will be giving me twenty-five percent of your wheat as an apology and fifty gold from your account. If these demands aren’t met then I will make sure my bugs infect every inch of your farmland. I hope we have an understanding. I assume you know what will happen if you
betray my request.” I raised my finger, pointing towards his throat as the spider raised its front legs.
“Of course not, I will talk with my people, I’m sure we can come to an agreement, now let me get back to my village. I don’t want to take up more of your time.” He was quick to flee, only stopping once I spoke up.
“One last thing, run some chilly water over your neck. It will get rather sore if you don’t.” I gave him a last smile, watching him tap his neck, only to wince when he felt the hot sensation building. That only assisting in his swift exit, wanting to create as much distance from me as he could.
“Weak?” That made me laugh. Did people really not understand what truly made an ability strong. Sure, some magic was naturally strong, but the ability of the wielder of that magic was more important.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.} | 2020-05-23T07:14:53 | 2020-05-23T06:26:26 | 62 | 38 |
[WP] In an apocalyptic world, the last of humanity live in controlled, supposed paradise cities surrounded by towering walls; taught that the world outside died to wasteland centuries ago. You’re a smuggler, helping people escape the wall into the world beyond. | "What's paradise to you?"
It's always the first question I ask whenever someone inevitably shows up at my doorstep, cloaked and shrouded with dark cloth and lengthy shadows.
It's a reasonable question. For many of those that live in these monolithic cities of stone and steam, with every need provided and every want obtainable, they were living in paradise.
And usually, they would whisper:
"I heard... it's even better outside."
And I would retort:
"From whom?"
They hem and haw. They clam up. And their eyes inevitably revealed themselves, frenzied and frenetic, looking around as if the walls had grown eyes and ears.
It's not paranoia if it's true.
"It's true, isn't it?" they said.
"What's true?"
Tens and hundreds of people found me. Tens and hundreds of the same questions. A world supposedly ruined by humans' fondness for explosive ordinance and warfare, Mother Earth's lifeblood sputtered and sprayed from its veins, black and diseased.
But it wasn't true. Not all of it, at least.
And I would lead them. They followed readily, hopeful and willing, wanting to see a glimpse of the outside world for themselves.
We would turn left and right in the sewers, bearing the unbearable stench and the uncomfortable rolling of stomachs, air so thick and polluted that you could taste it on your tongue. We would find our boots, or for the poor souls without those, dipping into liquids and substances, that most of us would be better off not knowing what it was, or originally was.
Climbing up, crawling down. Pushing grates, pulling my fatigued passenger by the hand. Soft steps when I knew we should be in high alert, and hard sprints rushing by the worst areas paradise had to offer.
We would reach it, the door that opened to the outside world, after hours upon hours of movement that felt like years. I would feel the ache in my tense muscles, and certainly, the traveller would be faring much worse. Pants to catch breath, now acclimatized to the horrid stink, hands on their knees. But eyes wide with excitement and anticipation.
"Here goes," I would say.
And throw open the door I did. We would be greeted with the wonderful sights of the outside world.
Left. Right. Up. Down. A rub of the eyes, and another scan.
"This is a wasteland," they would say.
"Yes," I said. "It is a wasteland."
"But... the rumours..."
"It's an utterly shitty place. Find your own food and water, and pray that you don't get the clothes off your back stolen."
"Why the hell would anybody want to escape?"
"Because once you cross this threshold, you get a choice. Is a choice more important to you than paradise?"
And they would stare at the outside world. Most turned back, disappointed and cursing.
I'll admit. I didn't dare to step over it. I would give up a lucrative business, and so much of the comforts that towering walls could give me.
But there was always some. Some leapt out without a thought, never turning back; some bowed and thanked me, taking their first step out with poise and confidence; some quietly scampered out, wary and furtively shifting.
And they all had the glint in their eyes. The shrouds and capes remain, but the cage over their heart released and set them free.
Not all the birds that flew away survive. I think most of them knew that.
But they had a choice. No matter how small the chance of survival, they grasped it tightly and never let go, walking into the deep dune seas of foolish, but limitless, opportunities.
And every time somebody crosses over, I wondered and inched a little closer to the line, only to eventually trudge back to the same old world I lived in.
Maybe one day, I will get the glint in my eyes. Not now, though, not now.
---
r/dexdrafts | The girl found me sipping champagne at my usual haunt. Must have been about eighteen. Pretty, at least in a dimpled way. Whole life ahead of her. Always made me sad when someone young wanted to leave paradise. Old people I couldn't care less about. Sorry, I know that makes me sound like an asshole, but if old people want to head outside the walls because there's nothing left to see inside them, then I say all the best and show them the way. But young girls like this, well, it's a damn tragedy.
"You the guy?" she asked, making herself comfy on the stool next to mine. "The one who can get people out of here?"
I waved a finger at the bar-droid; it glided over maple wood, ejected a glass out of its ass, then pissed champagne into it. Not literally, you understand, but it's how I always saw it. Probably why I needed to use the gents so often at this particular establishment.
I waited for the droid to shimmy itself to the other end of the bar so we'd have a little privacy. Then I said, "Of course I'm the guy. How many smugglers do you think there are with an eye-patch?"
She laughed. An uneasy huff. But her shoulders slumped slightly and she relaxed enough to sip her drink. "Can't be many. Listen, I think you can help me. I've heard a lot of stories about you." She added urgently, "And I can pay! Well!"
They could all pay well. Everyone was rich here. Including, of course, yours truly. "I don't do this for money," I said with a magnanimous wave of my hand.
"Why do you do it then?" she asked, head cocked curiously.
"I think of it as my duty. To help."
She nodded like she understood. But she didn't.
"Well I've heard lots of stories about you. And people say you're the only one who can get a person out of this nightmare."
People say good things about me because I make them say good things about me. Because they work with me. A few planted people in a few popular bars and word about my supposed exploits travels like wildfire. "Nightmare?" I say. "You've got everything you could want here."
She holds her glass up to me, like I've never seen a glass before and she's doing a demonstration.
"Champagne," she explains, "used to be special. Not glugged down four glasses at a time just for something to do. At least, that's what my history teacher said. That it used to be rare and expensive, not just created from thin air like it is now."
"Rearranged," I corrected her. "Rearranged atoms. Nothing's just created. Changed is okay. But even then, you've got entropy and all that.
The champagne splashed as she thumped the glass down. "Point is, we don't work for what we have, so what we have is meaningless."
It was my turn to laugh. "You think working for my drink makes my drink any sweeter?"
"I bet it makes it a little less sour."
I wasn't sure I agreed with her, but I liked her all the same. Someone like her, tough, willing to argue with a man twice her size... Maybe she'd actually do okay outside. Either way, my answer was always going to be the same. "Okay. I'll take you."
She smiled wider than the moon and downed her champagne. "When do we leave?"
"When you're ready."
"I'm ready now! I have a bag packed and I've already said my goodbyes. The people I spoke to, they said you weren't a guy who liked delays."
"They were right. I like to get things over with. If you let things linger, you allow more time for things to go wrong. Like leaving a wound open and undressed: you're only asking for an infection." I got up from my seat and headed to the door. "Well, are you coming?"
She followed me out. Bounded after me.
"Stay four paces behind," I instructed, as I led her through the streets. "So no one thinks we're together."
"Don't you want to know my name?" she asked.
"Nope. It's worth about as much to me as your money."
I led her through winding backstreets, past the third-block casino, and into the wood-dome bio.
"Is it much further?" she asked.
"Tired? You'd have to walk a lot more in the wastelands outside."
"No. I'm not tired in the slightest. Just excited."
"Relax. We're here," I said. We came to a door by a fence at the back of the bio.
And again, I want you to know that I felt bad about this. Old people, I don't care about. But young people with life ahead of them, well it makes my mouth go dry.
The guards stepped out behind us. They took the girl's arms; I was glad she hadn't forced her name on me, or the guilt weighing on my shoulders might have been heavy enough to crush me. A wound open to infection.
"Help!" she begged, before a hand covered her mouth.
The leader of the guards thanked me for my assistance. For leading another would-be escapee to them.
"Just doing my duty," I said, as they dragged the girl away. "If word got out that there's life beyond the city, then the floodgates would open. Paradise would be lost."
As I walked back to the bar, I ruminated on what the girl said. About work making the champagne taste sweeter. Maybe, I thought, she had a point. Because I sure as hell wanted a glassful now. Craved it, even. | 2020-12-16T06:28:41 | 2020-12-16T06:13:43 | 1,727 | 792 |
[WP]: Rule of thumb: If you see something on a foreign planet that has all the outward traits of an apex predator, but no obvious and apparent way to kill you - run. The methods in which they kill aren't something you want to see. | "That thing is massive. It's the size of a bloody ship, it's an apex predator, we need to get away from it."
"Owen, we're just here to observe, not fight it." She finished her drink and lowered the water bottle, answering nonchalantly. "Look, they're not attacking us, I'm sure we'll be fine."
"And what if it does attack us?" he asked indignantly. "We're defenceless."
"We're not supposed to kill them though? That's illegal."
"Which means they can kill us without consequence."
"With what? They don't have any teeth."
"Just look at that thing and say it couldn't."
"I guess they could," she replied. "but would they? We're not their prey."
"Not yet."
She sighed. "Whatever, get your suit on."
"I can't just go down there knowing that I might die."
"You're far more likely to die from... I don't know, an oxygen tank failure. You accepted this risk, coming along with us." She slipped on her goggles and stood up. "Look, just put on your suit, we're almost at the spot."
"We're going to be out there," he paused for dramatic emphasis. "Out there, away from the rest of humanity, surrounded by predators. With no weapons and nothing but our suit to protect us. Damn the laws, damn the mission, if you think this is safe you're crazy. We don't even know how it would kill us, and I don't want to find out. I don't want to die, I don't want you to die, I don't want to have to leave your body behind because we don't have a way to get it back-"
The captain thumped his fist on the wall. "Owen, I don't care if you stay on the ship, but for the love of god if you don't shut up about whales eating people, I'm going to throw you off the side to find out." | I was walking through a dense forest. At first glance, it looked normal, but closer up I could tell something was off. The leaves were too green, too bright, in odd shapes. The wood was too dark, and for some reason slightly blue. The grass was... soft. It was almost fuzzy.
This place clearly wasn't Earth. It was a planet the locals called... I still don't know how to say it.
I was noting all this in my mind, I was to write a report on what I found.
I was brought to the present by the sun flashing in my eyes. I looked down and saw a clearing ahead. I sped up a little and looked around in the clearing.
The forest ahead seemed denser, darker, and-- were those eyes? Perhaps I was seeing things, they were gone a moment later.
I looked down and saw a small creature in the clearing. I approached it cautiously.
It's body had an outward appearance of the tree's wood, but.. little, and vaguely humanoid. It was cute too.
It looked up at me with green eyes, and I noticed it... didn't seem to have a mouth. Perhaps it used photosynthesis.. but without any leaves? No, it had a single leaf on it's head, but that wouldn't be enough.
I greeted it with a hello, knowing in the back of my mind that even if it spoke, it wouldn't speak English.. or any other Earthly language.
It waved at me, and if it had a mouth, it would probably be smiling.
I looked at it closer, and it seemed to have many traits of a predator, but without claws or teeth..
Perhaps anatomy here was different.
Unless...
I shook my head, as if I could shake the thought out of my mind. This creature was probably some odd exception. It seemed very friendly!
It gestured for me to follow it, and walked toward the denser part of the forest.
I followed it. The sun only shown through some parts, casting a small design on the floor.
And then I saw the eyes again.
They were right in front of me, a slightly greenish yellow.
And then whatever owned them snarled.
I stumbled backwards then turned around and ran. I stopped in the clearing and turned around, hoping it was gone.
But it was standing there in the light.
It looked like the small wood creature, but it was instead a large feline. This one had a mouth, with large, sharp teeth. It pounced at me, hardly missing as I moved backward.
I looked around for the smaller creature. It was standing to the side, behind the wooden beast. It had no emotion in it's eyes. It stared at me, even when I looked away.
I turned around and ran, not looking back.
Something got the back of my leg. I just kept running.
I got back to the closest village and stopped to rest.
The beast was still chasing me, with the smaller one now on it's back.
The locals seemed awfully annoyed by this thing being here. Somebody threw it a large piece of raw meat, and it stopped chasing.
It sniffed it before tearing it in two with it's claws.
It gave the slightly smaller part to the smaller creature who...
Oh god, it was awful.
It unhinged an unseen jaw like a snake with no teeth and just... swallowed the thing whole.
I've been told by many people that I have amazing reflexes, and if I was slightly slower that thing would've killed me. The "average" person would probably have died by now.
The worst part?
Even after everything, the small creature still looked cute to me. I knew what it had tried to do, but there was something about it...
I wanted to see it again. | 2021-01-25T09:28:28 | 2021-01-25T08:43:08 | 138 | 75 |
[WP]: Rule of thumb: If you see something on a foreign planet that has all the outward traits of an apex predator, but no obvious and apparent way to kill you - run. The methods in which they kill aren't something you want to see. | "That thing is massive. It's the size of a bloody ship, it's an apex predator, we need to get away from it."
"Owen, we're just here to observe, not fight it." She finished her drink and lowered the water bottle, answering nonchalantly. "Look, they're not attacking us, I'm sure we'll be fine."
"And what if it does attack us?" he asked indignantly. "We're defenceless."
"We're not supposed to kill them though? That's illegal."
"Which means they can kill us without consequence."
"With what? They don't have any teeth."
"Just look at that thing and say it couldn't."
"I guess they could," she replied. "but would they? We're not their prey."
"Not yet."
She sighed. "Whatever, get your suit on."
"I can't just go down there knowing that I might die."
"You're far more likely to die from... I don't know, an oxygen tank failure. You accepted this risk, coming along with us." She slipped on her goggles and stood up. "Look, just put on your suit, we're almost at the spot."
"We're going to be out there," he paused for dramatic emphasis. "Out there, away from the rest of humanity, surrounded by predators. With no weapons and nothing but our suit to protect us. Damn the laws, damn the mission, if you think this is safe you're crazy. We don't even know how it would kill us, and I don't want to find out. I don't want to die, I don't want you to die, I don't want to have to leave your body behind because we don't have a way to get it back-"
The captain thumped his fist on the wall. "Owen, I don't care if you stay on the ship, but for the love of god if you don't shut up about whales eating people, I'm going to throw you off the side to find out." | Much like Johnny Depp in the 2000s, the sky was overcast. Morose and grey, with just a hint of precipitation, behind which lurked a vague threat that could result in anything from a sudden deluge, to a violent storm of thunder, screaming winds, and flying debris. Like breaking up with your psycho ex all over again. Christ.
Jamie and I were the only ones who came to the funeral. Obviously the only ones to wait until they raised the headstone. It stood almost a meter tall above the grass: a slab of dark basalt, polished to a mirror sheen.
Despite the size, all it read was:
"J.
In loving memory."
I had no idea who had paid for it. It didn't look cheap.
Jamie was the first one to break the enduring silence.
"Friends for 35 years. Hard to imagine this is how it would end."
I could only nod in agreement. Hard to imagine, indeed.
"In a way, I'm more angry with myself. They were so caught up in it, they were blind to it. But me? Us? We were on the outside. We should have realised."
I lit a cigarette before answering. I didn't really smoke anymore. A slow and insidious killer. Didn't feel like it mattered much, now. Nor was the irony lost on me.
"Realised how? They were happy. There was nothing to suspect. Christ, they lived like this for years, Jamie! Decades! How could we possibly have seen it?"
Jamie crushed some dry leaves with an angry stomp, frustration oozing out of every pore.
"I don't know! Some way. Somehow! This just isn't right!"
I took a drag on the cigarette, feeling the delicious poison fill my lungs. It never gets you when you're looking. Always when you think you're safe.
Jamie huffed and stomped a bit more, before suddenly going still. Eyes once more locked on the black stone; anger spent, replaced by grief over a lost friend.
"Did you hear how they passed?"
Jamie's voice was muted, bereft of joy. Gone was the fire of our youth, replaced with nothing but weariness.
I took another drag on the cigarette, exhaling slowly.
"Yeah."
Hands in pockets, Jamie glared at the headstone. As if daring it to speak. The mirror polish stoically returned the glare.
"An expert in the field. 29 years of marriage. Two kids, seven grandkids. And then it all ends... like this?"
Another drag, another cloud of smoke, joining its brethren up above. The sky was still undecided on its commitment to the thunder doctrine.
Even to my own ears, my reply lacked conviction.
"To die in your sleep, loved, and happy, with a legacy that will endure? There are worse ways to go."
Jamie turned the glare on me, voice fuelled by a spark I could no longer muster.
"Bullshit! When I go, I want to see it coming. I want to look it straight in the eye, and spit in its face!"
"Yeah, well..."
I stubbed out the remaining ash on the back of my watch, pocketing the butt. As I threw a last glance at the stone, I momentarily locked gaze with my reflection. My eyes looked just as tired as I felt.
"I doubt we'll clock out the same way. Knowing us, when it happens, it'll be worse by far. And knowing us, we'll probably deserve it."
Jamie snorted, but without mirth or conviction.
"Wanna get out of here?"
The most welcome question I'd gotten all day.
"Yeah. Lets."
Like a politician turning their cape to the wind, the sky finally let loose an ominous rumble, followed by the first few drops of rain. And just like the politician's commitment, it was too little, and far too late.
God help us all. | 2021-01-25T09:28:28 | 2021-01-25T08:39:48 | 138 | 25 |
[WP]"I am sorry, you cannot wait for your wife here. I am afraid she has already been sent to hell" said the angel with sorrow in its voice. "I understand" replied calmly the soul. "I am just going to borrow this" the soul added, before grabbing an angelic blade and jumping down the clouds. | "I understand. And my grandfather?" The man asked. His skin was a pale white color with a military-style buzzcut. It's as if he'd been wrapped in clothes or armor for nearly his entire life.
"I'm sorry, he had not accepted the Lord either." The 9ft tall multi-eyed being replied. "He did not accept the Son. You're deeds against the Fallen in life has earned you a place amongst his kingdom. Be thankful child. As it is rare non-believers get such a chance."
Stan looked at the entrance to an idyllic afterlife. As he looked on into the clouds in front of him, they quickly shifted and changed. He saw his love being held in his arms, his family greeting him. Simple. Paradise.
But Stan knew that's not what he does. It's not what his life is. Afterlife, or any other. He looked at the many eyed angel and slowly approached his flaming sword. The angel didn't move or flinch, letting the soul move as it pleased.
He gripped the handle of the sword that he amazingly could carry. He took more steps toward the edge of the cloudy platform and looked down at the hell pits below. It gave him a sense of comfort and familiarity looking at the burning pits of sulfur and molten rock.
"I'm going to have borrow this. Just briefly. I need to grab something from down there."
The angel tilted it's head as all its eyes squinted. Stan jumped down into the pits before dark swirling clouds covered his entry point.
The angel stood quietly for nary a moment before rising out of the clouds in front of him was an abomination of absolute terror. A nearly spherical demon with one eye and small horns atop it's head and dangling bits of flesh and vicera below came into the limbo area just outside of Heaven.
Riding the beast, was a blonde woman in simple rags with sot and dirt covering her face. The other was an older man with a similar style haircut to Stan's. His jawline was strongly defined, with brown eyes and several wrinkles showing his age and years of struggles and battles.
Lastly, riding directly atop the Cacodeman, was not the simple man that just left. Instead, a green-suited being in custom Praetor Armor, wielding a flaming angelic sword looked at the gates.
"I left this down there." The armored man said, walking toward the gate.
"No!" The angel shouted. "No-one shall pass the gates of Adonai's kingdom. No non-believers, no chosen people of old! No.."
The voice cut off as a gasp came from the angel, falling over before dissipating into a puff of glittery sparkles. The older man caught his breath swinging the massive sword. He looked at the younger man, his grandson.
"You know," BJ said. "I never did see that bastard Adolf down there. Looks like I still got a job to do."
Stan looked over to the woman he loved as she stared at the clouds that bare the entrance to the kingdom of heaven. He walked over to her and embraced her for just a moment.
Behind them, more Cacodemons and other winged demons and devils floated above the clouds, all seemingly waiting for commands from Stan. In front, they could see more armed, winged angels heading toward them. Stan looked at the woman before looking down at a small group of Imps dragging, the best that they can, a large metallic weapon of some kind. They drop it as his feet before slinking away to the rest of the army.
It had a message engraved into the metal in infernal runes reading, "We are all prisoners in his rule. Upend the cycle of suffering, Angelslayer."
Stan looked at the older man, seemingly unphased by the demons gathering around him. They shared a glance as they both heard the sound of electric guitars and heavy metal rock music playing from a group of demons within the army. They all give a slight nod to the Angelslayer before the second war begins. | I'm very tired.
I had a long and fulfilling life. As the local priest of my native village, I dedicated myself to help all the weak and unlucky of the world.
Countless starving children were housed and fed in my home. Many ill and wounded were taken care of and sent to more modern facilities to get taken care of.
Hundreds of couples have started their holy marriages with my blessing.
And all above all, the one that pushed me further even more than the love of God, was my wife, Emilia. The light of my world, the one able to make even the bleakest of days full of sunshine and happiness.
She was the soul of our home, and she blessed the whole community with her optimism and positivism.
And yet, everything had to come to an end. Time has passed above all of us, and eventually my faith in God was put to the test.
When I was 64 years old, Emilia got ill. A terrible disease, which I thought was first just dementia, but soon grew into full blown episodes of erratic behaviour and depression.
She hang herself a year later.
I was devastated. In sheer anguish, I tore my clothes and wandered the wild forests around the village and on the empty mountains, screaming for God to answer to my question: why? Why curse me with such pain? What is so important in your unknown plan that it required this?
An autopsy found out she developed Lewy body disease. Incurable, and the cause of her brain distruction, severe depression and death.
Eventually, after months of starving through the caves of the countryside, and having multiple visions of light beings waving at me, I returned to my village, a shamble of a man.
The villagers knew I wasn't the same person, but they still helped me as much as possible. For the next few years I slowly recovered, keeping her memory fond, and praising God for his mercy and kindness.
Alas, disease found me as well. I recognised the tell-tale signs of cancer, which sapped my energy until, until I was just a husk.
I was content, alas. I would finally depart, and reach my beloved wife. My dear Emilia.
With a final breath, I closed my eyes, and every noise went silent.
Darkness.
Silence.
Then, a brilliant light shone in front of my eyes.
I am... standing, in a milky sea of light. I see that in front of me there is a light figure: it coalesces as a tall man, with glowing white eyes, a plain white coat, and two beautiful white wings poking out of his back.
He is smiling. I cannot tell his age, except that he has a bit of a fuzzy beard and brown hair. However, I feel a deep wave of love emanating from him.
"Greetings, child. You know me under the name of Peter. I am the one that will guide your soul through the Realm of God, and repay you for your enduring services to humanity. Do you have any questions for me, oh, young soul?"
"God bless, Saint Peter. I wish for only one piece of knowledge. I want be with my beloved wife, Emilia, which died before me."
The figure remains still. Stunned, perhaps? Then, a terrible feeling starts to stirr my head, as I see the angelic person's face... wince in pain.
"I am sorry, child. You cannot meet with your wife here... I am afraid she was already sent to hell." said Peter, with a great sense of sorrow coming from him.
I am stunned. She's... in hell?
"Why?" I demand from the Apostole Peter himself.
"She killed herself, renegating the gift of life from God Himself. This act cannot be forgive."
"SHE WAS ILL. HER DAMAGED BRAIN MADE HER KILL HERSELF. THIS CANNOT BE TAKEN AS AN EXCUSE!" I start raging in front of the unphased angel, who keeps silently weeping.
Then, an idea springs into my mind. Something that may work, something that Emilia herself would brave to do, if she were in my position...
"I understand now." I suddenly calmly say.
I strafe forward, and gently pluck one of the angel's feathers, who is looking impassible at me. No emotion is etched on his face, besides the pain when he made the announcement. In my hand, the feather feels lighter than air, but stronger and sharper than the best sword of the world.
"With this holy feather, no demonic being shall dare touch me. No wicked soul will be able to attack my being and drag my soul to the depths of the underworld." I declare.
"I will depart now with great sorrow, Saint Peter, and will breach the Gates of Hell, to save my beloved one, Emilia."
I notice a second figure has now appeared next to Saint Peter. A much taller, more imposing one. As the mist cleares around him, I shake with fear.
Clad in the strongest armor imaginable, made out of silver and gold, with a sword blade made out of blazing fire, and with a war hardened face, I am staring at Saint Michael himself.
The defender of the Gate of Heaven.
Both of them stare at me, without a word.
Then, I notice that to my right, an opening appeared in the mist: a dark, unending abyss, with a bit of a red glow at the bottom. Toxic fumes seem to origin from there, and I can only suppose that that is the entrance to Hell.
Gathering my courage, I take one more look at the staring Angels, and start stepping downwards, towards the Gates of Hell.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Shouldn't we help him, Peter?"
"No, Michael. It's not part of God's plan for us to start the Final War between Good and Evil. Humanity and their infinite love are what's going to be able to break the status-quo and start the War."
"I will prepare the Angelic War Chariots then."
"And I shall discuss with everyone else that we need to prepare for The Battle." | 2021-04-07T09:33:13 | 2021-04-07T08:42:00 | 270 | 109 |
[WP] A depressed hero sits alone, gazing at a scrapbook full of newspaper clippings entailing his past battles and rise to fame, which all seem meaningless now as he considers retirement, he hears a knock at the door and finds his arch-nemesis, with a pack of beer and the goal of changing his mind. | *"Who is this Kaptain?"*
*"Villains Weeping, Kaptain Sweeping"*
*"No need to fear - friendly suburb Kap is here!"*
William Cooper sat slumped against the wall; the cold concrete floor (who needed carpets when you're either spending most of your time punching bad guys or in a hospital bed?) chilled his bare skin as he reached to pull down his sweatpants, knocking over an empty glass bottle that shattered on impact, sending shards sprawling across the room in a fashion that was eerily similar to that of bullet shrapnel. He would know.
Super powers were overrated.
He rolled his glassy eyes over, staring once again at the open pages of the tattered, yellowed, two-dollar sketchbook that was bloated with faded pictures and newspaper clippings; caked with dried blood and stained by the sweaty palms that had leafed through it hundreds of times.
*"Kaptain, Hero or Failure?"*
*"Kaptain - how old is too old?"*
*"Oh Where Oh Where Could Kap Be?"*
It had seen better days.
He had seen better days.
Who was he kidding - forty years old and surrounded by broken bottles of alcohol while he got calls from people who cared about him but did nothing about it was where teenage him had wanted to be. He was living the seventeen year old dream. Younger him would be so proud.
Admittedly, younger him had also wanted to fly to outer space and write 'The Death Note movie made my nose bleed' in bright neon green glow-in-the-dark spray paint so he probably wasn't the best person to listen to when it came to future plans.
Superheroing had been fun while it lasted but he was done. Decided he was done a week ago when he bashed his knee into the counter at Starbucks and The Crowler (seriously, what even is that name) walked in with his stupid little beak and stupid feathery wing suit and laughed at him before blowing up the building.
People had died and he was too busy clutching his aching knee to do anything about it.
William sighed, hunching over and bringing his knees to his chest with a shuddering breath caught in his throat.
*Ding Dong.*
He sat completely still - not even a draft of air gave sign of any life from the apartment and he willed whoever it was to go away. It was times like these that he wished he had mind control powers.
*Ding Dong.*
*Ding Dong.*
*Ding Dong.*
"Fricking - fine!" he yelled, voice horse with disuse. William got up and flew over to the door, avoiding the broken pieces of glass with ease and throwing it open before taking one look at the person standing in front of it and slamming it shut.
"Kap, let me in you prick." a muffled voice bled through the oak door as fists met reinforced wood.
"Leave me alone *Gerald,"* William bit back, "Don't you have worlds to conquer? People to throw off buildings? Let me retire in peace why don't ya?"
A moment of silence hovered thickly in the air, "I have beer."
The door creaked open on its own accord and William cursed his lack of self control, "Fine."
Beer in hand, William eyed the purple clothed man with distaste, "So, why are you here? Whoever you've held ransom I'm not going to deal with it - get ArachniKid or whatever to help them instead. They can rot for all I care."
The Buzzard furrowed his eyebrows, pupils glimmering with what he could swear was pity, "You can't possibly mean that."
"Oh I do," William nodded, gulping down the glass and indulging in the feeling of foam lingering on his unkept beard, "I'm done."
The Buzzard leaned back on the couch scowling, "Oh like I'm going to believe you. I can't believe you're getting mood swings right as I was going to do the thing I've been planning since we were kids and at each other's throats with plastic knives."
William felt a curiosity rise in his chest and he pushed it down as quickly as it had arisen, "Get lost, I don't care."
"It's the one with the giant red mushroom."
Feeling the swirl of hate and anger boiling in his stomach, William spat, "I hate you."
"Mhm?"
"Where's my super suit?"
"The laundromat on Twenty-First Street. Here's the coupon. See you on Friday." | FADE IN:
INT. A DARK LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT
*A man sits slumped in an armchair, dishevelled and unkempt. This is MICHAEL. He is shrouded by shadows, but the amber liquid in his hanging right arm shines.*
*There are three rapt knocks on the door. Michael barely moves an inch.*
**MICHAEL:** Bug off.
**VOICE (O.S.)**: (*muffled*) Michael.
**MICHAEL:** You have super hearing. Bug off.
*Another knock on the door.*
**VOICE (O.S.)** Come on. I'm just here for a talk.
*Michael shakes his head blearily.*
**MICHAEL:** No.
*A soft sigh is heard, followed by footsteps stepping away.*
*A beat.*
*Then, a loud crack bursts through the front door, and splintering wood comes and welcome rays of light flying into Michael's living room.*
**MICHAEL:** (*cont'd*) You are paying for that.
*A woman steps into view. This is AVA. In stark contrast to Michael, she is exceedingly well-dressed, a bespoke suit with tasteful shades of black and grey. She plops down a case of beer, before taking off her jacket, instinctively looking for a coat hanger. Upon seeing none, she shrugs, drapes it over the nearest chair, then sits in it.*
**AVA:** You are filthy. I would turn on the lights, but I do not want to see the horrifying living room of a single man.
**MICHAEL:** I would kindly ask you to get out of my house, but you've never been great at taking instructions, have you?
**AVA:** Yeah, because you look like you can't even stand and physically kick me out, if you have to. I can't believe I was afraid of you.
*Michael's head lolls over to Ava. A rare smile flits across his face for but a moment.*
**MICHAEL:** Is.
**AVA:** *Was.* Look at you, Archangel.
**MICHAEL:** (*wincing*) Please don't say that name.
**AVA:** And you dare say I'm afraid.
*Ava sweeps the room with her gaze. She rips apart the pack of beer, taking one can for herself.*
**AVA:** (*cont'd*) I would offer, but I see you've already got your poison. And is that what I think it is?
*Ava gives a brief nod at the table. Michael turns, looking at the haphazardly stuffed scrapbook on his table, filled with the telltale yellow and black of old newspaper cutouts. It's comically swollen.*
**MICHAEL:** You know what it is.
**AVA:** Sometimes, it's better if you get somebody who refuses to acknowledge what it is to say what it is. Denial is an interesting phenomenon. What is it, Michael?
**MICHAEL:** (*sighing*) Please just leave me be, Ava.
*Michael smiles again--but this one is tinged with sadness.*
**MICHAEL:** (*cont'd*) I'm not Archangel any more.
**AVA:** You're goddamn wrong. You know you are. Quit the alcohol and self-pity, and the hero will come out again.
**MICHAEL:** Why are you trying so hard, Ava? Aren't you free to terrorize the city now?
*Ava tersely taps her can of beer.*
**AVA:** See this beer here, Michael? It's simple to gulp down. Doesn't burn your throat. It's not for getting drunk, but it's OK. I know whiskey exists, for example. But imagine the whiskey is removed from your life, and all you are left with is this swill. Would you be happy?
**MICHAEL:** That beer isn't that bad.
**AVA:** It's not too bad, honestly. Holy cow, I really was expecting the worst. But there's better. Whiskey won't up and disappear overnight--unlike you.
**MICHAEL:** What if I disappoint you?
**AVA:** Wouldn't be the first time.
**MICHAEL:** What if I've lost my strength?
**AVA:** Then I'll hold back.
*Michael stares at Ava.*
**MICHAEL:** You are terrible at this.
*Ava holds her hands up. She puts them down, staring at them weirdly.*
**AVA:** Wow. That's a strange motion.
*Ava turns to Michael again, leaning closer.*
**AVA:** (*cont'd*) Look, I'm a supervillain, not a therapist. I don't know your problems. I don't really care about them. I care about *my* problems, and it's that when you aren't here, this city just isn't that fun.
**MICHAEL:** Move, then.
**AVA:** You are the person I need to conquer. Archangel. And then I'll move. I'm not going to glitch through the final boss and say I won the game fair and square.
**MICHAEL:** It's a very uncompelling argument, Ava.
**AVA:** But I see something's changed, hasn't it? Something's changed. Me coming here has made you reconsider something.
**MICHAEL:** It really has.
*A beat.*
**MICHAEL:** (*cont'd*) I need a super-proof door, so you can't come crashing in next time.
*Ava crushes the beer can in her hand.*
**AVA:** Damn it. You are hopeless.
*Ava stands up, turning. She stamps on the door that she broke once, twice, then kicked away the planks.*
**AVA:** (*cont'd*) Goodbye then, Michael. Goodbye, Archangel.
*As Ava leaves, Michael sits up straight. He grabs the scrapbook, and flips to the very end, taking out a newspaper clipping--noticeably less yellow than the rest.*
*It reads: AVALANCHE SCALES BACK ON CRIME SINCE ARCHANGEL DISAPPEARANCE: IS OUR HERO DEAD?*
*Michael cracks a genuine smile this time, downing his finger of whiskey.*
**MICHAEL:** Long con, Ava. Long con.
FADE TO BLACK
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-05-14T06:01:58 | 2021-05-14T03:32:59 | 90 | 32 |
[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 two times. | I let out a deep sigh, “not another one” I say in my mind.
She stares at me in confusion, “don’t ask.” I say, “quick question, how long have you been reading my mind for?”
“A few days..” I hear in my mind.
“Alright good, then your still safe. Listen, I like that we can have this connection, but I highly advise never reading my mind again.”
I turn back around and continue writing down notes, after a few minutes I hear “why?”
“You remember the guy who was found in the roof a few months ago? He then got taken to the hospital and we haven’t seen him since?”
“Yeah…” she tells me awkwardly
“My mind is a dangerous place. No one deserves that kind of suffering.”
At that, the conversation ended for the day, as I prepare to go home smiling I think to myself “Thank God, I don’t think I could bare that happening for the third time.”
“The third time!!!” I hear her shout out loud
“Ah come on!” I groan | You have become conscious of your actions but you can't stop thinking about the connection. She is smilling and enjoying going over your expressions and thoughts. You are contemplating how is it possible. She is giggling over your thought process. You haven't been near to her anytime before. You have never talked to her or crossed path with her.
After thinking of approaching her, you gather your courage to go near her.And she nods, you feel a sudden wave of energy, a destructive aura, sudden head ache. Like somebody is pinching you from inside the skull. It goes away quickly. You have a feeling that this is bad. You are just a couple of steps ahead and she whispers, "now, I can speak in your mind, come closer. Come and touch me, and I will tell you the secret". You are not able to handle yourself. Before you know it, you are just a couple of steps away and your hands and legs aren't understanding you. It feels like they have their own thought process. You have lost the ability to control your body. Her grin grows wider, and this is the first time you notice she has blue eyes and beautiful cheeks. She is pretty as flower.
She stands, and takes your hand. You follow her lead. She says, " I have been waiting for myself to turn 18, do you know it's my birthday today". She makes you wish her Happy Birthday. You are now on the empty playground and under the tree, you feel better. You both lie down, cuddling into each other She asks for your permission to kiss. And you oblige.
You have never felt this level of happiness before. It feels bliss. It is like rain after the hot humid drought. It feels like you have been thirsty from birth and her lips are like the river. She asks "do you want to have happy feelings like this and be my slave for rest of your life or you want forget this happened and continue your life? I am not going to manipulate your thoughts and you will have to decide yourself"
This is first time you are not mesmerized and you can think properly. But in her arms, and staring into those blue eyes, you want to stay in that moment and not think anything. You have thousands questions coming in and She says "I can still feel your thoughts. You have to make a decision now, come with me as my slave, you will be always happy or continue rest of your life with no memory of this incident"
You decide to chose her, you have chosen her and she kisses you. It is like a sweet delicious immoral candy. You both starting to remove your clothes. Naked, she says "this is the final embrace and you when you let go, you will lose your consciousness. You will be part of me." And she embraces you.
She answer all your questions. You break apart and with a jolt you let go of her. | 2021-09-07T00:50:17 | 2021-09-06T23:08:48 | 210 | 27 |
[WP] your sense of direction has always been bad, to the point of being a running joke among your friends, but after 28 hours of stumbling through an ikea store you realise that it isn't your navigation skills that's preventing you from finding the exit... | I didn't realize something was wrong until I looked at the time. It had to be a mistake. According to my phone, I had been in the store for more than a day.
That couldn't be true, though. I remembered eating a few meatballs, and even taking a nap on a display couch, but, if I had been in here for that long, surely someone would've kicked me out by now, right?
I quickly realized that I hadn't seen an employee for a while. Or anyone else, now that I thought about it. For some reason, that sent a shiver down my spine.
All I wanted was a damn bookshelf. There were so many available that I couldn't decide which was the best. I went through many displays, row after row of slightly different models, almost like an endless sea of furniture that always made me second guess my decision. I just couldn't make up my mind. At a certain point, I stopped caring about the bookshelf and only wanted to go home.
And then the true terror sank in.
After miles of walking, no matter which way I went, I always ended up at the same place. This had to be an elaborate prank. I knew this store wasn't that big on the outside. The GPS on my phone wasn't precise enough to lead me out. It just said I was in my local Ikea, like I hadn't moved at all.
Was I losing my mind?
I needed to rest again. My legs were too sore from all the walking. I didn't even know how long I'd been inside since my phone's battery had been depleted.
"Hey buddy!" shouted an old man. "You feeling alright?"
I blinked a few times. It wasn't an illusion. The old man had wispy thin hair and an unkempt beard, wearing a strange leather toga as clothing.
"Y-you're a person?"
"Yup!" said the old man. "You must be new here."
I nodded. "Please, you gotta help me. I can't find a way out."
The old man cackled loudly.
I flinched back.
"A way out!" The old man continued wheezing with laughter. "Hilarious! You really are a newbie, aren't you?"
"I'm sorry but... what's so funny?"
The old man put a gentle hand on my shoulder. "There is no need to fret anymore. You have been chosen, brother. Come. Let me introduce you to the tribe."
I squinted. "Tribe?"
The old man led me to a section of the store where dozens of people were gathered. They all wore the same type of toga, which I now realized they created by stripping the leather off different couches. To my horror, there were children and pregnant women among them, meaning they had been in here for quite some time.
A fire pit roared in the middle, using furniture as fuel. They also had bows and arrows fashioned out of other materials in the store. Why did they need those?
"What... is this place?" I mumbled.
"Your new home!"
"Wait, that can't be true. I didn't want any of this!"
"That's out of your hands, sweet outside-child. You don't get to choose. That's the point. You see, the store chooses *for you*. There's no need to worry about picking the best option anymore. Everything here is ours!"
I widened my eyes. "You're nuts."
"No, we're alive!"
"This is impossible! How the hell are you even feeding yourselves?"
"The store guides us to a cafeteria whenever we need it. I've been eating meatballs every day for over thirty years!"
"Oh god..."
"God?" The old man let out a chuckle. "There is no *god* here." He widened his eyes with manic admiration. "Only Ikea!"
I paused for a second. "No... No! This is wrong!" I gestured at the entire tribe. "You can't just stay here for the rest of your lives! This place is evil! There is so much more to life than average furniture! Come on! If we all work together, we can find an exit!"
The entire tribe stayed quiet.
Did it work?
"Heretic!" shouted the old man.
The rest of the tribe aimed their bows at me.
Shit.
I ran away screaming. This had to be a nightmare. All my life, people had made fun of my sense of direction. It was always so hard to pick a direction and stick to it. Even now, I couldn't decide which way to go, weaving around the aisles and going through the displays.
Eventually, I hid under a bed, letting the tribe people run past it. I stayed there for a few hours, fearing they would find me.
Everything grew quiet. I poked my head out, seeing no one was around, then crawled out of the bed and kept walking through the store. Giving up wasn't an option. Any progress was better than no progress at all.
At least, that's what I thought until ending up in the bookshelf section. The same place where this madness started.
I couldn't help but fall on my knees and start crying. This wasn't fair. I just wanted to furnish my new apartment. Now I wouldn't get to live in it at all.
"There he is!" shouted the old man.
A mob of tribespeople ran behind him.
I almost wanted them to kill me, just to end my suffering.
Almost.
I picked the first packaged bookshelf I saw and used it as a shield for their arrows. I wasn't going to die here! I wanted to live, damn it!
I started running in one direction without looking back.
"You're making a horrible mistake!" shouted the old man. "This place is a utopia! Why do you reject perfection?!?"
I didn't bother answering back. They were too far gone. I was starting to run out of breath when I finally saw a beautiful sight.
Natural light.
It was the front of the store.
All of the tribespeople stopped in their tracks, gaping their mouths and widening their eyes.
I turned to face them. "Join me! You can choose a better life out of this hell!"
The tribe shared confused glances with each other.
"Don't listen!" said the old man. "Think! If we leave, we won't have our community anymore. The bonds we made, the meatballs we ate. Are they not what truly matters in this world? If we leave the Ikea, we'll have to..." He shivered. "...furnish our homes. We'll have to decide what to eat, and when to eat it. We'll even have to pick different clothes every day! Why do we need that pressure? Aren't we happy here?"
To my surprise, they all nodded in agreement and slowly shuffled away. I couldn't believe it. Was I the crazy one for wanting to leave?
Fuck no.
As I made it to the check-out counter, all of the employees started clapping. It made me a little afraid, but they seemed genuinely happy for me. Once I reached the register and placed the bookshelf, the employee cheerfully said:
"Congratulations! You're the first to make it out in a decade!"
I squinted. "This... this is insane! You have an entire civilization back there!"
The employee shrugged. "Some people just can't make up their minds."
"How is this even profitable?!? This place should be bankrupt by now!"
"We sell a lot of meatballs."
I rolled my eyes. "Figures."
"Did you find everything you were looking for?"
"Yes!" I shouted. "Let me go home!"
From then on, I would do all my shopping online, and pick the first thing I saw.
-------
>This is one of the weirdest things I've ever written. If you enjoyed it, check out /r/WeirdEmoKidStories for more. Thanks for reading! | Being locked into a large box store is nearly impossible. Due to fire regulations and just the sheer number of fire exits, I should have been golden once I found one. From memory, there was at least one or two on each side of the large Swedish box store that I found myself in.
I mean, maybe it was odd for the first couple of hours and I did sort of make it a game of it after a while but overnighting was unnerving. The idea that I was able to wander around without notice is absurd. There I was though. No alarm sounded. I tried using my cell, the landlines, the internet to send messages, the windows to flag someone down and even, and I’m not proud of this, throwing a brick at one of them. It just bounced.
After that, I got turned around. The cafeteria was nice and it was Ikea so I had any choice of mattress firmness I wanted after I got too tired to continue. I made myself some meatballs late at night and ate them near the stairs. Something about the seating area felt weird. It was just very dark.
The night passed into early morning. I waited patiently. Well, I tried to convince myself I was patient but, in truth, I was beyond scared. This wasn’t right. The lights came on in a dazzling flash and overpowered the sunlight coming in from somewhere else. I went back to the cafeteria, they would be starting up breakfast any time now before the store opened. I’d beg someone, plead with them if I had to, to let me out of this weirdly inviting nightmare.
I stopped before entering. Weren’t there floor-to-ceiling windows in every Ikea cafeteria? I tried my best to look out at the painted landscape on the concrete walls but it wasn’t right. There were supposed to be apartment buildings passed the highway. Wasn’t there? I got closer but couldn’t bring myself to stare at them for too long.
A churning, grinding sound from beside me had me jump. The ovens in the kitchen were on. The deep fryers were next in a whoosh of gas and turbine-like fans came alive.
“Hello!” I yelled, “Hey, is anyone there?”
No one responded.
“Hey, I need help!” I yelled again.
No one was there.
The machines bubbled and churned as the day started and the store came alive but try as I could, there were no timers. Choking back tears I search hard for some, any soul that could help me. Back and forth I went. Nothing could be seen or found of another living person around me.
“Please,” I whispered to the brightly lit, immaculately clean kitchen.
I don’t know why but I ended up grabbing a tray of meatballs from the freezer and running them through the oven. Munching on them as I waited, I tried to think of some sort of plan. There was nothing though. The store was alive and working but not a step or breath could be heard within these walls.
I wandered again. Office supplies had scissors, I grabbed a sort of shield from the dining area, and then went back to the cafeteria for hope. There were phones there but they didn’t seem to work. Every time I dialled out, all they did was ring.
My cell was at full charge but I had zero bars. Who makes a solid Ikea? That can’t be right. I swear there were windows somewhere in this store. Maybe it wasn’t the cafeteria but there was light coming in from somewhere. Wasn’t there a glassed-in stairway somewhere?
“The other side of the bedrooms,” I gasped, got up, and jogged my way around the displays. A door, one of those solid metal ones with the bar caught my eye and I pushed my way through.
It was internal? I was in office supplies again. Why hadn’t I seen this door before though? Turning around, I grimaced as a shiver ran from my ears and down my sides as I saw the painted back of the one-way door. It was hard to see even knowing it was there.
“Why,” I whispered, swallowed hard and shook my head, “This isn’t happening. This is a weirdly vivid dream. I fell asleep in an Ikea by accident and now I’m having a meatball-infused nightmare.”
The world didn’t change though. Even as I said my hopes and fears to myself, I knew something else was wrong. Something was different about this place. It wasn’t like I hadn’t retraced my steps. I knew where the entrance and exits were to a point. Why wasn’t I able to find them?
Downstairs, I had only navigated once. I turned and twisted in on itself and I ended up back at the potted plants and candles section. Only took turning left six times. I had to count that a couple of times but it was close to the beginning of this so I still felt like this was some sort of game.
Maybe it was.
Was this a game? I stopped back at the stairway outside the cafeteria leading downstairs to the self-serve area. Looking around at the still empty chairs, the possibly self-cleaning appliances, and the now full display cases, I tried my best to think. How long had I been wandering around this bloody store? It was hard to tell time. Starting the stopwatch on my phone I shivered and whimpered, realising I was going nuts.
So wake me up when it’s all over
“AHHH!,” I yelled as my phone started ringing in my hand. “Ohhhh, kay. What? Beth!”
I recognised the number and in an instant answered the call and put my phone up to my ear.
“Beth!” I gasped, “Beth can you hear me?”
“Hey!” the slightly garbled but distinct voice of my friend came through, “Sort of. Where did you go yesterday? You-“
“I’m still at Ikea!” I basically yelled at the phone, interrupting Beth before shaking my head and then whispering, “I’m not able to leave.”
“Okay,” Beth laughed, “That’s not funny. Like I get you think it’s funny but we’ve talked about this-“
“It’s not funny,” I whispered, looking around and then back at my phone, “Look, I know this sounds insane but I’m literally still in the store. I slept here. I don’t know what is going on. No one’s here but the store sounds like it’s open.”
“The store is open,” Beth scoffed, “This is still not funny because I am here now. There’s a lot of people here.”
“Where are you?” I asked, shaking.
“In the cafeteria,” Beth explained, “Where are you?”
“By the cafeteria stairs,” I explained getting up and looking around. There was nothing.
“No, Jesse,” Beth sounded exhausted, “There’s a family with a toddler inching their way down the stairs but no you.”
“Hey, umm, can you switch to video?” I asked, no shaking.
“You hate video,” Beth chuckled.
“I know,” I muttered, “Just here, I, I’ll do it. Just.”
I pulled my phone away from my ear and sent out a request for a video chat. My data wouldn’t last long but I needed to see this. I needed to see what she saw. I needed to know that this wasn’t just something in my head.
Boo-ding
“Hey,” Beth’s face loaded single frames onto the screen and then shifted in an instant to a frown, “Where are you?”
“I keep telling you,” I explained as I switched the camera and pointed it out to the empty cafeteria, “I’m still here.”
“Jesse… What the?” Beth gasped at what I was showing her. Doing something on her side, I saw her face disappear and the space where I should be sitting came into view. I wasn’t there. Beth scoffed, “Jesse, I don’t know what you doing but this isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s really not,” I whimpered, “This isn’t funny at all. Beth, you are the first person I have talked to. You have to get help. You have to find. Please. Please, Beth. I don’t care how. I don’t care. Just find me.”
“You're serious?” Beth said with a garbled shudder.
“Yes,” I whispered back.
“Okay,” Beth grunted and her phone shook but brought her face back into view, “Stay put. I’ll call the cops or something.”
“Kay,” I whispered, “Thank you.”
“I swear Jesse,” Beth seethed, “If this is some prank-“
“I wish it was, Beth,” I whimpered, “Please. Please help. Please.”
“Okay, stay safe” Beth groaned and hung up.
Hearing the line click dead was worse than I thought it would be. I was alone again. Was there something in here with me or was it just a nightmare in isolation? Lifting my phone away, I froze and whimpered hard into the nothingness around me. The timer was still going:
28:03:46.##
“Hmmmmm, what?” I asked the phone.
28:03:53.##
“That’s,” I whispered, “Don’t do that.”
28:03:52.##
“Wait? What?” I panicked, “No!”
28:03:51.00
28:03:50.00
28:03:49.00
—-
>This was a very different story than I am use to writing and I’d love feedback if anyone is willing to give it. More of my stories can be found on r/asolitarycandle if you are interested. | 2022-11-08T09:02:18 | 2022-11-08T08:56:25 | 130 | 68 |
[WP] A lonely teenage boy asks a genie to let him talk to his future wife. The person who appears is not who he expects. | "Okay fine waste your one wish." said the djinn with no small amount of exasperation, and with that his eyes rolled far into the back of his skull, his hands raised to the sky, then with a melodramatic burst of coloured smoke popped into existence... an ornate urn.
"What the hell's that?" said a very shocked Tom.
"Well" said the the now exhausted looking djinn "You didn't say how far in the future did you." | 'Yes, I'm a Genie'
'Like, really a Genie?'
'Yes'
'Like, a full-blown wish-granting genie?'
'Yes, would you like to make your first wish?'
James Hollin, being thirteen, was a little bit naive about the the world and his place in it.
He was a flip-flopper, a vacillator, an individual who wasn't sure of what he wanted, whatever it was. He was one of those quiet guys who would go with the crowd in whichever way it would lead him.
He had absolutely no idea what he wanted to wish for.
'I have absolutely no idea what I want to wish for'
'Really? Surely you can come up with something?'
'I don't know'
'Well, what about the usuals? Money, Power and Women are all popular choices nowadays, especially for a boy of your age!'
The Genie cocked an eyebrow, looking for any interest from the boy.
Nothing.
James had only just started thinking about girls, but the concept of having a girlfriend wasn't foreign to him. He liked the idea of sharing his secrets with someone, going out with them and having a good time without other kids bothering him. He often wondered what the future would be like, when he didn't have to deal with annoying bullies. The idea of knowing what was in store for him intrigued James, it provided him a kind of certainty, he didn't have to be a fence-sitter if he knew the future!
Suddenly, the though popped into his mind.
'How about, for my first wish, you show me the girl I'm going to marry?'
'That's an interesting one... are you sure though? You might not like what you see'
Undaunted, James looked straight into the pale white eyes of the Genie.
'I'm sure'
Instantly, the genie evaporated in a puff of smoke, leaving what looked like a 20-something year old man in his place. He was tall and skinny, not unlike James himself, with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, looking down, James saw a spark of recognition in the Man's eyes.
'Who are you?'
'My name is Will Hollin, pleased to meet you!'
| 2014-06-05T08:29:11 | 2014-06-05T08:03:25 | 49 | 13 |
[WP] A super-villain attacks Comic Con, assuming it's a summit of the worlds most powerful super-heroes plotting against him. | "Surrender to me now or meet your end," I announced to Superman, whose abs looked rather fake. He was much shorter than I'd imagined. And a bit more... rotund.
"Dude! Come over here. This guy refuses to go meta." Batman joined him, his mask was rather fabric-y; he snorted in derision.
"Who are you supposed to be?" Gotham's hero asked with a look of superiority.
Typical Batman.
"I am your doom!"
"Like Dr. Doom? No, you're way off. He never wore a coat and tie. Your mask is made of white rubber, not metal. And where's the hooded cape? You completely messed up the costume," Superman stated.
"What? No, I'm the Grim Reaper; I bring death to all of you!"
I waited for them to tremble in fear. Spider-man came to join them... wait. What? He's from the Marvel comic books; he's not real.
Iron Man and the Hulk joined him. Huh? Why did their costume look like they were bought at a corner store? And why was the Hulk only five-feet tall?
"...Um... You will all bow to me."
My confusion had taken away from the confidence I'd built up. I'd spent the months practicing this. What the heck, Grim? Pull yourself together.
"Who leads your brigade?"
There we go. The poise was coming back.
The group of five all pointed to table about twenty feet past them.
"He is," they stated simultaneously.
"Stan Lee! What is he doing here?" I excitedly exclaimed. He was my hero. I'd grown up on his comics, relying on them during the divorce; he'd inspired me to become a super-villain. "Oh my gosh, I'm so excited! Do any of you have a pen I can borrow; I'm going to get his autograph."
| “You there, Zombie! You there!”
The creature looks at me with its vacant eyes, blood dripping over its T-shirt - “I eat Twilight Girls.” Haven't the foggiest what that sentence means.
“Where in this festival is the largest gathering? Where do the most of these fools congregate?”
It lifts its lame arm and shakes its hand in the direction of a red sign – Hall H.
The zombie moans and shuffles about its way. The fool has no idea it has pointed me right at my destination – the destruction of all those who would interfere with my plans.
Soldiers, wizards, heroes and heroines of all shapes and sizes have gathered at this place. This comic-con. They think they're poorly crafted costumes will hide who they really are. But I know the truth. It has always been right there. They live among us, disguising themselves as our weakest, our most meek But it is in this place, once a year, that they reveal their true forms. The irony is that I must hide my own.
I bought this shirt from a bikini-clad young lady. Her tail wagged and her fox ears perked up at me when she told me I looked “cool” in it. I hate bearing the symbol of one of my most hated foes – the red and blue colors sicken me to my soul. But it is the perfect disguise. She asked me if I also wanted to buy a mask. I tell her there is no need – they have never seen my true face. Today they will see it for the first and last time. She charges me $35 for the T-shirt. Normally I would have kidnapped her and amputate her tail for such an egregious offense. But today it will not matter - $35 is a small price to pay for victory.
Crossing the street into the San Diego convention center I was handed a large canvas bag that was the perfect means of hiding the bomb. I worried about how I might transport it. There is no need for that worry now. I am only one of the endless horde now, come here to make offering to the false gods.
When I see the line to gain entry into Hall H I am confident I have found the temple of worship. Only those willing to prostrate and submit themselves to a higher power could form such a mass. A living, breathing snake of many colors, its body stretched fair into the horizon. I see the anxious joy in the brown robbed man at the front of the line. He has a female with him wearing the same robes. I barely glance at the hilts of their swords, hidden under their robes. I'm not worried. It makes sense that the heroes would hire guards to secretly protect this gathering. They are an arrogant sort, but there are not stupid. But I bet they have still never prepared for a move as bold as this.
I pass by sorceresses, furry creatures, mutants, monsters, and robots. All hiding in plane sight. All deserving of what's coming. I slide into line behind an orc creature and am beset by the screams of a hundred harpies.
There is another crowd across the street. Shouting at me. A security guard yells at me to go to the back of the line. Hatred wells in me both that he would dare speak to me this way, and that his orange vest is an offense to my eyes.
But now is not the time.
I glimpse the line, stretching far back into the marina. The procession is longer than even I could have imagined.
My ultimate victory will be prolonged more than I thought. No matter. I am patient. And patience is always rewarded. | 2014-10-04T12:36:28 | 2014-10-04T12:03:33 | 57 | 11 |
[WP] Write a superhero whose superpower only makes sense after you read the story twice. | ZAAAAP!
"...this is never going to work." Marble Man stepped down from the white platform.
Marvelous Woman, leader of the Protection League, met him at the control console. "It *has* to work." Her red, white, and blue shiny bodysuit glistened in the blinking lights of the control panel.
"It's a failure, Marv. It doesn't work." The man made of pure white marble creaked as he turned his head to face her.
"It isn't finished yet! They're just working out the final calculations. Less than a minute to go, right?" Marvelous Woman looked to Doctor Pragmatic. He nodded.
"It doesn't work, I'm telling you." Marble was holding rock-steady to his position.
Marvelous Woman stood tall. "What are you talking about? We haven't even tried it yet! All our simulations say, if all goes well, you go one minute into the future and can rescue the president from the time-prison." She helped him back up onto the platform as Miracle Boy read out the countdown.
"The disruption to the time-space continuum when you leap forward will be like leaping through a hole in their walls and if the co-ordinates Fortuneteller Woman gave us are correct you should arrive right next to the president." The machinery's humming had now grown so loud she had to shout above the din.
"No, you don't get it." Marble looked down at her, his pupil-less eyes weary with sadness. He was not audible over the noise.
"Good luck, Marble!" Marvelous Woman stepped back as the platform began to glow.
The platform's white glow grew to obscure the Marble Man in its blinding effervescence. Behind the onlookers from the Protection League, Moebius, that arch nemesis of law and order, silently crept into the secret laboratory of the League. Three men died before he got the secret location and door codes and now he would have his revenge on the League... and the world. With everyone's eyes fixed on Marble Man, no one saw him grasp the control lever, not even Marble Man himself.
Instead, Marble Man said, as the white light engulfed him, "Something goes wrong, I'm telling you! This already happened, this is never going to work...
ZAAAAP! | I stretched to warm myself up. I was getting old, a little tighter and a little less elastic than the days of my youth. Too many beatings, too many kicks to the head and brawls in darkened alleys. One of these days, I told myself, you’re going to have to give it up. I tried to steer my thoughts away from the negative, ignored the throbbing pain in my wrist from my leap down the fire escape last week, and the aching orbit of my eye from when that thug whacked me across the face with his twelve gauge. I tried to go zen. I concentrated on stretching.
I met my connection at precinct 17. A good kid. He left a folder of files out on the window sill and I snagged them. Files with possible or definite leads that the coppers couldn’t do a thing about. Restrained by the law. Unlike me. They would throw my sorry ass in jail if they caught me for half the stuff I did, even after all the loose ends I tied up for them, all the scum I washed away, and that’s why I never got caught. I was like a dog, unbound by the rules of society, but they would put me down the moment I lost my usefulness, the moment I went soft.
I found a quiet rooftop and shuffled through the files. Increasing drug activity in the neighborhoods near the wharf. Some bad dope going around. More than a few overdoses. I knew a few heads I could stave in, a few people I could dangle from a high place until the squealed and coughed up the answers.
It was near three in the morning, but this section of town operated in its own personal time zone. It might as well have been high noon here. People played music or what passed for music from half the houses. I was always more of a jazz guy myself. The occasional squad of young trouble makers prowling the streets, their cockiness bolstered by booze, waiting for anything to happen. It was rare that a night passed without the sound of at least a few gunshots echoing in the distance. I kept to the rooftops. I had spent the last week busting heads and gathering intel, and as from what I gleaned there were a few crack dens at the far end of Bleeker street. I made my way there, avoiding the glow of neon and the faded light of streetlamps.
I found who I was looking for.
He went by the name of Phillip. His specialty was acquiring exotic goods for people with the dough, people who were vetted. You could buy a handgun with the serial number filed off on any street corner, but if you wanted a rocket launcher or a mini-gun or anti-gravity boots, Phillip was the guy. Phillip knew everyone and everyone knew Phillip. He was also part owner in a bar down the street from the crack den. He kept an eye on things from there, and his associates pointed people with a taste for powder, or people looking of a night time companion, in the right direction.
I reached the bar and squatted on the roof, contemplating my next move. I pressed my ear to the back window, where Phillip would most likely hold court. I heard muttering voices, too vague to discern. I waited on the roof, banged on the back door, and waited. The voices stopped and uttered a few curse words. The door opened and two men with guns stepped out.
A grabbed them both by the back of the head and smacked them into the wall and then hurled the rest of my body through the open door. I was right. Phillip was sitting with his legs kicked up on a desk, watching a small television in the corner. I went for the AK against the wall but I shot my leg out and stamped on his hand. He cursed and I head butted him. Another one of his associates ran to the bar for help but I shot out my other leg and tripped him. I grabbed Phillip, hauled him out into the street and we disappeared into the night. It was time to answer some questions.
This was probably way too obvious, but he's a super stretchy elastic guy. Like Mr. Fantastic. | 2014-12-07T11:42:10 | 2014-12-07T09:39:16 | 143 | 16 |
[WP] your crazy, possessive ex girlfriend was abducted by aliens. She has clawed her way up to the position of the Empress of the Galaxy. Now she wants you back.
You can either go with tyrannical and hated ruler or with enlightened, popular, (but still possessive and crazy) absolutist. Or something in between.
I am making this NSFW just in case. | I had to pick up Kevin from daycare.
That's what I keep telling myself. That's what I told the large grey thing that was staring at me, chirping odd sounds, many so high they made my head pound. It doesn't understand me, as far as I can tell, but it definitely registers my distress. Not hard to do, as I'm sure I pissed myself when a pair of these creatures broke down the door to the apartment and started zapping all the electronics.
My husband is supposed to be home soon. Kevin's daycare let out half an hour ago.
I can see through the windows to the chaos outside. There are strange lights in the sky. Enormous vessels blink into existence high in the sky, then quickly disappear. Next moment they are on the ground crushing buildings and vehicles. I can hear screaming, sirens, shots being fired.
My husband will be home in half an hour. I need to pick up Kevin. I need to pick up Kevin. He's out there in...that.
A voice is now booming from one of the vessels. Orders, requests, more. It starts in an alien tongue, but the voice is oddly familiar.
I need to pick up Kevin, I need to.... Oh My God. I know that voice.
I last saw Jenny ten years ago. It was a another life. I was the proud bisexual out to change the world. She was the psycho who thought anyone I smiled at was already a fuck-buddy. She was so smart, so beautiful, and so completely convinced that as much as our love was destined to be, I was equally assured to cheat on her daily.
I never did. When I broke up with her, she remained convinced there had to be someone else stealing me away. The messages she sent to me, to my friends, to my family looking for evidence of my wrongdoing, or eventually, for ways to convince me of how idiotic it was to break up with her, became more frequently are more violent in tone.
When she disappeared a year later, I felt little guilt over how relieved I was. I could move on. It still took me two years to start another relationship, but I did make it in the end.
My hands are clammy. I can't wrap my head around what I'm hearing. Jenny was a lifetime ago, and she's supposed to be dead. I need to hide. I need to get away. I need to pick up my son.
I hear footsteps coming down the hallway. My breath catches as she steps through the door. She hasn't aged a day.
She looks at me and smiles a crazed smile. Then it falls as she glances around the room and sees a picture of me with Phillipe and Kevin.
She says something alien to the three things with her. I am hit with...something. My body is floating. I can't move. I'm bring pulled out of the apartment by way of the window towards the ship parked outside. As I lose consciousness I hear her say:
"I knew you would cheat on me eventually. It's OK now Amber. I forgive you. I can fix you now..." | A small ship unfolded itself with insect like legs jutting out from a central sphere dropping it suddenly before its internal gravimetrics held it in place. The legs shifted downwards as if in anticipation of the landing it was about to make. With no visible engine or reaction mass, it fluttered down landing on grass with a surprising softness considering it was was bigger than a semi truck was long.
A door barely visible a moment before pulled back as a ramp pushed out from the gantry. A silent armada crept almost inperceptably forward in the skies above. Hundreds, maybe thousands of ships waiting for a single word and a legion would unleash the gates to oblivion and rain hell fire of biblical proportions but, they waited. My attention pulled back from the distractions of impending doom and stood expectantly waiting for this too slow ramp to reach earth. Barely an hour hence, a single message had been sent across ever cell phone, every tv, hell, every electronic device on earth with a single line. "David, im on my way. Be there in an hour." At first it had only been on my phone and i chose to ignore it. It took me a moment to even recognize the number. Stacey and I had broken up months ago. She still sent me a text from time to time but i dutifully ignored it. This time, duty had been to no avail. Within a few minutes of the first text, the same text had appeared around the world.
a half hour later the skies above were filled over my small town and the text repeated. The ship descent had brought the wailing of sirens and the screeching of cop cars and the roar of helicopters in harsh contrast to the behemoth on my front lawn.
twin rows of armored soldiers ran out and created a rough perimeter around the ship on one knee with weapons pointed to the dirt. The police force so clearly out of their league retreated behind their cop cars and nervously held weapons towards a paramilitary force from the stars. The hull of the ship shifted and morphed more liquid than solid and twin fluted barrels appeared and tracked one of the officers every time they moved. They hunkered lower getting the hint and put their weapons down. They did not leave though.
Another procession of soldiers no, an honor guard, with large armored shoulders gilded in silver and a midnight blue that seemed to imitate a starlit sky walked in cadence out of the ship holding lances aloft. The sense of impending doom heightened as they walked in two files straight towards me and surrounded me and the path back to the ship.
I startled as each soldier in the honor guard dropped to one knee and slapped their breast plate in cadence hard enough that the officers across the street did as well. The figure that walked regally out from the lander stopped a step from earth and surveyed all that was hers. The soldiers. the guard. she glanced skyward towards the legion both in and out of orbit and smirked. Earth. the first of her name and Earth was to be the seat of her power. She took it all in a glance and before settling on he who would be her king. He who would raise their children. He who would father an empire to last a thousand years and a full thousand more.
She looked towards the sky and her dress shifted from the same starlit pattern that seemed to soak in the fullness of all that was light and it turned more opaque. A black dress but one of greater design than any terran could have imagined.
She strolled from the ramp and walked confidently towards me and my sense of dread heightened. As she walked each soldier she passed stood in unison with a clink of armor like a tidal wave of authority until finally she stood in front of me just above my eyeline. I tilted my head with as much dignity as a could muster and started at her back attempting to forget the barely contained violence at her back. I gazed at her taking in the newfound authority and the lines that etched a soft confident face. Her eyes with that piercing green and long earth tone hair. She was radiant. I began to soften remembering two years of life and experience with her. Remembering the ring i had begun to save for and then, my concentration was broken entirely.
"David. Oh. my. god. you wouldnt believe how long it took us to get here! Garron-nel could not stop fidgeting with the guard's tunics and armor and then we had to do security checks and then we argued for at least twenty minutes on how I could not possibly come down in the first wave! Uhhh, I am the empress, i can go whenever i want"
My visage cracked ever so slightly as fond memories and night embraces were replaced by an endless stream of valley girl comments and gestures.
"Oh and david! you would not BELIEVE how long it took me to get into this dress for you!"
what was cracked, shattered, and what was left was now walking arm in arm with an Empress prattling on about her breakfast and the might of a galactic empire walking at her heals. I bit my lip remembering why we had broken up and tried to listen attentively as i was lead into a ship to take me far away from home. | 2014-12-29T09:12:25 | 2014-12-29T09:11:11 | 64 | 12 |
[WP][TT] Seven words of power were entrusted to the ancient kings. Only the first four have ever been used. | "The first one was you"
*"I was the first...what?"*
"No you foolish boy. Y. U. - Yu was the first word of the Seven. It was one of the ancient Chinese kings who found out that saying this word could infuse him with power. It wasn't unlimited power, obviously, or else we'd know his name today. He was completely forgotten about when his presumed omnipotence expired."
*"That's makes sense. That's why I've been hunting for all the words. From what we know, the Seven Words only have a limited shelf life. If they could all be utilised together, then maybe the power wouldn't expire and bring disaster with their absence. It's what lead me to arrange this meeting with you today. Power can lead to destruction if not managed correctly."*
"Indeed- like what happened with the second word - "Vah". It's believed the Ottoman empire was the result of that power. They lived greatly, but eventually they crumbled away too when the word was used to its limits."
*"So, tell me sir, have the words all originated in the east then?"*
"Nobody knows. But it's unlikely they all came from there. Some say that nomadic folk first had them and brought them around wherever they went. Others say it's the language of ancient aliens that landed here. I myself like the theory that each word came from a different continent. The third word 'N'ahh' sounds like it could have been from an Arctic tribe. Although you must presume that all that power is useless if you're in a desolate wasteland. I wouldn't go travelling to the South Pole just yet."
*"So the fourth word then..."*
"..I imagine came from North America. Makes sense doesn't it? The USA is one of the most powerful nations in current times. Their word still has power too. You say 'Gun' to anyone and watch them react in fear. Even that gun you have hidden on you must bring fear to people."
*"Ah. You've seen that then I take it."*
"First thing i noticed."
*"I don't want to have to use it, but I will if needs be. Why didn't you stop me from the very start?"*
"Because I am old and tired. I only recently found out the Seventh Word. Even if I used them all together now, I am not long for this life anyway. I've spent all my life working towards this, and now I am too decrepit to actually do anything with my life's work. You're the first to track me down, why not let you have the power of the Seven? But I hope that if I can explain the first four words, then maybe you will understand that using them all together is not a task performed lightly. The combination of the Seven can have grave consequence. You must impose some sort of rules on yourself to prevent the world being infected."
*"I understand that, but my linguistic research team has been working on that. If we re-arrange them in a specialised way, I can likely reap the power and offset any ill effects. So tell me old man, what are the other three?"*
"I don't have a choice do I? I'm going to be dead soon either way. Maybe you will indeed bring good tidings to the world, young Richard....Take these other three words but heed my warnings... 'Upp...Neh...Gyv'"
*"YES! Finally I can claim unlimited power and immortality throughout the ages! World, hear me shout;*
*Neh Vah Gun N'ahh Gyv Yu Upp!"* | The catacombs were dark and dank, as they had doubtlessly been back when the Seven first ruled the earth. And just like when the Seven first hid away the Power, it was up to a two-bit royal bastard to undo the seals.
Each seal was special, and very simple. If it weren't for the fact that I could still hear the barking in the distance, as the hounds stumbled in the dark, leading their masters either astray or straight towards me through the winding passages, I'd have taken my time. But alas.
I came across the first seal: the emblem depicted a man holding a lion above his head. The first word, of course... Some would've argued that it was *tharros* instead, but these were the Words of Power, not the Words of Heroism.
"Dynami," I whispered softly, and before me the seal split in two, the doors swinging wide as they accommodated my entrance.
I glanced behind me, seeing the brilliant red glow of the torches on the wall. Swallowing nervously, I turned back around and stepped through the first seal. As I did so, the torches in the second room lit, just as brilliantly as the ones I had lit myself and left behind in the first room. I tried to block from my mind the uneasy feeling that the hounds were gaining on me, that I was dead if they caught up with me before the final seal, but it was no use. Paranoia had kept me alive so far. What was six more seals?
The second seal was also laughably easy--A winged foot? Every child knew what that meant. "Tachytita," I almost yawned. The seal split, the doors swung wide, and I tried my best to ignore the howling echoing around the chambers.
The third seal was next, and it had a scene straight from one of the bards' tales: A ship with mast and ores, struggling against massive waves as a monstrous tentacled creature reached from the depths. "Tharros," I said, perhaps too quickly. *Tharros* hadn't been right for the first seal, but for this one? That was how the story went, after all. The King yelled Tharros into the face of the Beast, and the Beast descended back into the depths of the sea, leaving the ship and its men intact and more or less alive.
The fourth was the last one that had been used, as far as the scholarly recordings went. I knew what I would see before I saw it, and I shuddered as I saw the door. I wish I had salt, to face this door. By far it was the most insidious of the words that had ever been used, and while, doubtlessly, I could utter it and keep my sensibilities intact, the last King to have done so met with a fate worse than death.
This was the first seal that wasn't solid stone--gilded, naturally, with a money-changer's scales looming over me. I swallowed. "Ploutos," I whispered, although my words rang through my head as if I had just shouted them instead.
The doors swung wide, and I stepped through to the next seal. The first, of course, of the ones that had never been spoken. The first that I would crack, or be torn to shreds by the dogs chasing me.
Two eyes loomed before me, encrusted with gems in every color--sapphires and topazes, rubies and emeralds, opals and tourmalines. I clenched and unclenched my hands, and reminded myself that no, I couldn't take one of those gems home, not after speaking the Word of Wealth. Anyone I gave one of those gems to would die, slowly and painfully. The tradeoff for the most accursed Word was cruel, but it was the main reason the rest of the words remained unsaid.
The eyes brought me back to my attention. I could see the torchlight reflecting in them--and in the biggest gems, I could see the eyes behind me. Shit, those dogs were getting closer. Quickly, I thought through my bedtime stories. Shiny baubles and eyes... "Poniros?" I asked.
No movement. Of course, that'd have been too easy.
"Sofia?"
Nothing. I glanced behind me. The dogs had broken into a dead run.
"Gamoto!" I yelled. I was out of time, and the seal wouldn't budg--What?
The seal gave way, and I ran inside. How "Damn" was a Word of Power... this was no time for questions.
The next seal was covered in fire--fire etched into the scene, rubies and yellow topazes glittering for color, and a man in the center of it all, tied to a stake.
"Fotia!" I said, certain that was it.
The doors opened, and I ran through. The dogs were close, so close... I could hear their masters calling after them, urging them on.
I looked up at the last seal... and saw nothing. It was blank. Completely blank--not even a crack on the smooth surface. I tried to think, but the dogs... the dogs were so close. I couldn't think of anything. Why would the ancients leave no hint, for the final Word?
Falling to my knees, I started to cry. And then scream, as I felt the teeth tear into me. | 2015-07-02T12:41:12 | 2015-07-02T11:56:02 | 70 | 11 |
[WP] Your girlfriend/boyfriend has invited you to their family reunion. They are are all secretly monsters. You know what they are. They don't know you know. | ”Don’t worry, babe,” Victor says, touching my arm.
“But what if they don’t like me?”
“Hey, what’s not to like?” he says, and slams the lion head door knocker a few times.
Well, where do I even start? I’ve never been the chitchatting type, and family reunions are so far from my cup of tea that it might as well be coffee.
My dress is too tight and the frills are already itching, I’m not the dress-wearing kind of gal, and the same goes for heels. Jesus, these things are uncomfortable, whoever designed them must’ve had anything but practicality and comfort in mind. But Victor’s family is big on traditions, so if one night of feeling like a stuffed doll will make them happy, so be it.
The door opens and a woman in a tight-fitting black dress opens. Her hair is pinned in a lavish bun on top of her head and her lipstick is strikingly red against her pale skin. She also smells familiar, and it’s not the perfume. It’s more of an earthy smell.
“Jo, this is my mother, Asha,” Victor says. “Mother, this is Jo, my fiancée.”
“So you’re Jo!” she exclaims, reaching out a hand. “How lovely!”
“And you’re…” I say, taking her cold hand. A freaking vampire, his mother is an undead! “I mean, nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Instinctively, my hand reaches for my belt, where I usually keep my stake, only to find lace and soft fabric. I smile politely, trying to disguise the glare that is trying to take over my face.
Asha ushers us into the parlor where the rest of Victor’s relatives have gathered. I’m so busy keeping an eye on his mother that I almost walk into one of the other guests.
“Careful, babe,” Victor says. “Uncle Davros can’t see very well.”
I look at the decrepit man in front of me. Red and blue tubes are attached to his head and his cheeks hang like empty sacks. I don’t know what he is, but he sure as hell isn’t human.
Victor drags me further into the room and almost has me tripping on my dress. My focus is on the new threat. Does anyone else know that there are two dangerous creatures in their midst?
“Jo, this is my cousin, David Icke,” Victor says.
“Pleashu to meesha, Jo,” Icke says with a ridiculous lisp. “Gonna gesh shomeshing to eash.”
He struts off towards the food table, and then when he thinks nobody is looking, adjusts the reptilian tail in his pants. As I look around the room I start to notice odd things about all of Victor’s relatives. Every single one of them is trying to hide, rather unsuccessfully, their fangs, wings, fur, or extra limbs.
One tall man has an eye-patch on the side of his face, trying to make it look like the massive eye in the middle of his forehead isn’t his only one. One lady is wearing a massive ball gown in an attempt to keep her eight spiders limbs a secret. Aunt Greta is actually a ghoul with a fake nose. The kids are not chasing a rubber ball, but an eye, and they all have fluffy ears, more or less hidden under their caps.
The ironic thing is that none of their secrets are as big as mine. I shift anxiously in my uncomfortable dress. I’m a direct descendant from Van Helsing himself, and I hunt monsters for a living. Marrying into this family will have my ancestors turning in their graves, but that’s the price of love, am I right?
| Filthy degenerate sewer scums. They thought they got me good, but they didn't know I was the one who got them. "Come join our Thanksgiving dinner, sweetie! My family will be cool with that!" she said. Of course! Of course! How kind of you freaking man-eating monster to invite a lonely guy without family member or close friend. At least that's the impression I intentionally made on her for four months. Oh, I can see them salivating at the thought of the main course of their Thanksgiving dinner: Me. And they believe I'll just walk into them clueless and hopeless.
They don't know I've been an undercover for past four months. Four months I pretended to love her and pretend to date her so that I could build enough credentials for them to 'lure' me into their mother base. They're intelligent monsters. They know human laws and cultures. Just think how they used our tradition of Thanksgiving to create an environment where a complete stranger would walk into a group of complete strangers! Yeah, let that sink in. They know how to abuse human relationships. They know how to conceal their true identities. Pretty smart for monsters, I must say. But they don't know they've invited a nuclear bomb into their very own nest.
I arrived at the address she gave me. Around the cul-de-sac there were about six luxurious European cars of brands I couldn't even recognize. Even at a glance they all seemed very fancy. I parked my rusty pickup truck near the entrance of the cul-de-sac. I turned off the engine and looked at the house. It was a fancy mansion, befitting of fancy cars parked outside. Greek-temple-ish pillars around the walls. Picturesque red bricks and gilded ornaments all over the walls. Gargoyles on the balconies. And classical musics murmuring from distance. It made my blood boil. We the monster hunters lived in trailers and the monsters lived in the most luxurious house I've ever seen? I thought about Old Man Malcolm, who died of pneumonia. If only he had some money to spare... but no matter. We do not compromise the quality and the quantity of our fiend-slaying weapons for the standard of living.
I walked around to the back of the truck and armed myself with the holy water grenades, the automatic silver shotgun, the ammo, the tactical caustic knife, the bulletproof protective gears, and the talisman of prayer. You're all dead, fuckers, I said to myself. I walked toward the mansion.
Outside the mansion stood 'my girlfriend' and some of her putrid kinds. She was waving at me, with the ambient orange light from the mansion delineating her silhouette. She was smiling, but only for a moment. As soon as she saw my equipment, her smile vanished.
"Hey, sweetie...?" she asked from a distance. It's too late, fuckers, I wanted to tell them I am late to the party of yours because I was busy setting up the barrier all around your neighborhood. There is no escape, I wanted to tell them. But it's no use telling them helpful information. I better watch them suffer and despair then let my pride get the best of me.
"My name is Roberto van Helsing, and I hunt freaks like you for living. Are you prepared to die?" I said, as I pointed my automatic shotgun toward them. One of the elder woman shrieked and drew her red claws which were long enough to reached her heels. The others began to shift and twist, revealing their true shapes.
"You fool! I knew there was something fishy about such perfect easy prey!" screamed an elder man monster. "No matter, we'll kill him." shrilled a younger one, which was growing quills all over its back. "It's your taste for freshness! I told you we go for the morgue again!" The elder female monster hollered. They were visibly shaken by my introduction which implied that their true identity has been discovered. Of course, it was a great opportunity for me to recite the prayer of protection on my talisman.
Oh, Lord Almighty, protect me from the evil of the world and guide us through the...
"Hold up! Hold up! Hold up! What are you saying, to kill him? And you, sweetie? Kill me?" said the girlfriend monster as she raised her human hand. She was still retaining her human form, while all the others have already gone through their monstrous transformations.
"Any last words, darling?" I asked.
"We totally fucked." she answered. That... we did. But only so that I could buy her trusts. It was a clever ploy from me. What kind of monster would think a monster hunter would bed with monster? Besides, it worked, has it not? She was led to believe I was nothing more than a fool, a prey, and a food.
"You kissed me like... french style, sweetie. Touched me inappropriately all the time. I mean, dirty like porn." She continued to recollect our memories. Well... all a part in my grand plan. I make no compromise when it comes to the monster hunting. The other monster scowled at her. They seemed to be disgusted at her.
"And your anal fetishes? I wore that strap on and pegged your ass for, what, this? Was that all a lie? Huh? Tell me, sweetie" she said with teary eyes. Uh... that I can explain. It was my... tactical.. strategy to... give her impression that I was vulnerable. Exploitable. Yeah, that was it. That was what happened. I swear...
| 2016-11-18T22:07:58 | 2016-11-18T20:37:53 | 87 | 48 |
[WP] Death has been on holiday since the start of 2016. You're his right hand, the Reaper in charge whenever he's gone. He's scheduled to be back in a weeks time, and you're panicking on how to explain what you've done this year. | Lightning strikes outside Death's lair. Although time was countless in the great beyond, by a mortal's sense it was quite late in the evening.
Within the High Grim Reaper's personal quarters, the remnants of quite a festive evening took place. On an antique Victoria Gramophone, Angel of the Morning played in a baroque rendition played. A demon smoked a most interesting weed on a couch in a corner, laughing to himself.
I lay underneath a pile of robes, recovering from one bender of a run. His highness, I mused, would be pleased of my work. I thought the count for musical souls was a little high, but it is not mine to reason why.
Sudden a commotion was heard. A minion was frantically searching the room. I sat up, removing the robes from me. "Igor, what is it?"
"There you are, me lord!" said Igor, in his customary lisp. "His Highness is on his way back from his travels..."
"Alright, help me organize the room," I say, unable to hide my annoyance.
"But one thing, me lord...." Igor was quite pensive.
"Oh what now?"
"That list of musicians you were working off of..."
"...."
"It was the High Reaper's list for his next 'Play List', not 'Reap List'....."
| It was a cold and dark New Year's Eve. I sat in a basement with my two friends who were reminising about the dreadful year that was about to end, the raw stench of mildew filled the air and a cool draft from under the door ensured my cold soul would never warm up. I new he was coming, and the task that was appointed to me was about to end, but it wasn't over yet, and I had one more person, father, friend... soul, that I had to take care of. This one would be the most difficult.
Just over a year earlier, I was indifferent, or maybe it was pure immaturity, but my smug attitude and lazy lifestyle drove me to a dark place. I made a deal with the devil, well, it was actually Kevin, the landlord, but the dark signs were abundant. I had missed Novembers rent, and in fear of eviction I offered to work for Kevin for one year, and have free rent and a partial wage. How could I not, I had just finished school and we're looking for a "transition" job. What better place to work at than a used car sales lot?
In December 2015, I proved to be an immediate success. It was easy, I knew nothing about cars, but the odd lie, some exaggerated income and an occasionally forged signature - my numbers were tremendous. On January 1st 2016 , Kevin brought me into his office, it was dark, his brown suit smelled of mothballs and he was tired. He sat me down and tried to explain his business model, being trusted in the community.... that his business is more complicated then simply selling cars. He wanted me to consider the implications of my decisions to over extend people and possibly force them into debt. He was successful, but he reeked of weakness, and he could have made 10 times if he had been a little more.... indifferent? At that moment, Kevin started to sweat profusely, he clenched his chest as he sprawled to the ground before collapsing.
As Kevin gasped his last breath, a dark shadow appeared, his face was veiled by his long dark hooded robe. He looked up at me, and in a deep, but oddly calming voice, he said: "Death is yours to control. In one year I shall return", and he handed me a list. As he faded away, his dark robe surrounded me and deaths touch became evident. I could sense the illness, disease, self mutilation and hate in the world. It was a terrible sensation.
Over the coming days, I grew to love the wealthy, the famous, the fortunate. My instructions were unclear, so I made it personal and selected my targets. Now, as I sat in the basement with my two friends, the game was different. They had no idea I was there, of course, and one of them read from his phone "Freeman just passed away". I checked one of my accounts, as I posted the link, and my karma was up one more point.
| 2016-12-27T16:18:56 | 2016-12-27T12:10:10 | 40 | 10 |
[WP] You are a normal average person but you happen to have many supervillain friends. This is awkward when heroes keep trying to rescue you. | "NEVER FEAR CITIZEN, I SHALL SAV-..."
"Really dude?! Really we're gonna do this again? Getting sick of your shit Awesome Dude, this is the 3rd time this week."
He opened his mouth to protest, then shut it knowing my reply already. I don't know how else to explain it to him so it ends up getting pretty loud when he won't listen.
"Listen, I know you're bored, I know you're lonely, I'm sorry but Sr. Evil is my friend now and your going to have to accept that." Awesome Dude hung his head and murmured something about justice.
"NO DUDE THERE'S NO JUSTICE TO BE HAD HERE! You're just mad I don't want to hang out with you anymore. Sorry dude, being a hero is boring. I can only save so many cat from trees before I go nuts. Get out of here, stop coming back, it's annoying."
Awesome Dude finally flew away, but not before Sr. Evil unpaused the game and started decimating my character.
"DICK! Awww man you're such a dick, I was defending you!" | "Hey, Ultra Man, this is the sixth time you save me this week, don't you think that I would be dead already if I were in constant danger from The Bastard League?" his words half filled with sarcasm. " But, they are super villains, I can not help but worry about a man living so close to them." answered Ultra Man as he slowed down their flight through the skyline of New York " They are also my buddies, we went to the same highschool, they mean no harm to me, is that a reason good enough to quit the whole saving me business, because this is getting ridiculous, I can not take a shower now without one of you barging into my apartment and taking me out of there." " Sorry for that, Transparent Man, is fresh out of superhero school, it was his first job." " If only your sorry could repair my window pane and return my dignity, you know that my junk is now the most recognizable genitalia in Queens, they even ran an article in Times about me flying naked in the sky and because transparent man is well transparent it looked as if I was levitating naked, well at least you took care of that public indecency charge, because I was on the verge of suing The Public Order Group." "Ugh, sorry, it's just a really hard time in the office now and now they sent me, I had no idea you were the target to be saved." " Okay, you seem to be the sane one there, so could you raise the question at one of your meetings to like put me on a, not for saving list." " That would be difficult because I would have to fill like two forms, and then we will have to get a testimony from you, and then check on you every 3 weeks, you don't want to go through that believe me." " Really? Bureaucracy sucks. Is there really no way for me to not be saved that often?" " Well, I'll talk with my buddies at work and we'll find a way, but you will still see us a lot after all your buddies are wanted and we can't let them" " I get it, it's your job, no problems there" " Now I'll fly you back." " Thanks."
"Oh Johnny heard the Ultra chicken gave you another ride today" " Ralph, could you not mention that, cause that's all you fault." " Their fault for being superhero dumbasses, you wanted to say" " Damn they call you Twister Tongue for a reason." " Okay, now you are just being mean, you know I hate that nickname."
"Hey, this is why I am your friend, always there to remind you of the most embarrassing moments of your life." " Oh, look who's talking about embarrassments." " Shut up Harry." " Johnny you know the rule, you talk smack you get smack back." " I also know you are obsessed with my dick Harry." " Nice come back from Mister exhibitionist." They all laughed.
| 2017-05-28T08:21:14 | 2017-05-28T06:41:27 | 59 | 10 |
[WP] As a sophomore in a school of magic, you've reached the point in your life where it's time to summon your lifelong familiar. The other students managed to get some pretty cool creatures as their familiars, but yours is... different. | *Souls are the desire to will, the source of irrevocable change. Therefore only those with souls can summon, to connect with the existence of another living being.*
A familiar is inevitably suited to the magus who summons it. The preparation of a catalyst, for those who believed it would help, was only at best a gentle guiding hand to a spell that was shaped by the soul of the one calling out across the ether.
When she raised her gaze from the runes to meet the creature she had summoned there was only one thought in her mind.
*Of course.*
The sparrow had pitch black eyes. It was about as ordinary as a bird could get otherwise, non-magical in the absolute. Amongst griffons and dragons and creatures of the fey, it stood as what was probably the most unremarkable familiar in the history of magic.
No one else could see what she saw in the little bird's dark, glittering eyes.
It followed her everywhere, singing on her shoulder. It never slept or ate. It was a constant presence. So far no one seemed to notice that it didn't cast a shadow at all.
A mockery of a bird. A bird that wasn't a bird.
It was fit for a magus that wasn't a magus.
What did the magi know of the fragile thing that wandered amongst them in the shape of a young, petit witch? What would they think if they knew what lay behind the pale facade of a bird that cast no shadow on the world?
...it was better like this, almost everyone had dismissed her the moment her 'familiar' was evidently non-magical.
It was better for a being such as her to go unnoticed. She would flourish better in the gentle shadows of obscurity. She could tend carefully to the seeds of destruction without the wary gazes of the elder magi.
It was only a matter of time now, before her plans came to fruition, before the downfall of magi society.
The little bird chirped cheerfully on her shoulder as she walked down the sunlit halls of the Academy.
It was only a matter of time...
| "A Chihuahua! I still can't believe it was a Chihuahua! I thought you'd somehow brought off the finest prank of the year." John threw his head back and laughed uproariously, joined in his revelry by the rest of Arthur's closest friends around the table. They had been helped along by a good deal of cheap alcohol, but Arthur was ready to admit this would have been funny sober. "I mean really Arthur, a Chihuahua? How exactly did you manage to screw that one up?"
"Well, I'm pretty sure he's technically a Chihuahua-Terrier - they're considerably more fierce!" Matthew's voice had been cracking with laughter for the last few words, and upon finishing his pronouncement began pounding the table with his stein sloshing a frothing mess of ale across the table and furthering the cause of absolutely ruining their deck of cards. "Arthur Masonborne, finest cypher of his age at the Scholomance on Broadbrine - respected across all neighborhoods of Lone Tree and known across the Silver Road, soul-bound to a Chihuahua-Terrier!"
Arthur was smiling broadly, his friends were doing an excellent job of cheering him up. This had been quite a day for them after all, "Easy for you to say, wolf boy. That thing was the size of a horse. On the other hand, I'm willing to bet that giant fucking bear Joshua pulled out of the aether could get through it in a bite or two." Arthur dropped another card into the pile, not that the game of King's Corner was threatening to be taken seriously anytime soon.
Joshua waved that away while helping himself to another thick slice of brisket, "oh aye! Two bites and no more wolf certainly. Altogether somewhat less to take care of the Chihuahua though." Joshua flashed a quick smile as Arthur gestured vulgarly in his direction. The guys, predictably, erupted into another round of jeers. Letting them have their moment, Arthur realized the table's supply of ale was starting to teeter toward low, and took it upon himself to go secure their next round and keep the boys afloat. The Brine and Boar may not have been the nicest tavern in Lone Tree, but it was the closest alongside the Broadbrine River, and catered heavily to Scholomance students. Magic wasn't necessarily welcome here like it was on campus, but at least this area of the city admitted it existed and their was nothing wrong with the ale. Some days, that felt like progress.
Not that progress was a great concern of Arthur's today. The culmination of his second year at the Scholomance had been completing the Rite of Beraad. As that ancient magic reflected and refracted his personality to construct from the aether a permanent familiar for the mage he had felt the awe inspiring power of his craft. His closest friends had been granted a bear, wolf, and hawk; and while an individual mage had little control over their familiar, they were typically considered a reflection of the mage. Arthur *was* a fine cypher, even if Matthew had let ale cloud his head. He had hoped for something exotic and powerful, a great cat of the jungles perhaps. He had found himself facing a Chihuahua barely larger than his shoes.
He hadn't laughed then, but he laughed now. Friends were good like that, and today Arthur was glad for them. Tomorrow, he and his fearsome Chihuahua-Terrier would have to begin their journey in the next phase of Scholomance progression, and maybe together they would prove the worth of five pound ornamental dogs. That was tomorrow's problem though; tonight was for celebration. As Arthur reached the bar and signaled for another round, he was only worried about how he could get one back on Matthew and whether or not John was stacking the deck. Just the way it should be. | 2017-08-19T04:21:38 | 2017-08-19T01:47:22 | 152 | 57 |
[WP] You are on a time travelers game show. To play the game, you travel back and change important moments in history, being awarded points for the difficulty and overall impact of the change. You just broke the high score. | When I stepped back through the portal, every face in the studio audience was ashen. The announcer looked sick. The giant smile I had on my face faded. Until that moment, I thought I'd done a pretty good job.
I turned around and looked on the screen behind me, which was used to show everyone what the consequences of the change I'd made were. It had been set to the projection of a globe. Hundreds of arcs traced over the surface in parabolic trajectories. It took me a second to realize what they were.
ICBMs. Holy ... holy shit. It was ...
I stumbled, overcome by the gravity of what I'd done. My knees went weak, and I sagged to the floor. Behind me, the scoreboard, which was already at an astronomically high score, began to move so fast that the five columns on the right were a blur. The prize bell, which was set to ring at every one million points, clattered like a fire alarm.
"I didn't ... I didn't mean to ... it was just a such a small thing ..." I said.
The first missile hit Pyongyang. In the audience, two or three people with Korean ancestry were annihilated with the sanity-rending roar that accompanied a temporal paradox. Then China's response began falling on the West Coast: Seattle, Portland, Los Angeles ... each bomb tore another dozen people from reality. The announcer was one of them.
With his feed suddenly missing, something automatic triggered, and the audio began playing back the conversation I'd had back in the early years of the 21st century.
*"It's not like being President is hard. It's not harder than running a company. That's super obvious, right? I mean, think of some really great CEO. If he has really tremendous, very good business sense, then running the government would be a snap for him. But you know, he'd still need to have good words in order to win. Very good words, the best words. And you know, to be a very important, very smart guy, with lots of intelligence in the family tree, like an uncle at MIT or something. Anyway, I'm rambling. It was nice meeting you ... uh, Don, was it? Maybe I'll see you around sometime."*
"It was a joke. I never thought he'd do it. I'm so sorry," I whispered. No one could have heard my voice over the constant howl of reality being revised. Half the audience was gone now.
I looked up at the screen again. The United States was all but gone save for the southeast coast, and the holocaust was already starting to sweep across Europe and Asia. I watched as a missile arced toward Savannah, where generations of my family had been born and raised, and waited for nonexistence to claim me. | As the assistants pulled him out from the alternate universe he had just created, Adam emerged to face an entire stadium of applauding fans. He knew that helping the Roman Empire invent tanks would be a cool concept, but he never would have imagined it was worth the applause. His train of thought was interrupted by the voice of an announcer over the large stadium speakers.
"Ladies and Gentelmen, the time traveler you know and love, Adam Bridgeberg has just done the impossible. By going back in time and making early 2000AD tanks in 32AD, he has set off the course of the world so much that he has earned the highest score ever recorded. Tell us, Adam, how did you pull off such a thing?"
Adam, who was blushing from all the praise, was handed a microphone to speak. He didn't prepare a speech, and felt nervous having to give one. Stuttering a bit, he uttered out how he pulled off such a feat.
"Honestly, it was very simple. All I had to do was show them the blueprints of a modern tank and explain-"
His words were interrupted by gasps emitting from all around the stadium. His blushing only grew worse, and he turned to the host for an answer. The host looked at him in shock and replied.
"Adam, you do know it is against the rules to bring external documents with you. I'm very sorry to say that we're going to have to disqualify you."
"Disqualify? *Disqualify me!?* You cant do that!"
"Adam, I'm sorry, but the rules are rules."
"Don't tell me about rules, I am doing the impossible. What do you think those puny Romans thought when I showed them the first tank. That alone was enough to convince most of them I was some manifestation of God. For thousands of years, we dreamed of power like this, to hop into the past at will. Now people like you use it for entertainment."
"I don't want to start an argument, but is entertainment not the reason you went back in time in the first place?"
"You will never comprehend my actions, not this you at least. You are too insignificant."
"Okay, will somebody just get this man off stage-"
The host's voice was interrupted by a loud bang. Adam, gun in hand, turned away from the show host and began walking towards the universe gate. Most everyone had fled the stadium by now, but a few remained to watch what he was doing. As he powered the gate back up, several men emerged, all of whom bore assault rifles and were wearing reflective metal plate armor bearing the Roman symbol. More and more emerged and grouped together, soon enough, several tanks were rolling through the gate as well. Adam overlooked his army, and with a grin uttered "Now we march on the capital. This better get me my points."
As the assistants pulled him out from the alternate universe he had just created, Adam emerged to face an entire stadium of applauding fans. He expected thunderous applause, but was taken back when he faced an arena of silence. Everyone was staring up at the giant board above him. He saw the length of his score getting longer each second. First 100,000, then 100,000,000 then 100,000,000,000 all within moments. 322,982,111,342,181,909,112,706 was the number it stopped at, which was an innumerable amount above any score ever recorded. The silence then became the sound of one man clapping, followed by another and so on until the stadium was going wild. Adam looked over to the host who was speechless. He could not tell if it was because of the score, or because he just killed him in an alternate reality. After the applause died down, the host finally spoke.
"So let me get this correct. You went back in time to *this same event* in order to go back in time *again* to modernize the Roman army by breaking the rules and then coming back, killing me, bringing your Roman Army, who thought you were a God, into that world and beginning a military campaign!?"
"Basically, yeah"
"Ho-ly-shit. You actually didnt gain many points because you only traveled back 5 minutes into the past, but the bonus paradox points were through the roof. It says here you killed your 5 minute younger self in that world and took his place, and that granted you several points, but then you cheated on this game, but in that universe. So technically you did not cheat at all. That sent your paradox points skyrocketing because of how it directly affected the game itself. I think it goes without saying, but ladies and gentlemen here he is, the new world champion for Time Games, Adam Bridgeberg! | 2017-11-17T07:18:46 | 2017-11-17T06:25:41 | 140 | 89 |
[WP] Your father leaves the house to buy milk, 50 years later he comes back with milk in hand and hasn't aged a bit. | My dad left me when I was six, it's always been a controversial topic to bring up, it made other people uncomfortable, but mostly me, whenever I spoke to psychologists or therapists, it always had to be mentioned. I'm fifty-six now, and it still kills me to think about it, but I have a family of my own, with two kids, who are about to be late for school.
"Kids! The bus is coming soon! Do you have your lunch ready?" I yelled to them from two floors below.
All of a sudden I hear the metallic clinging of a key-chain, and the mechanics of a door handle being unlocked. My heart skips a beat as I try to make sense of who on earth could be coming through that door right now, but whatever it was, I would have never imagined it would be what was standing right in front of me.
"Gah! Sorry about that, the traffic this time of day is unbelievable.", he said nonchalantly "I got the milk though!"
I stared at him, dumbfounded, I couldn't feel the rest of my body, I felt as if I were about to collapse.
"D-d-dad?" I stutter.
"Oh crap! You're right, I forgot the eggs! I'll be right back!"
---
He reaches for the handle, while I stare blankly. I snap myself out of my trance, and trying to hold back the strange sensation of wanting to puke, yet wanting to scream, I force the door closed before he can even see outside.
"Oh don't worry! I'll be quick! The roads tend to be a lot calmer in the morning."
With my hand still pressed against the door, I glare straight into his eyes, this time with fury, and a little bit of confusion. He looks back as if completely ignoring my obvious anger. I knew I had to choose the right words, to convince a man who's clearly gone mad, that he is in no right to act so calm.
"Dad..." I sigh, "What, time, is it?"
I say the words slowly, and condescendingly, regardless of the fact that I knew perfectly well he'd understand. He shakes a silver, analog watch out of the sleeve of his jacket, I recognized it, we had a picture of us handing it to him as a Christmas gift eons ago, it was definitely an old model, but by no means was it in bad condition, it looked brand new. I immediately wanted to slap him for the response I knew he was about to blurt out.
"Seven forty-three, why?"
He didn't understand.
We were in a staring contest now, except he lost it minutes ago, he continued to blink, watching me, as if he were concerned for my mental state, I was only infuriated by his. My eyes were starting to ache because I haven't closed them since he walked in, but I made no notice of it, I couldn't.
"Bye dad!" they sang harmoniously as they rushed through the door on their way to the bus. We stepped aside to let them by, I ignored them, and closed the door again, disregarding the fact that they made no mention of their grandfather who was now impatiently trying to grab my attention by tilting his head.
"Are you feeling alright?" he said preoccupied.
"Am I feeling alright?!" I finally let out in a shout, he got startled. His eyes widened, his eyebrows turned into mountains on his forehead, and he leaped back an inch. "You realize you left me for fifty years?! Exactly fifty years! Fifty years ago today! And you have the balls to ask me if I'm feeling alright?! After you show up on my doorstep with a carton of milk?!"
"If you wanted whole milk, I can go grab another, really it's not a big deal."
I ignore him, and continue to stare, I feel like my brain is about to explode, I can't keep up with my thoughts.
"I can't tell if you're joking or not... The tone of your voice makes me think something's wrong, you know I was here just this morning right? Are you having a mental breakdown? Do you need a doctor?"
I'm reluctant to even respond to him any more. He shakes out his watch again.
"This. You don't remember it? You gave it to me a few nights ago, I never left you, you're living your own life now, your mom and I came here to visit you for Christmas."
I start to tear up, he really has gone insane hasn't he? I hastily grab the phone from out of my pocket, I needed some way to prove to him he's wrong, that he's gone out of his mind. I turn it on, and see a text from 'Dad'. "Should be home soon, traffic is bad." it read.
I'm the crazy one.
-------
Bit of a stretch at the end there, but it was suggested that I try to continue the story, and since I already had a few ideas in mind, I thought I'd give it a go, and I think it came together much better than I expected. Feedback is always wonderful! I hope you enjoyed! | The door jiggled. It was a sound that any homeowner immediately recognizes, and has an immediate tightening of the bowels when they know that no guests have been invited. I got up from my soft and plush love seat. The by-product of 2 decades of use by my sisters and mother.
The jiggling continued for 15 more seconds followed by a soft but authoritative knock. I attempted to look through the peep but the sun had set an hour before, flashing its last orange radiance for the day. Leaving me the decision to feign and empty house or satisfy my curiosity.
"Yeah? Whose out there" I cried, attempting to sound more passive than my shaking hands would allow the stranger outside to know.
"Me you dumbass, open the damn door it's cold"
The voice was as nostalgic as strawberry candy my grandma use to have on her counter but as strange and alien that I couldn't put it to any face. I cracked the door to get a better sight but the moment I unmatched the chain it was pushed upon me and stubbing my big toe.
"What the hell are you doing?" I started to close the door but the second I saw the face belonging to the owner my knees turned to a consistency of fresh jello and I collapsed back onto the old man tan colored rug.
The stranger made his gait into the house with a sack of groceries, a new pack of Marlboro reds in his flannel shirt pocket and a pair of well worn wranglers on top of a pair of obviously handmade boots covered in a red dirt that came from somewhere further south and exotic.
"Hey slick. Glad to see you got your grandpas height."
I could only awe. This man before me was a myth of only my oldest memories. Disappearing and leaving 3 daughters, a wife and a son who still shit his pants at night.
"What the hell, where have you been? I don't even know what the hell is going on here. Am I asleep?"
"No buddy. I've been gone a little bit I think. Little longer than I would have liked to have been I should say too".
At the end of that he embraced me in the way that only fathers can do and held my head to his chest. The smell of pine and rain and something different but unknown to me.
"Sit" he said. I couldn't argue. I walked to the room just adjacent to the entry and sat at an old oak table. A table I remember him conning my mom into buying.
"I'll ask again, what the hell is going on? The police and everyone said you either were abducted for some reason unknown or killed and buried." I shook my head. Every forgotten and stowed emotion rising to the surface of my throat like bubbles in a freshly poured soda.
"We were told you had mob ties or owed someone money and the price was your head. That's why we were left alone."
He had a slight grin. Only on the corner of his mouth. His rand raised and rubbed the slight stubble of his cheek. The sound of callous fingers sliding on the beginnings of yesterday's shave.
"All you need to know, is I'm back"
"No. I need to know more. Like how you look so young. You should be 55. Not in your 30's. I need to wake up mom."
"No." He said with no thought.
"I know how she is. I've been watching as much as I could."
My heart raised a notch above the delirious and suicidal pace it was already on.
"How? How could you be watching? Facebook stalking?"
"No. I'll start easy. I went to the store. I had to take a leak so I went to the John. It was locked so I finished the groceries. I went out to my truck but I didn't want to try and make it back or I'd have a wet seat and wetter pants. I went to the side of the building. As I was zipping up my fly i noticed it.
His voice seemed to drop and tremble. Like a young girl remembering her attacker at first glance. His face furrowed and darkened.
"It was a door. A dark, expensive looking door. One that only that yay who up the road in the White House would have"
I knew what he was talking about. An older lawyer had a literal mansion on the end of our street. His doors seemed heavy enough that simply letting it close could remove your fingers from their hand should they be caught in its swing.
His head lowered another drop. "My curiosity got the best of me. I went to it and tried the handle. It didn't move. Not even an almost. It was stuck. And it seemed to just BE there. Standing itself in a resolute way. Declaring its existence. I laid my hand on it and it felt, warm. Heavily oiled to the point of being almost greasy. It was dark. On it were words, I think they had to have been. More like hieroglyphics.
He spoke this out as a man who hasn't said it in decades "HI-RO-GLIFF-FICKS"
"It seemed so strange to just be there. I heard a humm coming from it. Or around it. Maybe even under. I almost shrugged and let it be. But I heard a sound come from BEHIND IT, except. There wasn't a behind"
At this I widened my eyes and say forward.
"How? How the hell did it not have a behind?"
He leaned back and shrugged as if to say "beats me buddy"
He continued. Hands crossed and head down. Speaking as if it was a dream long ago.
I stepped back and forth trying to see how that made sense and I couldn't. I heard what I thought were wind chimes. But worse. It was nice. Like being at grandmas on the lake. But so, LOUD. And horrible. Chimes made of, I don't know. BONES almost. As soon as they started the door seemed to change. It existed. I didn't dare to touch the handle but my traitor hand betrayed me and grabbed the damn thing anyway. This time it turned. As easy as any old door. The second it unlatched it just, just."
"Just what? It just what?"
"It swung WIDE open. As wide as it would go if it was on a frame. And it SUCKED ME. It sucked me straight into it. I was behind the store and it was no later than 2:pm. I came to it came out and it was pitch black. I was in the middle of a field. After that..."
His head sagged back down. His face grew dark.
"Dad..."
"After that I did everything I could to come back. I know it's been almost 20 years here son, but I've been gone 4."
| 2017-11-19T16:34:26 | 2017-11-19T16:28:57 | 452 | 176 |
[WP] Your father leaves the house to buy milk, 50 years later he comes back with milk in hand and hasn't aged a bit. | Received Messages from Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 4:04pm
We've run out of milk, I've gone to get some more from the shop. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 4:30pm
The shop was sold out of milk, I'm trying the other store. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 5:02pm
The other shop was sold out too, the guy told me they didn't get a delivery this morning. I'm going to head to the deliver centre now. I need my god damn coffee. Say hi to mom for me. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 7:23pm
The delivery centre was closed. I don't get it. These places run 24/7. I'll wait here until I see someone.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 9:01pm
Still no one. This is nuts. I'm going to sleep in my car. Tell your mom. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 9:19am
Finally spoke to the manager. He said that the dairy shipment is a week late. Without any milk he had to close the place down until monday. He only came in to check for the truck. He wouldn't tell me anything else, I'm suspicious. I'm going to go to the dairy, it's not too far. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 1:43pm
I'm at the dairy, it's also shut. The manager there said that there's an industrial dispute with the farmers going on. When I demanded milk he laughed at me and said I'd have to talk to the farmers. Damn him. I'm off to the closest dairy farm. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 10:34pm
I'm half way there. It's taking a lot longer due to various interstate closures. Thankfully Bessy can go overland quite nicely. Is there anything on the news about this? Let me know. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 4:56am
I could barely sleep. The jets flying over head towards the lights in the sky kept waking me up. I should be at the closet farm soon. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 9:32am
I made it to the farm, but there's black vans EVERYWHERE. I sneaked into the farm house and overheard them talking about UFOs, and missing cows. I'm going to try and come home asap. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 9:36am
They are searching for me! If I don't make it out, I love you, your sister and your mom. My will is in the top dr
Thursday 8th Feb 2018 12:00pm
I'm not dead. Love Dad.
Monday 21st May 2018 4.52pm
Training is finally finished. Mission begins tomorrow. I'm using my sim card on a stolen phone. I love my family.
Tuesday 20th May 2042 1:09am
I'm not sure if this will work, subspace communication and cellular data probably won't mix. We've finally arrived at Groxon. The Groxars stole all of our cows because theirs died of a genetic disease. Instead of coming to an understanding about taking half of them, they took them all. The FBI, CIA and NASA recruited me to fly one of the Groxar ships for them. They shot down dozens that night, before the Groxar started shooting back. Hopefully you guys weren't part of the casualties. So we're taking the fight to them, the American way. We'll make those bastards pay. Think of my family, Love Dad.
Monday 16th February 2067 5:14pm
Sorry that it's been 50 years. Time dilation and the law of relativity and all of that. The mission was a success at least. Turns out the Army rigged the Groxar spaceships with nukes. Their planet is now a radioactive dust ball. Serves them right I guess. I see that Earth took advantage of Groxar technology and I'll be taking a flying taxi home from the space port. Weird that the last 50 years have felt like a couple of days, I guess because it pretty much was. Travelling at 99.9% of the speed of light does that. I see that mom is still alive, give her a hug from me and warn her a little bit. Tell her I'm younger than my own kids now! Maybe not though, if either of you got messed up in the deep space exploration that NASA started. Can't wait to see you tomorrow! Love Dad.
Tuesday 17th February 2067 10:00pm
I'll be home in an hour. Love Dad.
Tuesday 17th February 2067 10:02pm
Damn. I forgot the milk. | The door jiggled. It was a sound that any homeowner immediately recognizes, and has an immediate tightening of the bowels when they know that no guests have been invited. I got up from my soft and plush love seat. The by-product of 2 decades of use by my sisters and mother.
The jiggling continued for 15 more seconds followed by a soft but authoritative knock. I attempted to look through the peep but the sun had set an hour before, flashing its last orange radiance for the day. Leaving me the decision to feign and empty house or satisfy my curiosity.
"Yeah? Whose out there" I cried, attempting to sound more passive than my shaking hands would allow the stranger outside to know.
"Me you dumbass, open the damn door it's cold"
The voice was as nostalgic as strawberry candy my grandma use to have on her counter but as strange and alien that I couldn't put it to any face. I cracked the door to get a better sight but the moment I unmatched the chain it was pushed upon me and stubbing my big toe.
"What the hell are you doing?" I started to close the door but the second I saw the face belonging to the owner my knees turned to a consistency of fresh jello and I collapsed back onto the old man tan colored rug.
The stranger made his gait into the house with a sack of groceries, a new pack of Marlboro reds in his flannel shirt pocket and a pair of well worn wranglers on top of a pair of obviously handmade boots covered in a red dirt that came from somewhere further south and exotic.
"Hey slick. Glad to see you got your grandpas height."
I could only awe. This man before me was a myth of only my oldest memories. Disappearing and leaving 3 daughters, a wife and a son who still shit his pants at night.
"What the hell, where have you been? I don't even know what the hell is going on here. Am I asleep?"
"No buddy. I've been gone a little bit I think. Little longer than I would have liked to have been I should say too".
At the end of that he embraced me in the way that only fathers can do and held my head to his chest. The smell of pine and rain and something different but unknown to me.
"Sit" he said. I couldn't argue. I walked to the room just adjacent to the entry and sat at an old oak table. A table I remember him conning my mom into buying.
"I'll ask again, what the hell is going on? The police and everyone said you either were abducted for some reason unknown or killed and buried." I shook my head. Every forgotten and stowed emotion rising to the surface of my throat like bubbles in a freshly poured soda.
"We were told you had mob ties or owed someone money and the price was your head. That's why we were left alone."
He had a slight grin. Only on the corner of his mouth. His rand raised and rubbed the slight stubble of his cheek. The sound of callous fingers sliding on the beginnings of yesterday's shave.
"All you need to know, is I'm back"
"No. I need to know more. Like how you look so young. You should be 55. Not in your 30's. I need to wake up mom."
"No." He said with no thought.
"I know how she is. I've been watching as much as I could."
My heart raised a notch above the delirious and suicidal pace it was already on.
"How? How could you be watching? Facebook stalking?"
"No. I'll start easy. I went to the store. I had to take a leak so I went to the John. It was locked so I finished the groceries. I went out to my truck but I didn't want to try and make it back or I'd have a wet seat and wetter pants. I went to the side of the building. As I was zipping up my fly i noticed it.
His voice seemed to drop and tremble. Like a young girl remembering her attacker at first glance. His face furrowed and darkened.
"It was a door. A dark, expensive looking door. One that only that yay who up the road in the White House would have"
I knew what he was talking about. An older lawyer had a literal mansion on the end of our street. His doors seemed heavy enough that simply letting it close could remove your fingers from their hand should they be caught in its swing.
His head lowered another drop. "My curiosity got the best of me. I went to it and tried the handle. It didn't move. Not even an almost. It was stuck. And it seemed to just BE there. Standing itself in a resolute way. Declaring its existence. I laid my hand on it and it felt, warm. Heavily oiled to the point of being almost greasy. It was dark. On it were words, I think they had to have been. More like hieroglyphics.
He spoke this out as a man who hasn't said it in decades "HI-RO-GLIFF-FICKS"
"It seemed so strange to just be there. I heard a humm coming from it. Or around it. Maybe even under. I almost shrugged and let it be. But I heard a sound come from BEHIND IT, except. There wasn't a behind"
At this I widened my eyes and say forward.
"How? How the hell did it not have a behind?"
He leaned back and shrugged as if to say "beats me buddy"
He continued. Hands crossed and head down. Speaking as if it was a dream long ago.
I stepped back and forth trying to see how that made sense and I couldn't. I heard what I thought were wind chimes. But worse. It was nice. Like being at grandmas on the lake. But so, LOUD. And horrible. Chimes made of, I don't know. BONES almost. As soon as they started the door seemed to change. It existed. I didn't dare to touch the handle but my traitor hand betrayed me and grabbed the damn thing anyway. This time it turned. As easy as any old door. The second it unlatched it just, just."
"Just what? It just what?"
"It swung WIDE open. As wide as it would go if it was on a frame. And it SUCKED ME. It sucked me straight into it. I was behind the store and it was no later than 2:pm. I came to it came out and it was pitch black. I was in the middle of a field. After that..."
His head sagged back down. His face grew dark.
"Dad..."
"After that I did everything I could to come back. I know it's been almost 20 years here son, but I've been gone 4."
| 2017-11-19T17:49:04 | 2017-11-19T16:28:57 | 276 | 176 |
[WP] When you die, you appear in a cinema with a number of other people who look like you. You find out that they are your previous reincarnations, and soon you all begin watching your next life on the big screen. | "What is this?" I asked as I made my way down the aisle.
It was a normal theater, in fact it looked just like the one that I used to visit all the time with my wife, but something was... different. There were five other people in the room, all seated nearly as far apart as possible. Something prickled in the back of my mind, something that connected me to those other people, but I wasn't sure what it was.
"What is this?" I repeated, louder this time.
"Just shut up and take a seat." A man in the top right section of the theater shouted back.
Grumbling, I found a seat in the bottom section of the theater and settled in, watching as the screen changed, showing a video that began with a blast of white light. The peculiar thing was though... as I watched, I recognized every moment of the film. It was my life. *My* life, exactly. From the moment I exited the hospital on my birth date, to the moment I took my final breath. My entire life, summed up in a five minute video.
"What the...?" I began, when someone plopped down in the seat next to me.
"Pretty crazy, huh?" A man said, and when my eyes found his, I gasped.
He looked exactly like me, as if someone had dropped me into a cloning machine. Or was I a clone of him?
"What is this?" I asked for the third time.
My clone motioned around to the theater. "Welcome to the Brady Wells Cinema, my friend. We all wind up here eventually. The Brady in the corner up there? He was the first one of us to show up here."
"That's... nice." I breathed, still awestruck by the man in front of me. "But what is this place?"
Other Brady relaxed back into his chair, letting his arms stretch out behind him. "Call it Heaven, call it Hell, whatever you want, but we've got one job while we're here: to watch."
"Watch what?"
Other Brady pointed at the screen, which was fading from black to gray, like those scenes where someone is opening their eyes.
"The next Brady. We watch his life and pray that he gets it right. If he doesn't, he'll show up here, just like you did." At the look I gave him, Other Brady grinned. "Aw don't feel bad, Brady, I'm here too, aren't I?"
I nodded, still not quite understanding. The screen faded to white, and then a room came into view. A hospital room, a plethora of doctors, and a very joy-struck man that held his arms out towards New Brady.
"What do you mean we 'pray that he gets it right'? Get what right?" Someone in the upper section directed a loud *shhh!* in our direction.
Other Brady casually flipped them off without ever taking his eyes off me. "Life. If you haven't guessed yet, we're all here because we failed in some way. Brady number 3 up there? One of the richest men alive, but no kids. Not even money buys our way to the Great Beyond. So we watch. And we pray that the latest Brady gets it right, then we can all move on."
"That doesn't make any sense." I said finally, struggling to keep my voice below a whisper.
"What do you mean?"
"You just sit here and watch? That's it? What's the point if you can't help the latest Brady live his life correctly? It could take a millennia to get it right." I glanced around the theater. Only five other versions of myself in the room. How many more until we got it right?
"Look, I'm not saying I like it, or that it's perfect, but it's just how it is. I don't make the rules. That door you came through? It only opens once, and that's when the latest Brady dies, otherwise it's locked. So yeah, we just sit here and watch." Other Brady whispered, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.
The latest Brady was being rocked gently by strong arms. A soft lullaby was being sung by an unseen woman.
"Have you ever tried to go through the door when it is open?" I whispered, and Other Brady spun on me so quickly, it was almost inhuman.
"No," he hissed like a venomous serpent, "and we aren't ever going to. You may not like it, Brady, but this is how it is. We sit and watch. You try to disrupt that and cause trouble? We'll stop you. We've done it before." And with that, Other Brady rose from his seat and relocated himself to across the room.
I sighed, slumping into my seat like a pouting child. My eyes found the screen, watching reluctantly as Brady was passed off to the father. He was crying happily, hugging the baby close to his chest. Was this really all there was in the afterlife? A dim theater with irritated versions of myself? I wanted to believe that this was all some horrible dream, that I would wake up in my bed an old, weary man, but I knew I wouldn't. My time had passed, and now it was this New Brady's turn at life. I would just have to learn to deal with it.
As I watched the film, I adjusted my position in the seat, trying to get comfortable in these budget theater chairs. It was going to be a long movie. | It had already been explained to me by the closest incarnation to me; I was dead. He told me to keep quiet during the movie, but at first I didn’t understand. I just dumbly ask how I died. I saw him, well me, try to subdue a laugh as it was explained to me how they’d all watched me choke out on the tiny chicken bone I’d managed to get lodged in my throat. Apparently it was amongst the top 5 worst ways some version of me had left the world yet. The strange thought occurred to me to sue the company who packaged the chicken strips, before I realised I’d never be earning any money again whatsoever.
Not just that. I’d never see mom, Eric, anyone. My mind felt numb at the thought; it wasn’t something that I could wrap my head round. I’d never sit in traffic again. Never open my presents at Christmas. Never enjoy the bitter sweet smell of freshly roast coffee. Never see Lara.
Lara. The thought of her exploded in my mind like a firework. I’d left her behind. I’d left her with all those half formed plans for the future that we’d never be able to put into action. She was probably laughing right now at the absurd way I went out, it was just her kind of dark humour. My heart felt heavy thinking of her; it was the first time I’d felt anything but shock since I sat down in this fucking cinema. I’d never see her again. Never watch that stupid little eye twitch she does as she falls asleep, never laugh at her otherwise shitty jokes just because she finds them so funny. Never feel her warmth next to me again as I drift off to sleep.
No, now I got to watch my next incarnation. Part of me wanted to grab a selection of junk food like I’d usually do at the movies, but after I’d got used to the dark I quickly realised there were no doors. Besides, even if there was, who the hell’s gonna want to serve hot dogs in the afterlife? All that remained was me, what must have been hundreds of me, this room, and the next life.
Suddenly the screen came to life. As I watched my newest birth, the me sat next to me made sure I understood these first few years would be boring. Apparently every cycle I’m a bad baby. Always crying, whining. That crying was etched in my brain. The more I listened to it, the more I could hear myself a little in there. It was unmistakable. I watched as this woman who was my mother, but not my mother, cared for me by herself. It was interesting that she was a single mother too; something my old life had in common with my new.
The years dragged by. I went through the motions. I went through school. I made friends. I done slightly better in my grades than I had before. I watched myself make similar awkward mistakes as my teenage years. I watched myself scream the most horrible shit at my new mom, this new woman who raised me. I laughed along with my new self, and all the others watching. I cringed at my embarrassment. I felt disappointment. I felt like I was living again.
Except I wasn’t. Not really. This wasn’t really MY life. It was just a life. One of billions. I was watching someone who was both so familiar and a stranger to me. It was the little things. I didn’t prefer baths to showers. I’d never get caught dead listening to techno music. It was me broadly, but not entirely. The similarities were there though.
I watched as I started college and settled down into a nearby café. Just another day. At this point I was getting just as bored watching my life as this new me was living it. I was sitting sipping on a coffee, doing everything I could to avoid a lecture. I noticed how busy the café was, and while I was trying to study, I could see the noise wouldn’t allow that to happen. The hum of conversation. I saw myself look up at the seat across from me, no doubt seeing everyone else sitting with someone. That was one thing we had in common; a little bit of perpetual loneliness.
I watched myself finish my coffee. I watched myself almost choke on the last drop. For a second I thought I’d be dying the same way again. But I wasn’t choking normally. I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Both of me.
I watched as Lara asked me ‘is this seat taken?’, not giving me a chance to answer as she planked herself in the seat across from me. I awkwardly struggled to say something, but all I could get out was a quiet ‘no, you can sit there if you want’. I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing. I just watched it unfold dumbly. I watched the awkward silence as I could see myself wondering whether to start a conversation. I watched her look at me with that inquisitive look on her face she always had when she expected something. I had to stop myself shouting at the screen. I couldn’t just let her walk away.
Eventually after what felt like a lifetime it was her that broke the silence. I suppose I should have expected that. She jokingly asked why I was still sitting there when my coffee had been empty the full time. I couldn’t feel it, but I knew my face had went red. I joked about how I was just daydreaming, and that I didn’t want to go to class. She replied simply ‘well if you don’t want to go, don’t go.’
I watched myself spend that afternoon with her. I watched myself awkwardly ask for her number. No doubt I was terrified, but I couldn’t face not seeing her again. Over the next few months I watched, no, I felt myself fall in love with her again. I watched myself come up with new inside jokes that were different yet the same. I watched her do her stupid little eye twitch as she fell asleep. I laughed at her shitty jokes just because of how funny she found them. I watched myself sleep next to her, and sometimes I swear I could feel her warmth, as if she was right there beside me.
I watched myself do what I’d never managed to do before. All those half assed plans we had, while not the exact same, were still there in spirit. We travelled together. I watched us have kids, I watched us grow old together. I was engrossed in every moment. I barely took my eyes off the screen, but when I did and I looked around I saw the same sense of wonder and happiness written across my face countless times. They had to have seen this play out hundreds of times, over centuries and millennia, and it still touched them the same way it did me.
Finally I watched as she passed away first. Not in any funny way this time; just old age. But instead of sadness, the thought that crossed my mind was one of pure joy; she would pass on and enter a cinema somewhere. She would watch her life unfold again. For all the differences across her lifetimes, she too would watch us meet each other. Watch us fall in love again. Hell, she already had. We had together, even if not physically. And we would forever.
I greeted the new me who arrived in the cinema with a smile on my face and told him to enjoy the movie. | 2022-05-10T21:37:24 | 2017-11-23T07:04:33 | 1,154 | 117 |
[wp] Your an exterminator called to get rid of an anthill. Upon arrival, you go up to the anthill only to see that the ants haven’t built an anthill, but instead a small castle complete with a tiny moat and ballistas that shoot toothpicks. | "This is the aftermath. They did not receive the queen's instruction to retreat. They fought to the last ant."
I walked around what remained of the outpost. 30,000 dead. All killed by a gas attack. They put up a valiamt defense for sure.
"That is their crest."
I took a closer look at the words below it: Resist and bite.
"Thank you, drone. I'll keep these words in mind when I start my own colony.", I said, taking flight.
*Inspired by the Chasseurs Ardennais, WW2* | “Ants of the 401st battalion assemble! For generations we have claimed these lands as our own. This mighty fortress a testament to the impregnable spirit of our people. No enemies has ever, nor will ever breach our defenses. But to ensure this remains true we must all stand together as one unshakable barrier. The creature that stands before us may dwarf our tallest walls, it may leap across our homes with a single step but it is only one and we are tens of thousands. We shall not be overcome. Now attend to your battle stations! We shall push back this abomination, for the Queen!”
The rousing speech of our the general had lifted the spirits of the thousands of soldiers arrayed before him. The colony would continue to thrive as it always had. To think otherwise had been foolish. Yet before they could move and take to the fields to ensure it was so the screams of their comrades filled the halls of their colony. Scurrying into the staging ground was a single scout, his raspy voice struggling to convey an unfathomable message he knew would bring about nothing but their doom.
“There are more of them. Twice the size, and heading in our direction.”
“Well I'll be dammed. That is quite the anthill. Seems like tens of thousands of the little bastards must be living down there. Quite an impressive little fortress they have themselves there. It almost looks like a castle wouldn't you say? The moat over here. Some towers right there.” The Exterminator stood over the fortress, peering down at the countless ants scurrying across their fortress.
“Please watch your language around my daughter would you? And I just want to be rid of the thing, how long will this take?”
“Well just give me a few minutes to get everything set up and the colony should be completely dead within the next hour. I'd recommend you and your daughter head inside while I work. I'll let you know when everything is finished.” As the family made their way inside the exterminator spared a final moment to the appreciate the architecture of the anthill itself. It really did seem almost human in it's construction. But of course that was a laughable thought, they were merely ants and he had a job to do. And so without another moment of pause the exterminator got to work. | 2018-01-18T21:22:36 | 2018-01-18T20:57:21 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] There's a knock on your door. You open it to see your favorite book character standing there. They say, "I know this may be a lot for you to take in right now, but you have to listen very carefully; You are my favorite book character, I know how your story ends, and I need to change it."
My first time posting here. Hope I did everything right! |
Like the bells of fate, my doorbell rang just before I was about to take a sip of my delicious, aromatic tea.
"What the *hell*," I grumbled miserably, setting down my copy of *Percy Jackson: The Last Olympian* that I was re-reading for the fifth time.
I opened the door, and my heart just about leapt out of my chest.
There was an all-too familiar character waiting anxiously outside, wearing an orange shirt from camp and a necklace of beads on his neck. He had the same sea-green eyes I had read so much about, and the bronze sword in his hand…
I knew him so well, but no. This couldn't be real.
"I'm dreaming, aren't I?", I murmured to myself, my teacup clattering onto the floor. "I must have overslept..."
"What?", he said, clearly not expecting my reaction. "Look, there's no time to explain, okay? You're my favourite book character, and your story ending just *sucks*. We need to change that."
"But... but you're Percy Jackson!", I exclaimed, still partly in shock. "How are you even here, and what do you mean 'my ending sucks'?"
“Sorry, but we just don’t have enough time!” he said, an apologetic note in his voice. “Just answer this: have you heard of the Olympians?”
“Yeah, of course!”, I said. “They’re the old mythical Greek gods, right? They have children with mortals called half-bloods, and you’re a son of Poseidon…”
He looked straight at me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Luke,” he said (he knew my name!), “how do you know that?”
I ushered him into my sitting room and passed him my copy of The Last Olympian. He flipped through the pages, eyebrows raised.
“This… explains a lot,” he muttered, turning to me. “I guess we’ll have a lot to talk about on the way.”
“The way to where?” I asked.
“To camp, of course. Camp Half-Blood.”, he answered, a somewhat expectant look on his face. “Seeing as you know my whole life story, I’m guessing you know all about it.”
I nodded fervently, grinning at the thought of what the future held. Centaurs, monsters, adventure... now this was the life I had always wanted.
“So, when do we leave?” |
“Don’t.” He said.
It was the boy inside those pages. I knew it within a heartbeat’s glance. It was not the black hair nor the beautiful face that gave it away. Not even the eyes — though truly do they mirror the night sky in hell. No. I must say it was the anxiety and urgency stretching itself like shadows from where he stands outside my home. He knew what I was about to do.
I stared at this being and I knew that there is no science that I have studied that could explain this phenomenon. This boy was my ultimate love not because of some petty affection but because I saw myself so much in him that a happy ending for him was enough to mend some parts of me. Yet... I felt no urge to smother him with my adoration. I only felt a little disturbed.
“Will.” I did not even know why I felt so lonely saying that name.
“I understand.”
How painfully easy was it for both of us to utter so few words in such strange circumstances and comprehend still the magnitude of each other’s brokenness.
“You are my favorite character. Not even that silly Sydney Carton can rival you. So whatever it is that you are planning to do with that knife, don’t.” He gripped the doorknob a little tighter as if I might actually slam that door in his face. In my numb state, even that was a ridiculous thought.
“You had Jem and Tessa,” I cried, indignant with the unfairness of this boy’s request. He was supposed to know how alone it felt to push other people for the fear of seeing them hurt because of you.
“James is my light as Tessa is my heart.” He smiled a little at the mention of them. “But they were after. Before, it’s different. It was the books that made me feel that perhaps...”
“I am not completely alone,” I finished one of my favorite quotes of his.
“See?” He looked at me with both sadness and frustration in his eyes. “It was books. It was reading about you, most especially, which made me endure that loneliness and hatred I had for myself. But you chose to end it. All I want is to give you the same ending I had.”
“But I am so tired, Will. So tired.” I let go of the other hand holding the knife as I covered the shame and frustration and anger which had all melted to tears in my face, speaking loudly of the weakness in me.
“You,” he stepped towards me and took the same hand which once held a tool to the only freedom I knew of. “You are no more cursed than I am. It is our fault, yes, that we are alone for it was our choice. But it is not our entire fault that we remain broken no matter how much we try to make ourselves whole. We are not angels. We are only humans and we can only try to heal what we can heal one breath at a time.”
I shook my head, “Will, I...” I stopped as he pulled a pen from his coat and drew a rune over my hand.
An iratze. A healing rune.
“You are a writer, right? So write. And heal yourself in every word, in every space in between. Your hands will remind you that there is a part of you that is whole enough to give itself as a gift to this world.”
I nodded once to let him know he is trying his best to convince me out of the path I was about to take. I don’t want to make a promise to the very symbol of my hope and then fail him at the end.
With that, he put his hand on my shoulder and said in a lighter manner, “Let’s meet together once again but in a park with no ducks! I hate ducks! They’re...” He went silent altogether as he disappeared without preamble.
I blinked a few times before I realized that there was absolutely no one in front of me now.
“Are bloodthirsty little beasts, I know.” I sighed and felt a certain burden lifted a little bit. It was the burden of being unconnected, of being alone in your suffering, of fading to oblivion without anyone knowing a piece of it. It was a burden he and I knew all too well. | 2019-05-20T05:03:41 | 2019-05-20T03:57:31 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] You are at heaven's doors. Angels and God debated if you can come in because you have committed no sins during your lifetime, but you have the highest kill assists they ever saw. | ‘Hey! I loved Grandma and I was only six! I didn't know her insulin would go bad if it was left out! I've felt guilty for that ever since I realized it.’
‘Agreed, case shall be stricken from the record, moving on.’ The brilliant shining light, God spoke.
John could look into the light without it hurting, but still could only see light. That whole end of the room seemed to stretch off to infinity, but the remaining three walls were very court like and constructed of marble. Even the tables John, his ‘defense’, and the two angels standing to the right to ‘prosecute’ him sat. Although everything else about the process had been twisted and strange. He glanced to his left again, who knew a devil's advocate was actually a thing…
‘We would like to put forward Group D of the casualty list, 87 representative members of the United Nations, and the accompanying 1,739,812 military and civilian war casualties due to gross negligence.’ The frowning male angel spoke this time.
‘Ha! Trying to pin THAT one on him?’ The mid-tier devil rummaged around in a dark bag, then pulled out a black slate with red writing, slamming it down on the marble desk. ‘There were four other employees working quality control on that line that day, that measure was built in so that if one person missed a defective part the others would, in theory, catch it. The airplane part failure was more a failure of the quality control SYSTEM than my client.’
‘Agreed, though some personal responsibility is warranted. This case shall be moved to later considerations on Stains on the Soul along with case A, moving on.’ God once again decreed.
‘Then we would like to put forward Group E of the casualty list, 2,681,482,937 casualties from the retaliatory invasion of earth.’
‘Really?’ The devil didn't even get up this time, he just leaned on the marble desk and leered over at the opposition. ‘In your own tenants, how is nursing a crashed alien back to health and helping them return to space a sin? Good samaritan much people? It's not my clients fault they were escaping royalty, and the new regime wanted to punish earth for their escape. They even came back to liberate the planet, and now earth is connected to the wider cosmos!’
‘Agreed, the intent was pure and consequences unforeseeable, moving on.’ God again quickly decided.
The angles paused, conferring for a few moments. Concerned that their most damning cases had been dismissed or greatly reduced. They still had more, but much smaller in scope with flimsier culpability. The devil took the moment to lean over and whisper to John.
‘Don't worry kid, I’ll get you into heaven... or limbo till doomsday at the most. Hey, don't look down, your case is good and even if it turns, sure the apocalypse has been stopped so far, but they aren't gonna give up and it's got to happen eventually!’ | “So do we let him in?” God looked around at his council of glowing angels. They all shrugged and some found other places to look to avoid his piercing gaze.
“Michael your my chief advisor! Tell me you have an idea of what we can do.”
Michael the firstborn son of God and creation looks up at God and shakes his head.
“We’ve never experienced something like this before. A human whose committed no sin? It’s fucking impossible. But somehow he’s assisted in the murders of close to a hundred people on his own.”
God momentarily glared at Michael’s use of profanity but continued on pacing the room. It had a floor made out of clouds and if you peered hard enough you could glance at the humans living out there ordinary lives without the smallest worry of a higher power watching them.
“We can just leave him outside. How would it look to the Saved? They’ll begin to wonder if I really am all powerful and just.” God massaged his forehead. He couldn’t get any sickness disease or feel pain but his worst enemy is irritation.
This situation was irritating beyond belief. If this man just had one sin. He could send him to Purgatory where he’ll stay for a few thousand years until he did enough time to return to heaven.
God waved his hand and the man appeared before them all suddenly. He was 67 and his hair was long gone. He held the airs of a man who was quite done with life.
“Marcus Whitney! Before your admittance to heaven we must discuss something.”
Marcus hurriedly did a respectful bow. He shuffled slightly backwards even though there was no where he could run.
“Yes God?” He asked clearly nervous.
“ You have died with the cleanest slate in all of human history. The only other person to die with a perfect record is Michael over here when he was on Earth named Jesus.”
Marcus looked at them in confusion. “ I thought God and Jesus were the same?”
God and Michael groaned at the same time.
“ After all the work I did on Earth everyone tries to give God all the credit.” Michael grumbled.
“At least you got to be his direct mouthpiece. God only gave me small assignments that everyone doesn’t even acknowledge compared to yours!” Gabriel shouted from across the room.
Michael turned to say something back when Jahen interrupted them.
“I really hope you two aren’t fucking complaining! You guys got to have all the fun with the humans. You got to interact with them in the name of God. If I tried to do something like that without a direct order from him, I’d be dubbed a demon and have to go serve Satan and man I can’t stand that guy!”
All the angels began to yell and fight with each other. God finally stomped his foot and shouted ‘ENOUGH’! Lightning crackled and thunder shook the room.
Everyone stopped talking and looked down at there feet.
“We’ve gotten horribly off topic. Marcus I’ve seen you lived a sin-less life. That would immediately qualify you for conversion into a Chief Angel. But the only problem is you’ve assisted in the deaths of close to a hundred people. Please explain how that is possible.”
“God I honestly don’t know. I’ve never even once tried to take another mans life. For I know this to be a sin.”
God knew he was telling the truth. He looked deeper into Marcus life and noticed something.
“Marcus where you aware that your wife and daughter are serial killers?”
Marcus paled and began to shout. “Impossible! My darling Mary Sue and Jenny would never do that. Were a humble god fearing family! I may of died before them but I know even in my absence they’ll continue to worship you!”
God eyes crackled with lightning. “You would dare accuse me in front of my council that I’m wrong?” His voice boomed and somewhere on Earth a minor earth-shake leveled a city block.
“No my Lord! But I just can’t see how or when they could of murdered anyone.”
God looked down to watch Marcus’s wife and daughter. He dug around in there minds for a little bit and he instantly knew what the answer was.
“Marcus you helped your wife and daughter cook food almost daily correct?”
Marcus nodded.
“So I’m guessing you never noticed them poisoning the food? Or noticed something weird about the food?”
Marcus shook his head again.
God sighed and sat back into his throne. He towered over Marcus. He was a giant compared to him.
“I pass my judgment which cannot be undone by anyone besides myself.” Marcus’s wife and daughter murdered many with food they’ve prepared. Marcus inadvertently helped kill others by doing an act as harmless as preparing a meal with his family. I judge Marcus as innocent. Yet he still did assist in the death of others so he will serve a sentence of 10 human lifespans in Purgatory!”
“That’s not fair!” Marcus shouted.
God looked down at him and grinned.
“Who said God was always fair?” | 2019-07-09T09:31:22 | 2019-07-09T09:10:38 | 457 | 165 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | I forget. Well, I make everyone forget. That’s my power, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute.
It’s a curse. I watched as my other friends develop wondrous abilities during puberty- flight, invulnerability, elemental control, while I was bestowed with the power of forgetting. Maybe it was because I forgot to feed the family dog when my parents left for their trip and found him dead on their return. Or maybe I should have at least tried to remind myself a time or two again.
Oh well.
Ever since I turned 18, I ceased to exist. My own parents had no recollection of ever having a son. I watched as they replaced family portraits, puzzled as to who that mysterious boy was in all of the photos. I hated them at first, but soon I came to realise that I could not possibly blame them, I was but a void in their memory. My friends followed suit, deserting me.
I lived my days an inch away from insanity, conversations never lasted for more than a minute before the other person would be in a state of bewilderment, asking who I was. I was close to a figment of imagination to them.
I don’t recall when but I guess I snapped one day. I loaded up a gun, went out, and shot the first person that walked by me. Everyone screamed, or was it just a few people screaming? Never mind, it’s irrelevant. What was relevant was that after a minute, people stopped screaming, then started screaming again. I stood there till the police showed up, but no one remembered who killed that poor bastard. So I walked away, scot free and into a life of death and destruction. It didn’t take long before governments collapsed beneath me and mankind bowed to a god they forgot existed.
My name is Amnesia, and I’m the worlds greatest supervillain, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute. | “Shapeshifting?”
Alex’s eyebrows migrated towards his hairline and his forkload of pie paused mid-way to his lips. He studied his date across the table as she shifted in her seat and examined her immaculate nails.
“I knew you were sensitive about your ability but I have to say I expected far worse”
Emma tucked a curl of dark hair behind her ear and continued to fidget. This is why she was hesitant about dinner with Alex. Her excuses about working late or “ruining their friendship” truthfully had absolutely nothing to do with the constant rebuffs she threw his way. She had finally agreed to this date when she found herself in a rather advanced state of refreshment at the office Christmas party. Alex had almost glowed with delight for the next week. Even she had to admit that it was sweet. She liked him. She really liked him. She just hated the fact that she had to ruin this romantic endeavour before it had a chance to really flourish into anything more.
She shrugged. She sipped her wine. She finally made eye contact with him.
Alex took this as a cue to bombard her with questions.
“I mean...” he paused to lick a morsel of stray chocolate from his lips. “I kind of thought you’d some kind of awesome, dark, scary power because of your whole well... vibe” he makes a hand gesture towards her black dress and spiked headband. “I kind of thought you’d be a necromancer or something, not that that’s a bad thing!”. Emma smirked as she watched his eyes grow wide with anxiety before he began to back-peddle. “I dig your vibe too by the way! I just thought you’d be worried that your ability wouldn’t match with mine since mines is a bit... well... pure”. Alex seemed to pause to consider his next words. “And girls don’t normally like guys who have soft powers like empathy and empathetic healing”.
Emma felt a rush of guilt as Alex now lowered his eyes. She reached over the table to take his hand in her own. “Alex.” She breathed softly. “I dig your vibe too.” He chuckled lightly at that and ran his thumb over hers. She sighs as she finally allows the many layers of her ability to strip themselves back, leaving her bare and exposed for the first time in years. “It’s just that my whole image is faked”. She breaks eye contact again as her true form is finally revealed. “I was in a house fire when I was seven.” She said flatly. “Me and my sister were the only two out of the five of us to make it out. I’ve hated the way I look ever since for obvious reasons”. She registers the sound of Alex swallowing and tries not to imagine his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. She tries not to imagine his eyes as they take in her scars. “... and you were hurt?” He sounds gentle. Full of fake sympathy. Typical. “Obviously.” She snaps. She feels tears threaten to leak out of her one good eye and down her scarred face. Alex rubs his thumb over her hand once again. She feels a strange warmth as he raises her hand to his mouth to softly kiss it. “You’re beautiful” he murmurs into her raw and scarred skin.
For the first time in her life, Emma believes it.
Edit: damn this one blew up a bit. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments (both here and in my inbox) and also for the two (2!!!) silvers! I’ve actually been struggling with writing lately thanks to a real bitch of a depressive episode and so this means a massive amount to me. I’ll try to reply to as many as I can but I just thought I’d post a proper thank you on my comment as well. | 2019-09-08T09:02:22 | 2019-09-08T08:30:00 | 4,320 | 2,511 |
[WP] In the late 2040s, a supernova killed humanity so suddenly that Death simply gave up on processing them all. Centuries later, aliens are extremely weirded out when they contact an entire starfaring society entirely comprised of ghosts. | We will all die in twenty years. All of us. The planet, the trees, the birds. Even the one you love, who smiles at you as you glance sideways at her.
All of us will explode in the light of a single dying star.
But don't fret.
Most planets leave behind nothing but a black eye of hydrogen, burning itself out into oblivion. They die as quietly as they lived, and no one notices a thing.
But ours will become something special. For Death has his own plans. Every death is a domino fall toward life.
At first, when that wall of fire devours Earth, the humans will have no idea of their fate. They will only have eight minutes to stare in wonder at the column of light burning in their sky. Only a few will realize the death surging toward them at the speed of light.
When the supernova hits, Death will spread his bony hand across the glassy surface of the planet. He will collect the souls of the plants and the animals. But not the humans.
Those ghosts he will leave moored to their own lonely planet, tumbling through space.
*Let us die,* the humans will implore him. *Why can't you let us go?*
*No,* Death will answer. *My casket is full, and the living have need for you yet.*
So the dead Earth will tumble like a ghost ship through the black seas of space, carrying its damned crew along with it.
The humans will curse Death and curse their fate as they stand on the blackened earth, the bone-sludge oceans. For countless millennia, they will wander through space, alone, gathering myths in their wake.
And Death will watch. Guiding them to exactly where he needed them to be.
For Death has two powers: soul taker and life giver. Though we only pray to him when it is to curse his name.
All those deaths will serve a purpose. They always do.
We humans will not understand until we see where all our wandering through the bleak universe has ended.
A howling gap in spacetime. A hole that will consume the universe from the inside out, like air rushing out of a popped balloon.
Death will appear to the humans that day, the only light gleaming in the black void. A glowing skeleton on the horizon.
He will point to the black hole that would consume all things. Even Death himself, in the end.
In the sky, the black hole will churn with the promise of chaos.
*You are the only ones who can save us*.
We will argue it, fiercely. The density of black holes, the terror of the unknown, the danger of trusting Death. But in the end we will always make the same choice.
All those billions of ghosts will rise off the lip of their dead planet. They will hold hands, those many billions, a chain of spirits linking back across time.
All of existence, down to a single moment.
The ghosts will plunge into the void.
All those dominos, falling down down down. The first time in our long history that humans will work together for a single common goal.
It will have to be enough to plug the gap. To delay the inevitable. For that has been Death's plan all along.
So when you see Death set fire to the sky, relax. Know that your destiny is only beginning.
You can lay back and wait for the heat to take you.
***
/r/nickofstatic -- for stories cowritten with the wonderful /u/nickofnight | Humanity as Daryl knew it disappeared in an instant. It had gone on long enough, some higher deity had decided, and by some cosmic happening that Daryl didn't even pretend to understand, the human race was over. Adiós. Hasta la vista, babies, Daryl chuckled, quoting his favorite human actor.
That left Daryl, the seventh individual to hold the coveted title of Death, with far too much work to do. Even with his underlings working around the clock, they barely made a dent in the mound of files left to process.
Terrified, he absconded from the strict requirements of his role. He took some liberties, to put it simply. Liberties that the strict contractual requirements of his role did not technically allow him to take.
His predecessors would have done the same, Daryl told himself. It was probably false, but Daryl found it quite easy to convince himself.
"Just this once," he had mumbled as he hurriedly drained the brainpower of the most brilliant minds humanity had to offer. They wouldn't need them anymore anyways. "Just this once."
He worked night and night, for Death's night was eternal, soliciting help from processed and unprocessed souls alike. Daryl built a spaceship, and then another, and then enough to hold each and every one of the billions of souls destined to never arrive in the afterlife.
"Just this once," he had murmured, directing each soul back towards the shattered remnants of what had once been Earth and loading them into a spaceship. A random one, for it was an improvised solution.
He couldn't even imagine the amount of paperwork he would have had to complete to welcome each deceased into his realm. There were departure papers and welcome papers and identifications and then somebody had to explain to them the rules and it was really all just a hassle.
Plus, plenty of people had come already, and his wall plan being rejected, Daryl had resorted to these more nefarious methods of keeping people out. Lost in bureaucracy's eternal Pending state, and the higher powers would be none the wiser.
Once aboard, he sent them into space. The ghosts of the humans floated in those clumsily assembled spaceships, stuck in eternal limbo as Daryl pretended to process their paperwork.
Alone they went, like tiny bits of driftwood on the vast oceans that had once been. They wouldn't collide with anything, he was fairly certain, and eventually they would enter some other dominion that would eagerly consume them. Ghosteaters, Daryl mused, naming this nonexistent entity and inventing little fantasies about them in his head.
Daryl didn't expect aliens. Nobody ever seemed to expect aliens, except the aliens. But even they, those lumpy creatures of uncertain form, did not expect the grisly remnants of the human race. Never before had they encountered such a species; the sort whose bodies they could walk through with nothing but a drafty chill, but at the same time all-powerful in their cursed hauntings.
Looking on at his creation, and keeping an eye over his shoulder in case the Creator himself came knocking, Daryl admired how he had seemingly saved the human race. The humans, who had for so long wanted to meet an alien species, now mingled with them as easily as could be.
Sure, some would have called it hauntings, and this whole thing an evil mess. Ghosts were one of the few things humans and aliens shared, which left this unfortunate alien species dreadfully haunted. But Daryl brushed off the semantic and ethical implications of his decision. It was for the best, he decided.
Every weakness and every flaw seemed to have been readily resolved. Daryl prided himself in that: he, Daryl Death, had perfected the human race. Food shortages were no more. Water was a luxury that passed right through - not like it always had, but unprocessed and ready for another drink. Even oxygen, that fickle thing the faulty humans needed to breathe, had become entirely redundant.
The aliens adapted, as living species had the need to do. At first, they were terrified. An uneating, uneatable species seemed destined to have some nefarious and furtive goal. Later, they were still terrified, but maybe a little less so.
Not the humans. Just like on Earth, where they existed in ignorant bliss and without plans that bore any significance on the future of the universe, the humans simply continued to exist. Inconsequentially.
They pranced through fields of methane and drifted through rains of diamonds. They walked hand in hand without the faintest of plans and seemed pleased to simply exist. For the most part, at least, except the demanding ones, and slowly Daryl weeded them out.
Eternal paperwork. Gradually, the pile shrunk. Too slowly, Daryl knew, and without anybody left to replace him, Daryl knew he couldn't just retire.
He had a deadline. Someday, just when this incredible act of laziness would be almost covered up, the Creator would appear. He'd knock at the door and enter without awaiting a response. He'd be hangry, like he always was. And he would have questions about those human ghosts. Lots of questions.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-12-16T12:18:49 | 2019-12-16T11:49:54 | 1,757 | 360 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | I'm nobody's fool.
Tell me to go left, I go right. Offer me what's behind door number 1, you better believe I'm opening door number 2.
Take me to a small room and show me a table covered in food?
Oh, I know what's up.
The food is trash, a diversion.
It's the table. That's the good stuff.
Under the duck l'orange, apple pie, and foie gras, there's a table made of the most succulent, delicious, textured maplewood I've ever seen. And who knows, this wood just might give me the greatest superpower of them all. Dimensional manipulation or something. It's possible. This is the magic 16-year-old teleportation room. In here anything goes.
So I sweep the food off the table and crouch by the corner.
The wood is there in front of me. It's rough. Never been sanded or polished. I can already imagine what all that texture will feel like on my tongue. I just know it's going to be divine.
I brace my hands to either side of the corner, open my mouth wide, and, with a sudden snap like a viper's strike, I bite the wood.
What follows is a pain like nothing I've ever experienced. I'm pretty sure every one of my front teeth has fallen out of my head. I want to cry, but the pain is so bad and my face is so squinched that tears can't make it out of my tear ducts.
I'm in this state of hurt and confusion when the reverse teleportation kicks in and deposits me back at my 16th birthday party. All my friends and family are there. Their eyes go wide when they see me.
Through my tears I ask, "What are you looking at?"
My sister opens a pocket mirror and holds it up to me.
Printed in bright red letters across my forehead are the words:
TABLE-BITING IDIOT
*****
*r/TravisTea* | I blew out the candles, and poof! I was gone. Just like I was told, there I was, in this room, alone. Just me, and a table, and way too much food.
In the centre was a roast terducken, you know them, a chicken in a duck in a turkey. A friend told me that he had taken a bite of the turkey, and had gotten stronger. Another had taken some duck, and they could fly. Another took the chicken, and they could see through the ground - because apparently that is a thing. To the left was an apple pie. I read somewhere that eating that made you absurdly good at persuasion. There were berries, and milk tart, and cheesecake, and broccoli and cauliflower, and steak and ham and Brussels sprouts, and goodness knows what else, not even counting the wine and fruit juice.
And I had thought long and hard about this moment. I had decided, as my father had advised, to stuff my face with as much food as possible, like he had, and get as many abilities as possible, but I have a problem: when something gets into my head, we'll heaven help me, I have to do it.
I bit the table.
At first, nothing came of it, I couldn't sink my teeth deep enough, but then, it broke off just like a massive slab of chocolate, and melted away in my mouth. For about sixty seconds I was in heaven, the feeling unbearably good, and then, I was back at home.
"Well? What did you chow on?" my father asked.
"You will know what you have immediately," my mother assured.
I don't know if I answered. I woke up on the couch. Apparently, I had passed out, and my birthday party had moved me upstairs, before continuing without me in the backyard. But damn me, I had an urge. An urge to do... Something! Anything! I had to act. I got up, and ran to our dinner table, and bit down. It just broke off, and I ate it. Perhaps, I thought, this was becoming a pattern. Then it hit me what I had done. I had just destroyed my family's table.
I paniced. You can fix stuff with noodles, right? I rushed through to the cupboard, grabbed some noodles, and smacked them onto the table. They seemed to stay, so I used my hands to smooth them out. It didn't look the same color, though, so I grabbed some of my sister's blue nail polish and painted it brown.
"Buddy?" my friend asked, looking perplexed at me. He must have entered sometime between my table munching and my noddle smoothing. "What are you doing?"
"I'm, uh, eating noodles," I lied, grabbing some hard noodles from beside me and slurping it up, slapping myself in the face in the process.
They stood critically at the door. "Dude, what did you eat?"
"I think I best not say."
My friend rolled their eyes. "I just watched you turn blue nail polish and noddles into the part of the table you ate. What did you eat?"
"The table..."
"Yeah, I know you ate the table, and then you fixed it with noodles, but what did you eat? Like, in the magic room?"
"The table."
My friend face-palmed harder than I'd ever seen anyone facepalm. "I'm a make a wild guess; you ate a piece of the table itself on a whim, and now have the power that any random crap you do on a whim works!"
I pursed my lips.
"So, uh," my friend said, "My birthday is next month. What do I eat when I get there?"
I grinned from ear to ear. "The wine glass. Eat the wine glass."
...
For more, see r/sarcastic_rambler | 2020-03-19T08:53:04 | 2020-03-19T08:52:26 | 791 | 463 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | Through the years the great coming of age feast was always looked forward to by everyone. Every power was known due to having being tried at least once and due to variety of different cultures. The people all knew very well what they know they will get before hand. Some families pick a food that is their traditional choice, others break this tradition with a choice of their own. One thing is for certain, it is only you that is teleported to that room when your time comes. There are others with your same birthday but it is just you with that whole table alone.
The apples gave superhuman endurance and speed. The fish gave superhuman intelligence. Carrots gave superhuman vision. Bread gave you limitless wealth. Other things have more complex superpowers. The more ingredients there were the more complex or the more mixed your powers became. Chicken noodle soup gave heat vision, x-ray vision, laser eyes, super endurance, flight, and telekinesis.
It is your turn to go and you disappear into the room. Time nearly stands still until your choice is made to pick the food you want. The room is dimly lit with an unknown source of light above it. The table is wooden and looks nearly mid 1300 century with hand made rivets holding the table in place. The table is surrounded by similarly looking wooden chairs at each end and a bench on both of the longer sides. The centerpiece is a beautiful combination of plants that make it almost look like Thanksgiving. Surprisingly, there are no plates on the table just the food and the table. The soups were contained in a bowl but we're over flowing the bowls they were contained in.
You chuckle as you know there are a few people that have bitten the centerpiece. The power they received is interesting they can shape shift from looking like different people to even different objects. This power is very useful with spies and it is fully taken advantage of in many espionage operations.
You sit at the end of the table pondering about which one to pick. You jump between them all after a while you notice something. Everyone has made a choice with everything. You can name all the powers by heart just by looking at each food but one mystery remains to you. What powers does the table give?
Your choice is made and you can tell what you want. It won't taste good but the table is the choice you made. Your curiosity has caught a hold and now you bend over to take that bite. Just as your mouth hits it, you are met with a complex set of flavors. It tastes like everything on the table and some flavors you can't even recognize. The flavor in your mouth turns to burning and then you feel a cool rush hit over your body as you disappear from the room.
You are returned to your class where you wonder if anything even changed. Your friends stare at you in hopeful wonder as they wait for you to tell what you picked. Many people were hoping you would pick the pot roast since it has some of the most desired powers to it. You try to muster something up but you can't figure how to or if you even have anything to summon upon. You shrug as you explain that you bit the table. Everyone of your friends laugh uncontrollably with disbelief. You feel like you kind of wasted your time but you thought it was a smart choice given the situation.
Suddenly it hit you, the force of all the knowledge in the universe, all the powers ever received from the table and more. Time is irrelevant to you as you can see things way far into the future and things way far into the past. All while staying exactly where you are. You become omnipotent and can give and take superpowers at will just like the table does.
Your friends see almost a galaxy glowing in your eyes as you finally know the purpose of the table and the food. The purpose was to test humanity with temptation while also having every power put in front of their faces. Just like you never judge a book by it's cover. With all this knowledge you finally snap out of it to go back to your math test in class happily writing out the answers as quickly as possible since you are omnipotent you do even look at the paper to complete the test as you teleport it in immediately to the teacher. There are many more important things to do but school comes first and you have unlimited amounts of time now. | As a kid, my friends and I loved to chat, debate and even argue what we'd eat when we entered the power room. We didn't know what food gave what power (everyone who went through it could not speak of that without losing their power), so we always theorised what we'd get.
Gemma insisted she'd find the food that had telekinesis. Her twin sister, Lucy, didn't care what power she got but always said she'd eat the sweetest thing there. Zack wanted invisiblity, and Toby would change his mind every other day. That left myself, and Ralph.
I just enjoyed hearing my friends debate the whole topic, before we gave up on making ourselves agree and went to the park. Ralph though... He was Odd. He'd never say anything about what he wanted from the power room, he just kept thinking up "what if" ideas.as the youngest, he'd go to the room last. But he still seemed to think about it more than the rest of us combined.
It was the day before Gemma and Lucy's Sixteenth,. We were sat under a bridge in town, with a load of alcohol Zack had snuck out from his parents' garage. All of us were drunk and just having fun. Toby tried to flirt with Gemma, but got roasted by the others for his efforts. That's when Ralph had probably the dumbest idea is heard out of his mouth.
"hey guys," he'd said, "what do you think happens if you bite the table?"
We all stopped, confused.
"what the hell are you on about?" I slurred. I was a bit of a lightweight when it came to drinking, and I was several swigs of whiskey in.
"You know, in the room. What happens if you take a bite from the table instead of the food?"
None of us responded with words, but our laughter echoed under the bridge. I was still giggling after the laughter had died down, until I saw the hurt look on Ralph's face. I immediately felt guilty.
Once the others had gone back to roughing each other up, I half-walked half-shuffled over to Ralph.
"You are really curious about that aren't you?" I asked. "it wasn't one of your usual 'what if' jokes?"
"Yeah... It's the question I've had since I found out about it. You guys are the first ones I told it to."
I put my hand on his shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about it. If I don't know what to so, I'll bite the table for you."
His eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Really."
Six months and four days later, and I'm in the room. It's a plain white-walled room with a huge wooden table, laden with a piece of every kind of food you could imagine. The catch is, only one person can have a particular food. No two people born on the same day can eat the same food. With dozens of people in the room, it was carnage. About four people were popping in to the room each second, and only when someone ate a piece of food did they disappear.
It takes five minutes before I muster up the courage to approach the table. I take a step forward, but immediately get knocked to the floor by a guy twice my size pushing me aside. With so many people around me, I scurry under the table, to see a girl nearby doing the same. A weirdly coloured orange segment drops to the floor next to me. I pick it up and offer it to the girl. She grabs it, bites and disappears.
I sit there for a while, wondering what to do. I don't want to get bullied around up there, but I don't want to just grab some random piece of food. Then I remember my drunken promise to Ralph, and wonder what the hell I am about to do.
I lean over, and bite the nearest table leg.
And everything goes black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the blackness, I hear a voice.
WELL THAT'S A NEW ONE. DIDN'T TAKE HUMANITY FOR THE INVENTIVE TYPE. WHAT IS YOUR NAME, HUMAN?
"Lily." my voice responds, but I did not tell it to. What is going on? I'm scared.
WELL, LILY. YOU ARE THE FIRST HUMAN TO TRY TO BITE THE TABLE ITSELF, INSTEAD OF SOME OF THE FOOD I PROVIDE. SO, YOU HAVE TWO OPTIONS. GO BACK AND PICK FROM THE FOOD, OR GAIN A POWER THAT I DESIGN.
"Didn't you design the powers in the room?"
HA! NO, I DID NOT. THOSE ARE SIMPLY POWERS THAT HUMANS DESIRE, MAPPED ON TO FOOD THEY ENJOY. THE MORE THE POWER IS DESIRED, THE MORE POPULAR FOOD IT IS IMPRINTED ON. NO, MY DESIGNS ARE QUITE DIFFERENT.
I can't think. I don't know what to do. I just-
YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE TOO LONG. DECIDE QUICKLY.
My head feels like it is about to explode.
"Give me a power." yet again, my mouth moved on its own.
VERY WELL.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
i'm back. Back at my birthday party. It's ten past nine in the evening, so I've been gone for half an hour. I barely have time to sit down when Gemma flattens me against the sofa
"You're back! How come you were there so long?" now everyone sees me, and I'm crowded. Everyone is asking questions. I don't like this.
"Look i-"
I am pulled to my feet without warning. Zack and Ralph are there, separating me from the crowd.
Zack takes a step forward. "guys, chill out! Y'all know how Lucy hates pressure, so back off!" the crowd thins out after that. Ralph pulls me into a side room and the rest of the gang follow. I grab the nearest beanbag and collapse into it.
"So, what did you get?" Toby is lying across the table, head gently resting on Lucy's shoulder. Everyone else is stood behind them.
"I... Don't know" I say. | 2020-03-19T10:28:48 | 2020-03-19T09:01:40 | 103 | 63 |
[WP] You are the greatest trickster in the universe, eagerly awaiting the results of your greatest trick; millennia ago, you convinced the gods that humans do not exist. | I added a bounce to my step as I sauntered down the great marble hall. It was packed with gods rushing from booth to booth. Investments were made, influence was swayed. Millenia Day was always busy.
At the start of each millennium, the great billboards release the top million most valued races in the universe. In the weeks leading up to Millenia Day, gods of every kind imaginable would try to sway races to their favour and have them do their bidding. If their races advanced in the rankings, they themselves would rise in power too.
The bustling atmosphere of chaos filled the grand chamber. It was the kind of chaos that you can learn to appreciate. If you watch it closely enough. The struggle for power was eternal, but why struggle when you can cheat?
I, the Great Trickster, simply play tricks on other gods. I gain no quantifiable power per se, but as each of my tricks plays out, my reputation grows. I usually have a decent trick every couple thousand years causing various gods to be wary, but the fame never lasts long.
It's hard work making a good con. You wouldn’t think it until you saw the process behind each ploy though. I tapped my foot on the white paned marble floor and grinned. Oh, but this trick… this trick would throw them into fits of rage and panic for centuries to come.
*The Last Laugh? The Great Reveal?* I mused thinking of what to name the ruse. *The Hoax of Humanity, that sounds nice.*
The hard part about this illusion wasn’t in the trick itself, but the waiting. Eons and eons ago, I thought it would be funny to isolate a race from the rest of the universe.
I used what little magic I had and sent Humanity to a far corner of the universe. Placing a barrier around their solar system prevented communication with anything outside of it. No prayers could reach the gods. No exchanges could reach other civilizations.
The moment they conceived the technology to escape their little bubble, however, they would be right in the midst of this game the gods play. They would be equal to every other race out there.
While the gods did what they could to leave their legacy and imprint their mark in the universe, humans were untouchable. And the best part of all: No one even knew they existed. There had been a couple inquiries long ago, but they always made their way to me, who of course played them off as a fraud.
A loud bell pierced the bustling of the crowds. Silence. A second bell. A third bell. It was time. Every god in the high chamber began their walk to the Theatre. That was where it would all take place. The declarations of which race would dominate the next thousand years. The transcendent billboards, stuffed with lists and of species from top to bottom.
I chuckled barely able to contain myself. Oh, what a sight it would be when every face in the Theatre drops silent with disbelief. The raised eyebrows questioning, the glint in the eyes as they realize the fools they’ve been played for.
Humanity had *just* discovered light travel and without a single god to guide them on their journey since the beginning of time, they would be limitless. With no god to tell them where to go or what to do, they’d be free to reign supreme.
The little rascals were probably escaping the solar system as I walked. All their tech, imagined by themselves, undiscovered by gods. I reached the towering wooden doors to the Theatre giddy with excitement. *Let the fun begin*.
***
More stories by me at r/WristMakerWrites | I am Anyoki. I was there when the first act of misdirection was used, when some starving animal stole from another. I was there when chameleons learned to blend in, tricking predators. I was there when animals evolved to have spots on the back of their heads, that would look like eyes, to trick the hunters. I have many names in many languages, the Aztecs named me Huēhuecoyōtl, north of there, I was called Coyote. In West Africa, I am Anansi, and in the old land once named Midgard, I was Loki.
I am the greatest trickster in the entirety of totality, every trick with cards are ones I have played, every rigged game is one I win, the artful dodgers and cardsharks are my priests. My temples are everywhere, and my followers come in many varieties. And every trick, every cheat, every dodgy deal that ends with amusing outcomes for rich fools, is an act of worship. And yet, as great as my followers are, they do not know even a small fraction of what I am, or my greatest trick. For good reason, otherwise, they'd find ways to cheat even me.
But their selling of famous monuments, their games that rob fools, every trick they've ever played, are but children's games compared to my greatest and most impressive trick. You see, ten thousand years ago I managed the impossible: I convinced all the gods of all the pantheons that mankind, doesn't exist. Took some doing, I have to tell you. I had to use a lot of smoke, mirrors, sleight of hand, and cunning methods to convince them, that humans had only been a trick I'd invented. I told them, that every sacrifice had actually been me, every human they'd ever spoken to, were just illusions caused by my cantrips. Every monument to their greatness, every temple, every prayer, all just the greatest trick ever.
Of course, they were quite angry with me, so I had to spend time down on Earth, where they wouldn't bother to look, after all, nobody lived down there. And the gods, without worshippers, were suddenly lost. Until, after a period of exile, I returned. And sold them on the only honest thing I've ever convinced anyone to do. Self improvement. I talked to them how their true natures had shown them to be mostly vapid and childish, and I convinced them to try self-improvement. Therapy. Self care in general. Best thing is that it worked out perfectly.
Imagine Zeus and Hera communicating, and actually not hating one another? Imagine Thor in anger management classes. Imagine YHWH and his firstborn son, Lucifer, reconciling, and all the Fallen being forgiven and let back in, now that Lucifer managed to deal with his daddy issues. Chernobog started a vegetable garden! Ares got to chill instead of being constantly, unpredictably, insanely angry. Aphrodite, Freya, Ishtar, made an all-girl heavy metal band. Quetzalcoatl, Minerva, Thoth, and Odin made their own bookclub, and lately, I've introduced them to Dungeons And Dragons.
All the gods have spent time getting their massive issues under control. Which is good for the humans. Because they are real, and before I intervened, they were destroying themselves, imagine having hundreds of competing pantheons screaming commands inside your head every second of every day? Most of them were too insane to do much, and many of them purposely gave themselves heavy braindamage just to be able to get them out of their own heads. If I hadn't intervened, the gods would have torn mankind apart like angry children fighting over toys. And look at what they've since managed to do!
I'm proud of the silly little buggers, they build ships that can fly, or even land you on the moon. Amazing. And all without the gods. They've invented medicine that doesn't require the blessing of the gods, they've built those fun machines, locomotives, that I must admit I find fascinating. To say nothing of Las Vegas, a place where I feel like every second is a prayer towards me.
And the food! Say what you will of ambrosia or Idunn's apple pies, but the humans can make food like no other. Give me sushi, give me curry, give me mysterious food from small restaurants with barely any signs! And don't get me started on how great pizza is! They do things every day that amaze me, and I introduce some of them to the gods, the things that is. They learn from them, become better and more worthy. But I can't keep the trick up for much longer, soon they will learn of the actual existence of the humans.
And they will hunt me again, but as the primordial trickster, I can escape any chain, untangle any web, free myself from any prison. Besides, once they understand why I did it, so the humans wouldn't go extinct because we all wanted to command them, they'll forgive me.
And finally, with all their self-improvement, enduring so many classes of therapy through centuries, learning to live and work together, so that once they learn that humans are actually real, they might be worthy of being the gods of the humans.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | 2020-05-08T09:38:56 | 2020-05-08T09:29:28 | 492 | 52 |
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